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solardrop · 7 months ago

Text

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead.

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you.

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you.

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display.

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall.

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’ names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile.

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!”

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero.

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip.

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting.

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there.

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits.

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored.

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him.

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck.

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words.

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise.

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile, “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing.

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #mine

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loverslodge · 4 months ago

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very discreet

summery: you and bucky have a relationship nobody is aware of. they keep trying to set him up with other women while bucky is trying to avoid them.

pairing: Grumpy!Bucky x Quiet!Reader

warning: SMUT, fluff, bad writing???, swearing

A/N: clearly i have a thing for grumpy bucky but i also have a thing was hidden relationships. you can read the asks for this fic at the lodge's BNB and also here is the steve's story in this universe

“Oh come on Bucky, how long will you stay single? Don't you think it's time you start looking for a partner?” Natasha pointed her knife at Bucky while they were polishing their weapons.

“I don't need anyone, Nat.” Bucky sighs and keeps on cleaning his guns.

“Bullshit!” Natasha stabs the wooden table beside Bucky. “We're all wrung out after missions and we all need a release. You know better than to stay holed up in a room with veins full of adrenaline. If not a girlfriend, get some beneficial partner.” Natasha shrugged.

“You might be doing that, Nat but I really don't need someone. I am happy where I am.” Bucky picks up his guns and arranges them back in their place. He wipes his workstation clean and walks out.

The mission today wasn't that bad but Bucky felt tired. The entire team has been on his case for over two months. How can he convince them that he doesnt need anyone? He's fine where he is. In fact, he is happier than ever and he would never trade this with anything else.

He walks in his room and wearily grabs his towel and sweatpants to take a shower. He turns on the water and stands under it till he hears his bathroom door being opened. He turns on the hot water to the right temperature and shuffles to make space. He hears some rustling and the shower curtain is pulled slightly open. You, very slowly step in and stand under the water source.

“I missed you, doll.” Bucky wraps his arms around you. You nod with a slight blush.

You pull out the loofah and pour the body wash on it. Bucky takes it from your hand and starts helping you clean up. Once you are covered in soap, you turn to Bucky and return the favor. Washing away the grime, dirt and tiredness of the day, you both towel each other dry.

“Bucky,” You point at one of his t-shirts from the wardrobe and look down thinking he might reject what you're asking.

“You don't need to ask me, doll. What's mine is yours.” He pulls a t-shirt on you and kisses your cheek. You nod and blush even more. You shuffle onto the bed and snuggle to your side of the bed, waiting patiently for Bucky to come.

“Tell me about your day, doll. Was it very draining?” he slips into the bed and brings you closer. You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest and nod a yes.

He sighs in content and pulls the comforter up. Your legs are parted and one of them is resting on Bucky’s hips. He kisses your forehead and his metal arm slowly drags to your inner thighs. You weren't wearing any underwear, giving complete access to Bucky, as he plunged his metal middle finger into your core. You gasp and your hold around Bucky tightens. He pulls out his finger and rubs your clit, making you moan in his chest. His hold on your waist tightens as he pushes two fingers in you again and uses his thumb to caress your nub. Your moans and gasps fill the quiet room as you reach the edge. You twist a little and put your hand on your mouth as you come all over Bucky’s sweatpants. You sigh and push Bucky a little, signaling him to grab new sweatpants. He complies and snuggles back into the bed against you.

……………………

The kitchen was lively today. Nobody was on a mission so the atmosphere was very relaxed. But not everyone was relaxing.

“Bucky, come on, go on this date. She's really nice and totally your type.” Sam pushed the topic further.

“How do you know my type, bird brain?” Bucky walked behind the kitchen counter.

You were standing there, making lunch for everyone while Bucky helped. Bucky would discreetly hold your waist or find a way to keep close to you in the kitchen. You were a blushing mess but Bucky didn't mind. As he saw nobody was looking, he kissed your cheek and went to the fridge to pretend as if nothing had happened. You just stood there with eyes wide.

“Let me help out.” Bucky very subtly held your waist and moved you away from the stove and started stirring the soup pot. He knew he had shocked you enough and you needed to calm down.

“She's all goth. You grunt, she stares. It's like a match made in heaven, Tinman. Go out with her. Nat arranged the date for you.” Sam continued and Nat nodded.

You looked up and saw Bucky roll his eyes and shake his head. His hand went to his chest and caressed his shirt before going back to the stove.

“I'm not going anywhere. I've told you before, I do not want to go on dates. I am happy where I am.”

“Too late, Barnes. She'll be waiting for you at the cafe this evening. I've already arranged the date and promised her. You can't back out now.” Nat warned Bucky.

“What the fuck, Nat! I told you I'm not interested. Cancel it. Im not going and thats final.” Bucky slams the stirring spoon on the counter and stomps out of the kitchen but not before subtly nudging you to follow.

“Talk some sense into him. He listens to you. Tell him it is a good idea to meet new people,” Sam pleads to you.

You just shake your head and grab some soup in two bowls. One for you and one for Bucky. The rest of the team gather slowly to grab the soup.

You stop in front of your door and knock. A furrowed eyed Bucky opens the door and side steps to let you in.

You hold out the soup bowl towards Bucky who has turned his back to you. “Bucky?”

Your quiet whisper of his name was enough to melt his brains off. He stands up and takes the soup bowl from your hand, putting it to the side. He hugs you and nuzzles his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. Your hand instinctively wraps around his waist and you start rubbing his back to calm him down.

“They just won't let it go. I'm sorry, doll. I wish I could give a better reason to them.” Bucky mumbles into your neck, sending waves of goosebumps all over your body.

“It's okay. Go.” You try to make him go because you know what it's like to be stood up and you know for the fact that Bucky will stand the girl up.

“I'm not gonna listen to you this time, doll. This is ridiculous. I am not leaving and that is final. Maybe I'll send one of those apology flowers you talk about to her through Happy.” he tightens his hold on you. You sigh. You knew it was pointless from getting him to change his mind.

You just wanted him to go and tell the girl that he is committed elsewhere but he is so stubborn that he won't even listen to what you have to say so you try to pull away to at least have him finish his soup.

“No. stop pulling away.” He sits back on bed with you in his lap, not even letting you go. You giggle and try to make space between the two of you so you can at least grab the soup bowl.

“Bucky, soup.” You manage to release your hand point at the bowls.

“Fine. but only because you are hungry and you made this with so much love.” His stomach grumbles and he makes a face, making you giggle even more.

His frown melts into a smile and he grabs your face, peppering kisses all over it, making you giggle and laugh. “This is why I'm not going anywhere. You are perfect, doll. I love you.”

……………………

“You piece of shit! Did you seriously stand her up? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nat blasted at him and threw a punch at him.

Bucky ducked and svewerd to the side to keep you safe. You were standing very close to Bucky to hide the fact that he was holding your waist. But just as Nat threw a punch at him, he pulled away and moved away from you.

“Are you crazy? You could have hurt her.” Bucky pointed at you while dodging Nat’s punches. “And I sent flowers to say sorry. I told you I am not interested. When I say no, accept it.”

Bucky blocks Nat’s punches with his metal arm and pushes her away. Before she could do more damage, Steve walks in and stands between Bucky and Nat.

“Enough, both of you. This is not a dueling ground. Walk it off, Romanov. And you, Bucky, let's talk.” Steve nods at you and guides Bucky out of the gym leaving you sigh in relief.

That night, everyone had dinner on their own. You weren't very keen on cooking so you, Bucky and Steve got pizza together. They had put on Harry Potter since you loved talking about it.

Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you mouthed the dialogues with the characters. He smiled. Steve nudged Bucky and shook his head with a smile.

Steve loved seeing his best friend so happy. Steve loved you like a sister too. Your quiet and shy nature had calmed Steve in many situations and he was grateful. You had taken Steve’s side during the fallout and helped Bucky without a complaint. Surprisingly Bucky wanted to keep you by his side. Steve saw Bucky open up to you and you accepted him naturally. One day Steve found Bucky cuddled up with you and he knew this was his brother’s happy ending.

“I'm off to bed. Doll, take care,” Steve kissed your forehead. “Buck, please stop fighting with people. And think about what I said, both of you. I know where you come from but think about it before it causes more such issues.”

Steve closed the door behind him as he walked out and went off to bed. You turned off the movie and got up to throw the boxes away. Bucky took the boxes from you and walked out of the room to throw them off while you cleaned up the room and got ready to sleep.

Bucky walked in, took off his shirt and crawled in the bed beside you. “What are you thinking, doll?” He saw your solemn expression.

“Maybe Steve is right.” You whisper quietly, fumbling with the edge of the blanket.

Bucky holds your hand and pulls you close to lie on his chest. “Are you worried? I will do what you want to do, doll.”

“You have been doing what we want, Bucky, but after today, I didn't think it would get this serious.”

“Are you talking about my little tiff with Nat? It worked out at the end. You know that.” Bucky kissed your forehead.

“That and the fact that you got set up on a date. I-i know that you won't ever go but, it-it scared me. I-” Your voice started to waver.

You cried on Bucky’s chest. He lifted your face up and wiped away the tears, kissing your forehead.

“Doll, I get it. That's what made me more angry. They were talking about it to you as well. Trying to involve you in their little plans. I hated that you had to listen to all of that.”

“So? What do you think?” You lift your face and rest your chin on his chest, looking at him.

“Don't tell Steve I said this, it'll get to his head, but he is right.”

You rise up to give him a peck but Bucky pulls you for a deeper kiss. You moan and straddle his waist. He lifts your (his) t-shirt up and throws it on the floor, without letting his lips leave yours. You grind against his clothed erection.

“Didn't wear any panties, doll? My perfect girl.”

He flips you and removes his sweatpants. He aligns himself against your folds and slowly pushes himself in. your back arches on the bed and a loud moan escapes your throat. He flips the pair of you again and gets you on top of him, pushing his cock deeper into you. You slowly start to grind against him, making him moan and hiss. His hands are kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples as he starts pushing himself into you. You start bouncing over him to match his rutting speed.

“Fuck, doll. You're being so good right now.”

You whimper as you get closer to the edge. “Bucky, im gonna-”

“Cum, doll. Ive got us.”

His speed increases and soon you both cum and he fills you up while you're gushing down on him. You pant as your body falls on him. He caresses your back as you both catch your breaths.

He slowly gets up, taking you with him, to the bathroom to clean up. The cleaning up in the shower turns into another session and later you both fall on the bed, naked and exhausted. You pull yourself a little further from Bucky and pull out a dainty gold band from the bedside table.

You hand the ring over to Bucky who chuckles and slips it on your finger. You sigh with content and snuggle into the blanket with Bucky’s chest against your back, all tucked in.

……………….

The New Year’s party by Tony Stark is always iconic and it was just as this year too. You and Bucky came to the party together. Bucky was immediately called over by Tony to meet some people while you made your way to the corner of the room. Steve saw you and stood beside you with beer in his hand.

You look at Steve with beer and giggle.

Steve looks at you and rolls his eyes. “I know. But I enjoy the feeling of the bottle in my hand. Makes me feel normal, y’know.”

You nod and pat his back. He relaxes. You point at his hand and he shakes his head. “Not today.” Steve instantly changes the topic. “Bucky told me about your plan today. I'm here for support, you know that, right?” You nod your head vigorously, making Steve laugh out loud.

Hearing Steve laugh, Bucky turns his head in the direction to see a smile on your face while Steve laughs. He relaxes a little and goes back to the conversation. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get to you the entire night. Someone either dragged him away or you were occupied with conversation with the teammates, but mostly it was the first reason.

It was time for dinner and you started digging around the buffet table to find your favorites. Bucky subtly joined you and handed him the plate.

“I'm nervous, doll.” He whispers in your ears. You look up to him and his stale blue eyes are staring deep into yours. You look around to see if someone isn't looking and pull him in a very secluded corner. You peck his lips and hug him tightly. He releases the breath he didn't know he was holding and wraps his free arm around you.

“Thank you, doll, I needed it.”

You take the plate from him and walk back to the buffet table and gather more food before moving back to the corner of the room. Bucky looks at you as you go with a bounce in your step. He could tell you were happy with the decision and he smiled.

……………….

People were counting down and Bucky was dragged to the other side of the room. You stood in your corner and tried to find Bucky in the crowd. You could have pushed through but he was too surrounded. You shift from one foot to another. The heels were killing you and Bucky had promised that you'd leave immediately after the countdown was done.

Bucky dodged and stumbled against the crowd to reach you. He heard many women in the crowd saying they had a chance with him and he did not want to give it to them.

Bucky came across one woman who tried to grab his shirt.

Natasha pointed at some woman behind Bucky who would like a kiss but Bucky distracted her

Almost there

Happy New Year!

Your back was to the crowd. A hand slipped around your waist and pulled you around to face your blue-eyed man. “Happy New Year, doll.”

He kissed you deeply. He was pouring out all the adrenaline that had flown into him while reaching you. Your hand cupped his face and pulled him closer. His metal arm held the back of your head to angle it better while his flesh arm held you tightly against his body.

You heard the entire room gasp and then pin drop silence. You needed to breathe so you tapped his shoulder twice. He pulled his lips away from yours and rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess it's time, doll.”

He moves to your side and pulls you closer to him. But before he could get a word out, Sam jumped in.

“You and her? When did that happen?”

“Well, if you would be quiet, I would tell you.” Bucky pulls you to the couch and sits down, taking you on his lap. You try to slide down beside him but his hold won’t budge. “Well, this is a family matter and I assume the rest of you got the message.”

“Right, well, thank you all for joining the party but I guess it ends here today.” Tony starts shooing people away.

Steve comes and sits beside Bucky and you. He slaps Bucky on the back supportively and you smile a little before burying your face in Bucky’s neck out of embarrassment.

“Everyone is gone. Out with it, Tinman.” Sam jumps onto the adjacent sofa with Nat and the rest of the team in tow.

“We're married.” Bucky pulls out his hand from around your waist and grabs your left hand to show off the matching wedding bands.

“What the fuck!!!” Natasha jumps out of the seat and comes close to check the rings.

“Since when?” Tony asked.

“Three years now, right doll?” You nod.

“Three years! Right under our noses?”

“When did you get married? Where? How? What?”

Everyone was very confused with the revelation.

“We met during the fallout and well, i started to fall in love with her. She felt the same and we got married in a city hall in New York.” Bucky explained in short terms. You were still in his lap and nodded to everything he said, supporting his statement.

“But, why were we not invited? We were with you the whole time! How did we not know about this?” Sam almost screamed his head off.

“You werent there all the time. Remember the day Steve sent you all to stakeout? He helped me and the doll get to the city hall and we got married. Captain America as our witness.” Bucky chuckled at the last statement, earning a small whack from you on his chest. Steve just rolled his eyes.

“You knew!” Natasha pointed at Steve who shrugged. “It wasn't my story to tell and I just wanted to see my best friend happy. He was happy with her so I stopped them.”

The discussion went on for almost an hour. Your little stifled yawn caught Bucky’s attention and he got up with you in his arms.

“Alright kids, my wife and I are tired and I have plans for our third anniversary tomorrow.”

“Bye.” You wave at them and slump back in his arms.

“Wait! At Least tell us your anniversary date.”

“It's January 1st. It was dead winter and my wife showed me that I can be happy during the cold too.”

He lets the elevator door shut on everyone’s faces. Seeing a sleepy you in his arms was all he could ask for this New Year.

................................

this fic is open for requests

#bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #fluff #marvel fandom #smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x y/n #grumpy!bucky #shy!reader #quiet!reader #fanfic #bucky barnes #loverslodge

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dreamwritesimagines · 5 months ago

Text

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[4] - Ray of Light

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #fluff #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett

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suncoved · 8 months ago

Text

SALTWATER BLUES ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂ𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ

CHAPTER ONE — ENDLESS INTERACTIONS!

pairing; childhoodbestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: You return to the outer banks after moving away with your mother at 13, leaving your best friend Rafe, alone and confused with no way out. Now you're back, 6 years later.. and it's an absolute shit show.

series masterlist !

Rafe threw his head back as he snorted his first line of the night, the rush quickly making its way to his brain as his body relaxed. He sniffed more from the intrusion, scanning his eyes over the crowd of people at the party on a normal night in the outer banks.

"My boy knows how to party!" Topper enthusiastically claimed, walking up to Rafe who was sat around the glass table on the balcony.

"Shut up topper" He grumbled in reply, glancing over at the girl following behind his blonde friend. "Rafe, this is Marley. Said she wanted to get to know you"

The girl batted her eyelashes at Rafe, her legs glistening in her very short skirt. "not happening" Rafe replied, preparing the next round of his supply as he waved his hand at the pair in front of him to go away.

"Well, the king has spoken. Sorry Marls, he's been a bit grumpy for well.. always."

Rafe rolled his eyes at Topper's words, not even bothering to watch as the girl walked away begrudgingly.

"When are you gonna move on man, I mean we all loved her but.. she's not coming back." Topper sighed, sitting on the chair next to Rafe. "Shut the fuck up, you don't know the first thing about me and her. " He snapped back, his blood boiling at the mention of you, as it always did.

He was so angry.

So angry that you had left him without a goodbye. So angry that he couldn't hold your hand or cuddle you. So angry he couldn't just have you back.

But what made him the most angry, was that it wasn't angry at all.

He could never be angry at you. All he wanted was you back in his arms, but he knew that was never happening.

And he was yet to make peace with that fact.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"I've missed you so much!" Kie squealed as she ran into your arms, pushing you back as you giggled and hugged her. "I've missed you too Kie. It's been too long," you replied solemnly, pulling back to look at her face for the first time in years.

"Outerbanks hasn't been the same without you" Kiara replied, squeezing you extra tight as she pulled back. You just smiled in response, taking a deep breath of the fresh Obx air you didn't know you missed so much.

"Well c'mon, we have swimming to do." You giggled, pulling off your shirt and shorts to reveal your bikini underneath, feeling the soft sand between your toes.

You couldn't wait for her as she shimmed out of her clothes, looking at her and smiling before running to the water.

You had only been back in the Obx for a matter of hours, digging through your suitcase to find the first bathing suit you could see before running out of your house.

The feeling of the fresh, clear, water on your skin as you dived under waves was unmatched to anything you had felt before. Like before this, you had never even lived before.

All the worries and panic about coming back home dissipating the second you touched the sea.

You don't know how long you were swimming, but the second you came back to consciousness the sun was setting over the horizon.

As you swam back to the shore, you heard a bustle on the sand in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at the commotion, your feet finding their way to the sand below you as you walked out of the water.

Having only spent about 6 hours back in the Outerbanks, you hadn't yet become acquainted with the nightlife of the teenagers of Kildare.

You heard your name being yelled behind you as you walked up the beach to your towel and clothes, turning around to see Kiara now fully dry and fully dressed.

"Oh my god, you were swimming that whole time? I thought you went home!" Kie gasped as you noticed a red solo cup in her hand.

"I always lose track of time out there. What's all this?" you questioned, looking around at the crowds of teenagers and music pumping in your ears at the once peaceful boneyard.

"Kegger, Wait! C'mon, The boys will be so happy your back!" She enthusiastically replied, pulling you towards the crowds while you were still drying off with your towel.

"Wait Kie!" you gasped, much preferring that she gave you the chance to put on some clothes first.

"Guys! Look whose back" Kiara exclaimed, pulling you out from behind her to see the trio of troublemaking pouges from your childhood.

"Hey, no way! The kook princess is back in town" JJ gasped, pulling you in for a hug as you smiled. "Hey J"

You were never that close with the Pouges, because well you were never in the same circle as them. Though, Pope's dad Heyward knew your father from childhood and was at your house from time to time.

After exchanging hugs with the rest of the boys, they soon went into a conversation about god knows what, letting you have the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

You sighed to yourself as you walked down the beach, attempting to escape the commotion of the Kegger. It wasn't dark yet, so you found yourself sitting in the soft sand, staring at the waves in peace.

You were yet to see or hear of the Cameron boy you had been thinking about your whole life.

Wondering what he had been up to for the last 6 years of your life. Was he in college? What did he look like now? Was he tall, handsome?

You had endless amounts of questions, but you were still undecided if you actually wanted them to be answered.

You brought your legs into your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself, letting your head rest on your arms as you stared into the horizon.

You looked behind you as you heard voices, watching a girl climb onto a red buoy that had washed up on the shore. You squinted your eyes as you saw a familiar boy lend her a hand to get down.

Topper.

As Sarah looked over the shore from her view, she noticed you sat alone. And i mean, you're someone people never forget, and along with the fact she hadn't stopped hearing about you from her older brother since she could remember.

You hear your name from behind you as you turn, seeing Sarah run up to you with Topper following cluelessly behind.

"Hey Sarah" You sigh, trying to be as enthusiastic as possible but you can't help but crave silence right now.

"What're doing back here, I thought I'd never see you again" She exclaims, leaning down to hug you. "Can't get rid of me that quick"

"Hey Topper" You spoke, watching as he nervously peered at you behind Sarah.

As much as you loved Sarah, you guys were never close. Sure you could have a good conversation with her occasionally, but you were always closer to Topper, because well, where you went, Rafe went.

You watched as someone called Sarah's name, making her turn around and walk towards the voice. Leaving you and Topper alone on the shore.

Instead of following her, he took a seat next to you on the sand.

"We've missed you a lot y'know" He sighed, shuffling closer to you as you turned to him "He's not doing good, at all. He needs you"

You felt a tear making its way down your cheek at the mention of Rafe, turning away quickly to wipe it off your face. "See him soon alright, please"

With his last statement, he got up and left you to your thoughts.

When your mom decided to whisk you away back to the mainland, you didn't only lose your father and all you knew, but the love of your life as well.

You and Rafe were inseparable, and you had always wondered what your life would be like if you never had left.

You looked over the crowd at Kie, who was having fun and laughing with her friends. Deciding against having the whole 'I'm going home now' conversation where you knew she was going to try to get you to stay, you walked the length of the beach back to your house.

You didn't even know how you would go about seeing Rafe again. Were you gonna show up to his house and offer milk and cookies, or hide from him for the rest of your life until you could have plastic surgery to change your face so he couldn't recognise you?

Probably the latter.

You held your shoes in your hands as you walked up the staircase to your room, your dad nowhere in sight, and the house as quiet as it was in your childhood.

You sighed as you flicked the light on in your room, the sky outside now pitch black.

You immediately start pulling off your shirt and shorts which were over your bikini. The mixture of the sand and the still-damp swimsuit making you squirm.

You look over to your balcony and realise your curtains are still open, making the wise decision that you should probably shut them before completely stripping, you walk over to the window.

You reach to each side of the fabric, beginning to pull them into each other before your eyes are cast to the light in front of you from outside.

You look over to the bedroom opposite yours out the window, clothes strewn across the floor, the bed unmade... Oh! and your childhood best friend staring right at you in utter shock.

Shoot, there goes your master plan.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe outer banks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks

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teaboot · 1 month ago

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Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

My earliest memory of what I would call self-awareness occurred spontaneously in the middle of my fourth birthday party, where I suddenly became alert to my existence as a separate entity surrounded by other conscious beings.

This presented to me as not dissimilar to simply being brushed along the flow of a river- experiencing life as a serious of flashbang moments and instants and sensations, like meditating to music until the individual notes break into sounds that follow no rhythm and are only noise- no past or future, only now- and then suddenly finding yourself holding a paddle in the belly of a boat with no idea what to do next.

I remember running to the body that felt safest, who I did not recognize as anything else, and asking it who all the strangers around us were. The person that I learned was my mother told me they were my aunties and uncles, and I was being silly because I KNEW them, and why was I so shy all of a sudden?

Learning to articulate myself after that instant, I remember, was immensely frustrating. Learning your first language, as I remember it, is wuite a bit like how Ive been told recovering from brain damage feels like.

YOU know what you mean. YOU know what you're saying. But there are holes where you reach for something you know MUST be there and find nothing, and must find a way to communicate using only what you have at hand. Except there are always faces looking at you, talking down to you, asking you to do tricks for them to prove you really are a real human person.

I loved art, and I'm very good at it, but GETTING good at it was the worst. I'm told I started with scribbles at six months or so, before I could walk, and at three and four I remember being immensely frustrated that I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to produce, and I didn't know how to PRODUCE it.

And simple shit, like drawing shapes and circles, developing fine motor skills. You FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, but your hands are soft and wobbly and don't cooperate. Getting your mouth and body to obey your directions is hellish, especially when all the appliances and furniture and installations around you are built for someone easily triple your size.

Chairs are hard to sit in when you're small and cant touch the ground. Your legs dangle and you cant scoot closer to the table, and the backrest is so far back you cant use it for support, and the table comes up past your chest so your chin is amost in your plate and your dumb clumsy hands cant hold a big spoon or fork in a way that feels natural or elegant so you end up smearing shit EVERYWHERE and getting yapped at for having your elbows on the counter.

Reading people was interesting. Most people are condescending and plastic when you're small, and you can tell when they're being saccharine and fake, but you're told the polite thing is to believe what they say and be polite back. I used to try using big sentences on purpose just to het them to leave me alone. "What a pretty girl! Can you say Hello?" was the most common ask I can recall. Id answer with the floweriest thing I could think of, usually, "I'm very well, thank you for asking, how are you?", because people only ask you interesting questions after you do well enough on their tests to prove you're people.

Being small was very tiring, and very frustrating, and becoming aware of myself in my own head probably made everything a lot worse overall.

No regrets, though. From what I can recall, life is far more enjoyable when you're aware of it occurring. Time can't slow down until you know it's there, I think

Being a baby full of instincts felt like living as a live grenade. Being a child was far harder, but more Full. More Human. A LOT more like adulthood than infancy, and I was very determined to remember that.

If any of that makes sense

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hermaeusmorax · 3 months ago

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What have you done?

CHARACTERS: Jayce x reader, slight Viktor x reader (more platonic!)

SUMMARY: you, Jayce and Viktor share history. You're arguing with Jayce about his actions in the Undercity. Reader is described having a metal arm!

WARNINGS: SET IN SEASON 02 EPISODE 06 SPOILERS AHEAD! this is very angsty, descriptions of death and bodies, gets steamy in the end (minors DNI!), enemies to lovers type shit (my jam!)

A/N: okay so this is my very first piece after a 4 years HIATUS (hiii haha), anyways, fucked up Hexcore!Jayce is just sooo *twirls hair*

"What have you done?" You scream as you blindly lunge towards Jayce, a random weapon tightly clutched in your hands — no doubt discarded by some, now dead, Noxian soldier. You could barely see an inch in front of you due to the surging chaos, but you were sure about Jayce, you would never mistake him, his silhouette, his scent.

It had been months since Jinx's attack on the Counsil. Months since Viktor emerged out of the Hexcore changed, taking you to Zaun with him and leaving Jayce behind. You were a chemist, Viktor's childhood best friend that stuck by him since the very beginning. You and Jayce had a brief, intense, spark. It happened before him and Mel, before it became hard to grasp his attention, being Piltover's golden star and everything. It hurt when you left him, standing at the laboratory, his pleading brown eyes boring holes into yours and Viktor's backs. But Viktor was right, your paths, your visions, had long strayed, being held together only by lasting affection.

In Zaun, at Viktor's — The Herald's — growing community, you acted as a chemist again. Helping the newly cured zaunites, researching to improve their lives as much as possible. You had been specially busy since Vander's arrival, severely mutilated by Viktor's former teacher and in desperate need of help. You were working in your makeshift lab, absent mindedly humming a familiar tune when hell broke loose.

A loud, sharp sound echoed, followed by more crashing sounds and piercing screams. Smoke rose in the air, making it almost impossible to inhale. For a split second you could hear Viktor's voice in your head whispering, "Jayce", you ran as fast as your legs permitted, desperate to locate the origin of the sound, to locate Viktor. When you finally did find them, you wished you hadn't. The starking image of his limp and dead body made your breath hitch, mind speeding so much to make sense of things it made you dizzy. Blood rushed to your ears, making a deafening ringing sound, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to adjust, then you saw another figure, a tall and dark frame.

Jayce looked, different, but your brain had no time to process that information as you grabbed the first weapon you could find thrown on the floor, lunging at him. "What did you do?" "How could you?" "I hate you!" you breathlessly shout, aiming for Jayce's head with your stray weapon, then again, you never were much of a fighter, that was Jayce's job. The last thing you heard before the world went complete black, was his voice, a cry of your name, sounding so broken and lost.

"Sorry for knocking you out like that. I hope your head's not hurting too much." you heard Jayce's soft voice, distant at first as you were regaining consciousness, then close, right at your ears. You slowly woke up, blinking the throbbing pain away you were at last able to recognize your surroundings.

Jayce had brought you to your old laboratory, right at Piltover's heart, where you had last seen him, where you had left him. You were sitting in a chair, your mechanical arm resting on the table beside you, laying alongside dirty, well-worn tools. "I fixed it. Your arm. It looked broken and I-" Jayce blurted out, stopping with a nervous chuckle when you looked at him. "My technique might not be as delicate as Viktor's but it's fixed, working. I promise!". When Viktor's name left Jayce's lips, a haunting image of his corpse flashed in your mind, compelling you to leap forward and forcefully grab Jayce's collar, gripping so tight your knuckles turned white, drained of blood. You were trembling horribly, fueled by an ugly mixture of grief and hatred, your words came out hoarse, stinging like a whip.

"You promise? Ha! You killed him Jayce! You- you just disappear and then when you finally come to us, you go and kill him? What's wrong with you? I don't know you anymore, you've become someone else entirely and I- No!" you were panting, tears angrily threatening to spill "That's too gentle for you, you're a murderer, Jayce, a monster!".

Jayce's mind was racing, spinning with the force of your words and then it finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!" he tore your hands away from his shirt, holding your wrists and pulling you close, pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea Y/N! You can't possibly begin to understand what I was put through!" "I was in there, while you and Viktor were out here playing house!" "I kept my promise!".

Jayce's eyes were red, frantically shaking looking into your own, in desperate search of something. He was so close, you could feel his heartbeat and his breath fanning your face, his scent was attacking your nostrils mercilessly, engulfing you in his presence. Like this you could almost see the old Jayce inside there, somewhere — untainted, full of promise — the one you fell hard for. All it took was a single look from him. A single, meaningful, glance down to your mouth from his so pretty brown eyes. He was so, so close. Next thing you knew you and Jayce were in each other's arms, kissing so forcefully it almost broke skin. Kissing like your very lives depend on it, like you'll die of asphyxiation if you stop.

Jayce hoisted you up the table, sending tools and papers flying, both of you couldn't care less right now. He positioned himself in between your legs, leaning some of his body weight on you, forcing your back to meet the cold surface beneath. "Jayce!" you breathed out, talking into his mouth, gasping for air and breaking the kiss for a second too long. Your hands, firmly resting on the back of his neck, wandered to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it, trying to lose it. Jayce noticed and made quick work of your shirt, hurriedly sliding it over your head and tossing aside to a forgotten corner.

"Don't stop" you huffed against him again, voice dripping with want, you struggled blindly to unbuckle his belt, too busy reciprocating his fervent kisses to bother to look down. "I got you" Jayce urged, going crazy with the way your lips felt on his, even more addicting than he remembers. He reached down, tugging off your pants and underwear in one precise motion. Your senses were completely overwhelmed, all you were able to think, see, hear, smell and feel was Jayce.

You were both pouring everything into this kiss, into this very moment. Bleeding years of bottled up love and regrets into each other's systems. Even still, you harbored feelings for him, and him you. Despite the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside your head, a small, nagging voice coming from the darkest dephts of your mind, kept quietly chanting "What have you done, Y/N?"

#arcane x reader #arcane imagines #arcane scenarios #arcane x you #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #arcane angst #jayce angst #arcane spoilers #jayce imagines #jayce scenarios #arcane reader insert

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usedtobecooler · 4 days ago

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the sinclairs' new neighbour arrives out of the blue on a random friday night in may and subsequently becomes the object of eddie munson's desires.

tw: explicit sexual content, 18+ minors dni. virgin!eddie, oral male receiving, eddie's pov. pathetic amounts of pining. no use of y/n.

you've been around after every hellfire meeting for a month now, waiting with legs crossed and swinging from a fold-out table as you sit patiently for them to wrap it up, and fuck if you're not the most distracting thing eddie munson has ever laid eyes on.

you join in on the end-of-game conversations every week, a genuine little interest in the lilt of your voice as you ask questions and join in with the banter, which usually consisted of ribbing mike wheeler for being a little shit.

and, eddie's not dumb, okay? he knows you're only here because you're picking up the sinclair siblings every week, taking a bit of the load off steve harrington, who's been designated chauffeur for a year now, much to his own dismay.

but, sometimes, he thinks you maybe like being here and spending late friday evenings in their presence. and it's a nice little delusion for eddie to live in until he's home and safely tucked under his sheets, thinking of your cute laugh and your flirty smile when he slides a hand under his sleep shorts.

he's only a man. a pervert of a man, absolutely. but he'll feed into his delusions and feed into his daydreams, because it's not hurting anybody but himself in the confines of his room.

things are shadowy and hazy this particular friday, and eddie sure as shit is not on his game. he's stuttering and fumbling over his words, which wheeler is using to his advantage like the dickhead he is, mocking eddie with every fuck up with that stupid fucking face he makes.

eddie calls it a day earlier than usual because his head just isn't in the game damnit, and henderson claps him on the back on his way out, giving him this sincere smile which eddie kind of hates because dustin usually takes every opportunity to add himself into their shithead-ery.

oh god, he was worse than he thought. he needs to hang his hat up and give his job over to zombie boy byers immediately.

eddie doesn't get out of his head quick enough to realise that harrington arrived and left with all of the kids in tow, the sinclairs included.

so when you arrive at the door a half hour later, a confused look on your face, eddie's face fucking falls.

"damn, did harrington want his old job back that badly he kidnapped my kids?" you laugh quietly, all sincerity and jokes as you look around the empty room, eyes landing on eddie with a sparkle.

"it's my fault, i let everybody go early and i-" eddie groans, putting his hands on his hips then dropping them to his sides, "i didn't think. sorry, sweetheart."

sweetheart. why'd he fucking say that? someone needs to get the shotgun and put him down like old yeller.

eddie makes himself busy by packing away all his stuff, pointedly not looking in your direction because he's an idiot piece of shit, and who knows what other mess will come out of his mouth if he keeps letting himself look at you.

"you seem stressed, eddie," you observe quietly, a statement. you cross your arms behind your back, fingertips linking together, "is there anything i can do to help?"

eddie lets out this little self-deprecating laugh, a mirthless smile on his features, "unless you stop showing up here, no, there's nothing you can do."

a hurt look flashes across your face momentarily before it disappears again, masked over with a confused furrow of your brows, "oh. i'm sorry, have i done something wrong?"

eddie's fucking this up. he's a fucking idiot, who apparently can't talk to any girl who isn't ronnie or little erica sinclair.

"just, y'know, consuming my brain so much that i can't focus on anything else lately, so." eddie admits, deflated as he slumps into his chair and rolls his neck until he's looking up at the ceiling. his throat clicks audibly, dry and scratchy.

"oh." you say again, a relieved sigh escaping you as you kick a leg out to bash his shin lightly with the toe of your boot, "why didn't you say something? that's- that's okay. lucas kind of figured, he told me your moon eyes were annoying him."

eddie's kicking them all out. hellfire will be no more. he's sick of these damn kids.

he covers his face with his hands, rubbing against his two day stubble with calloused fingertips. a useless groan escaping him, "sorry, i wasn't trying to be obvious. girls don't. hmm."

eddie stops himself with a grunt, trying to narrowly escape the word vomit that threatens to spill out. he's nervously jiggling his leg, the chains on his jeans clattering together obnoxiously loud in the otherwise quiet room.

he feels your presence enter his orbit, the soft press of your hand on his knee stopping the motion of his jerky leg.

"don't be so nervous," you scold playfully, voice light like you're trying to hide a smile, "i'm not anybody to be nervous around. i like that you noticed me, that i'm somebody you're interested in."

eddie's hands fall away from his face at that, and he blinks blearily, head lolling until he catches sight of you crouched down in front of him, staring up with these gorgeous eyes that eddie just wants to get lost in.

"really?" he asks dumbly, brain short-circuiting at the sight of you knelt down like this in front of him, his stupid mind wandering into filthy territory.

"really." you nod, smiling up at him with this thousand-watt thing that he's sure could power the whole of hawkins, "i'm interested, too. in case i wasn't being obvious enough by hanging around here willingly every week."

you weren't obvious at all. not at all. or maybe you were and eddie's just a fucking moron.

"can i help relieve some of that stress now?" you ask, head tilted to the side in question, "i'm only down here anyway."

eddie's brain melts out of his ears, he's pretty sure. his tombstone is sure to say here lies eddie munson, killed by the insinuation of a blowjob.

"oh, you don't have to- you really don't have to, ha, your hands are on me, fuck-"

the conversation kind of fades out after that, and you're all action dropping from your deep squat to thud your knees against the floor softly.

and you're so pretty on your knees for him, eyelashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks that are flushed and warm. eddie practically melts into his chair as you paw at his jeans, fluid motions and featherlight touches like you've done this before, and god he doesn't want to think about that right now, that you've done this for other guys before him. not when you're laid out below him and nudging in between his spread legs with pursed lips, spitting over the flushed head of his dick to dampen it further.

"you should- you should know i've never done this bef- fuck, fuck," eddie stutters over his words, fingers clawing into the arms of the chair when you begin mouthing hot and wet over the leaking slit that continues weeping pathetically with every lave of your tongue.

he tried, okay? he tried to tell you, but he's a weak man and - and you're fucking looking at him with these pretty, knowing eyes like you had a clue from the beginning, and fuck was it really that obvious?

he clenches his eyes shut, trying to will away the images of a neon sign over his head that scream eddie munson, adult virgin.

you start off slow and savouring, lapping at him with these kitten licks and mouthing down the bulging vein on the underside. eddie thinks he's delirious, because he's surely imagining the way you're inhaling the musky scent of him, moaning prettily as you do.

"mm, fuck," eddie groans quietly, hips shakily punching up when you finally sink down over the head of his cock properly with your lips wrapped tightly around your teeth, the wet heat of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes him feel fucking insane.

he didn't know it would feel like this. his brain is gonna explode, scanners style.

your hand reaches blindly for his, guiding his fingers to slide into your hair, and his eyes fly open to meet yours, a pretty haze covering your orbs as you nod slightly to give him the go-ahead to curl his fingers.

"ha, you're gonna fucking kill me," eddie murmurs, but he's gently pulling ever so slightly from the root at the base of your skull, because he may be a virgin but he's not fucking clueless, right? he's read enough skin mags to know how to pull hair properly.

you whimper high pitched and your eyes finally flutter closed, letting eddie move you up and down with his firm hand as you alternate between sucking and drooling all over his length.

he's aware that he's looking at you like he's in love, okay? he can't help it. you're literally sucking the soul out of him, moaning around his girth and running your tongue over him like he's the best thing you've ever tasted. like he said before, he's weak.

"you- you're so good at this, oh my god," eddie's eyes roll back into his head when your free hand runs from where it's gripping the meat of his thigh to slide between his obscenely wide legs and cup his balls, rolling and squeezing them between your fingers.

the room is filled with the whining, high-pitched noises that eddie's really trying his best to hold in at risk of sounding like an absolutely pitiful virgin, and the wet noises of your mouth working over his cock, the slick slide of your fist jerking off what you can't quite reach.

eddie's stomach clenches, and holy fuck this is over too quick, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed because, because-

"i'm coming, you're making me come, holy fuck-" eddie's words die with a groan that sounds breathy and pathetic even in his own ears, his fingers burying so tight in your hair and pulling as he arches in on himself and jerks his hips in aborted little thrusts. he feels the plush of your lips brush against the wild, untamed curls at the base of his cock and he lets out a weak grunt, feels his length throb and spurt out another weak dribble of come at the sensation.

he's so delirious when he finally comes to that he's all but dragging you up from where your knees have to be aching on the floor, dragging you into his lap, and fuck sake his soft cock is still out and covered in spit and come and-

your mouth is on his in a hot press of lips and teeth and tongue, eddie's so out of his element here but the taste of his own spend on your tongue is as addictive as it is mildly disgusting.

"you got a mattress in the back of that van of yours?" you mumble between kisses, smiling into it.

"mhm, yup, a-ha," eddie nods wildly as he chases your mouth with his own, "i think i need some more stress relief. i hear burying your face between a pretty things legs helps."

eddie definitely does feel like he's dying when your thighs wrap around his ears and lock him in face-first.

and what a way to go that is.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #x reader #mine #my fanfic #he possesses me mind body and soul #virgin!eddie makes a comeback in a new way #virgin!eddie munson

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weirdmageddon · 1 year ago

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i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

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hysteria-things · 11 months ago

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SPACE CAMP

based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt, soft dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a night in with alcohol, you and your two closest friends end up playing a game… not knowing what it can turn into.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, drinking, making out, oral (female & male receiving), blindfold, teasing, edging, overstimulation, daddy kink, drunk(ish) sex, p in v, slight spit kink, degradation/praising, ass grabbing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,617

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: SHOUTOUT TO MY CUTESY 🧸 ANON AND ANOTHER ANON FOR MAKING THIS HAPPEN

buckle up everyone. told you it was worth the wait😇

nick wanted to hang out with madi tonight, leaving you and your two other best friends in your living room.

christopher and matthew sturniolo.

being friends for so long is such a blessing. some friendships either have drama or fall out, but not yours. the three of you are comfortable with doing almost anything together.

who knew that phrase would slap you in the face?

“so what’s this game about?” you ask, chris helping you tie the blindfold.

alcohol decorates the coffee table. there’s no doubt that you guys are a little drunk. “we are going to put on chapstick and you have to guess which flavor it is.”

“so we’re going to make out?” you laugh drunkenly. “cool.”

chris grabs the space camp box that’s on your bookshelf, opens the box, and places the chapstick down. they each grab one, smearing it nicely on their lips so the flavor will be able to pop.

kicking your feet and biting your lip in anticipation, you wait patiently. a hand then cups your cheek, lips smashing into yours. whoever this is kisses soft, lips moving in sync for a few seconds before pulling away.

smacking your lips together, you try to taste it. “watermelon?”

“nice.” matt says, moving out of the way for chris.

this time, the kiss is filled with hunger. your lips making a smacking sound while his tongue enters your mouth.

he stops, and you must admit that that kiss made your brain fuzzy and feel things between your thighs. “i know mint from anywhere.”

mint is easy to guess since the smell is so strong. they chuckle before one speaks.

“let's spruce it up a little” matt asks, looking over at his brother with a smirk on his face. he returns the same one, the triplet telepathy working like a charm.

furrowing your brows, you wait before a pair of hands start to pull down your pants. you bite your lip, the sudden air in the room hitting your clit when your bottoms are completely off.

a presence is felt in front of you, whoever it is blowing on your area. you jolt from it.

“sensitive.” matt points out, nibbling at your inner thighs.

you gasp once his tongue meets your core, licking strands up and down your slit. chest heaving, you squirm and moan softly.

chris smiles down at you, taking a piece of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. matt takes his thumbs to spread your folds wider, causing your arousal to drip all over his mouth and for him to dig deeper.

your hand rests on the back of his neck, purposely leaving him there. you start to moan uncontrollably, leaning your head on the back of the sofa. “matt.” you whine.

somehow, he manages to get his tongue so deep that you can only shiver and gasp from the feeling.

a familiar heat hits your stomach fast, but he pulls away. then, another figure kneels in front of you.

you have a few seconds to catch your breath, but this time you squeal and grip the person’s head.

unlike matt, instead of delving in, he sucks at your bud.

chris.

“oh, chris!” you mewl, your moans more high-pitched. even though they can’t see it, your eyes roll back and also start to water.

holding onto the sides of his head, you rut your hips upward. the way he’s suckling at your needy clit only makes you want more. “mm, chris! please go faster.” you whine, clenching around nothing.

both his tongue and lips continue to suck and lick, your legs opening wider. “you’re going to make me cum!” you moan, rubbing his hair with your fingertips.

just like matt, he pulls away.

“stop teasing me,” you whine, your pussy swollen and red from the edging. you exhale shakily, whining so pathetically. “please. please let me—”

“stop whining.” matt says, kneeling once again to get face to face with your dripping wetness.

it’s like the last time — his tongue moving at an animalistic pace, nose grazing your clit.

he lifts your legs onto his shoulders, the angle letting him hit a new spot.

a tear falls down your cheek, soft sobs and moans coming from your mouth. you’re far too sensitive for this, especially if it’s two people.

going to grab matt’s hair, a hand takes your wrists and lays them on your head, the other hand pulling you in to rest your cheek on his hard-on.

you whimper, another tear leaving your eyelid. “i want to touch him.”

“nah.” chris nonchalantly, caressing your head trying to soothe you from your panting.

mumbling something out of nowhere, matt stops, seeing if he heard you right. “what was that?”

your cheeks flush, nuzzling your head into Chris’s crotch. “daddy.” you whisper. “i need to cum.”

matt’s dick twitches in his pants, the erection only getting harder at your words. chris moved his hips forward from the sudden contact on his dick. the contact in question is your lips.

while matt’s eating you out, you kiss chris’ clothed boner. you moan on it, the vibration not helping his current state of mind.

“s-shit, y/n.” he stammers, throwing his head back. “fuck keep doing that.”

you listen, until the man between your legs hits that one spot inside you that has your toes curled. “i’m close, daddy!” you moan, arching your back with your mouth hanging open. “oh, f-fuck! i’m cumming.”

repeating the phrase rapidly, your legs squeeze in on his head and shake. then, your body unlooses, your orgasm dripping onto his face and the couch.

matt sits on the floor now, scooting back while chris lets go of your hands and takes the blindfold off.

it takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the light, but it hits you when you glance at your two best friends.

getting eaten out is one thing, but getting fucked by them is way different. however, you love the adrenaline of trying something new.

“get on your knees.” matt demands, motioning with his finger.

you listen, slowly making your way to the hardwood floor.

he smirks at how well you listen. “crawl to me.”

blush forms, your face becoming hot. you can’t tell if it’s because you’re embarrassed or because you’re so turned on by both of them.

you swiftly crawl toward matt, chris humming behind you at the way your pussy glistens by your movements.

once you are leveled with matt’s dick, you take off his belt before your hips get gripped. chris arches your back, feeling his tip coating itself with your juices.

you moan, continuing to take matt’s underwear off. chris groans, pushing into you with ease because of how wet you are.

inhaling sharply, you grab matt’s base and move your hand up and down it. he moans, his eyes not leaving contact with yours.

the boy behind you thrusts hard and fast, not having you adjust properly. whimpers leave your lips. man, he’s huge.

you try your best to keep matt occupied, by the pleasure feels so amazing that you stop moving your hand.

instead, you let go and look at him, face contorting in pleasure while moans come out of your agape mouth. “c-can i suck your cock, daddy?” you beg between noises. “i p-promise i’ll suck it good. i wan-want to feel your cock in my mouth.”

without saying a word, he grabs your head a pushes it down. you gag when your nose reaches his pubic bone. he does all the work and bobs your head. all you have to do is sit there and take two dicks.

the vibrations from your sounds vibrate through matt’s body. he smiles smugly, admiring how you’re under their control.

“damn, she’s tight.” chris grunts, grabbing your ass and jiggling it.

“so is this slutty mouth.” matt says, noticing the way you react by rolling your eyes back and moaning louder. “yeah? you like being our little slut?”

his grip tightens on your head and you wince. when your mouth reaches his tip, you spit on it… once, twice, three times before continuing.

matt groans. it’s a filthy sight, but he fucking adores it.

the echo of skin on skin bounces throughout the room, gulping and gagging flooding your ears.

“this is such a good pussy for such a good slut.” chris heaves, reaching between your thighs to rub your clit. your eyes widen, and your legs start to become jelly.

“mmfph clothe.” you try to warn, but for obvious reasons, you can’t.

matt’s balls tighten, immediately shooting his load down your throat. “that’s right.” he grunts, watching the way your hollow your cheeks to keep it in. “swallow it like a cumslut.”

finally being able to breathe again when he pulls out, you gasp for air but it soon turns into a scream when chris abuses that sweet spot.

matt lifts your head by the chin, leaning in to kiss you sloppily. he moans, biting your bottom lip and tugging at it when he tastes himself on your tastebuds.

“fuck yeah.” chris whispers when you start to streak your cream down his dick.

he pulls out, spurting his white on your back. (deep down he wishes he was able to finish inside you.)

you collapse on the ground, the two boys helping clean you and then themselves. after putting their clothes back on, they help you up and sit you back on the couch.

“put the blindfold back on.” matt asks.

your eyes widen, still dazed. “w-why?”

“because princess.” he says, grabbing the fabric and putting it back on your eyes. “we still have one more flavor left. you have a long night ahead of you.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe

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

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satorusugurugurl · 11 months ago

Text

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,682

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language

A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.

And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.

Life fucking hated you.

Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.

The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!

Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.

Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.

Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.

You could not show up to the wedding alone.

Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?

You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?

Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.

“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.

“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.

Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.

Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.

“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.

Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!

“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.

“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.

You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!

“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.

You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.

“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”

“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”

“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”

“Yes.”

Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.

”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”

”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.

”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.

He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?

”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down

”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”

You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.

”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”

Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.

”Great, lucky me.”

Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”

“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”

“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.

”Well shit, that’s a first!”

”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”

”Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.

”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”

”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”

In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.

It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.

It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.

“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”

“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”

“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”

“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”

You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”

“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”

The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.

You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.

You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.

“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”

“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”

You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.

You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.

”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.

“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”

”Eh!?”

Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.

You owed Haibara big time for this.

After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.

“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”

You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.

”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. “Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.

”You seriously think I believe that?”

Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.

“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”

Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.

”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.

”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”

The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.

It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.

“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.

”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.

Oh, he was fucked.

(TBC)

2K notes · View notes

fangdokja · 16 days ago

Text

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

────────────

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

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girl-lostconnection · 18 days ago

Note

been thinking about the punk x nerd au w simon and ohhhhh my godddddddddd

what if he begins running and working out during highschool and he fills out and discovers himself a bit more — and is significantly more attractive — and nerd!reader is all over ittt, and they actually start to like each other and they get closer.

what if he also goes into the military in this au, after they’ve both graduated and she’s devastated — losing her bsf like that, but they see each other later in life when he’s on leave and she’s elated and confused because that can’t be him, right? not her simon? and whose scarf is that, barely peaking out of the collar of his jacket on this cold manchester day?

hmmm just what’s been stewing in my brain!

Anon, imma be honest, its like you know something that I don’t and I’m all here for it cause reader just watching as this awkward angry teen turns into bloody behemoth of a man…damn, anon. Give me 14 of these right now. Also I’ll write about second part of your ask since it’s a little further away in the future.

THANK YOU for this opportunity to talk about Unsweetened Lemonade AU Ghost coming home from military🌟

The Soldier

Warnings: plus size gn!reader, Simon is hungry for more than just food, fluff, slight suggestive themes

Simon comes back home and it’s like nothing changed at all (like he’s still 17) — same rooftops and same streets and same tight feeling in his chest — the remnant of the war he was going through even before enlisting.

It still stings sometimes, deep inside of him, barbed wire on the inside of his jawline.

Sometimes it still aches, but Simon is no longer lanky and awkward with sharp angles and no coordination and a whole lot of rage.

Simon goes into military and comes on the other side almost twice heavier than he was before. (Twice as dangerous, twice as deadly)

The bulk of muscle and a nice level of fat born from regular training and regular meals finally shows how much sense his long limbs and towering height make.

He doesn’t regret the decision one bit, for the most part. (He only regrets he couldn’t sneak you into the base as his emotional support person)

You write to him and he gobbles up your every letter with the same hunger he finished every bite you brought him back in highschool, with the same hunger he held onto you before leaving after enlistment.

Simon reads these letters again and again until the new one comes.

He gets dropped off in the neighbourhood where you live (mates laugh and smack his shoulder, joking about lad or lass that’s gonna be happy to see him, joking that he needs to bring the pretty thing around because they’ve been dying to know who are you).

The duffel bag is slinged over his shoulder, your scarf still wrapped around his neck and anticipation coiling in his belly.

It’s been a minute since you saw each other.

Since he saw you, since he could wrap himself in your warmth, nuzzle his face in the soft pudge of your tummy (god, he missed it so badly sometimes it felt like physical aching).

Simon has been hungry for more than your meals.

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying to warm up as he fumbles with the written address on the scrap of paper. It shouldn’t be far from where he is right now. Just a few minutes and then he’s home.

Just a few minutes and he’s gonna see you again.

Meanwhile you don’t really expect any visitors, flat is a bit of a hot mess in Simon’s old T-shirt, cookies baking in the oven — utensils all over kitchen table.

Simon wrote that he’s getting off on leave in a few days or so and you are stress cooking because god knows he always ate a lot and you don’t know how well he ate in military.

So you decide that’s better safe and sorry and start getting ready two days before he’s even supposed to be back in Manchester.

Imagine your surprise when someone knocks on your door — three short knocks, sound crisp clear when you freeze looking through the peephole because what the hell.

On your doorstep there is a mountain of a man, for the lack of better word, you frankly can’t even see his face since he stands too close to the door — black sweater and awfully familiar scarf peeking out of the collar of his jacket.

And you are so baffled you almost miss the familiar “Luv, open up, ‘ts me” from the man on your doorstep and maybe he’s got the wrong address and looking for someone else.

But you don’t manage to finish the thought before your body moves on its own and swings the door open.

Jesus Christ.

He’s even bigger when you are face to face with him, the need to crane your neck just to see dark eyes with adorably blond eyelashes certainly doesn’t help with how astounded you are.

“Can I help you?”, you aren’t sure what is going on or who is that but then the man scoffs in even more familiar way, pulling the scarf down and oh my god. It’s Simon. This is your Simon.

“Forgo’ me so quickly?”, he’d sound annoyed if he wasn’t so happy to see you, brown eyes soft with adoration. And before you can answer he’s taking a step inside your flat, closing the door behind him. It’s cold outside after all, surely you wouldn’t leave him out in the cold.

“Though’ I was special”, the rumble of his voice kicks the air out of you, eyes wide and face heating up quickly because Jesus Christ, he’s big.

Thighs thick and hips meaty, legs looking like he could crush your skull if he wanted to (lord have mercy, don’t think about it, no, you must stay focused).

He’s big and he smells good (why the hell he smells so good, it should be illegal, you will look like absolute creep sniffing him) and he’s looking at you like he can’t get enough of you. Like this reunion is even better than what he imagined.

God, you just might need to crawl into the freezer and sit there for a minute because you are too hot and he’s so fucking hot, what the hell, who is this man and what did they fucking feed him in military???

“Simon”, the first time is more of an exhale but then he nods, shaking his jacket off, duffel bag hitting the floor with dull thump and in the next moment you are all over him.

“Simon”, your hands wrapping around him (you are NOT gonna think that your two hands are not enough to close around his midriff) and face pressing to his chest — pectoral muscles cushioning against your cheek.

Oh, this is bliss. This is so good you just might forget about anything else.

You now know where you’d like to be buried.

In this man chest, please.

And Simon can’t help but hum, the sound low and pleased — his hands hoisting you up so he can get a grip on your thighs, fingers sinking into the meat of them and bloody hell, this is good.

This is fucking lovely.

He’d love to have his head between these thighs of yours.

As a matter of fact, could you maybe suffocate him with them so he can die happy (and hard as a rock)? Please?

But it can wait a little because you are finally in his hands, your arms wrapped now around his shoulders, eyes shining with absolute joy — looking at him like he’s everything. Like you are happy. Like you’ve been waiting for him.

He’s here. Simon is home.

Simon nuzzles his nose into your cheek, teeth itching to sink into the softness of it, itching to take a bite, itching to lick the blood off—

Ghost hoists you up a little higher because there’s no need for you to feel just how happy he is to see you. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah, luv, told ye, it’s me”, he murmurs, practically vibrating with satisfaction when your grip on him tightens.

Yeah, that’s right, don’t let go of him. Sink yourself into him just as he wants into you, taste the blood from his veins — it’s all yours anyway, he’s all yours.

Always been.

It takes him a few minutes to actually let you down, body immediately aching for the warmth and softness he’s been missing so badly.

But he can smell that you’ve been cooking something and if it’s okay with you he’s willing to sate his hunger with something more traditional.

Simon eats and keeps a close eye on you eating (can’t have you go hungry on him), passing the best bites back, pressing them against your lips — eyes half-lidded and heavy when your tongue accidentally flicks against the pads of his fingers.

Simon leaves the kitchen only when you both are full and sated, the button on his jeans popped open because well, maybe he was hungry for your meals too.

Can you really blame him? He’s been away so long, he just needs to catch up on everything he missed.

Simon pulls you onto the couch to tuck in to his side, mumbles something about “afternoon nap, luv”.

He is a lot like sated predator, all lazy grace and heavy bulk and heat rolling off in waves. Simon nuzzles his big head into your neck, palms holding onto the small of your back and your thigh, splayed over them possessively. Holding you close.

He’s out cold in the matter of minutes, finally relaxed and full and so warm. Finally with you. Not going anywhere, not leaving the side of his lovely sweetheart.

All yours, you just got to let him stay and protect you.

Just let him stay and love you, devour you, keep you warm and soft and round with happiness.

Just let him and he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.asks #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #unsweetened lemonade #girl.snippets #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #plus size reader #anon strawberry

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rebeccccccaaa · 10 months ago

Text

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide.

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans.

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained.

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested.

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.”

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped.

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say.

“Strip Poker!”

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said.

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely.

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you.

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched.

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded.

A five. Fuck.

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost.

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards.

“Blackjack, baby!”

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered.

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him.

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment.

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey.

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly.

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully.

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed.

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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propertyofwicked · 9 months ago

Text

WAS IT REAL? - LN

lando is at risk of losing his job if he doesn't clean up his image, and his best friend needs a way of travelling the world. they come up with a flawless plan - which could not possibly go wrong, right?

based on this request! (i went a little overboard im sorry) ✧ my inbox is open! ✧

warnings - fluff, angst, small allusion to smut at the end - fake dating to lovers hehe. also, 5k words??? who am i?? (writen BEFORE the miami gp!! i needed a few days to recover lol)

the song inspo for this got removed from spotify but it is based on "was it real" by ben rodrigues <3

masterlist the playlist

✧ tell me was it real...

...or was it just pretend? ✧

“and now i’ve had zak sit me down and essentially said ‘we don’t hire slags’”

“he said that your recent behaviour was causing concern for mclarens image - not that you were a slag, lan.”

“same thing,” he argued, ”i’m 24 for gods sake, if i want to speak to women in a nightclub that shouldn’t be any of zak’s business.”

“i think it became his business when someone filmed you, in your mclaren, having what im sure was a lovely conversation with the girl sat on your lap,” she teased back, emphasising her words slightly. he huffed at, crossing his arms over his chest as he leant back into her sofa.

lando had walked into her flat 20 minutes prior, as he had hundreds of times before, threw himself down on her sofa and launched into a long rant about the meeting he had just come from.

since he was at the woking offices, zak had taken the opportunity to discuss the several occasions in recent weeks where lando had been caught in predicaments with multiple different women. when he finally left, zak’s ultimatum ran through his brain on a loop as he drove to one of his closest friends houses.

“clean your image up, or we’ll have to reconsider the possibility of you having a seat next year.”

“it sucks, lan, but i really don’t know how i can help you here,” y/n told him, moving a stack of research notes to the table before sitting cross legged next to him so that her body faced his.

y/n l/n was a newly graduated environmental researcher, who was taking a year out to decide what kind of work she wanted to pursue. she needed to travel, see the world, and experience all elements in her field before she could make that decision - but travelling was expensive and she could not afford to be in anymore debt after university.

“i have an idea,” lando announced, the realisation of what he was about to propose never really settling.

“that’s never good,” she joked.

“no, no hear me out -” he started, “i need to look like a man in a stable relationship, you need to see the world.”

“yeah? so?” she questioned, confused as to where he was going with this.

“look, it’s ok if you say no. i’m just saying - you could pretend to be my girlfriend and use the opportunity to travel the world and research your little bugs.”

“i don’t know, that seems a bit…deceitful?” y/n replied, yet the idea mulled in her brain more than she wished.

“just a few public appearances. you come with me to my races and use it as a research opportunity. maybe stay in monaco with me for a bit? let people film us being domestic and that?” lando replied, stuttering as he tried to think of more reasons - truly, he had started talking before he’d really thought it through.

“it’s tempting,” she replied slowly, “and for the last time lando, i do not study bugs, i study the environments they live in.”

“all expenses paid, travelling the world, looking at trees across the world,” he added teasingly, “- and all you have to do is hold my hand in public,” he finished, trying to summarise the arrangement.

“ok.”

“ok?”

“yeah, what’s the worst that can happen?”

✧ tell me all the places that you wanna see...

....i can take you all the places that you've never been ✧

the two of them fell easily into a natural act, almost gaining a sixth sense for cameras and fans and reaching for each other. it started small - a hand on her back, standing close to each other, being seen arriving and leaving together. but it hadn’t been enough, many pointing out that y/n had been at races and stayed with him in monaco multiple times, and concluding the two were still, just friends.

so they upped the ante. lando began holding her hand when they walked anywhere together, kissing her forehead lightly as they both pretended to be clueless to the snapping of cameras. at the last race, y/n had spotted a reporter and made a quick decision to tug at lando’s fireproof, pulling him down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“that’s new,” he had told her, laughing lightly, but keeping his hands firmly on her waist.

“camera,” she told him, smiling up at him as he nodded.

and lando kept up his end of the deal, the two of them using the week of the australian grand prix to visit the great barrier reef.

their plan was working - the two were elated that people were finally putting the pieces together and believing the two really were together. even zak began to notice the positive effect y/n had on not only his image, but lando’s entire life.

“say y/n,” zak started as he walked up to the woman, “you work in environmental protection, don’t you?”

“i guess you could say that,” she responded, too tired to correct him, and slightly startled that he’d approached her as she sat minding her own business in the garage before the race began.

“we’re doing some work with the barrier reef group and oscar in a few days - would you consider being a sort of environmental advisor? just tell oscar a few things that he could talk about for the project?” he asked her assertively, smiling as her eyes widened at the request.

“i’d love to! but im supposed to be flying back tomorrow. let me ask lando later and ill get back to you?” she replied.

“sure,” he replied, smiling at her again before returning to his job. she was filled with excitement, it wasn’t often that she got to talk about her degree, and being able to contribute to a project of this scale was an amazing opportunity.

and her excitement only continued throughout the race, a feeling she always got watching lando compete, but overwhelmed when he cross the line 3rd. y/n ran round to join the rest of the mclaren team at the pit lane, watching as the podium cars pulled in and the drivers hopping out to celebrate with their teams.

lando climbed out, removing his helmet quickly before turning, scanning the crowd for y/n, and half sprinting when he spotted her. later, he would celebrate with his team, but for now he ran to her, pulling her in closely as he pressed his lips hastily to hers, pulled in closer by her hands cupping his jaw. when they pulled away, he kept her close to his embrace.

“im so proud of you,” she told him, smiling as he bent down to kiss her again, before rushing off to join his team.

y/n tried so hard to push away the feeling rising in her stomach - she didn’t like him like that, it was just the excitement of watching her friend succeed. so she ignored it, the same way she pushed away the feeling she got every time he calls her angel, even when they were alone.

im only here so that he keeps his job she reminded herself.

lando was distracted - he got podium, he was excited, his team were celebrating. yet he couldn’t help but let his thoughts linger to that feeling that shot through his veins when he’d kissed her. the same feeling he got every night, when she wrapped an arm tightly around his chest as they fell asleep.

she’s only here for research opportunities he told himself.

“im so proud of you,” y/n told him later that day as they left the track. wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him in to a tight hug, his arms falling naturally to hold her waist close to him. lando risked everything in that moment, pulling slightly back to look at her, before pressing a kiss to her lips.

“camera,” he told her, feeling her hesitation. her smile fell slightly before she leaned up to kiss him again. of course - the cameras, that’s why he kissed me she thought to herself, saddened slightly at the realisation.

there was no camera. they were totally alone.

✧ colours of the sky in your eyes

...fragments of the truth in your lies ✧

lando felt alone, his apartment felt so empty without her. he was happy she had the opportunity to stay in australia and do what she loves, but he couldn’t help but dwell on the flames igniting inside of him when he saw the videos of her and oscar together. it wasn’t jealousy, he told himself, he just missed her. after spending the last few months in close proximity, it made sense that he missed smelling her perfume around, or hearing the way her voice travelled through his brain.

y/n had a calming effect on him, and right now, lando was anything but calm.

which is why he found himself going back to his old ways, in a club, surrounded by women he wouldn’t remember the next day. he was too gone to remember that people with cameras tend to follow him around, capturing his every move in 4k - and he was far too gone to realise that publicly he was in a relationship, a relationship that should not include him leaving a club with a blonde.

and of course, y/n had seen the images blasted over twitter, headlines titled “cheating scandal?” consuming her entire feed. it was hard to remind herself that this thing between her and lando was not real, it was all pretend. and no matter how many times she told herself that fact, y/n couldn’t help but feel jealousy consume her entire existence.

the flat had never felt so awkward than the week before their flight to japan for the next race. she had returned a few days after the incident, lando greeting her at the door with a tight hug and a kiss to her forehead, but something was off.

“you have fun?” he asked her offhandedly as they moved to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water for himself.

“i did,” she said with a smile, though her tone held malice, “did you?”

lando’s hands stopped opening the cap of the bottle as he breathed in sharply.

“the fuck does that mean?” he replied, his tone harsh in defence.

“i was just asking if you had a good time, lando,” y/n answered, “she looked pretty, your type.”

“nothing happened, y/n,” lando told her, his voice sounding almost guilty.

“it’s ok if something did happen - we aren’t actually together,” she assured him, even though she could feel the jealousy bubbling up inside her again, “can you just be more cautious next time? im not sure i enjoy being told i deserved to be cheated on every time i open twitter.”

“im sorry, y/n, i am. i dont know what i was thinking,” he apologised, his eyes still softening with his guilt.

“clearly not a lot,” she tutted, before moving to take her bags to her room.

the rest of the week followed a similar vibe - the two of them barely spoke if they didn’t have to, making a few affectionate public appearances to show the world that their relationship was as strong as ever… oh the irony y/n thought every time she saw something dismissing earlier lando’s actions. however, by the time they flew out to japan, the friendship between the two seemed to have recovered - lando had almost sighed in relief when he saw her smile at him again.

“where you off to today?” lando asked her, pacing around the hotel room as he packed his bag for the day.

“the marina,” she replied, smiling as she pulled her coat on, “looking at the fish.”

“gross.”

“what time is qualis?” y/n asked him, ignoring his statement.

“uhh…3 i think - but you should try and get there by 2?” he told her, glancing down at his phone to see the current time. lando strode over to her, cupping her face lightly as he pressed a quick kiss to her head - this was becoming second nature to him, and she wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“perfect!” she replied, trying to stop the nervous blush rising her face, ignoring the way her stomach flipped, “ill be there,” she added before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and leaving the room. the moment the door closed, lando’s hand raised to touch where she had kissed him, smiling fondly at the thought.

he was utterly and truly fucked. how had he let himself fall for her? how could he continue to pretend to love her, when he really did?

y/n spent the rest of the morning in a similar state of panic, mentally shutting down at the prospect of loving lando and knowing he’d never feel the same. she hadn’t even intended to leave him today, but found herself quickly googling anything for her to do the moment she woke up with his arm wrapped tightly around her stomach and his head resting on her back. y/n needed space, she knew she couldn’t keep up their little act when her heart was slowly shattering every time he kissed her for the cameras.

so caught up in her own thoughts, she didn’t realise the time until it hit 2pm and she was stuck at the marina, desperately trying to find a taxi to get her to the track. and when she finally made it, y/n wish she hadn’t bothered.

lando was pacing angrily, talking under his breath as he checked his phone constantly - he only had 5 minutes before he needed to go down to the garage and get ready for qualifiers. the door slid open, and y/n walked through - ready to spurt out her apologies - but she stopped suddenly, sensing the anger looming in his room.

“where were you?” lando asked her, trying to keep himself calm, though the race nerves mixed with his temperament made that quite difficult.

“im sorry lan, i lost trac-”

“lost track of time? found something more interesting to do? save it, i don’t wanna hear your excuses,” he argued back, interrupting her with his ever loudening tone.

“you’d know all about ‘finding something more interesting’, wouldn’t you,” y/n replied, her own voice raising to meet his. if there’s one thing y/n will do, it’s stand up for herself, even when all she wanted to do was kiss him. dont kiss him, hit him she told herself.

“fuck you,” he spat, shoving past her to leave the room.

“at least im here!” she shouted back down the hallway, desperate for the last word

y/n stayed in the room for qualifiers, trying to stop the tears running down her face before lando returned. she hoped his anger was only heightened by his nerves, praying that after securing P3 he would return as his normal self, laughing and joking with her. in a strange way, she wanted cameras on them, she wanted him to be affectionate with her - she needed him to comfort her.

the woman walked nervously down to the garage, hoping to catch him quickly before he had to run off for media duties. maybe now he had secured a solid start position for tomorrows race he would be more willing to have a mature, sensible conversation with her.

or not.

lando spotted her immediately, pulling her arm quickly to lead her round to a secluded area outside the garage. he wasn’t angry at her, he was angry at himself for letting it get this far. he was so irritated, he couldn’t even spare a moment to see the fear in her eyes as he took in a deep breath.

he wasn’t angry at her, but he didn’t know how else to express his overwhelming emotions.

“what do you want? make it quick, ive got media to do,” he snapped, letting go of her arm as they stopped walking. she rubbed at it, her skin still burning from his tight grip.

“i just wanted to see you lan, congratulate you,” she replied softly, biting back tears once more.

“oh now you want to be here to support me?” he breathed out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“what does that mean?”

“i let you come with me to help with your career, and yet you can’t even turn up to support mine. i knew you were selfish but thi-”

“selfish?” she argued, trying to keep her voice low, “me? selfish? i haven’t got enough fingers to count the amount of times you’ve missed my important things because you were busy with your career. and have i complained once?”

“well no but-”

“but nothing, lando. i can’t even pretend to love this version of you,” she ranted, her anger being overcome with sadness, “you know what? fix your own reputation - or don’t. i don’t care what or who you do anymore,” she finished, turning on her heel and storming away from him.

he wanted to follow her, he wanted to hold her close as he apologised. lando knew he was being selfish, he knew it wasn’t fair to string her along under the pretence of saving his career. he knew he could no longer pretend, not with her and not with the public. lando needed her in every sense of the word. but duty calls, so he settles on dealing with this later, sitting her down and telling her the truth, even if it had the potential to destroy their friendship - he figured he couldn’t make it any worse.

but y/n isn’t at the track when he finishes up for the day, and she’s not at the hotel when he returns - and neither are her belongings. lando checked his phone repeatedly, messaging her desperately.

he fell to the bed, head in his hands as he tried to regulate his breathing.

she was gone, and it was all his fault.

✧ i know that you're perfect for me

…tell me that you're sorry

…won't you please just take my heart again ✧

it took a few weeks for lando to finally stop messaging her, though y/n noticed an increase in visits from max, their mutual friend, under the guise of “just checking in” on his childhood friend. y/ wasn’t stupid, she knew who was behind max’s sudden interest in her wellbeing. but max was stupid either, he knew why the two of them had taken this fall out so hard.

“you did what?” max shouted in shock.

“i asked her to pretend to be girlfriend so i could keep my job,” lando sighed, hiding his face in his hands.

“you’re stupid.”

“i know.”

“in what world was that ever going to end well?”

“the world where i didn’t realise i actually do fancy her?” lando replied quietly, questioning his own admission.

“im so stupid,” max replied.

“how are you the stupid one here?”

“stupid for believing the two of you had finally worked out what has been right in front of you since we were 13.”

lando was desperate. he needed to talk to her, he needed to tell her how he felt - but for now, he settled with knowing she was ok.

“she’s alive and healthy - and she had pizza for lunch,” max told him over the phone, growing tired of this weekly routine the two of them had started.

“but she’s doing ok, right?”

“she’s good, lan,” he reassured, neglecting to tell him the part where she cried on him about losing her best friend over a trivial, child-like crush.

“but…?” lando asked, sensing there was more.

“but - she still doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“i could’ve guessed that one, thanks mate.”

“hey dont get mean with me - im just doing what you asked.”

“i know, sorry.”

“don’t apologise to me, find a way to fix this you muppet.”

y/n was not ok, spending most of her nights alone, scrolling through social media seeing the rumours about her and lando’s supposed split - “she’s wasn’t at the race” “i saw her leaving suzuka crying” “he looks so sad in interviews”. why do they care so much? but they aren’t wrong, she thought.

she began looking for a job, but nothing seemed as exciting as the work she’d done with mclarens environmental programme - which seemed to no longer be an option. unbeknownst to her, mclaren also loved the work she had done with them - her presence was greatly missed in the garage by many, especially those on the receiving end of lando’s current outbursts.

y/n’s phone lit up the entire room, the notification cutting through the silence of her room, breaking her away from her own thoughts.

y/n was still convinced this was a trick, luring her to miami under the pretence of work so that oscar could push her head first into a trap. the thought stuck with her throughout her plane journey, as she checked in to her hotel, even up to the moment she knocked on oscar’s door to discuss the project. she was waiting for lando to appear, push her into a locked room and force her to talk to him.

“…’but if i talk to him, ill end up telling him why i ran, and how i feel about him, then he’ll reject me, laugh in my face and im back to feeling sorry for myself,” she told oscar, having finished giving him the run down for their project, and allowing the conversation to move to the elephant in the room - what had happened between her and lando.

“im sure that’s not true,” he replied, feeling sad for the girl in front of him, though he already knew most of the story from hearing lando’s self-destructive rants.

she opened her mouth to responded, but was stopped by a sharp knock at the door.

“oscar? are you ready to go?” a familiar voice called from the other side, sending y/n’s blood cold, her eyes widening in panic.

“what the fuck, oscar?” she whispered shouted, feeling betrayed.

“i didn’t know he was coming y/n, i swear, i’d never do that to you,” oscar reassured her truthfully, although slightly beaming as a plan formulated in his head, “stay there, ill tell him to meet me downstairs.”

oscar stood, moving to open the door slightly.

“hey mate - just got some things to sort out, ill meet you downstairs in 15?”

“sure,” lando nodded, turning to leave, but not before his eyes drifted into the room, spotting the same pair of flowery vans that had spent months sitting in his hallway. y/n’s vans.

lando walked down to the lobby, taking a seat as he waited for oscar, his mind consumed with the fact that y/n was here, in miami, in his hotel. why was she here? why hadn’t she told him? was she still avoiding him?

“he-”

“where is she?” lando interrupted the australian the moment he approached.

“’hi oscar, are you ready to go?’ would’ve been my response but ok,” oscar replied.

“where is she, oscar?” lando continued, determined.

“she doesn’t want to see you.”

“i know,” he replied bluntly, “why is she here?”

“y/n was invited to join mclaren as an advisor on a new climate video,” oscar gave in, replying as professionally as he could - he wasn’t here to discuss their ‘breakup’.

that’s a lie, he’s pretty sure zak asked him to do another environmental video purely to suggest that he contacted y/n to be an advisor. and he’s absolutely certain that zak, equally as fed up with lando’s attitude, was looking for a reason to bring the two back together.

“who invited her? where is she staying?” lando quizzed him as they walked towards the car, doubting he’d even get an answer.

“zak invited her, he appreciated the work she did for us in australia,” oscar replied, ignoring his second question. lando hummed in response, if oscar wouldn’t tell him, he would find out for himself.

it was only a press day, so lando split from his teammate and began his hunt for zak brown. it wasn’t hard, the man was wearing bright orange and had a laugh that could be heard for miles.

“hey zak,” he started.

“hey lando, what can i do for you?” zak asked, glancing at his at a text on his phone quickly before giving lando his full attention.

“how are you?” lando asked hastily, beginning his attempt to bombard his boss with questions till he slipped up.

“im good.”

“what are you doing today?”

“just going over some things with the team.”

“what do you think the weather will be like on sunday?”

“war-”

“where’s she staying?”

“the marriot i-” zak replied, pretending to stutter as he answered, feigning shock at accidentally revealing the hotel.

“thanks zak, love you,” lando called out as he jogged out. zak smirked to himself, replying to oscar’s message.

z → mission complete.

o → you made sure it looked like an accident, right?

z → jesus oscar i just told him the hotel name i didn’t kill him

of course lando couldn’t leave the track immediately, he had a job to do first. but the moment he became free for the evening, he was off, arriving at the hotel in record time. there were many cons to being a recognisable face, but a pro of being so famous was a hotel receptionist who barely batted an eyelid as lando demanded to know the room number of y/n l/n.

his knuckles rapped on the door quickly, his heartrate beating rapidly as he did. this could go so many ways, and most of them were not good. the door swung open, his eyes coming to look at the woman in front of him - she looked good, but she looked different, like something was missing.

“lando? what are yo- OSCAR!” she called out, turning to look back into the room, the door widening as she did revealing his teammate sat at the desk, “did you do this?”

“not me,” he replied, holding his hands up in defence. her head spun back around to look at lando, she was taking him in. he had a plaster on his nose, the curls were alive and well, and his everlasting tan ran the expanse of his skin. she didn’t want to admire him, but damn, miami was treating him well.

“go away i dont want to see you,” she announced suddenly, trying to shut the door but finding his foot blocking it.

“i know you don’t, but i need you to just listen to me, please. and then you can shut the door and never have to deal with me again,” he told her, pleading.

“oscar’s here.”

“actually, i should probably get going,” oscar announced moving to grab his stuff to leave. y/ns head shot back around, her eyes shooting daggers at him as if to say ‘dont you dare leave me alone with him right now’ to which he merely shrugged and walked out.

lando closed the door behind him, moving the two of them back into the room - y/n sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed as he remained stood in front of her.

“what do you need to tell me?” she asked him impatiently.

“y/n, these last few weeks have been hell for me. i know i hurt you, i said some horrible stuff that you really didn’t deserve and i will do anything for you to forgive me and move past this,” he said, pausing before adding, “i don’t know about yo-”

“oh, so it wasn’t you sending max to “check in on me” every week?” she interrupted, her eyebrows quirking with her accusation.

“you worked that one out then?” lando replied, laughing slightly, relief washing over him that she didn’t seem angry at him.

“it was so obvious! since when has max ever felt the need to check im doing ok ever? let alone every week?”

“i sent him because i care about you y/n. you weren’t responding to my messages, dodging my calls,” he told her, watching her smile slightly, a blush rising her face.

“so why are you here now?”

“look, this whole ‘thing’,” he started, waving his arms to indicate he meant whatever the two of them were doing, “it started as something purely to benefit the both of our careers. but i think somewhere down the line, it turned into something more. something that should’ve happened years ago,” he told her, his heart ready to beat its way out of his chest and jump out the window.

the two sat in silence for a moment, y/n mulled over his words in her head. this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? she wanted him to love her the way she loved him. so, why did she feel so apprehensive about letting him back in?

“i know you felt it too, y/n,” lando said again, not letting her thoughts distract her too far.

“feel,” she said bluntly.

“huh?”

“you said felt. i still feel that way about you lan.”

“then why won’t you let me in?”

“you said some really nasty stuff to me, lan. really horrible stuff that had me reconsidering my entire life. you’re lucky i even let you stay. why couldn’t you just be honest with me - instead of pushing me away?”

“i didn’t know how to,” he admitted, stepping closer to her, “if i had a time machine, i would take back everything i said. id go back and slap some fucking sense into myself.”

lando now stood directly in front of her, his thighs brushing her knees lightly as his hand moved to her face, wiping away a tear she didn’t even know what trailing down her cheek. his fingers tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear before settling on cupping her jaw lightly.

“can you forgive me?” he asked her softly, thumb stroking at her cheek.

“it’s not all your fault, lan. i could’ve said something too,” she told him.

“please just say you forgive me so i can kiss you, you idiot,” he laughed out.

“forgiven,” y/n said quickly, her head tilting so that their lips met. it was familiar, the feeling his lips on hers, but this time there was a sense of urgency. a sense of love that was absent anytime they had kissed before. his tongue swiped at her bottom lip, desperate for more which she granted happily, as her hands moved to rest in his hair, tugging at the curls lightly.

“fuck, y/n. ‘missed you so much,” he moaned out, the grip on his hair sending his mind blank.

“missed you too,” she replied as he moved to kiss down her neck softly, “even if you were a bit of a dick.”

“let me make it up to you?” lando teased, nipping at the skin of her neck whilst his fingers toyed with the hem of her top.

“there’s a lot to make up for.”

“ive got time,” he replied, pulling the fabric away from her body fully. her hands reached out, grabbing at his mclaren polo to remove it as well, dropping it next to herself on the bed.

lando laid her back on the bed, hovering over her as he continued kissing down the flesh of her torso.

“y/n i forgot m-” oscar started, barging back into the room, “oh my god, ive been gone what…? 3 minutes? how have you already taken your clothes off?” he exclaimed with a laugh.

“fuck off!” y/n and lando called out in unison, lando reaching for his top and launching it in oscar’s direction.

“ok ok, im going,” he replied, raising his hands again in defence, “stay safe kids,” he added before leaving the room, his forgotten phone now in tow.

“kids?” lando muttered, “im older than him?”

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