#thinking about new dream this evening as per usual | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

demonvibez · 7 months ago

Text

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath.

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours.

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him.

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap.

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place!

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops!

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork.

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms.

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince.

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

2K notes · View notes

tarohugs · 13 days ago

Text

they forget your birthday (nct dream)

►ot7 x reader

► angst and fluff

► w/c 3.1k

► toxic dreamies, some sad scenes, jeno being a meanie per usual

►a/n pleasee enjoy. i'm not the best at writing for the other members so I'm sorry if some are better than the other. let me know if you enjoy 😜

MARK is the busiest man you know. As his girlfriend, you were perfectly aware of his failure to properly manage all his activities. To him what mattered was staying afloat. Even though your time together was limited due to his schedule, you didn’t mind waiting for him to come home at the end of the day. He had made a huge effort to carve out time from his hectic lifestyle to make space for you and this was the most you could ask for. Because of this, time with Mark is valuable. Every second spent with him is thought out with love.

Your birthday is the most overloaded season regarding Mark’s schedule. With the demand for new music, constant touring, and endless practices, you didn’t expect much for him to surprise you. All that you wished for was at least some time to be spent with your loving boyfriend. But as you sat on the couch the whole day – ignoring requests to hang out with your friends in hopes Mark would pull through, expecting him to come home with a surprise straight from practice – the time was ticking closer to midnight and he was still nowhere to be seen.

He was out of the house before he could even wish you a happy birthday. No note was left, breakfast wasn’t made, and all the chores were still left unfinished. As far as you knew, Mark hadn’t even come home from the previous night. As you sit on the sofa, envious of his bandmates who got to spend the fleeting days with him, you begin to regret waiting for you to matter enough to him. You could’ve spent the whole day catching up with friends, instead, you waited for your boyfriend who didn’t even care to send a simple “happy birthday” text.

Waiting got tiring and you only became more pissed. Just as you were about to reach your bed with your tears flowing down your face, you hear Mark enter, sounding exhausted from the day’s workload.

“Baby, I’m home,” he called across the apartment, only loud enough to hear from the room you were in.

A sliver of you still had hope that he would surprise you with some form of greeting, but as his footsteps clicked closer to your shared bedroom and he had nothing in hand, all the hope had left your body.

He sighed as he approached your tired figure, “Falling asleep already?”

It was obvious he didn’t even remember what was so special about today. A part of you wanted to slice at his throat for forgetting such an important date. Instead, you opted for peace, already feeling more tears threatened to spill.

“Yeah, had a long day.” you uttered, trying not to sound heartbroken. You couldn’t gain the courage to confront Mark. All you could do was tuck yourself under the covers and cry yourself to sleep while your loved one went about clueless.

RENJUN wasn’t one to open up to others about his feelings. You were the only one that he felt was worthy of sharing his deepest thoughts with. One of his being the fact he always felt distant from his friends. When he moved away from home he had broken a lot of his relationships and had difficulty rebuilding them. When Renjun told you he would be going out this weekend with his friends, you didn’t think much of it – other than the fact it was your birthday.

You knew not to become too hopeful when it came to surprises. You weren’t a little kid and you were aware that you’ll most likely get what you want by just asking. Although you knew this, you still thought that Renjun might possibly surprise you. However, you should’ve known better.

When Renjun arrived home with nothing in his hands but shopping bags and a filled stomach, you knew he had forgotten a date that was so important to you. “Renjun, how was it?” you asked him excitedly, to the best of your abilities.

He smiled as he walked over to your spot on the couch, setting down his bags beside you on the coffee table. “We had a lot of fun. Had to catch up on lots though, who would’ve known how much my boys have grown.”

You knew it was wrong to ruin his joy, but you had to get straight to the point. “Did you get anything while you were there?” You didn’t acknowledge his rambling about his friends, instead wanted to know if the bags held something for you to make up for his actions.

“Yeah, just some new clothes for the summer. They said they wanted to match-”

Before he could even finish his sentence you walked yourself to your room. Getting mad at him would only make matters worse so you did what your best at and removed yourself from the situation.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he tried to see what you were doing.

You continued to change and gather your belongings, clear what your intentions were. “Going out. Not wasting my special day waiting for you.” Before he could even process your words, you slammed the door in his face. Renjun knew he fucked up.

JENO is your homebody boyfriend – he loves spending time with you and cozying up in bed. It is rare he got to do so, though, as a lot of hours are filled with his idol lifestyle. He was expected to stay on top of his numerous schedules and manage time with his girlfriend. This is a lot of responsibility for a man like Jeno.

You quite honestly didn’t expect much from him considering how busy he would be on your birthday. The date happened to fall on a Saturday when they were holding a concert. You were aware he would be extremely tired and might even not have time to hang out with you afterward. The least you expected with for him to send you a birthday greeting but you had received nothing and the concert had already begun.

Being the loving girlfriend you were, you had arrived at the concert to support your boyfriend. When the other boys saw you they even made the effort to wish you a happy birthday. All of them but your own boyfriend, the reason you were even hear right now.

The stadium was filled to the brim with adolescent teens to elderly couples. This was most definitely not your scene but you wanted to spend your birthday with the one you loved. You had brought your friends along as they also wanted to hang out. Even though you had so many people around you celebrating your life, you couldn’t help but feel worthless for not meaning anything to the one you loved most.

When the concert ended you had excused yourself from your friends for the night to meet up with Jeno. Pushing yourself backstage was a difficult task after trying to scooch past all the fans and security. As soon as you had managed to locate Jeno backstage, you were told to wait outside by his managers, Jeno making no effort to halt their actions.

You waited hours for him to finally exit the dressing room but to no avail, he never came out.

“Y/n, what are you doing out here?” Jaemin saw you sitting on the bench you had positioned yourself on for the time being.

It was silly he was asking such a question, he had to of known why you were here in the first place. “Just waiting for Jeno. Is he almost done?”

Jaemin had a shift of energy as if something had clicked in his mind upon your words. “He left a while out the back. I can go find him, he probably is still in here. I’m sorry he didn’t come to see you he probably forgot.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it Nana. Thanks for telling me.” You quickly gathered your belongings before he could even have a chance to comfort you. There was a time and a place for everything and crying in front of him on your birthday was definitely not something you had wished for.

You refused to wait for Jeno any longer, he obviously never did the same for you. As you left the stadium all your emotions exited your body. How could someone you love break your heart so terribly?

HAECHAN is a family man at heart. He never failed to mention his siblings in a conversation and made sure to keep up with them when time allowed. This was something that drew you towards your boyfriend. Seeing his love for domesticity made you feel like you had found the man who would lead you in the future.

Funny enough, you had managed to be birthed the same day as his sister he loved so dearly. Obviously, it wasn't a coincidence that he would constantly mention his sister’s birthday and what he was planning on gifting her. What you did begin to question was his lack of mention of your own special date.

It wasn’t uncommon for couples to not do much on each other’s birthdays, but your relationship was Haechan was not typical dating. He cared for you deeply, at least to the extent you thought. Each date was carved to cater to your liking and surprise you each time. You knew your birthday would be an even more special day for him which is why you weren’t surprised when you came home on the date with party streamers covering the house and an entourage of his family.

“Baby your home,” Haechan noticed your entrance and shocked face.

You smiled as you embraced him into a tight hug, “Thanks for doing this all for me. I love you.”

He laughed at your response, slight confusing you. “It’s my sister’s birthday, you know how much these days mean to us.”

Even though you were confused by Haechan's response, you did know you were happy he didn’t let you down in the end. He never wished you a happy birthday but you were sure a surprise party would make up for it.

As the party ensued and time for cake came, the lights were turned off and Haechan appeared out of the corridor with the candle lit sweet. You were standing next to his sister as you were greeting her a happy birthday. As he approached you with the cake you couldn’t help but notice your name was spelt wrong on the cake. Oh wait. It wasn’t even your name at all. He had never even remembered your birthday to begin with.

JAEMIN had mentioned your birthday to you on numerous occasions. He loved planning time with you and never failed to make sure each date was tailored to your liking. When he had asked you where you had wanted to dine in on your birthday, you weren’t surprised in the slightest by his actions to make sure the day was perfect for you. He had even made sure to pick an outfit for you to match and he already knew what gifts you wanted without asking.

As the days ticked down to the date, Jaemin didn’t seem to get any more excited. Typically, he would be all over you explaining the details of how excited he was to spend time with his loving girlfriend. When the day finally turned to be your birthday, you noticed he still was not making an effort to mention your planned date.

“Good morning my love,” Jaemin had greeted as soon as your eyes fluttered awake.

You smiled, awaiting the day ahead of you, “What have you got on your mind today?” You knew Jaemin would have the whole day planned and wouldn’t be able to contain his joy.

“Just happy I get to spend time at home with my love this morning. I got to go to practice later, though,” he replied as he pulled you closer under the covers.

You knew Jaemin had mentioned going out so you were surprised by his words. Jaemin wasn’t the type to cancel all your plans for work, he was adamant about making time for you. The last thing you had expected was for him to postpone your birthday for something so small.

“Can’t you just miss practice today?” You questioned slightly agitated. As much as you know work is important to him, it felt right to at least be somewhat selfish of your time with him.

“No can do. You know these are a non-negotiable.”

You could tell he was taken aback by your response. He had just wanted to make the most of his day with you before he had gone to practice, and who were you to avoid wishes. You could accept his business for at least an effort to make time for you.

As you spent the fleeting moments with Jaemin, you couldn’t help but notice nothing about your day was going as planned. No presents were awaiting you at the table, not a single of your favorite meals was dished up by your favorite chef, and no greeting was uttered out of his mouth.

The day had continued on as normal until he left for practice. Maybe he would bring you the gifts and dinner when he got back? Much to your dismay, he arrived home in the same state he was in before, just much more tired.

As he tucked himself into bed next to you, you couldn’t help but feel the need to ask him about the change in his attitude. But before you could even question him, he gave you the answer you were searching for. “I feel like I forgot about something today.”

Damn right, you had forgotten something Na Jaemin.

CHENLE was never one to back down from an argument. He always made sure he was right even if it meant hurting others along the way, including his own girlfriend. Because of his ungodly ego, you two got into numerous fights. It was a red flag but he always managed to earn your forgiveness. His love language was gift giving and he never failed to surprise you with the most extravagant items.

Most of your fights would end within a few hours, but this was different. You two had been arguing about his lack of care regarding setting aside time for you. He was busy, but so was everyone else in the world – he is perfectly capable of putting in the extra effort yet he lacks to do so.

With your birthday on the rise, you had expected him to forgive you relatively quickly. Instead, you two had still not spoken a word since the day of your fight into your birthday. You were aware Chenle was stubborn, but you couldn’t believe he was this difficult.

You should’ve taken the warning from others about your toxic habits. Even though time was running out you still felt like Chenle would end up pulling through. He always refused to bite the bullet and message you first, so this time you wanted to see how long it would take him to come crawling back. When it took multiple days, you knew he wouldn’t be speaking to you anytime soon.

Y/n: what the fuck is your problem Y/n: do you even know what today is? Chenle: was waiting for you to finally apologize Chenle: what’s so special about today Y/n: it’s my birthday

You couldn’t believe that Chenle would be so adamant about his stance he would even forget your own birthday. When you saw the bubbles appear indicating him typing his response, you didn’t pay any mind to it. Protecting your peace, you powered off your phone and chose silence to celebrate the remaining of your day.

When you heard a knock on your door no longer than 30 minutes after texting Chenle, you knew it had to be him. But you had no room left in you to listen to his excuses. If he wanted to prove himself, he should’ve done so before.

JISUNG was never the type to put his best friend over you. He always ensured you were his number one priority and his numerous date nights made you guarantee this. His best friend since childhood happened to be extremely possessive of him. Her intentions were clear, but your boyfriend was always too oblivious to notice.

There were multiple occasions where she had uttered the most absurd comments to your face. Time and time again, Jisung had never stood up for you. You should have taken this as a red flag but you knew your boyfriend loved you dearly – who were you to let a random girl get in your way?

Your birthday was around the corner and Jisung had not yet mentioned any plans regarding the day. He had mentioned a couple of things in the past but nothing that stuck out recently. When the day of your birthday arrived, the atmosphere remained the same.

You had mentioned to him you were going to spend the day out with your friends and he didn’t question it. Before you could leave the house, he was already out for the day, not giving you a chance to even greet him good morning. It was odd for him to be out so early but you knew better than to think so deeply into it.

When you arrived home you had noticed another car in the driveway – his best friend’s car. You were never one to be selfish but spending time with her on your birthday was the last thing you would ever wish for.

You had still not received any messages from Jisung and you were starting to grow more concerned. Before you could enter your shared apartment, you were immediately greeted by the girl you wished to avoid.

“About time you showed up,” she eyed you head to toe, shutting the door behind you.

Her attitude never failed to surprise you. Nevertheless, you still played into her tricks, “I’m just getting back from the mall. You know, celebrating my birthday.”

She laughed at your comment, “Oh, poor Jisung must have forgotten. He hasn’t mentioned you all day.” She didn’t even offer any explanation as she pushed past you to exit the building, smirking on her way out.

You were aware she was a snarky bitch but you couldn’t believe she had the courage to make up such a lie. A part of you wanted to push past the door and confront your boyfriend and the other wanted to go after her like she was your prey.

Even though anger fumed your vision, you couldn’t confront Jisung in such a way. Instead, you left and opted to spend a girl's night out. Little did you know Jisung was waiting on the other side of the door with your cake in hand.

381 notes · View notes

vxnuslogy · 3 months ago

Text

— empty souls do not breathe, they wait.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: ajaw has always thought that after kinich's death, all will eventually bow to him as their new king. what he didn't expect was to grapple with his host's loneliness and find the reason why he sought your presence during nights that grow too cold.

— warnings: slight angst if you squint

— author's note: ajaw holds a very special place in my heart so deserves to be the main character of this fic. and after almost 24 hours of having no electricity, it'll finally leave the basement. this is heavily inspired by this comic on twt so please go give it a read! art credits to @.n249 on twt. | 2.5k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @moineauz @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!

there was something wrong with kinich. mavuika’s eyes scanned over the wounds on the poor boy’s body and the blood dripping from his forehead. long gone was his usual bandana and golden rimmed eyes were now tainted with a strange red.

this man is not kinich.

“so kinich has fallen, too,” her voice sullen, eyes barely able to look at the husk of one of her heroes. though her stance is not tense, it certainly wasn’t relaxed either. “kinich” followed her movements carefully—the way her hands twitched towards her claymore, her eyes he could not read, and the unmistakable tone of her voice. the pyro archon was disappointed.

“i, too, would be disappointed if you didn’t notice, archon.” kinich dipped his head low and let out a bone chilling laugh that scratched his throat the wrong way. blood stained glove came to push his hair back as mavuika stares at the eyes that did not belong to the dendro user of the scions of canopy.

“it was a shame for that brat to die, but oh well,” a twisted grin tugged at his lips as mavuika’s face remained passive. “it is i! the almighty dragon lord, k’uhul ajaw!”

he takes a deep breath before letting his host’s arms fall to his side. “per our agreement, i will stand in and make kinich the greatest hero for all of natlan to see!”

“and would you be satisfied with that?”

ajaw’s gaze hardened as his lips tugged into a deep frown. the pyro archon’s eyes now held a fervor brighter than any hope this entity of chaos has ever seen. was she still hoping that kinich would miraculously survive?

“are you implying that not even celestia is celebrating my return? their gift is now mi–”

“the gift you claim for yourself does not respond to you,” ajaw flinches back, eyes zeroing into the vision of his person as his fists shook in rage. “dreams will die if their master has fallen. there’s more to the contract between the two of you than you think.”

ajaw sees red. teeth snarling into a disgusting scowl as he readied kinich’s weapon—ignoring the way this too did not answer his call for blood. “are you mocking me, archon?”

much to the dragon’s surprise, the woman laughs. she laughs. at him? he’ll never know because he’s already zipping away from the scene.

“this is merely a trial, a simple waiting game.”

“why the hell am i using that servant’s party tricks!” ajaw screams as he lands in the far distance. he’s been using kinich’s grapple hook to come to and fro natlan these days as his mind flies back to this boy’s archon and her infuriating claims. “bwah! forget it, i have other things to deal with like–”

“kinich?”

like you.

the person from kinich’s life that he’s persistently pined over for years on end—ajaw even thinks kinich does it unintentionally, the boy was missing a few screws in the emotional department after all.

ajaw doesn’t answer back. he just blankly stares how your face is drained of its color. the way your fist grips at your chest like you're about to rip your heart out and the shaky–afraid–smile you flash him as you come to sit beside him.

you kept your distance—normally you’d sit so close your fingers would slightly entangle with kinich’s. ajaw observes you from the corner of his eyes before looking at natlan in the distance. back in his pixelated prison form, he could barely see natlan as a whole, just bits and pieces as he focused his energy to disturb and plan kinich’s untimely death.

“what are you doing here?”

how strange, ajaw didn’t mean to voice that question out in the open. especially with the way you look at him as if your world had crumbled to dust, leaving no trace of your home to pick up. something tugs at ajaw after your blank answer. the great almighty dragon lords do not feel, they wreak havoc, instill control, so why? why was this heart beating in such a melancholic rhythm?

“let’s go,” he says as he slowly comes to a stand, trying to mimic kinich’s attitude and actions towards you to the best of his abilities. you look at him, tears threatening to spill, yet you still smile and take his outstretched arm. ajaw doesn’t voice how you immediately drop his hand when you stand—you always hold kinich like your final lifeline, so why are you letting go?

ajaw understands, he simply won’t accept this fact.

you loved kinich, not ajaw.

you wanted kinich, but you still treated ajaw with the same treatment.

you treat his wounds with care, apologizing whenever he winces and flinches, pressing soft kisses to the calluses of his hands and his forehead. you let him listen to your beating heart that drummed the same melancholic melody and wipe away at the tears he never acknowledges whenever the figure of kinich’s dismantled body haunts him at night.

you acted as if you loved him and ajaw can’t live with this anymore.

so he runs away—punishes himself into confinement until you won’t be able to follow him. and then he thinks. sitting silently on a patch of grass as the sun slowly fades into another dreadful night. now that he’s left alone to grapple with all the uncontained emotions kinich himself couldn’t answer, ajaw finds himself at a loss.

“hey kinich,” he whispers to the wind, a bare hand filled with scars and scratches—free from the gloves that didn’t fit him—tug at the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. “have you always been this lonely?”

ajaw hugs his knees, hand grabbing at his hair harshly–this body did not belong to him, he does not deserve your kindness or love. he won’t admit it, but now under the scrutiny or judgment of no one, ajaw comes to finally admit of his stretched jealousy for you and kinich. how come this insolent servant of him had someone who deeply cared about him despite his attitude? someone who was born to accompany him through thick and thin, to infuriate and fret over but still share whatever he or you could share with one another. neither of you left each other, and ajaw wanted that.

will ajaw have to live his life like this? chasing after the shadows of your relationship with kinich until his legs finally gave out?

“ugh! i hate you kinich!” he screams into the wind as they howl back.

“don’t say that, ajaw,” his world stills and the already chilly breeze turned colder. there you were, under the light of a fading sun with a small smile on your lips. “you’ll hurt kinch’s feelings.”

he scoffs. grip tightening as he buries his head on his arms. “then he can stay dead if he can’t handle some words from me! my servant,” his voice quivers slightly. his breathing shakes and turns shallow as you step towards him. “don’t come near me!”

you take one step, then two, then you’re sprinting to ajaw before he could run away for a second time. you cradle his head to your chest as you let his iron grip bruise your arms and silent tears be soaked in your heart.

“my kinich would not be offended by me!”

“i know he won’t,” you say in a whisper, hand rubbing circles to his back and ajaw finally comes to understand why kinich always sought you out each night when his past comes to haunt him. you kept his fears at bay with your overwhelming love for him. ajaw wonders if there’s also some love from you reserved for him.

the following nights, ajaw spends his time in your arms as you tell him stories from your childhood. how kinich had saved you from a safety malfunction when you went bungee jumping, the kinds of flowers you press into your journal, and the many photos from your family in different nations.

“do you not miss them, human?” ajaw asks, another photo from your mother as she stands in front of a quaint flower shop in fontaine. you only smile and tuck away another album under your bed. the sight of ajaw curiously sifting through your photos—from family, friends, and kinich—makes something swell in your chest. it bloats and bloats until you’re sure it can hold all of natlan with ease.

“i do,” you reply, sitting by the edge of your bed and looking at the dates written behind each photo. “but at least they send me things so i know they’re doing well.”

ajaw frowns in contemplation. “will they come home?”

will kinich come home?

you don’t voice out the question that’s floating in ajaw’s mind and just smile. watching the flame from the small lamp on your bedside table flicker, your reflection staring right back at you as you meet ajaw’s gaze.

“they will, we just wait.”

ajaw frowns. “waiting means to waste your efforts to hope for a miracle.”

despite his harshness and pessimism, you chuckle. gathering all the stray photos, you put them back neatly in the album. as you make your way to the window to close the window, you turn back to ajaw. “an empty soul does not breathe, it waits. you’re waiting, too, ajaw.”

“i am not waiting for that vermin!” he protests with a huff. you laugh as he falls back on your bed, both hands behind his head as he stares at your bedroom ceilings. a contemplative expression falls on his face as the furrow of his brows from embarrassment finally eases. “is he even still alive?”

you hum as you lay beside him. your eyes gaze at the still blazing vision on his pants and close your eyes. “a person’s vision is their ambition. they die out when it's been fulfilled or when its master passes,” ajaw looks at you with storm clouds in his eyes but you shift in your position and gently close them with your hands. “so long as kinich dreams, he’ll still live. he’s not the type to leave business unfinished.”

tonight ajaw dreams—he hopes that your belief turns out to be true. in the blanket of night he’s grown to be afraid of, he sees you and kinich. but strangely enough, he sees himself in between you two—not as an obstacle, but as a part of your happiness. ajaw finds himself really liking this dream.

the night kingdom, like its name suggests, is a perpetually cold and dark landscape with only the wayob in front of him casting a faint light. small engravings of his ancient name glows in a light purple as he gazes at his hazy body. surprisingly enough, his bandana still stayed securely on his head.

“seems like i’m still under the wayob’s protection,” he says to no one in particular as echoes about a flame burning bright eases his worries. “if i’m still here then surely we must have won.”

kinich was about to turn and walk away—to where? he’s not quite sure. as he takes a step after another, the wayob—the original bearer of his ancient name—speaks to him in a voice he can only describe as all knowing; omniscient like his archon.

“you seem troubled, “malipo” kinich,” it said and this makes kinich stop in his tracks. “do you not trust your little companion to bring you victory?”

kinich doesn’t answer immediately. he takes his time to weigh out the answers he could reply with. “trust is a strong word. we’re only bound by a contract after all. i’m simply weighing the chances of my gamble.”

the wayob chuckles, deep and fatherly. kinich felt his shoulders start to relax a little more as the wayob continued to speak to him. “bearers of the “malipo” name are often accompanied by saurian companions through thick and thin. some, if not all, of them had an unbreakable bond between them.”

“so i’ve heard,” kinich says, arms crossing over his chest as he questions, “but a lot of people have questioned your judgment because of it.”

kinich hears a chuckle again as he hears something akin to glass breaking in the distance.

“i’m well aware, “malipo” kinich. which is why i’m glad,” when kinich looks up to the dark sky, hundreds of shattered fragments rain down on him but he doesn’t shield himself. he feels his heart beat a little faster when he catches sight of his body—lacking his bandana and gloves—land a few feet away from him.

“my judgment was proven right, once again.”

“wait–” but the wayob had lost its glow. kinich doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it further as his own body possessed by a small dragon is grabbing him by the shoulders and screaming at his face.

“consider yourself lucky that i see some value in you “malipo” kinich!” the dragon shouts as he raises his hand, the same hand he always uses to summon ajaw’s power before being blinded by a green glow. “consider this an investment! so you better bring in some profit or i’m taking your beloved as hostage!”

a persistent series of knocks on your front door rudely awakens you from your slumber. grumpily leaving your bed, you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you prepare yourself to berate whoever is at your door at this ungodly hour.

“what is it—”

“you win this time, human!” a small dragon screams at you. you blink a few times as you hold out both your hands for ajaw to land on as he huffs and obliges. “i’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, so you better keep yours!”

“please don’t tell me you actually made a deal with him…” when you look up, you feel tears threaten to spill from your eyes again. kinich stands there, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you in distress. you let ajaw go and let your hands drift to kinich’s face, dragging them under his eyes and tracing over his lips as a ghost of a smile starts to form.

you chuckle in disbelief. “yeah, maybe i have.”

“i hope you know the consequences of your decision,” you sneak a peek at ajaw who has his little pixel arms crossed over his chest. you turn back to kinich, a smile on your lips as you tug him inside your not so empty home. “you’ll just have to wait and see.”

ajaw quietly watches as you make kinich some food, a homely ambience blankets the house as you and kinich catch up. he’ll never openly admit it, but he’s glad you agreed to his deal. he feels kinich’s eyes follow him like a hawk as he sits himself down on your shoulder. you offer him a spoon of food but he only huffs in decline.

you’re waiting has paid off, though ajaw will never verbally admit. the other half of both your souls has come home and your statement was proven right: ajaw’s soul—as well as yours—will always wait for kinich to come home.

and kinich smiles, because like ajaw, he’ll never verbally admit how he’s been waiting for him to save him from the night kingdom all this time.

#—stellaronhvnters.#kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact kinich #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

987 notes · View notes

luludeluluramblings · 2 months ago

Note

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

#yandere tim drake x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #aiden cobblepot #reader x aiden cobblepot #yandere batboys #yandere batboy #yandere batfam #answered asks #anon ask #luluramblings

310 notes · View notes

planete777 · 1 year ago

Text

BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

2K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 1 month ago

Note

Hi!

Can I have a sugar cookie, #13, with chocolate drizzle, please? :3

- [|87

I SWEAR YOU GUYS ALWAYS CHOOSE THE BEST ONES

order #13, sugar with chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a new deuce

tropes: exes to lovers characters: deuce additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, this is so cute word count: 800

You had known a lot of very, very different people.

Deuce Spade is two of those.

It had been, of course, a few years since you'd seen him last; after you broke up with him, you didn't want to be friends.

When he left for Night Raven College, you didn't want to write.

You had tried to forget about it. About him. It was nothing but a silly teenage romance, you told yourself. And it was for the best. He had a lot of growing up to do, after all, and your family really didn't want you spending time around a...

...Well, a delinquent.

Not that you thought of him like that.

On the contrary, you saw something of him that was good. You saw the Deuce Spade that loved his mother, that stood against unfairness, that cared about you.

It was a dream, and a happy one at that, but all dreams end eventually.

You couldn't waste your life waiting for him to grow up.

"Hi! Hi, hey!"

You look up.

Though the voices in the crowd of White Rabbit Fest blended together into one symphony of laughter and shouts and bugles, you could have sworn that was-

"I can't believe it's you!"

Out of the crowd comes a very... festive looking Deuce Spade.

You wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for that silly smile- his hair is combed and no longer banana-yellow, his voice has deepened, and he's wearing...

Bunny ears.

You blink. "...Deuce?"

"Ah-ah, sorry. You probably didn't recognize me in the costume," he says.

That's the least of it, you think.

"What're you doing here? I thought you're going to-"

"-To Night Raven College, yeah," he beams. "I'm just home for the weekend. I brought some friends for the festival."

You look over his shoulder, half-expecting to see a biker gang, but it's... a silver-haired boy dozing off against a topiary, a small robot chatting with a petite lavender-haired girl- no, boy, and a person with a whining direbeast tugging at their coat sleeve.

They're all very... pastel?

"...I see," you say. "...So... um, how's school?"

"It's great! I'm learning lots, and meeting so many new people. I'm on track to becoming an honors student! Well... um, kind of, anyway. How's town? How's your family? And school, how's-"

You hold a finger to his lips, which effectively silences him.

"Slow down," you say, withdrawing your finger. "...I think your mom needs you."

Deuce turns to see Dylla waving at the two of you, a knowing smile on her face. You wave back.

"O-oh. Right. I'll catch up with you later, then," he says, reluctantly returning to his school friends.

Quite honestly, you weren't expecting to see Deuce after that.

His group looked pretty busy, and with the news that they'd entered the traditional race against a different group of delinquents, and won, you were sure he'd have forgotten about you.

It seems that today is just full of surprises.

"H-hey, wait up!"

On your sunset-lit walk back home, after the festivities had ended, he catches up.

You stop and turn to see him panting, having run all the way from the town center. Before you can say anything, he shoves a bunch of flowers in your hands.

"Listen!" he says, a familiar look of conviction on his face. "I-I want to apologize for the way I acted when you knew me. You deserved a boyfriend you could be proud of, not one like me. I'm not that person anymore, I'm a new Deuce, and, um... you're... um, really, really great, and you deserve the whole world, and even though I couldn't give that to you back then, I hope the boyfriend you have now can! If not, I'll... uh, I'll write him a very strongly worded letter!"

You blink, listening to his rambling. He's all over the place, as per usual, but you can somehow still keep up.

Slowly, you smile.

"Deuce,"

He's still panting, both from the run and his long-winded speech. "...What?"

"I don't have a boyfriend,"

It's his turn to stare. Then, he smiles.

"Good. I-I mean, not good. I didn't mean it like- Damn it, I meant-"

You effectively silence him with a kiss on his cheek, a method you used many times when you were together.

Deuce blushes and stammers, his fingers grazing over the place you'd kissed him. You're happy to see it's still effective.

But this time, it feels more... genuine. More him. More like the good boy that you saw hidden behind his tough delinquent years ago.

You can't help but wonder what else has changed.

The sun is getting lower in the sky, and you know your family will be calling you for dinner soon. You look back at Deuce with a smile.

"I'll write you, okay? You'll have to tell me everything about Night Raven- and yourself... I'm eager to meet this new Deuce, you know,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade x reader

272 notes · View notes

megwritesriddles · 3 months ago

Text

Side Effects ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 6 - Wet Dream. Mike tries a new sleep medication and finds it has some odd but pleasant side effects. Soon, Reader will find out too, for better or for worse.

Tags: Wet dreams, Fantasising, P in V, Couch sex, Masturbation (mentioned), Praise kink (implied), Neediness, Sub!Mike, Medical inaccuracies, Use of medication, Embarrassment, Reader is Abby's babysitter (cliché, i know), Way too much backstory for no reason (it's my curse), Set before the movie.

Word count: 3.7k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I'm not kidding this was supposed to be a blurb because I had a busy day but it turned into this monster because I'm cursed with the inability to jump straight into smut without needless backstory!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Mike was trying out a new brand of sleeping pills. His doctor had some health concerns regarding the dosage he was taking of his previous pills. Mike had tried to dissuade her from worrying, insisting everything was fine and he was keeping healthy, but she had insisted he try out a new medication, with much fewer significant negative side effects. Mike had tried to protest but had shut his mouth fast when she brought up his role as the sole guardian of a minor. For Abby’s sake, she said, he shouldn’t be putting himself at risk of heart issues, even if the risk was relatively slight. Mike found himself having to agree that the idea of leaving Abby alone in this world was a terrible one.

He’d picked up the pills from the pharmacy the next day. The packaging was much the same as the last ones, only with a different name. The pills themselves were smaller, and circular rather than cylindrical. He was sceptical, given the dose was smaller per pill, but he had to give it a try anyway. He decided not to do his usual nightly routine, opting to leave the nature sounds for later, just wanting to see how well he slept with these pills. He lay on his side, pointedly ignoring his ‘Nebraska’ poster, waiting for the pills to kick in. He woke up with a start in the morning, incredibly grateful for this decision. He’d had a wet dream, a vivid one. He hadn’t had one in years, hadn’t let himself, and he couldn’t help but laugh at himself, feeling like a teenager again. He’s flushed and breathing heavily, feeling a sticky mess in his boxers. Rubbing a hand over his face, he headed for the bathroom. He discarded his sticky boxers in the hamper and climbed into the shower to wash himself off. Under the hot spray of water, he allowed his mind to wander back to what he remembered of his dream. You, bent over the edge of his bed, telling him how well he filled you up. He felt his skin flush again, his limp cock stirring slightly to attention at the memory. He shook his head, droplets of water spraying against the shower wall, he could not think of this right now. He forced his mind to stay on clean topics, feeling, with relief, that he softened up again. He’d known he was attracted to you, ever since you’d started babysitting Abby, you were just so gorgeous, with your sweet smiles and caring demeanour. Only, he’d never allowed himself to really think about you like that, other than the occasional fleeting thought. Once out of the shower, he’d checked over the pill bottle closely, finding what he was looking for. “Nocturnal emissions", “increased libido” and “vivid dreams,” were listed as a side effects. Go figure.

That entire day at work his mind kept returning to the fantasy, ashamed at how much he’d liked it. It seemed that thoughts like this about you had been a long time coming, as once the floodgates opened, they didn’t close. Almost every surface he saw at work today, he imagined taking you on. The thoughts were so inescapable that he was forced to quietly and shamefully relieve himself in the employee bathroom. He felt guilty for thinking of you like this, you were so sweet and generous, always giving your time to watch Abby, even for the very low pay he offered, you didn’t deserve to be eroticised like this by his traitorous brain. But, there was no helping it. He’d tried his best to act natural when he’d returned from work, finding you and Abby playing together on the living room floor. If you’d noticed him acting odd, you’d been too kind to mention. The next few days were a tortuous cycle, dreaming of you all night, thinking of whatever his brain had conjured all day. Then having to act normal when he gets home from work to find you in his living room, in various comfortable outfits, smiling in that beautiful way that you do. Things got a little easier, at least concerning you, when Abby returned to school, meaning you didn’t have to watch her all day. He still saw you every Saturday, since he had to work, but at least it was only once a week now. He continued seeing you every night in his dreams. He debated trying to return to his old sleeping pills, which didn’t have these pesky side effects but found himself oddly enjoying the newfound freedom of spending his nights thinking of such pleasant and frivolous things. As agonising as it was to see you and act normal, he felt overall lighter without reliving what happened with his brother every night. He had also started masturbating more, which seemed to relieve a decent deal of tension for him. Among all the other frustrations in his life, he hadn’t realised he’d also been frustrated sexually, although, this much should have been obvious from his complete lack of action for years now. He remained on his new pills, enjoying the benefits they brought, taking the good with the bad.

You’d asked Mike on Saturday if you could come over the following Tuesday while your apartment was fumigated. He’d grunted a tired, noncommittal agreement. You’d asked again at the door, and he’d done the same. You got the pesky feeling he wasn’t listening to you but you’d done what you could. You figured it shouldn’t be an issue, as Mike got Tuesdays off in exchange for working Saturdays, so you wouldn’t be sat in his house alone all day. You knew Mike tended to go back to sleep after taking Abby to school on his days off, so you prepared yourself to have to let yourself in with the key under the plant pot. You’d mentioned this to Mike too and he’d just mumbled an ‘okay’.

So here you were, crouching to retrieve the key from under the plant pot and letting yourself in. The bungalow was still and dark, you flick the light on in the hall, kicking off your shoes and making your way to the couch. You figure that Mike is simply asleep, so you settle in, going to dig in your bag for the book you brought with you. A noise from Mike’s bedroom startles you a little, you look up toward his door curiously. It had almost sounded like your name. Why? Was he calling you in there? It seemed like an unlikely thing for him to do, but your anxious mind conjures images of him injured in there, calling weakly out for help. He had sounded a little choked. You place your book on the coffee table and make your way over. You hear another small noise as you approach, like a moan, which concerns you more. You open the door, only to find him asleep on the bed in the dark. You stand confused in the doorway, gently gripping the doorknob. You were sure you heard your name, but he looks fast asleep, even as his body shifts in an odd way like it’s arching upward. Just as you’re about to leave, you hear it again, your name choked out from between his lips. You turn to look at him, noticing his body moving, almost like his hips are thrusting upward and–. Oh my God, you think in shock, he’s hard. Thoughts buzz around in your mind, connecting the dots way too slowly. When you grasp what’s going on, you quickly leave the room, shutting the door gently behind you so as not to wake him and leaning your back against it. Your mind whirs, another broken whimper of your name being heard from behind the door. You rush back to the couch, sitting down and taking a deep breath. You try to come up with an explanation for what could be happening that isn’t the obvious because the obvious answer is too… complicated. You run a hand over your hair. Could it have been a nightmare? Why would he have been hard… and thrusting like that? He had mentioned his new sleeping pills having some odd side effects which he’d point blank refused to elaborate on, other than that they were fine. Could this have been it? You try your best to return to your reading, but your mind won’t stop wandering. You vow to never mention this to anyone, especially not to Mike, not wishing to humiliate either of you. Your cheeks burn as you reread the same paragraph over and over, unable to retain anything but the memory of his whimpers of your name.

About an hour later, you’re feeling much less overheated but still struggling to focus. You hear a door open down the hall and soft footsteps. Mike. You notice, as he rubs his eyes, that he’s coming toward you shirtless… with a large wet patch on his grey boxers. You quickly look up at his face, just in time for him to lower his hand and spot you there, his eyes widening. You’re shocked by how fast he moves, darting into the bathroom and slamming the door shut in an instant. Quiet descends over the house again for a moment.

“Why are you here?” he screeches through the door, the mortification more than evident in the shake of his voice. You try to play it cool as if nothing is wrong, hoping you can convince him you didn’t see anything to spare you both the embarrassment.

“I told you I was coming, my apartment is being fumigated, remember?” you call back. You hear a thud, Mike thumping against the door in annoyance. “Am I not allowed to be here?” trying to channel your usual easygoing playfulness. He sighs loudly, rubbing at his forehead.

“Of course, you’re allowed here, you always are, okay?” he expresses quietly, uncomfortably sincere for the situation. There’s another loud silence. “Did you… see?” his voice breaks slightly. You continue to pretend all is well.

“What? Mike, I’ve seen you shirtless before,” you laugh, a little too loudly, hoping he believes you. Another silence. “Nothing to be ashamed of… you look… uh… good,” you falter, not knowing why you just said that. It’s true though, he keeps himself in shape, channelling his energy to building his strength, and it shows, pleasantly so. Mike can’t quite believe what he’s hearing you say, coughing slightly, his cock already stirring from just a simple comment on his fitness.

“Yeah?” he swallows, unable to keep the slightly needy edge out of his voice, praying you don’t notice. He doesn’t wait for your answer, snapping to his senses. “I’m going for a shower,” he squeaks through the door. He scrambles for the shower, turning on the water as a signal to you that he’s no longer talking. He discards his sticky boxers like normal, stepping into the warming shower before burying his head in his hands and letting out a frustrated howl. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, but he doesn’t care, nothing could be more embarrassing than what had just happened. You sit in the living room, staring at the bathroom door and listening to the drumming of the water from the shower. You’re not sure how to proceed, especially after hearing his tone of voice after you’d complimented him. You keep going back to the way he’d whimpered your name in his sleep, hard and thrusting and then emerged with a stain on his boxers, that suggested only one end to the dream. Was he into you? Was this just some weird fluke due to his sleeping pills? You become so engrossed in your thoughts that you have no time to mentally prepare for him to appear from the bathroom. He looks more sheepish than you’ve ever seen him in your life, a towel wrapped around his lower half, his torso dripping water attractively. You stare at each other for a while, like he’s waiting for you to start chastising him. Instead, you decide to try to test whether his dream was a fluke.

“Hey,” you smile in a subtle flirtatious way. You play with your hair, twirling an end of it slightly. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“Hey,” he repeats shyly. You give an obvious glance down at his bare chest and arms, before returning your eyes to his, smiling and biting your lip. He blinks furiously. “I’m going to go change,” he stutters, rushing off for his bedroom. You purse your lips as you watch after him, not sure if you’ve flustered him in a good or bad way. He returns a little while later, coming to sit on the couch with you, but as far from you as he can possibly get. You notice with a smile that he’s blushing.

“You were sleeping when I got here,” you start, as casual as can be, and he looks impossibly tense. You lean your arm on the back of the couch and then rest your chin on it, smiling over at him. He avoids your eye. “Dream anything nice?” His head whips around to look at you, trying to figure you out. He doesn’t know you’d walked in while he was sleeping.

“Did you–?” he starts but quickly stops himself. He can’t ask if you saw the stain, if you really were just asking an innocuous question, he would completely humiliate himself. You just blink back innocently. He scrutinises you for a little longer. The possibility crosses his mind that you’re a mind reader, and you’re trying to punish him for his thoughts. You reach over, trailing your fingertips over his arm, watching as goosebumps bloom.

“Have we ever been alone together before? Without Abby in the house?” you whisper with a teasing smile. He goes bright red, breathing shakily. You’re flirting with him, you have to be. Why? He looks at you nervously.

“Not sure,” he mumbles. You move closer and his heart pounds faster.

“I only asked about your dream because, well… I heard my name,” you trace a circle on his bicep, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. He feels momentarily lightheaded when you say this. The unspoken understanding passes between you that you must know more than this, but you’re sparing him the details. He sighs shakily. His shy reactions make you feel oddly confident, you come closer, resting your hand on the arm of the couch, effectively boxing him in, your faces close together. He looks terrified, but he’s incredibly aroused. “Was I on top of you?” you purr, unsure where all this confidence has come from. His eyes shut and he breathes shakily, for a moment he thinks he’s about to faint.

“God…” he wonders again if you’re a mind reader. He opens his eyes and your face is right there, beautiful and seductive and he decides in that moment that you could know anything about him, even the most humiliating things, if it kept you this close. It’s not clear who leans in first, but suddenly the two of you are kissing, desperately. Your lips move with fervour and he moans into the kiss. He hasn’t been kissed in so long and it’s you, the object of all his fantasies. You clamber into his lap to straddle him and he accepts you eagerly, his arms wrapping around your middle tight, gripping at your skin through the fabric of your sweatshirt. Your tongue licks into his mouth and he moans again, each sound he makes going through to your core like lightning. He’s rock-hard under you and the thought makes you smug.

“You didn’t answer the question, was I on top of you?” you demand into the kiss, your hands coming to cup his neck.

“Yes, God yes, you were– ah– riding me,” he pants against your lips, all shame gone now that he has you here. He doesn’t care what he has to say, he just needs you. You hum an acknowledgement, pressing yourself down in his lap, slowly dragging yourself back and forth. He whines desperately, his hips bucking to meet you. You giggle at his desperation and he just whines again, embarrassed but knowing he deserves it. You continue to kiss him feverishly, the kiss becoming sloppier with need. You grind down on him, providing teasing friction, enjoying the way he grips at you tighter, trying to silently beg for more. You disconnect from the kiss and he laments, trying to follow you. You gently push him back by the chest and he looks up at you wide-eyed, lips pink and glossy from kissing. You grin, winking, reaching down and pulling your sweatshirt up and over your head. He groans at the sight of you, hands sliding up your back to pull you back in. He looks up at you, his eyes full of wonder and need, placing gentle kisses along your cleavage. You hum softly, enjoying the soft presses. His fingers splay against your back, tracing just under the clasp on your bra, it’s a question and you nod an answer. He fumbles with the clasp for a moment and he smiles up at you shyly. You chuckle. He manages to free you of the garment, slowly slipping the straps down your shoulders and pulling it away from you. He swallows, lowering his lips to mouth at the swell of your breasts. You feel his hardness twitching under you and you give a soft roll of your hips in return. He groans against your skin. You lean your head back, eyes fluttering blissfully as he showers you with insistent affections. His hands on your back hold you close, making sure you can’t slip away from him like every other version of you has by the morning. You toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His tongue traces a path between your breasts.

“Want your cock already,” you purr. You say it just to watch him go crazy, his whole body shivering, eyes falling closer, a small moan escaping his mouth.

“Y-yeah,” he murmurs. You push him back again, enjoying the sweet vulnerable way he looks up at you. You tug his t-shirt over his head, spending a moment caressing at his chest. He’s flushed, muscles tensing as your touch passes over him. Then, you shuffle back a little, just enough to tug at the strings of his sweatpants. His cock twitches eagerly as he watches you do this. You can’t help but giggle slightly and he looks up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m a bit excited,”

“I can tell honey,” you tease. He takes a deep breath and, holding you tight so you don’t fall, lifts his hips so you can wriggle his sweatpants down, along with his boxers. He’s leaking pre-cum, standing at full attention, flushed and needy. You peck his lips as assurance, sensing he’s feeling insecure about something, though you spot nothing to feel that way about. You rise onto your feet, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you like letting you any further would be unbearable. You kick off your leggings and underwear. He gasps at the sight of you, hands sliding down to your thighs as you settle back into his lap. You sit right on his cock, feeling it twitch eagerly under you, another bead of pre-cum rolling free. Mike pants needily, watching as your bare core slides against his length for a moment, making a sticky mess in his lap. He whines, gripping at your waist. You show mercy on him (and yourself), lifting up just enough to align his tip with your entrance. He whimpers in desperation.

“Please, please,” he begs. You lean down to kiss his cheeks soothingly, sinking down onto him. He gasps loudly, his grip tightening on you. His eyes glaze over as you sit motionless in his lap, accommodating yourself to him. He whines softly, hands sliding up and down your body with need. “Please,” he sobs. “I need you to move, please,” you smile, tutting playfully but lifting yourself up slowly. His eyes squeeze shut. “Nngh– so amazing,” you bring your hips down, feeling him dragging against your walls, making you moan. You brace yourself on his shoulders, sliding up and down a few more times. Mike already looks completely gone, staring dreamily at your breasts as they softly bounce, hands exploring your hips and waist, letting out unashamed moans. You remember his dream and lift yourself.

“Fuck me,” you command. He’s confused for a moment, sobbing softly at the cessation of movement, before realising what you want him to do. He’s happy to oblige. He takes hold of your hips and starts to thrust shakily up into you. You let out a surprised gasp as he hits a perfect spot, moaning and dropping your head onto his shoulder. He kisses at your neck as best he can, thrusting up into you with pure desperation. He pounds against you sloppily, whimpering desperately, your moans in his ear only egging him on. He gets off knowing you feel good, thrusting more intentionally against the spot you seem to love so much. He’s rewarded with a symphony of beautiful sounds that has him approaching his release at a rapid pace. “Fucking me so good, Mike,” you moan and he’s done for, the praise going right to his core. With two more harsh thrusts, he’s cumming, his whole body trembling with a whimper of your name. You start to move yourself again, even as he twitches and whines under you, desperate not to get left behind. He sobs shakily with pleasure as you chase your release. Luckily, it washes over you soon after, fireworks exploding behind your eyes. You grip his shoulders hard, your body shaking like his, your head tipped back as you wail his name in return. He watches you, enraptured by the sight of you like this, determined in this moment that he won’t let this be the last time he sees it, no matter what happens. You calm down, mercifully pulling off of him to give him some reprieve from all the sensations. He holds you there on his lap, rubbing your back softly as the two of you come back to earth. He’s blissful, not just from the sex, but from the fact he’s allowed to hold you, that your arms are wrapping around him in return. He kisses your cheek, and you let him and he’s in heaven.

“I guess dreams do come true,” he sighs with a lopsided grin. You look up at him incredulously.

“That’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

#mike schmidt #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt fanfic #mike schimdt x you #mike schimdt smut #smut #fanfic #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #michael schmidt #x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf smut

356 notes · View notes

it-happened-one-fic · 7 months ago

Text

Gluttony - Leona

Author Notes: It was actually really difficult to choose what I was going to post this week. But I've been a little busy lately, so I finally just chose this one rather than working on polishing some of my other fics. I wrote this one to the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier and that most certainly showed in the writing. With that said though, I'm pretty pleased with how this fic turned out. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ fluff/ some angst with comfort/ romance implied/ some pining/ sfw

Word count: 1528

Leona opened his eyes groggily, a frown on his face, as soon as the sun shone down through the leaves of the tree that hung over him, briefly blinding him before he sat up.

A hum from his left had his ears twitching before he twisted to see you lying right by his side. A slight smile on your face as the shadows of the leaves swayed across your form, and he felt his eyebrows raise.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see you, though he knew the same couldn’t be said for anyone who might have seen you here.

Leona was no fool. He knew that you and him were pretty much perfect opposites. That’s why everyone always looked so confused when you were walking along beside him. Chattering away with a happy expression or teasing him about something that had recently gone in a way he hadn’t planned for it to.

Leona was the hated second prince. It was his burden, and it was one he’d carried his entire life. It was nothing new.

He was bitter, unpleasant, and something that people preferred to avoid either out of fear or powerful levels of distaste.

And then there was you. Sweet and far more optimistic than he thought he could ever be. And perhaps more interestingly, you were no fool. You knew everything wasn’t flowers and dreams. How could you not when you lived in a place like Ramshackle dorm and didn’t even have a way to get home?

You were seemingly trapped in a world that wasn’t your own, but you didn’t let that stop you. Instead, you just keep going with your head held high, a smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips as you shrugged it off. It was admirable.

But it also simply wasn’t him. And that was something he knew perfectly well.

That simple fact was also the exact reason your classmates would find it so odd to see you slumbering here by his side and not somewhere else with someone who was a better match for your sweet disposition.

Leona leaned forward, propping his head on his chin as he looked down at where you slept by his side. You’d come here to study in the botanical garden while he’d slumbered next to you. It was something you often did, though he couldn’t fathom why.

It was almost like you either wanted the company or didn’t want him to be lonely. Either of which was ridiculous, since he could think of plenty of people who’d want to be your study buddy, and he certainly didn't want company for his naps.

But then, Leona also didn’t mind your presence, though he had his own reasons for not running you off.

Leona tilted his head slightly, sighing at the sight of you, before pulling the book whose corner was jabbing into your side out of your hands and setting it off to the side where you’d quickly find it after waking up.

He idly scanned the area, half rolling his eyes as he confirmed that your feline companion was nowhere to be seen.

Grim had no doubt long since abandoned you in favor of avoiding anything even close to work.

As for you, Leona didn’t know if you were foolish or bold to have fallen asleep right next to him with no one around to protect you. But here you were curled up at his side, as if he weren’t someone who could easily harm you and were instead someone who would take care of you should you need it.

Which wasn’t something he could really deny to himself, but you didn’t need to know that.

After all, you’d seen him when he’d overblotted and you knew he wasn’t a good person. That should have been enough to send you scrambling to get away from him. But instead, here you were.

And it was ridiculous.

It was true that it might have taken Jack a little while to realize that Leona wasn’t someone he needed to look up to, but Leona’s actions at the Spelldrive competition had cleared up Jack’s misunderstandings about him.

Ruggie had always known what sort of person Leona was. It was one of the reasons he hung around. After all, there was safety in sticking close to people like Leona, so long as you remembered what they were truly like.

Both realized, for better or worse, that Leona was not a misunderstood individual who was secretly good. He was jaded, always beaten by others, and essentially worthless.

But then there was you, who was seemingly unbothered by any of this.

And it wasn’t even like you didn’t believe Leona’s flaws existed; he could work with that. Instead, it was almost like you didn’t care. Like you didn’t really expect him to change outside of your occasional prodding for him to take better care of himself.

You saw his flaws—that much he knew from the times you had bickered with him over something—but you just seemed to accept them. The same way you just seemed to accept other people’s flaws as something that was just a part of them. Only ever really scolding others, or even Leona himself, when their actions either harmed themselves or others.

And that's how Leona knew you were simply too sweet for him. Too sweet for him to endure being near, but simultaneously too sweet for him to turn away.

It was just another show of how worthless he was at anything he tried to do and how little his own efforts mattered. He could try to push you away, but he couldn’t ever stop himself from clinging to you.

As if you were one of the last sweet bits of his otherwise bitter life. A potent method of making everything else seem to fall away and be ignored so long as he just gets a fleeting taste of that kindness.

And Leona had tried to ignore you, but it was somehow impossible, even when he knew that being close to him could easily taint that sweetness of yours and turn it into a bitterness more like his.

But Leona also knew that you and him were all but opposites, and that was probably where the attraction of being near you lay.

Though that realization did nothing to lessen that attraction, no matter how frustrating it might be.

You shifted, letting out some sort of groggy sound and causing him to snort in amusement at your lethargic movements that had you shifting closer to him as if you craved his warmth. Coming closer to him instead of distancing yourself like you should.

It was ridiculous, watching you now, to think that you’d somehow bested him in the past. But you had. You’d beaten him as well as numerous others at their own game. Making them look like fools, as you seemed to change things simply by existing.

And maybe you did. After all, you weren’t of this world. And perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to detach himself from you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you twisted to look up at the lion beastman, who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement as you blinked up at him before groggily sitting up, “What time is it?”

Leona glanced around, his ears twitching slightly as he listened to the distant sounds of students chattering as they left their club areas before he looked back your way, “Time to be getting back to the dorms. Club practice has already let out.”

You nodded, not looking terribly surprised and seemingly resigned to having lost the rest of your study period.

“Have you seen Grim?” You frowned lightly as you glanced around, and Leona snorted, leaning back and relaxing once more against the ground, lazily watching you as you collected your books.

“Nope,” At the single word you glanced over at him with raised eyebrows that almost made him want to take back all the previous thoughts he’d had about you being sweet.

But then that tiny bit of bite you had to you only ever seemed to emphasize your sweetness. It was what kept you interesting and at odds with the fools at RSA.

Because, unlike them, you managed to have a certain degree of cunning even with your sweetness. After all, he hadn’t been lying that day when he’d told Azul that you were far more dastardly than the scheming cephalo-punk was.

That was probably another reason why Leona had given up on pushing you away and had even come to expect your presence. He was a glutton for punishment, and with you being a villain that was sweet enough to even catch him unawares, you were certainly enough to keep him on his toes.

His gaze held yours even as he felt yet another chip in the wall of his defenses fall away, despite the fact that he’d always maintained these walls around himself.

He may not want to let you in, but you really were too sweet for him, and it was reaching the point that Leona was becoming more and more willing to let himself give into his gluttony.

409 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 29 days ago

Text

Stars Align

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve Rogers was one of the biggest stars of Hollywood’s Golden Era. For years, his disappearance from the spotlight has been a mystery, that is until he walks right into your life. (Old Hollywood AU/1960s AU)

Characters: silverfox!Steve Rogers, reader is named 'Satyr' for clarity

Note: I enjoy older music and musicals. I tend to drift into this idea whenever I'm enjoying some and I finally said fuck it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

1965

Satyr

"Oh, Margie, can I get some of that lipstick?" The blonde with crystal blue eyes nudges the scarlet-headed vixen tracing her lips with a deep shade of crimson in the mirror crowded with women in sticking and short skirts.

"You should've thought ahead, Carla," the redhead pops her lips. "We're friends up until that curtain opens."

"Oh, boo. It's lipstick."

"It's mine," the other woman retorts and slides the lid on the tube with a smug smirk.

You overhear from the corner where you move your feet and try to recall the choreography. It's made more difficult with the cacophony of voices and the crush of bodies fogging the backstage with heat. Most are more concerned with the beading in their bodices or the curls across their brows.

You didn't think of any of that. You spent your scarce savings on the bus ticket and kept the change to eat for the day. You look down at yourself, wondering if you've missed something important. The advert said 'dancers needed' for an open audition. It didn't say anything about sequins or eyeliner.

The more you look around, the more it feels like a mistake. Your mother is right. It’s a pipe dream. You’ve spent all your money on coming to New York to embarrass yourself.

But no! This is your one chance at Broadway! Broadway! You still can’t believe it. All your life you dreamt of being on a stage, and somewhere deep down, a screen. Even if the very idea makes your stomach bubble. The singing, the dancing, the stories... you wanted to bring that same fantasy to girls like you.

There’s not much room on the silver screen for musicals anymore but the city is thriving. Or so you read in the magazines your mother calls rages.

“One minute, ladies,” the stage manager calls from the edge of the curtain, “shoes.”

The other women clamour, clicking and tapping around in their heels. You peek down and wiggle your toes in your soft-toed flats. They’re farm shoes. Scuffed from you dancing on the swept barn floor.

You line up in order of the numbers pasted to your chests. The paper curls at the corner from your previous stomping and the crinkle is slightly agitating. You are made even shorter as you’re the only auditioner without at least a few extra inches under her heels.

The stage manager blows a whistle and orders the first girl out, swirling his finger to herd you out like sheep. “Out, out, out. Line up. Don’t waste time.”

As you go to pass the dour man and his tin whistle, he stretches his arm out and you bounce off of it. You step back into the woman behind you. She grunts in surprise.

“You, where are your shoes?”

“Sir? I have shoes--”

“Heels,” he snaps his fingers in frustration, “those are not going on my stage. Take them off. Dance on your toes!”

You blink and your lip trembles. You’re mortified. He grabs your arms and yanks you of the way. “You got ten seconds to get those off and get in line.” He lets you go and points the other woman out, once more barking the same sentiment.

You don’t think. You just do. You tear off your flats and leave them forgotten on the floor. You slip in your stockings and stop again. You roll them down and kick them away, swiftly running out to find your place in line.

The woman next to you with the flaxen blonde hair with straight-cut bangs mutters something and laughs. You don’t pay her any mind as you dig down to recall the choreography. You got this. If you can remember Ginger Rogers famous Swing Time masterpiece, you can get this.

Judith, the black-haired, prim-lipped instructor who previously took you through the steps a grand total of once, comes to the front of the stage. The tin whistle blows and the chatter hushes. You peer between the bodies and see the panel of six sat along the front row. One of them must be the director, the rest you’re unsure.

As Judith raises her hand in a silent count down from five, you remember to get on your toes. Your bare feet are frozen in the airy theatre. This is it. You’re about to dance for your life.

As she closes her fist and the music begins to play from an old victrola, you fall into action. You elude the dancer next to you that goes to the left rather than the right and you focus on your posture. As you meld into the music, you disappear from the room and into your imaginary spotlight. You are back among the cattle and the sheep, watching you flail around in the moonlight.

You are only brought back by the squeal of another. Further ahead, a dancer is on the floor. The stage manager blows the whistle and promptly orders her away. She gets up, limping as her shoe dangles from her ankle, and scurries with her face covered.

You don’t stop. If you can ignore your father’s hammering and your mother’s hollering, you can get through this. Your eyes flick up as your body follows the recital in your head. There are two figures higher up, shrouded in shadow. You can’t make out more than their silhouettes. There sharp shoulders suggest two men, but why would they be sitting in on this?

More are picked away from the crowd for missteps and trips and some every break into tears and run off of their own volition. The chaos adds to the beating of your heart but you can’t stop. Every penny you have depends on this. Your pride, not that it’s very much, is hanging from this fraying thread.

As you continue along the progressions, one of the men in the back stands and his voice rolls through the music. The other remains and sits forward in his chair. The song plays on and your feet don’t stop. The steps feel more natural as the rows thin out around you.

The victrola quiets as you hit the final step. You’re breathless but enlivened. The man in the back stands and follows the other’s departure at a calmer pace.

Judith begins her countdown and the manager shouts, “again!”

Steve

Steve Rogers follows the pin-striped tails of his companion down the back hall. It’s been a while since he’s been in a theatre. Yet, it isn’t his last visit that plays in his head. It’s those early days, when he was a spindly little stagehand, brushing wigs, fluffing capes, and moving scenery. Before simplicity was so damned depressing.

Sam leads him along the back row as the stage stands empty ahead of them. His agent sits first before he can bring himself to do the same. It’s not just that creak in his knee, it’s the way it all feels so familiar but strange. It’s like going home and seeing a new family living in the same house you were raised in.

“Looks like we missed the preliminaries,” Sam mutters.

Steve puts his hands on his thighs as he pushes his shoulders wide. He squints. He can see the figures along the front row. Six of them; the usual, a director, the co-director, and the backers. He rubs his eyes as he tries to clear them and sighs.

“Don’t say a word,” Steve grumbles as he feels around his jacket and dips his hand beneath. He slips the hard leather-bound case from his pocket and opens it on its tight hinges. He unfolds the glasses he only wears at the typewriter.

Sam abides but not without a lingering look that makes him squirm. He’s already agitated. He’s not used to this yet. It should be like riding a bike, shouldn’t it? Ugh, this is a bad idea.

“Relax,” Sam says, sensing his uneasiness. “This is day one, alright? No pressure. We don’t have to find nobody today. This is just... putting our toes in the pond. See what’s out there. This doesn’t work out, we can see how well Frank’s kid can dance. She’s cute.”

“Sinatra? No way,” Steve growls. “I don’t want anyone famous. It’s the whole reason...” He trails off and shakes his head.

“Well, keep in mind, these are amateurs. You’re not gonna find Hayworth here. Or anywhere, these days.”

Steve glances over at his agent and sighs, “I was having dinner with Rita when you were still in diapers, kid,” he warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam waves him off as voices rise behind the curtain. “Looks like things are about to get interesting.”

Steve plants his elbow on the narrow armrest and shifts in the seat. He doesn’t remember them being so uncomfortable. He remembers sitting in them for hours; for premiers, for awards shows, just for the hell of it.

His chest flickers. He hasn’t felt that since the first time he faced a camera. It was different then. Things were still black and white. If Fred’s still got it, he must too.

Why is he doing this? Why couldn’t he just stay in that house and be, not happy, but alone. Unbothered. Why now? Why did the itch start until his skin felt ready to split? He’s gotta try. He’s Steve Damn Rogers and he always gets back, it just took a little longer this time.

A whistle blows and he crinkles his face. Ugh, the noise. That will be the hardest to get used to. When did he get so boring? Maybe when fun turned out to be so painful.

Women flow out in rows. They arrange themselves along the stage as a woman stands at the front with a black blunt haircut. She watches them fan over the space. There’s a pause before another follows the third line back. Then another skitters out with no shoes and inserts herself into the empty space left between the previous dancers.

He rests his chin on his fist curiously. He doesn’t miss the disarray that much. He remembers being behind those curtains and watching the hopefuls run off in tears. Sometimes, they took his handkerchief, other times they ran right past him.

Why are those times easier to remember? Why do the shining ones, the ones in bright Hollywood lights, not excite him? No, no, don’t think of that. It’s not gonna be that way this time. This time, it’s his rules. His script, his movie.

The music begins and his focus on the dozens of dancers. There’s almost too many to keep track of. Yet his eyes come back to that third row. The girl dancing on her toes in bare feat. She moves like silk or satin in the wind. So effortless. Yet everything else about her doesn’t belong. The way she moves is how one should onstage, but her beige dress and plain hair do nothing to make her stand out.

A woman near the front trips and lands on her knees. She cries out as she’s ushered off. His eyes flit back to that girl with no shoes. She doesn’t even wince.

“Ah, this is a wash,” Sam grumbles. “Look at them, a bunch of nobodies. Can’t even stay on tempo.”

“How would you know?” Steve mutters back.

“I got an eye for this stuff, don’t I? I represent the greatest actor in the world.”

“Funny,” Steve drawls dryly.

“I need a smoke. Let me know if anything interesting happens.” Sam stands and struts out.

Steve remains. He pushes his glasses closer to his eyes as he leans forward. The women fade, all but one, that one. The one in the bare feet. It’s like she’s in another world. As he watches her, he feels liek he is too.

The music stops. Her final pose is perfect. On beat, posture good, sharp. He rolls his tongue around. This could work. It could. He doesn’t need another... well, don’t worry about her. He needs someone to mold but not without substance. She can dance, that’s all he needs. The rest can be learned.

He stands with one last look and leaves, his feet weighed down as the music begins again. He stops in the hallway behind the theatre and faces the door. He could sit and watch her for hours. No, he needs to get Sam. They’re not doing this again. He knows it’s her. It has to be. He doesn’t feel so... itchy.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #old hollywood #1960s #captain america #marvel #mcu #avengers

167 notes · View notes

valkyrieromanoff · 14 days ago

Text

New Year's Resolution: James Kelly x you

synopsis: you and James write down your goals for the upcoming year and things heat up.

warnings: MDNI, 18+, possessive James, rough sex, no foreplay, dirty talk

words: 3.1k

a/n: Hello there, New Year's resolutions are an event in my family, I thought it would be fun to play around with this, but I couldn't help myself and write a little smut about James. Anyway, I hope you like it, feel free to comment and share your thoughts 💕

You and James were curled up together on the couch in his living room, each of you holding a sheet of paper and a pen as you both pondered your New Year's resolutions for the upcoming year.

Your brow furrowed slightly as you watched James scribble down 'save $10', a hint of a pout forming on your lips. "Come on, babe... think bigger," you gently encouraged, your voice soft but insistent. "This is our future we're talking about here, remember? Ours."

James glanced over at you, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, alright... let me think," he relented good-natured, tapping the pen against the paper. After a moment, he continued, "If I can make it through the month without going into the red, that's a fucking win in my book. Profit is profit, even if it's just a little bit."

He set the pen down and draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. "How about you? What's on your list of resolutions this year, baby girl?" James asked, genuinely curious to hear your thoughts.

His calloused fingers gently tangled amongst your hair, gently twisting at the silken strands as he waited patiently for your response. The affectionate touch was one that came easily from a year of being together, a simple sign that showed just how comfortable the two had become around each other.

You tilted your head thoughtfully as you considered your resolutions, biting your lower lip gently as you mulled over the options. "I was thinking... maybe I should set a goal to read at least one book per month. It's been a while since I devoted time to reading for pleasure with college and stuffs," you mused, glancing up at James for his reaction.

Pursing your lips briefly, you then added, "And don't you think it's about time we put our idea of running a marathon to the test? If we start training together now, I'll definitely consider it done by the end of the year. We can motivate each other, right?"

James smiled at you with a warmth and affection that reached his ocean blue eyes, softening the usual sternness of his gaze. "You can get anything you want, baby girl," he murmured, his deep voice filled with encouragement and unspoken pride in your ambitious resolutions.

Gently tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, he let his calloused fingers linger on your cheek for a moment, the rough texture a reminder of the hard work and dedication that had shaped the man you'd fallen for.

"Reading a book every month? Fuck, that's impressive. I love that you set your sights high," James praised, his thumb lightly brushing over your cheekbone. "And a marathon? Damn right we can do that together. We'll train hard and celebrate harder when we cross that finish line."

He leaned in closer, his lips a mere whisper away from yours as he held your gaze captive. "Anything you want, baby girl. I'm right here beside you, cheering you on every step of the way. This year is going to be ours for the taking."

James sealed his heartfelt promise with a tender kiss, pouring all of his love and support into the gentle press of his lips against yours. In that moment, you knew that with him by your side, there was no challenge too great, no dream too big to chase. Together, you could handle anything life threw at you.

As your lips pulled apart, your foreheads stayed together, still close as ever.

"We can start a savings account for your mechanic shop," you suggested gently, aware that was a huge aspiration of his. "I don't have much right now, but we can work towards it,"

James's heart swelled at your thoughtful suggestion, a lump forming in his throat as the intensity of your words sank in. He cupped your face tenderly in his strong, rough hands, his calloused thumbs gently caressing your soft cheeks as he gazed into your eyes with naked adoration.

"Fuck, I love you so much, babe," he rasped, his voice thick with raw emotion. "Always putting other people's dreams before yours like a fucking saint, I don't deserve this."

He leaned his forehead against yours, the intimate gesture allowing you to feel the heat radiating off his skin, the rapid pulse of his heartbeat a silent testament to the love and affection he harbored for you.

"You're right, though. A savings account for the shop... that's a fucking brilliant idea," James murmured, his mind already racing with the possibilities. "It won't be easy, but with you by my side, I know we can make it happen."

He pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his own blue orbs glistening with unshed tears of gratitude and love. "I promise you, baby girl I'll work my fucking ass off every single day to make this happen. For you, for us, for the life we want to build together."

James sealed his heartfelt declaration with another deep, loving kiss, pouring every ounce of his love and devotion into the sensual embrace. In that moment, you knew that with your unwavering support and encouragement, there was no dream too big, no mountain too high for the two of you to climb together.

"I fucking love you, baby. More than anything in this world," he whispered against your lips, his voice trembling with raw, unbridled emotion. "Thank you for believing in me, for seeing the best in me when I don't always see it in myself."

You smiled softly at James's heartfelt declaration, your heart fluttering with love and affection for the incredible man who had become your safe place.

With a content sigh, you turned your attention back to your list of resolutions, adding the tried-and-true goals that you aimed to achieve each and every year: practicing yoga regularly to keep your mind and body flexible and centered, committing to a healthy and balanced diet to fuel your active lifestyle, and challenging yourself to explore a new hobby or skill to keep life exciting and engaging.

As you reviewed your list, you couldn't help but glance over at James's own resolutions, your eyes widening slightly as you noticed a particularly bold and rather flirtatious bullet point: "Give my baby girl at least one mind-blowing orgasm every single day, no matter what."

A wave of warmth crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks as you felt a rush of excitement and anticipation at his rather audacious goal. You bit your lower lip gently to stifle a giddy grin, your entire body tingling with a sudden desire to celebrate the promise of so many intimate and pleasure-filled moments together.

"Well, well, well... someone's feeling confident," you teased softly, your voice laced with playful flirtation as you met James's gaze with a coy smile. "I like the way you think, handsome. Let's just make sure you can follow through on that one, hmm?"

You leaned in closer, your hand finding his thigh and giving it a teasing squeeze as you gazed up at him through your lashes. "I have faith in you, though. I know you're a man of your word, and I can't wait to see all the creative ways you'll find to leave me trembling and satisfied day after day."

James let out a soft, almost pathetic groan as you teased him so irresistibly, his body already responding to your flirtatious words despite his best efforts to maintain composure. He couldn't help but pout, his full lips forming an adorable yet sexy frown as he protested your playful torment.

"Hey now, you can't just say something like that and then turn your back on me, you little minx," he grumbled softly, his voice low and rough with pent-up desire. "You're playing with fire, baby, and you might just get burned."

Even as he complained, James couldn't resist reaching out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling your body back against his firm, muscular chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he nipped lightly at your sensitive skin.

"You're fucking insatiable," he murmured, his hot breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine. "And I fucking love it. But don't think you can just leave me hanging like that, baby girl. I've got big plans for that gorgeous body of yours tonight..."

"why not now?" you asked with a malicious grind playing in your pink lips.

James's breath hitched as your plump rear ground against his rapidly hardening cock, your brazen teasing stoking the flames of his desire to a fever pitch. A low, guttural groan rumbled in his chest as he gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass as he ground himself against you with shameless hunger.

"Fuck, you're playing a dangerous game, baby," he growled, his voice heavy with lust and barely restrained urges. "Keep this up, and I won't be held responsible for what happens next."

His hands slid around to the front of your hips, deftly unfastening the button of your jeans and tugging down the zipper with a sense of purpose. Cool air hit your skin as he yanked your pants and panties down in one swift motion, baring your ass to his greedy hands.

"Tell me you don't want this, baby. Tell me you don't fucking need my cock buried deep inside this tight little cunt of yours," James demanded, his voice a low, seductive purr as he ran a teasing finger along your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your own desire coating his skin.

He pressed a thick finger against your entrance, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "I bet this greedy pussy is aching to be filled, isn't it? Begging for my cock like the desperate little minx it is?"

James's other hand slid around to your front, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to palm your breast, his calloused fingers sinking into the plush mound. He rolled and plucked at your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra, the rough treatment sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

"Beg for it, baby girl," he dared you, his voice a low, lustful rasp in your ear. "prove to me how badly you need it, and maybe I'll give this sweet cunt what it's fucking craving."

"Fuck, James," you moaned, a shaky breath escaping your lips. "I need you so bad."

James let out a deep, approving growl as your needy moan filled the air, the sound of his name falling from your lips like the sweetest deviously symphony. Your admission of desire only served to inflame his own burning need, his painfully hard cock throbbing in the confines of his jeans as he ground himself against your now bare ass.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know how fucking bad I need you too," he rasped, his voice raw with lust and barely restrained urges. "I'm going to fucking ruin you for anyone else. No one else will ever make you feel as good as I can."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing through your slick folds before plunging two thick digits knuckle-deep into your aching cunt. He pumped them in and out of your tight heat, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust as he finger-fucked you with wild abandon.

"Tell me how badly you want it, baby girl. I want to hear you scream my fucking name as I split you open on my cock," James demanded, his hot breath scorching your ear as he bit down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark.

He used his free hand to quickly shed his own jeans and boxers, freeing his ection. It slapped lewdly against your ass as he kicked off his pants, the thick head already leaking with pent-up need.

"You want this fat cock, don't you baby? Want me to slam it home and fucking wreck this sweet little cunt?" he growled, giving your ass a sharp slap before gripping the flesh hard enough to leave red welts blooming across your skin.

James notched the swollen crown of his cock against your entrance, teasing your folds with the hot, hard length as he rolled his hips, painting your slit with the bead of precum drooling from the tip.

"Beg for it, baby girl. beg me to split you open and fill this desperate pussy with my seed. I want to hear you scream for my cock like the desperate little minx you are. Beg me to fucking breed this cunt."

"James, gosh, please just fuck me already" You whimpered trying to reach down to wrap around his cock.

James let out a low, sensual chuckle as he felt you squirming with desperation, your body practically vibrating with the intensity of your arousal. Your needy whimper, begging him to just take you already, only spurred on his dark desires.

"Mmm, since you asked so fucking nicely," he purred, his voice dripping with sinful promise as he swiftly lifted you up, encouraging you to bend forward over the arm of the couch.

In a flash, he was behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises on your soft skin. You felt the thick head of his cock slipping between your slick folds, teasing your entrance with maddening precision.

"Fuck, baby, you're so fucking wet for me already," James groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm going to give this greedy cunt exactly what it's craving."

With one brutal thrust, he slammed his full length into you, bottoming out in your tight heat. A guttural moan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your walls gripping him like a velvet glove. He paused for just a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried to the hilt inside you before he started to move.

James set a relentless pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that had the couch creaking beneath you. Each thrust rocketed his cock head slamming against your cervix, the tip kissing your womb with lewd wet sounds filling the room.

"Fuck, this pussy is mine," he snarled, punctuating his claim with a sharp slap to your ass. "I'm going to fucking ruin you for anyone else. No one will ever satisfy this needy cunt like I can."

His fingers found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles as he fucked into you with wild abandon. The dual stimulation had your cries of pleasure escalating, your body coiled tight and ready to snap at any moment.

James could feel your body starting to tremble and quake beneath him, your velvety walls fluttering and clenching around his shoving cock. He knew he had you right on the precipice of ecstasy, teetering on the brink of a mind-shattering orgasm.

"That's it, baby. Fucking take it," he growled, his hips slamming against your ass with vigor. "I can feel this pussy squeezing me so fucking tight. You're so close, aren't you baby girl?"

His fingers never ceased their lasting circling of your swollen clit, the rough pad of his thumb grinding against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, he curled his hips to aim each thrust directly at that special spot deep inside you, the one that made your eyes roll back and your mind go deliciously blank.

"Come on, baby. Let go for me," James commanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I want to feel this sweet cunt spasm and milk my fucking cock. Give me everything, baby girl."

He could feel his own release approaching, his heavy balls drawing up tight to his body as he chased his pleasure. But more than that, he needed to see you come undone, to watch as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensations.

James leaned over your back, his muscular chest pressing against your shoulder blades as he wrapped an arm around your waist. He pulled you flush against him, your body melded to his as he panted hotly against the side of your neck.

"Fucking soak my cock, baby girl," he rasped, his hips never faltering in their brutal pace. "Drench my fucking cock in your cum and scream my name. Let the whole fucking neighborhood know who this pussy belongs to."

His other hand slid up to your neck, muffling your cries of pleasure as he felt your body start to seize beneath him. Your walls clamped down around him, rippling and squeezing his aching length as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of pure, unadulterated bliss.

James held you close, your back pressed against his chest as the aftershocks of your intense orgasm still coursed through your trembling body. He peppered your shoulders with soft, tender kisses, his lips brushing against your skin like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

"Shh, I've got you, baby girl," he murmured, his deep voice low and soothing as he rocked you gently in his strong arms. "You did so fucking good, sweetheart. Came so hard on my cock like a perfect little minx."

His hands roamed over your curves, caressing and stroking your sides, your hips, your thighs with a loving touch that belied the roughness of moments before. James trailed his fingers up to cup your face, tilting your chin to look up at him as he gazed down at you with a look of pure adoration.

"Look at you, so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his thumb brushing tenderly over your lower lip. "I love seeing you like this, all sated and content in my arms. This is where you belong, baby girl. Right here with me, always."

He leaned in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, pouring all of his love and devotion into the intimate embrace. James savored the taste of your mouth, the feel of your soft lips moving against his as he deepened the kiss with a low, appreciative groan.

"Fuck, I love you so much," he murmured against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. "More than anything in this world, baby. You're my everything."James held you close, allowing you to bask in the warm afterglow of your shared passion.

He knew that he would never let you go, that he would spend the rest of his life loving you with every fiber of his being. You were his soulmate, his partner, his reason for living. And he would spend every day proving just how deeply he adored and cherished you.

#james kelly imagine #james kelly x you #james kelly smut #james kelly x reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen #american heist

123 notes · View notes

lovecla · 3 months ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter five:

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 3.9k

💌 from me to you: honestly, today was a lot! i broke my phone yesterday and had to buy a new one today (i’m now poor :,) and i deadass forgot my email and i lost all of my works AHAH (quinn’s voice: it’s funny but it’s not funny). thankfully, i had already saved all of TYPA chapters here on tumblr so they’re safe and well. anyways, enjoy! 🤎

౨ৎ

2024, APRIL.

lavieenrose

Vancouver, Canada

liked by madisoncarter, adrianalima, zayn and 528,012 other people

lavieenrose We are thrilled to announce our newest Flower, Madison Carter! Welcome to our garden, gorgeous! 🌹

View all 1,203 comments

madisoncarter i love u guys thank u so much

user1 I love Madison employed era 🤭 like yass girl pay your bills

bellahadid proud of you, sis xx

madisoncarter bellahadid <3

user2 she looks kinda fat in this 🤢

maddiecarter_updates user2 girl that’s ur momma

imgmodels That’s our girl!!!

౨ৎ

“SO QUINN Hughes is your childhood best friend?” Victoria sounded amused.

You chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

“What a small world we live in!” She raised her arm, making prayer hands. “God, if you’re out there, make my dream of fucking Luke Hughes come true.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst.” You joke, watching as she winks at you, going back to her rambling about how funny it was that you and the Hughes were familiar with each other.

It was the week before your first official fashion show in Vancouver, and things were extremely busy. Today you and the other models had to visit the hall where the show would happen so you could practice your walk and get familiar with the runway’s layout.

Victoria wasn’t a model per se, even if she was one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen, but she still made sure to be there with you so you wouldn't be totally alone.

The other models were nice to you but you were still extremely shy, and it usually took you a while for you to get used to new people. Thankfully, Victoria could help you just fine.

“But like,” she raises her voice again, staring at you funny. “Should I tell Gil to send the Canucks some invitations?”

You raised your brow at her, ready to say no. After that night at your house, a week ago, you and Quinn were… different. Being one hundred percent honest, you were different with Quinn. He was still the same as always, texting every day and asking about how you and Bella were doing, since he was away— again— and couldn’t check on you in person.

And you thought it was sweet.

Awfully sweet.

Dangerously sweet.

After the thoughts you had while he sat on your couch that night, thick thighs spread cozily across your couch, dress shirt opened and hair falling perfectly on his face, you decided that being away from him was probably the best thing you could do for your relationship.

“I don’t think they’ll be interested in coming,” you lie, shrugging. “It’s not like they’re interested in lingeries.”

“Hum—”

“At least not in the way you want them to be!” You quickly added, not letting Victoria’s mind wander to horny places.

“I don’t know about that, Mads,” she clicks her tongue, watching as the crew move around you both, lunch break already about to end. “We could invite only the single ones. What do you think?”

You laugh and joke: “I think that’s a great idea.”

Obviously, it wasn’t. Nothing about Quinn seeing you in lingerie was a good idea, but who were you to crash Victoria’s dream? Besides, the Canucks would never actually go to a fashion show unless they were forced to, so you had nothing to worry about.

“Okay, Madison, I need you to walk up there again.” Rory, the casting director called you, and you promptly got out of your seat to do what he needed you to.

And just like that your thirty minute lunch break was over.

౨ৎ

“THIS IS the day you all have been waiting for, girls,” James yells, loud enough to be heard by all the fifty girls standing backstage. “I need you all to shine today!”

You could feel your hands sweaty and your heart beating faster than ever. Today was the fashion show you've been preparing for everyday ever since you moved to Canada and watching it all unfold in front of you was anything but not stressful.

This was the first fashion show you did in months and you knew people were expecting something big.

“Madison,” James calls you, and you immediately go to his side, excluded from the other girls. He looks at you with his fierce, cat eyes and you almost gulp. “Today’s your night. The majority of the people are here to see you, they’re here to see Madison Carter. Do you understand that?”

You nod, blinking fast. “I do.”

“Great,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say this in front of the other girls because I don’t want them to feel bad, but having you here is pure gold, and the press is ready to put any mistake in a headline. So, can you be my prettiest flower tonight, baby?”

You smile, feeling confident all of a sudden. You had to remind yourself that you were pretty, even if sometimes your brain liked to tell you otherwise. People were here to see you, they paid money to watch you walk down that stage, and you’d give them a show.

You’d prove to everyone that you were just that girl. Even your own family.

“I can, J.” You confirm, shaking your arms slightly.

“Then great. You know when you have to enter the stage, don’t you?” You nod again, of course you did. You all rehearsed this so many times that it would be hard for you not to know. James turns around and starts speaking loud again, trying to talk to all fifty girls at once. “RAYE is here tonight and even though your job is to walk, I want you all to interact with her and her songs. I want you all on time and I want you all on your best behavior.”

Celestial Allure was the name of tonight’s collection, all of you wearing different shades of white, pastel pink, blue and purple, not to mention the tiny golden details in your hair and heels. Your makeup consisted in white eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner and big, angelic lashes. You had little to no blush in your cheeks, the focus on representing a pale, unreal face. Your lips had a natural pinkish color and you had highlighter all over your collarbone and nose.

Your opening outfit couldn’t even be called an outfit; it was simply a white, twinkle strap lace corset with matching panties, heels that adored your legs and reminded you of something Barbie would wear, your hair was perfectly styled with waves falling down like a waterfall.

You took a deep breath, the first notes of Escapism echoing through the entire place, and you knew it was the time for your entrance.

After saying a quick prayer, you enter the stage, immediately putting on your work mindset, not letting any of the hundred eyes make you feel nervous. One step and then another, your body moved alongside the music’s beat, RAYE’s warm smile and powerful presence making you feel less nervous. You made sure that your body was moving like James and Rory had instructed, lightly and featherly.

The camera flashes didn’t hurt your eyes anymore, thankfully, because there were so many of them that even if the building had dim lighting, the stage looked as bright as the sun.

“A little context if you care to listen, I find myself in a shit position,” you mouthed the words, walking down the stage like you owned, because, in fact— you did. “The man that I love sat me down last night, and he told me that it's over, dumb decision.”

You waved to some of the cameras, smiling from ear to ear, genuinely happy.

Even if it was a hard world, the happiness you got from modeling and wearing beautiful, delicate pieces like the one you were wearing right now was unbeatable.

Outfit after outfit, walk after walk, you made it to the end of the show, letting your eyes get shiny with tears when James grabbed your hand and walked with you to the end of the stage, raising your arm and bowing with you. You smiled, watching as people clapped for you and shouted your name.

Backstage, you ran around hugging the other models, all of you so emotional and happy. Your favorite part about working with La Vie en Rose was that they prioritized girls who supported other girls, and not girls who tried to get on top by dragging other girls, something that happened daily in the fashion world.

Victoria also hugged you, taking pictures and handing you your outfit change so you could talk to the press.

“Madison, Madison,” your name was on every reporter’s mouth, flashes and cameras being shoved in your face. You smiled through the uncomfortable feeling of all of your actions and breathing being recorded and pointed to one of the interviewers there, letting her speak.

“You were absolutely divine today. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” you smile, shaking your head. “This is the first show I’ve done in a while and I’m still getting back from the high.”

“The crowd’s reaction was amazing. Did you expect such a strong response?”

“No,” you laugh, sincerely. “I am used to my supporters in Los Angeles but knowing this many people would show up here in Vancouver? It’s insane. But I’m grateful anyway.”

“Speaking of moving to Vancouver, what can we expect from your Canadian side?”

“Everything. I’m always open to new opportunities and signing a contract with a brand as special to me as La Vie en Rose can mean a lot of good things.” You move to the next reporter, who was almost shoving the microphone down your throat.

“What can you say about the Canucks team being here? Do you know any of them personally?”

That caught you so off guard you had to hold back a gasp.

“What do you mean?” You ask carefully, trying your best to keep your smile from falling. “The… Canucks are here?”

“You didn’t know?” The reporter scoffs. “We have players like Quinn Hughes, Brock Boeser, Conor Garland and Elias Pettersson in the audience.”

“Oh,” you say, moving your head to the side, trying to see something past that sea of cameras. “Hum. I didn’t know they were here. I think it’s, hum, great and… yeah.”

“Time’s up, fellas!” Victoria shouts, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you to the side. “The other models are right there, ready for your questions. Thank you all, bye.”

“Thank you guys, have a good night,” you say before heading backstage. You turn your head to Victoria’s direction, eyes doubled in size. “Did you know the Canucks are here?”

“‘Course I did. I sent the invite.” She answers like it was nothing.

“You what?”

“Well, basically it wasn’t me, it was Gil, but I was the one who told him to invite them— and why are you so surprised anyway? We talked about this and you said it was a great idea!”

“I was joking, obviously,” you shout-whisper, walking around the room with Victoria beside you. “You’re crazy.”

“Well, now they’re here and we have to greet them.” She smiles, walking around people with a gorgeous smile plastered on her face. “Hi, good night.”

You had to set your apprehension aside and greet the other people there, so many designers, fashion students and artists congratulated you and asked for pictures. You were happy people were as pleased as you about you moving to Canada and even happier to see that you had so many supporters.

“Oh my God, there’s Quinn Hughes,” Victoria whispers beside you, making you snap your head in his direction.

And there he was. Wearing a gorgeous, dark blue suit, hair slicked back and hands in his pockets, standing there like Prince Charming himself. He was surrounded by three other men, who you could only imagine were his teammates, chatting quietly with one of them.

“Let’s go say hi.” Victoria grabs your hand and makes her way to their little chatting circle, Quinn noticing you before anyone else.

His eyes held a different kind of feeling that night, with him eyeing you up and down. His eyes discreetly trailed your body, the tiniest smile adorning his lips when his eyes met yours.

“Maddie.” He said your name with that raspy voice of his, making you shiver internally.

You smile shyly, watching as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Hi, Quinn,” you greet him back, face warm with all the attention. “Hum. Hi, guys,” you greet the other men, as six pairs of eyes stare back at you. “I’m Madison.”

They all give you a cheek kiss and a hug, broad bodies embracing yours like a giant blanket. They introduced themselves, and you were right; they were Quinn’s teammates.

“This is Victoria,” you introduce your friend, who eagerly hugs the players as well.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” She asks and you watch as they all laugh and nod.

The one you remember being called Conor speaks first. “Honestly when we got the invitation I thought it was really random. But it was actually fire.”

“Yeah,” one of them, Pettersson, you think, agrees, putting his hands inside his pockets. “The girls are pretty. You’re pretty.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling and thanking them.

“We were just going out for drinks at a bar just down the street, do you want to join?” One of them— you didn’t remember the name— asks, and before you could even think of what to say, Victoria jumps in front of you with her eager yes.

You looked at Quinn, watching as he stared right back at you, pointing to the entrance with his head.

You all walked out of the event hall together, photographers going crazy with the flashes and you knew that besides talking about your performance that night, people were also going to talk about your proximity with the Hughes and the Canucks.

The other players chatted with Victoria in front of you, while you and Quinn walked behind them, close enough that your naked shoulder touched his covered arm.

“Aren’t you cold?” He blurts out of nowhere, and you smile, shaking your head no.

“Not really. I’m still coming down from the high from earlier.”

“You were amazing, Mads,” he praises you, licking his lips. “Never seen you like that before. Just… stunning.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, not sure why Quinn’s compliment made you feel better than if it were anyone else’s. “Did you like it?” Even though Victoria had already asked them this question, you asked it again, because you wanted to know what Quinn had thought of it.

“Yes,” he winks, smirking at you. “Yes, I did.”

“Great.”

You continued to make small talk on your way to the bar, underestimating how crowded it would actually be. Thankfully, there were a lot of Canucks fans there, and a group of random people let you stay at their table in exchange for a picture with their captain, Quinn, which he promptly took.

“Do you want to drink anything?” The handsome brown-haired fella, Garland, you think, asked you, a few seconds after you sat down.

“Let her breathe first, idiot,” you heard Quinn mumble beside you, making you laugh.

“Maybe a Sex on the Beach?” You said simply, not really interested in Conor’s flirting. He’s hot, but he isn’t Quinn.

Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinking that you can actually have anything with Quinn, you thought, feeling yourself deflate just a little.

“Freaky,” Connor answered, before moving to the bar with the other guys.

“You won’t drink anything?” Victoria asked Quinn, since he was the man who stayed at the table.

He shrugs. “I’m driving.”

“Oh, we love a responsible king,” she nods to herself, giving you an approving smile. What she was approving was still a mystery.

Quinn eyes you, silently questioning you where you’d found that girl, and you only smiled, raising your shoulders.

The rest of the team took a while to come back, something about the bar being too crowded, but Conor handed your cocktail and winked at you.

“So, Madison,” he starts, sitting in front of you. “Are you single?”

Boeser whistled while Pettersson laughed out loud, hitting Conor’s shoulders.

“You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?” You retort, roiling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. “But, yes, I am. I’m not interested in anything serious at the moment, though.”

“One step forward for Conie here but at what cost?” Boeser shouts, clicking his beer on the table. You can hear Victoria laughing with Pettersson beside you, and you seriously want to pinch her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Quinn speaks beside you, and suddenly all eyes are on him, yours included. He seems to realize what he had just said because his cheeks turn a very light shade of pink. “I mean, with a face like yours, I’d find it pretty hard to believe that any woman would be interested in you.”

“Fuck you, Cap,” Conor gives him the finger, sipping on his beer before winking at you. “Maddie here knows what’s good.”

“Don’t call her that,” Quinn hisses and both you and Victoria share a stare with each other.

Thankfully, Vic’s really good at changing topics and after five seconds she got all of the Canucks players talking with her at the same time. Garland seemed to have forgotten about you momentarily, and you were thankful for that.

You turned your head to the side, staring at Quinn who looked like he was having the worst time of his life. You frowned.

“What got you so upset?” You whisper, watching as he stops staring at his water bottle to stare at you.

“I’m not upset.”

“This little thing here…” you place your finger between his eyebrows, watching the furrow disappear underneath your finger. “…tells me a different story. Was it Conor?”

“Why would I be upset with him?” He taps his fingers on the table, once, twice.

“I know that you don’t like it when people call me Maddie.” You tell him, smiling softly. You would never confess it to him, but you didn’t like when people called you that too. Quinn had been the first person to call you that, to give you a nickname, and you wanted to keep that one between you both.

“He just can’t keep himself inside his pants,” He admits, and you smile even wider, finding the entire situation entirely funny. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“It is to me,” you rest your chin on your hand. “Well, I know he won’t get inside my pants any time soon.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, and, finally, you watch his face transform into something that wasn’t a scowl or a frown. “Good.”

You gulp and pray to God that he doesn’t notice the way your thighs slowly close together, your body clearly desperate for something. Something that anyone else could give you, but you wanted it from the only person who was out of your league.

But perhaps God wasn’t listening to you like He usually did, because the way Quinn’s blue eyes turned into a grayish shade before he calmly placed his right hand on your left thigh told you a different truth.

Then he somehow inserted himself back in the conversation, leaving his hands on your thigh for the rest of the night, while you tried to keep up with what they were saying but failed miserably since all you could think was how his hands looked so big on you that maybe, just maybe, some of his other parts would be big too…

You sighed, forgetting for a few seconds that you were in public. Being around Quinn made your head work in the wrong way and trying to get back on the right path was tiring and exhausting.

“Are you not having fun?” You scared yourself with how close Quinn actually was, his lips almost touching your ear.

“‘M just tired,” you mumbled, feeling bad for interrupting Quinn’s conversation, even if the rest of the people at the table were still talking animatedly between themselves. “And I miss Bella.”

You hear his breathy laugh beside you. “I miss Bella too. Come on, let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, shaking your head slowly. “I’ll call a cab.”

“You’re funny.” he says before opening his wallet and placing two hundred Canadian dollars on the table. “Madison and I are going home.”

“Uh, well… bye?” You say, uncertain of what you should do. It seemed rude to you to just leave like this, but you also knew Quinn wasn’t backing up now, and you were telling the truth when you told him you miss Bella. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“The pleasure was all ours, baby,” Conor says, winking at you. “Come see our next game. We’ll save you and Vicky a spot.” You tell him that you will, and then you smile politely, kissing Victoria’s cheek.

“Do you want me to take you home?” You ask, and she turns the cutest shade of red, eyes staring at Boeser for just a brief second before turning at you again. Oh. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she winks, kissing you too. “Drive safe.”

You briefly hug the other players, wishing them a good night before you leave the bar with Quinn’s hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, with Quinn making tiny remarks here and there, but you were so close to saying fuck to all of your beliefs and kissing him that you realized that staying quiet was probably the best move.

It wasn’t like you thought Quinn wasn’t into you. You weren’t dumb, and you knew what the stares he gave you meant, but you also knew that what you had with him, your friendship, was precious and not something that happened to everyone.

Even if you’d just restarted seeing each other a short while ago, it was like you hadn’t stopped talking at all. He still took care of you like he did to young Madison years ago, and he still let you take care of him like you would’ve done if he’d stayed in your life when you grew up.

So risking it all just because you were horny? Not a chance.

“You’re so quiet,” he points out, making a U turn. “Do you miss Bella this much?”

You smile, resting your head on the window. “I do, yeah. But I’m also just tired. Today was a lot.”

“I was telling the truth when I said you were stunning, Maddie. You owned that stage. No one was looking at anyone else.”

“Oh, stop it, Quinn,” you tried to hide the fact that his compliments made you want to start running around while shouting his name. “It’s just my job.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, but didn't say anything else, what was probably for the better. If he complimented you again, you wouldn’t sure that you would be able to stay in your seat without climbing on his lap and begging him to fuck you.

Quinn parks in front of your apartment building and smiles at you, tired eyes shining like the moon that decorated the sky that night. “Want me to go upstairs with you?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I know you’re tired,” you bit your lip, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you for coming. And for the ride too.”

“I enjoyed tonight. We should… we should do this again.”

You smirk, playfully. “And invite Conor too?”

He groans, laughing softly.

“No, definitely no,” he shakes his head. “I know that dork already invited you but… if you want to come watch our next game, just give me a heads up. I’ll get tickets for you and your friend.”

“Only if we get to stay in that seat where we can watch the players beat each other up from up close.” You joke, watching as he laughs, wrapping his hand around his abs.

“Consider it done, M,” he blinks, an adorable smile adorning his face. “I’ll text you the details, alright?”

“Mhm,” you nod, removing your seatbelt and pushing your body forward, until you place a light kiss on his cheek, feeling his stubble softly scratch your lips. “Night, Quinn.”

“Bye, Mads.” he whispers, watching you leave the car and only driving away when he sees you enter your building.

You sigh out loud, trying to understand what the hell happened tonight.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, _quinnhughes, imgmodels and 828,023 other people

madisoncarter little dump from tonight. thank u all for coming 🌟 lavieenrose

View all 3,209 comments

raye this show was yours. Prettiest woman in the world. Xx

vic_alonso we look soooo good in that pic babe

vic_alonso also lowkey wanna kiss u again

user1 vic_alonso 📸🤨

madisoncarter @vic_alonso ‘m all urs baby

user2 why is my husband liking this when he doesn’t even know how to post a picture without Jack’s help pls I need answers

user3 oh both luke jack and quinn liked this we are cooked

maddiecarter_updates We don’t know if we want to be you or have you 🙂‍↕️ stunning as always, queen!

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

#quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl players #hockey #TYPA

175 notes · View notes

lumitoiile · 2 months ago

Text

☆ ; freminet headcanons

fluffy boyfriend imagines. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

he's literally the sweetest boy on earth

freminet never in his wildest dreams would have expected he'd end up being so close with you. whenever he meets someone new, they usually just ask for one of his siblings. not him; never him, unless there's a favor needed.

which is why it's a surprise when you actively seek him out, actually putting in effort to stay in contact and form a bond with him. he's a little confused at first, and quite nervous, but he appreciates it all the same.

he finds himself quite enjoying your company...perhaps even a little too much.

poor thing was practically reduced to tears when he realized how he felt about you. he had no idea what was going on, what to do. he was in a panic. when did he start feeling this way? he had no clue. what would happen if you found out? surely, you'd hate him. he couldn't let that happen.

avoiding you seemed like the obvious solution at first. didn't help at all. in fact, this only made matters worse. his heart ached to be apart from you, and it was only so long before he gave up.

he nearly had a stroke when you told him his feelings were reciprocated. his face flushed a bright pretty pink, and he just couldn't find a way to stop fumbling over his words.

freminet generally just flusters very easily, please be gentle with him lmao

the beginning stages of your relationship with him starts off very slow. you're the first person he's ever been with, let alone have feelings for, so all of this is very very new to him.

he tries his best though, and gradually grows more comfortable with things over time.

such a sweetheart, he'd gift you bouquets of romaritime flowers after a long day of exploring fontanian waters.

will definitely take you diving if you're up for it.

if you can't swim? that's cool; he'd be happy to teach you! freminet would be a very patient instructor, always sure to make sure you're safe and comfortable.

as you know, he doesn't often show his true feelings in front of others, rather waiting until he's underwater before he can finally let things out. at first, you're no exception to this rule, but he does eventually start to feel more secure and comfortable coming to you with those types of things. you gotta be there with him through it all.

his love language is gift-giving giving and i will never ever be convinced otherwise. he's always making small little gizmos and gadgets to give you, or collecting little trinkets and shells from his time in the sea. he doesn't really think you keep them, but he's never come back empty-handed.

acts of service is also a really big thing for him. he wants to be useful to you in any way that he can; he wants to feel wanted, he wants to feel important to you.

while he does enjoy physical affection, he gets very nervous very fast. you'll have to be extra patient with him, and let him ease into things.

once he's more used to it, however, all he does is crave your touch. even despite his embarrassment, he'll drop subtle little hints he wants attention from you. cutie patootie, he just adores holding your hand and snuggling up to you.

his siblings love you. lyney definitely teases poor frem about it for a while, but he's genuinely happy that his little brother has found someone that makes him happy. same goes for lynette.

i feel like he'd cover pers' eyes whenever you two lean in for a kiss; he can't possibly expose his little penguin pal to such indecency.

he has one of the prettiest voices in the world you can't tell me he doesn't know how to sing. he's very shy about it, though you can't help but smile whenever you catch him humming a tune to himself while he tinkers.

will maybe sing you lullabies. maybe.

oh my goodness im forgetting the pièce de résistance; his FRECKLES. you cant tell me it doesnt look like stars littered across his pretty face. kiss and trace patterns all over them, and he'll absolutely fold.

his ideal idea of a date is...you guessed it. the beach. literally anything having to do with the sea. he'd build sandcastles with you, help you search for seashells, and perhaps even let you bury him in the sand.

overall, he's a 5/5-star boyfriend. take care of him, and he'll be sure to take care of you.

#freminet #freminet x reader #headcanons #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #freminet hcs #gender neutral #gn reader #fluff #genshin x male reader #genshin x female reader #fanfiction #fontaine

124 notes · View notes

glossdebut · 12 days ago

Text

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 03

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: THE JEJU TRIP BEGINS!, JK is clueless and a little bit annoying, jimin and taehyung are meddlers, seokjin wishes he was fishing, yoongi is a bitch as per usual, aqua uses ANOTHER arctic monkeys song as a plot device, A BIG REVEAL OF SORTS!, idk a lot of stuff happens in this chapter, the exposition is expositioning (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 7.4k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi everyone! happy belated taehyung day and happy new year! writing this chapter kicked my ass. it sat at 1k-ish words for almost the ENTIRE month until i miraculously busted out the final 6.4k in less than 48 hours. but it’s hereeeeee! a big thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading and mj @kkaetnipjeon for answering my many, many questions about jeju <3

P.S. the jeju house in this is modeled after an airbnb i found online (with a few alterations to fit my perception of yoongi’s taste) so if my description isn’t enough for you to picture it, here is the link to the house i modeled it after!

P.P.S. i finally got my taglist sorted out! if your username is missing at this point, it means i straight up don’t have it. comment and/or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!

CH. 03: WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Jeju is a big change of pace for you.

You spend your days in Seoul with little reason to step outside of city limits. It’s so big, offering anything and everything you could possibly need. When you do happen to travel, it’s always for work, and always to some other booming metropolis. It’s difficult to recall the last time you’d been surrounded by such lush greenery as opposed to the impenetrable walls of slate grey you’ve grown accustomed to.

It feels like a miracle that your manager, Seoyeon, was able to swing this for you, even if there are a few strings. You’re still technically working—you always are, whether it’s through the brand of clothes you’re seen wearing or the model of car you’re seen leaving the airport in. A walking advertisement. But still, she’s managed to finesse things so you don’t have any shoots lined up for the next few weeks.

You don’t think you’ve been to Jeju since your last trip with Seokjin, the summer after you graduated high school. A trip that Seokjin spent fishing and you spent sunning. And the two of you, funded by the money Seokjin had saved up during his second year of college, certainly weren’t staying in a place like this.

Yoongi’s house in Seogwipo is far from what you imagined.

It’s huge, but you knew to expect that, at least. Two floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms. More than enough space to accommodate a rock band and their instruments (and their egos), which is why it was purchased in the first place.

But given what you know about Yoongi, and the fact that the band only comes here when they need to write an album, you weren’t expecting it to be so… homey.

The walls are painted a soft sage green. Dark wooden furnishings, splashes of charcoal grey and cream. A screened-in patio on the first floor that leads to a gorgeous garden with a wooden (and from the looks of it, hand-built) free standing swing. A terrace on the second floor with a beautiful view of the surrounding beach village.

There are fucking houseplants all over the place, thriving in the natural light the many windows offer. It looks like somebody lives here, even though you’d bet your left tit that Yoongi doesn’t.

It doesn’t look to his taste, or at least what you’d imagine his taste to be. Dark and minimalistic, rather than dark and cozy. Cold, clinical. Yoongi’s apartment is probably as inviting as a hotel suite.

Maybe Yoongi owns it, but Namjoon maintains it. That’d make sense.

You think about asking, just to satisfy your own curiosity, but as everyone disperses to drop their bags, you decide it’s not worth it. Namjoon is preoccupied with his managerial duties, unloading equipment and instruments from the car, and nothing good seems to ever come out of talking to Yoongi anyway.

Jeongguk, ever the gentleman, wrenches your bags from your hands before you even get a chance to figure out which room you’ll be staying in. Hefting the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulder, extra large rolling suitcases in each hand, he carries everything up the stairs with alarming ease, leaving you no choice but to follow. He has your bags, after all.

You follow him silently into a bedroom on the second floor. It’s only when he tosses all of the bags onto the bed that you realize, with shocking clarity, that you and Jeongguk are expected to share a room.

This room. Which only has one bed. Because happy couples sleep in the same bed.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, the sound of his voice effectively tearing your eyes away from the mattress-shaped elephant in the room.

You really need to get better at keeping control of your facial features, instead of looking like you’re going to be sick at every perceived complication.

“Is, um,” you start, pointing at the bed. “Are we…?”

Realization crosses over Jeongguk’s face as his gaze follows the direction of your finger.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffs, big boba eyes widening. “I didn’t really think about it, to be honest with you.”

Well, that’s not very reassuring.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, even though you’re feeling very much the opposite.

Being on this trip is bad enough. You already feel like you’re intruding on something you’ll never really be a part of, despite all of Jeongguk’s insistence that you being in Jeju with him will do wonders for your story’s credibility. But the idea of sharing a bed with him is just… It’s too much. It’s too real.

Somewhere in a hospital back in Seoul, Seokjin is laughing at your expense. You can sense it.

“It’s fine,” Jeongguk says, waving his hand dismissively.

“Jeongguk,” you huff. You don’t want to be a bitch, but you can’t help but get frustrated—on behalf of yourself and his girlfriend, who you’re allegedly doing all of this bullshit for in the first place. He’s been here, has lived in this house for weeks on end as long as they’ve been writing albums here. He should’ve known this would be a problem.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like it very much if she knew we’d be sharing a bed while we’re here.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says, apparently oblivious to the irritation that’s starting to come off of you in waves. “I’m sure there’s a couch I can move in here or something.”

“Okay,” you say stiffly. You’re unconvinced, but if he wants to figure out how to move a couch in here unnoticed, that’s up to him.

“Seriously,” Jeongguk insists, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll take care of it. Come on, let’s go back downstairs.”

“You go ahead,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m gonna unpack a little before I head down.”

Jeongguk shrugs, leaving the room without fighting you on it. Thank god, too. You need a few minutes to decompress before you willingly head back into the belly of the beast.

Shit, this was a bad idea. This was all a bad idea, and you just keep going along with it because you’re incapable of saying ‘no’ where Jeon Jeongguk is concerned.

Meeting the band after their last concert was one thing. A necessary evil, in order to sell all of this. Even hijacking their tour wrap dinner wasn’t that big of a deal—it certainly felt good to put Yoongi in his place, you have no problem admitting that.

But this? Sharing a house with the other members who all think you’re someone you’re not, just for some airport pictures? A few Instagram posts? It feels like you’re both taking things too far.

And then there’s Yoongi.

Yoongi, who hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since the plane took off from Incheon. You didn’t think so many questions could be answered with hums and grunts, but you’re almost impressed by how wrong he’s proven you. It’s all in the inflection, it seems.

He’s pissed. Whether it’s still about the dinner, or just the fact that you’re here at all, you don’t know. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to piss him off further, just on principle. But being in such close quarters like this…. All a pissed Yoongi is going to do is cause more problems for you.

You’re deliberating on whether or not proposing a truce would be worth it when you finally leave the bedroom, heading towards the stairs.

Everyone seems to be doing their own part in setting up for the trip. Namjoon and Jeongguk are outside clearing out what remains in the car, visible through the glass of the front door. Taehyung is pacing around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and recording his findings in the notes app of his phone. And…

Speak of the devil. Yoongi is helping Jimin set up his drum kit in the middle of the living room, right smack in front of your face as you reach the foot of the staircase.

Since you’ve been upstairs, he’s shed the stupid black puffy coat he was wearing at the airport. The sweater that was underneath too, it seems, leaving him down to a long-sleeved white thermal.

It makes sense–-Jeju is more temperate than Seoul, and the heat is blasting in the house anyway.

He’s sprawled out on the floor, on his back as he attaches the legs to the kick drum while Jimin deals with the toms. It’s not as if drum kit assembly is particularly interesting to you. You don’t know why you stop and look, but you do.

Yoongi is always so buttoned up, both metaphorically and literally. Especially with the chill that’s been permeating Seoul for the past two months. Everyone’s been drowning in layers—except you, thanks to Hyerin. And it’s so, so stupid, but the hem of Yoongi’s shirt is bunched up just the slightest bit as he reaches for a screwdriver. It’s just the faintest hint of pale skin, right above the waistband of his jeans, but it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him. For some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to look away.

But then he adjusts and its gone, forcing you to snap out of whatever bizarre reverie you’ve found yourself in.

When you glance up, he’s staring right back at you. Your eyes zero in on his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, just a flash of the little silver barbell there before it’s gone again. His eyebrow raises in recognition, like he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

…Are you doing something you shouldn’t?

“You’re doing that wrong,” you blurt, relief flooding you when he breaks first, his head swiveling to look over his handiwork with a furrowed brow.

Your diversion gives you enough time to sneak away towards the kitchen. Yoongi’s muttered ‘what the fuck do you know’ reaches your heated ears as you pass by, but you have no choice but to let it go.

What the fuck. You really need to get laid if an inch of skin can make heat crawl up your neck like this. From Min Yoongi, no less.

★ ★ ★

Time spent hiding in the kitchen reveals the method to Taehyung’s cabinet-snooping madness: building a grocery list.

Once your little freakout subsides, you’re fully briefed on the process, joining him in taking stock of what’s here and what isn’t. To your surprise, many of the shelf-friendly basics have been kept in full stock, leaving mostly perishables (meats, vegetables, and fruits) to be added to the list. After Taehyung’s phone is passed around for everyone’s additions, Namjoon and Yoongi roll out to go grocery shopping at a nearby market.

It isn’t lost on you that the pair are acting a bit strangely towards each other—and it can’t just be because of what went down at the dinner. Ever since you met the band at Incheon, they’ve given Yoongi a noticeably wide berth. But the maknaes still talked to him, despite the lackluster responses (grunts) they received in return.

Even Jeongguk has been interacting with Yoongi, and he was the one who drove him out of Yoojung Sikdang in the first place! You haven’t seen Namjoon look his way all day. He still isn’t, you note, as you watch their car retreat through the window.

Weird.

Not that you care, of course. Yoongi deserved what he got at that dinner, as far as you’re concerned. You don’t regret calling those reporters. You told Seokjin you wanted to make his life a living hell, and you’d meant it.

But still, you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at you at the possibility that you’re playing the part of Yoko Ono. You’re sure Yoongi thinks so.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Who gives a fuck? It’s not like you’re here for him. You’re here for Jeongguk. You just need to put him out of your mind, you decide.

You make your way through the house, intent on finding Jeongguk to help with whatever else needs to get done tonight, when you’re ambushed by two maknaes that are clearly up to no good.

“YN-ieeee,” Jimin sing-songs. There’s a mischievous look in his eye as he grabs you by the hand and pulls you towards the living room.

“Come sit with us,” Taehyung insists, plopping himself down on the couch and patting the space next to him.

“I was actually looking for Jeongguk,” you say, eyeing both of them. But you relent anyway, stiffly sitting down on the couch where they now flank you.

“He gets you all the time,” Jimin says. He smiles brightly, turning his body towards you and tilting his head as he studies you. “It’s our turn. We have a question for you.”

Oh, you do not like this one bit.

“A question?”

“A question,” Taehyung repeats, nodding.

“Okay, um,” you start, unsure of which one of them to look at. You settle on Taehyung, because he’s far less menacing. “Go ahead?”

“What’s going on with you and Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asks.

Fuck. So much for putting him out of your mind.

It’s a fair question, but still, your head turns so fast in Jimin’s direction that you swear you hear a crack in your neck.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?”

“The animosity,” Jimin purrs. He’s still grinning at you, all charming teeth and deceptively cute mochi cheeks. “You both just met, right? Where’d that come from?”

This is a nightmare.

It’s not like you can tell them the truth, as much as you may want to. Until you can figure out exactly what it is Yoongi claims to know about you, he pretty much has you backed into a corner. Plus, you’ll be living with him for at least a few weeks. You’re not against ruining his time here in small, inconsequential ways, but this is decidedly not that.

You’ll keep the peace. For now.

“I think Yoongi-ssi and I just got off on the wrong foot,” you explain. It’s not a complete lie, to be fair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about what happened at Yoojung Sikdang…”

“That was ugly,” Taehyung says, wincing at the memory.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees. “Does he really think the photographers were your fault?”

Yes, because they were.

“I guess so,” you sigh. “I don’t blame him, honestly. I would’ve thought the same if I were him. I feel really bad about the whole thing.”

“Don’t,” Taehyung says emphatically as he clasps one of your hands in his. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Taehyung since you’ve met him, it’s that he’s not very big on personal space. He’s so casual about it, though, that you’re finding you don’t mind all that much.

“We can talk to him if you want us to,” Jimin says. “Yoongi-hyung can be a real asshole when he puts his mind to it, and you don’t deserve that.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” you insist, trying not to panic. For whatever reason, Yoongi has kept his suspicions about you between the two of you. As far as you know, at least. You’d like to keep it that way. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, eyeing you.

“I’m sure.”

Thankfully, they both seemingly let it go after that. When Jeongguk reappears, he joins the three of you on the couch and the conversation moves to safer topics, all of them excitedly chattering to you about what they plan to do while they’re in Jeju.

Apparently, the four always make a point to visit a nearby citrus orchard when they come here. It sounds fun, and for the first time since Jeongguk invited you, you allow yourself to feel the slightest bit of excitement about this trip. You can’t help it. You fucking love tangerines.

Namjoon and Yoongi return from the market an hour or so later.

Namjoon enlists the help of the maknaes to help him haul bags of groceries inside, leaving you to hover awkwardly as Yoongi moves around the kitchen.

He and Namjoon must’ve talked or something. He looks much more at peace than he did when they left. At least, until he catches you staring.

“What?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he procures a cutting board from a cabinet.

“Just wondering if you need any help,” you say, a practiced, saccharine smile on your face.

“From you?” he scoffs. “I’m good.”

“At least I offered.”

“You’re a regular Mother Teresa.”

You roll your eyes as you watch him pull what he needs from the knifeblock, silently praying he cuts one of his precious guitar-playing fingers off. But your intent to voice that hope is thwarted by Namjoon and the rest of the members ambling back inside, arms full of grocery bags.

Yoongi clearly doesn’t want you lingering, so after you help clear off the counter, you make yourself scarce until dinner is done.

You busy yourself with texting Seokjin with an update on how things are going. You know he’s probably at work, so you try to keep it as succinct as possible despite everything that’s happened since you’ve arrived—Yoongi’s icy behavior, the confusion surrounding your sleeping arrangement, the (resolved?) tension between Namjoon and Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung’s interrogation.

And then, because you want him to at least envy you a little bit, you send him pictures of the house—and then brag about your proximity to fish.

You: we’re like a 5 min walk from a fishing port too lol

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help your snort at his response. It’s a selca of him pouting in his scrubs, covered in stickers of an agonized Mario.

SuckJin: I h8 u

You: <3

The rest of the night goes smoothly, all things considered. Yoongi’s maeun-tang is delicious, which is slightly annoying, but you’re not one to take good food for granted. Plus, the two of you are a lot more amicable during this dinner than the last one you shared together.

After dinner, everyone finishes setting up the equipment in the living room, which quickly turns into an impromptu jam session under the guise of testing the setup. It’s nice, being able to watch them play together without the pressure of a stage, of a crowd. They’re just fooling around, playing whatever sounds right, joking back and forth—and you get to witness it.

You’re just about to get out of their hair and head upstairs when Jeongguk gets up, intercepting you before you reach the staircase.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head towards the patio. “Come outside with me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, confused as you follow him outside. Jeongguk guides you over to the swing you were admiring when you’d all arrived. You can’t help but notice how nervous he looks as you both sit, but you try not to assume the worst.

“I feel like you were kinda mad at me,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Earlier.”

About the bed? Yeah, kind of. But you didn’t realize you’d made it so obvious.

“It’s fine,” you insist, shaking your head. “I was more flustered than anything, honestly. I just don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“You won’t,” he huffs, smiling a little. “I moved a couch into our room while Yoongi and Namjoon-hyung were gone. Like I said I would.”

Oh. Well. Now you kind of feel like a bitch.

“I’ll take it,” you offer. “You’re the one who’s here for work, anyway. I’d feel bad if I didn’t—”

“No, I’ll take it,” Jeongguk says, ignoring your responding huff. “Come on, YN-ah. I’ll barely be working while we’re here, anyway. It always goes the same way: Yoongi-hyung pretends like he’s going to let us help, and then he writes the entire album by himself. The rest of us are basically on vacation.”

“Besides, you’re here as a favor to me,” he adds. “Let me take the couch.”

You want to protest, but once Jeon Jeongguk sets his mind to something, it’s pretty much impossible for anyone to stand in his way.

“Fine.”

“Speaking of Yoongi-hyung…”

You groan, leaning your head back against the support of the swing. Everyone wants to talk about Min fucking Yoongi today. “What about him?”

“Is he playing nice?”

“He’s barely spoken to me,” you mutter, turning your head to level Jeongguk with a look. “So yes, he’s playing very nice. For him.”

“What’s his deal with you?” he asks, curious. Isn’t that just the question of the day?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say. “Jeongguk, it’s fine. Seriously. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him, but I’m dealing with it. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Jeongguk clearly disagrees, but he holds it in, which you’re thankful for. At least you can be more candid with him than you can with Jimin and Taehyung.

“Just let me know if that changes, okay?”

“I will,” you mumble.

“Let me know if anything changes,” he corrects, nudging your shoulder with his. “Like… If you don’t want to do this anymore. I know it’s a lot.”

“It is,” you agree, sighing. “But nothing’s changed, Guk. I’ve dealt with assholes before. Min Yoongi is nothing compared to the worst of them.”

If only he could know just how much you mean that.

“I just wish you two could get along,” he says, fiddling with his lip ring nervously. “Yoongi-hyung is a good guy when you get to know him. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

You don’t know what to say to that, partially because you have a hard time believing it. You have absolutely zero evidence that Yoongi is a good guy, and you’re more likely to believe that they’ve all just known each other way too long. That Jeongguk is blinded by admiration for his hyung.

“I’m sorry,” you say, because it’s all you have to offer. “I wish we could get along, too.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, the swing rocking your bodies back and forth. But you can only take it for so long.

“I’m gonna head up. You coming?”

“No,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head as you stand up. “You go ahead. I’ll be in later.”

You feel bad for leaving him alone when he’s so clearly upset, but you know there’s nothing you can say or do to fix it. Just another thing outside of your control. They’re piling up, aren’t they?

You offer him a sympathetic smile, and then you head inside, leaving him with his thoughts.

★ ★ ★

You’re up bright and early the next morning, a full afternoon of Teams meetings ahead of you. Luckily it’s nothing too laborious—some planning for your schedule prior in light of the new year, calls that were scheduled long before you were invited to Jeju.

Jeongguk didn’t make it in before you fell asleep last night. You find that he’s already gone when you wake, too, blankets left in disarray on the couch he’s wedged into the corner of the room.

Guiltily, you resign yourself to staying locked in the bedroom until you’re done with your work. It’s only right to give him time with his hyungs, something he obviously needs after your conversation last night. You’re happy to leave him be, if that’s what he needs.

You’d set your alarm with plenty of time to scroll aimlessly on your phone before you need to get up, so you do just that, reading through missed texts and Instagram notifications in a groggy haze. After, you wash your face and brush your teeth in the adjoining bathroom before setting your laptop up on the bed.

Your calls go fine, although you’re bored to tears the whole time. You don’t know why Seoyeon even adds you to these things—it’s not like you have any control over your career. They might as well cut out the middleman and brief you on their decisions via email. But instead, you silently snack on a power bar you find stashed in your bag as your life for the next calendar year is mapped out for you, smiling and nodding when necessary.

As time passes, you lose track of how many faces have cycled through your screen. You stay glued to the same spot call after call, your stiffened legs pins and needles underneath you, and you only register how much time has passed when the bedroom door swings open.

“Hey. You in a meeting?”

Your eyes snap up from your laptop to find Jeongguk poking his head into the bedroom. With a quick glance to your calendar, you realize you’ve just finished your last call of the day, and it’s not even two in the afternoon.

“No, I’m all done,” you say, shutting your laptop and waving him in. “What’s up?”

“Namjoon-hyung’s gotta go back to Seoul, so we’re taking him to the airport,” Jeongguk says, kicking the door closed behind him and sitting on the edge of the bed. “And then we’re gonna fuck around in Jeju City for a little bit. See the sights and all.”

“Oh, okay.”

Is this an invite, or…?

“Yoongi-hyung’s staying, though.”

Fuck. Nope, not an invite.

“Is he,” you hum, acting as unbothered as possible.

“We got some songs started today,” Jeongguk says, studying your expression for a moment. “The rest of us are burnt out, but he wants to keep going.”

“Well, do you want me to join you guys, or—”

“I want you to stay and talk to him.”

There it is.

“Jeongguk,” you huff, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“YN, it’s worth a shot! Maybe if you two have a chance to talk you’ll find out you have more in common than you think.”

“I don’t think he’ll be happy if I interrupt his songwriting to have some kind of Kumbaya moment, Guk,” you sigh.

Jeongguk stands up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Can’t you at least try?” he says, his voice clipped as he paces. “Both of you are so fucking stubborn. Maybe you can bond over that.”

He’s one to talk about being stubborn, but whatever. You’ll let it slide, only because you feel so fucking guilty.

A long moment passes, and at your silence Jeongguk stops in his tracks to look at you expectantly. Fuck. Fuck this man and his stupid big brown eyes.

“I can’t promise you anything,” you finally say.

“Like I said, I just want you to try.”

He’s still tense, but at the hint of acquiescence from you, he softens. And that little bit of softness is enough for you to fully give.

“Fine,” you huff. You can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Thank you,” he beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, patting his back. Your heart flutters just the slightest bit because you’re a weak, weak woman. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

“I won’t!” he promises, pulling away with a bright grin. Hopes absolutely all the way up.

Goddammit. You hope Yoongi is feeling talkative today, because if not, you’re going to be the one crushing this poor guy’s dreams.

At this point, you’ll make him talk if you have to. Anything to keep that from happening.

“Go,” you say, nudging him towards the door. “I can’t talk to him until you guys leave.”

He clearly doesn’t need any more motivation than that, because then he’s out the door.

“You’re the best, YN!” he calls as he books it down the hallway, leaving you to flop back onto the bed with a groan.

Well. You’ve fucked yourself now.

***

You allow yourself the luxury of taking a shower before you head downstairs to face Yoongi. Maybe part of you is trying to prolong your peace, but you also haven’t felt clean since you got off the plane yesterday.

Still, you take your time, giving your hair a thorough wash and meticulously applying your skincare. By the time you dry off and exit the bathroom, a large cloud of steam follows you into the bedroom, still lingering in the air as you pull on some clean clothes.

What’s the right outfit to wear while you’re waving a white flag at your sworn enemy? Will a sweater and jeans cut it? You reason that you might as well be comfortable for this, settling on something soft and cashmere for the top—because you’re worth it!—and then pulling on a baggy pair of blue jeans.

Your socked feet finally pad down the stairs in search of the man himself, but you don’t have to look very far.

Yoongi sits cross-legged on the floor in the living room, his signature custom McCarty laid across his lap as he scribbles in the notebook in front of him, brow furrowed.

You know it’s not going to be easy to get him to talk, but you can’t help but feel annoyed when you sit down in front of him and he doesn’t even lift his head. Asshole.

“Yoongi,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face.

It doesn’t make him look at you, still scribbling away, but you at least get a grunt in return this time. You’ll take it.

“Don’t you think you should take a break?” you say. It’s obvious you’re fishing, but looking at him, it’s clear he needs one anyway. He looks exhausted. Did he even sleep? Or did he start working when everyone else called it a night? He’s not wearing the same clothes from last night, white thermal replaced with a black t-shirt and matching beanie, but that doesn’t mean he slept.

Not that you care.

“No.”

Okay, you expected that. God forbid he make things easy for you.

You watch as he drops his pen, gaze still on his open notebook as he strums at the strings of his guitar, humming a half-baked melody under his breath.

“Why’d you pick Jeju?” you ask, satisfaction swelling when he glances up, meeting your eyes. But then it fizzles out when he looks away again.

The seconds tick by and he remains as tight-lipped as ever. Annoyed and antsy, you resort to filling the silence yourself, hoping you’ll get him to break if you just keep talking.

“I mean, it’s nice here, but you guys could write an album anywhere. There’s gotta be a reason you picked here, of all places.”

More silence. You want to give up—you could give up. You could easily tell Jeongguk you tried, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a lie. But you owe it to him to try harder.

Huffing, you reach out and close the notebook between your sitting bodies, earning a sharp glare from the man in front of you.

“C’mon, Yoongi,” you plead. “I’m really trying to get to know you here.”

With a long sigh, Yoongi looks up at the ceiling, his eyes rolling dramatically.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “If it’ll get you to shut the fuck up. What do you wanna know?”

Triumphantly, you ask about the house—if you’re going to be forced to make nice, you might as well ask questions you actually want to know the answers to. Who actually owns this house and why seems like as good a place to start as any.

“I own it,” Yoongi says. It seems like he’s going to try and leave it at that, but when you fix him with a withering stare, he continues with a sigh. “It used to be an Airbnb, but after our first stay I wanted it for myself. So once I had enough money from the first album, I negotiated with the owner. Bought it for a ridiculous price, but it’s mine.”

“It looks so well-maintained,” you offer, hoping he’ll continue if you resort to flattery. Plus, it’s true.

“I didn’t just buy it for us,” he says opening his notebook again. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he slides it out of your reach. “My family uses it sometimes, like a vacation home. When I was growing up, they always talked about taking family trips here during the summer, but money was too tight most of the time. Now they can come whenever they want.”

Oh. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Huh.

To your surprise, he entertains more of your questions without a fight. Where does his family live? (Daegu.) Does he have any siblings? (An older brother.) Is the swing outside really handbuilt? (Yes.) Who built it? (Yoongi did.)

His answers are succinct, but at the very least you’ve got him talking. As he continues to strum his guitar, you decide to push your luck and switch topics, hoping he’ll continue to play along.

“What are you working on?”

Yoongi grins, meeting your eyes again. “I’m writing a song for you.”

Uh oh.

He’s fucking with you, right?

All kinds of alarms are going off in your head, but still, you can’t help yourself. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Listen.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi starts playing the chords he’s been half-heartedly strumming since you sat down, this time in earnest. And then, his gravelly voice fills your ears as he sings the lyrics he has written down in front of him.

Well, it's ever so funny 'Cause I don't think you're special, I don't think you're cool You're just probably alright But under these lights you look beautiful And I'm struggling, I can't see through your fake tan Yeah, and you know it for a fact that everybody's eating out of your hands

But what do you know? Oh, you know nothing Yeah, but I'll still take you home

What. The. Fuck.

Is this why he’s been entertaining you this whole time? Was it all just a set-up for the most insulting punchline you’ve ever heard in your life?

He doesn’t even bother to suppress his laughter when you snatch his notebook and throw it clear across the room.

“You are such an asshole!” you shout, surging forward to push roughly at his chest.

“Come on, dollface,” he says, shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. “It was funny.”

“The fuck it was,” you snap, scrambling to your feet. Fuck this. You can really say you’ve tried now, and you don’t think Jeongguk would blame you one bit for calling it quits after Yoongi’s little show.

You turn on your heel, ready to run upstairs and lock yourself in your room until the maknaes get home, when you feel a strong hand grab your elbow. You don’t know when Yoongi got up, but before you can react, you’re whirled around to face him with your back pressed against the banister.

“I knew you were boring, but I thought you’d at least have a sense of humor.”

“Fuck you,” you say through gritted teeth, jerking your elbow out of his grasp. He lets go easily, but for some reason, you don’t move. You don’t retreat up the stairs. Instead, you stand stock still as the both of you stare at each other, your chest rising and falling with your anger-fueled breaths.

Just like he had when he caught you staring yesterday, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. A challenge.

“What’s your problem with me?” you manage, unsure of what to do with the way he’s staring you down. Why is he so close to you? Why can’t you bring yourself to move away?

“Stupid question. I’ve been pretty clear about that.”

“No, seriously,” you snap, jabbing your index finger into the center of his chest. “You said you know more about me than I think. What do you know?”

Silence. Nothing but a stupid, amused smirk plastered on his face. Of course. If he wants you to play a guessing game, you will. Not knowing exactly what he’s holding over your head is driving you insane, and you can’t do it anymore.

“Do you know about the photos?” you ask, your voice weak now.

Yoongi blinks at you, bewildered.

“Huh?”

You let out the breath that you were holding. Thank fuck. Thank fuck. Okay, he doesn’t know. Holy shit, you’ve never felt so relieved.

Shaking your head, you soldier on, despite your overwhelming urge to throw up. Your mind wanders to the lyrics he sang to you just a few moments ago. I'll still take you home. Instead of the power bar you ate earlier, a sudden bark of a laugh escapes your throat, visibly startling Yoongi.

“Do you want to fuck me or something? Is that what this is about?” It’s your turn to be amused now, especially when Yoongi sputters and turns bright pink right in front of your eyes. “You’re jealous that Jeongguk got to me first?”

“The fuck? Are you insane?”

“If that’s not it, what the hell is it, Yoongi? What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so much?”

Huffing, Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest. It’s clear that he’s torn about whether or not he should lay all of his cards on the table right now, but you’re not giving him much of a choice. You’re so wired that you might strangle him if he decides to bite his tongue.

Finally, he speaks.

“I just happen to be pretty good friends with Yoo Kihyun.”

Just like that, your hard-earned upper hand disappears and your stomach drops to your goddamn ass.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

There’s a name you haven’t heard in a while.

It’s satisfying, seeing you falter.

In fact, it makes Yoongi feel all the more justified in the way he feels about you. He’d started to doubt himself after his phone call with Namjoon last week, but if just the sound of Kihyun’s name makes you look like you’re about to shit your pants, he must be on the right track.

“I… Oh,” you say, dumbstruck.

Yeah, Yoongi’s fucking caught your ass.

“Good enough explanation for you?” he asks, smug. Rightfully so, too, he thinks.

But then you’re grabbing him by the wrist, glancing around like someone’s going to fucking overhear you or something. Like it’s not just the two of you here.

“Come here,” you hiss as you drag him to the nearest bedroom, which just so happens to be his, slamming the door shut behind you.

Yoongi watches with amusement as you pace around the room, but his patience is wearing thin. He has shit to do.

“If you have more of your stupid fucking questions, just ask them,” he snaps. “You’re wasting my time.”

“What did Kihyun say about me?”

Ah. Wouldn’t you like to know?

But he’ll tell you, only because he’s feeling nice. You’ve put him in a good mood.

“Mostly that you were a shit girlfriend,” Yoongi says, smirking at you as he shrugs.

“I—”

“Felt bad for the guy, honestly. I’ve known him for years, you know, and he’s had plenty of girlfriends. He’s a good looking guy. But I’d never seen him so fucked up over a girl until he started dating you.”

“Yoongi…”

“And then one day, he calls me out of the blue, right? It wasn’t the first time he’d complained to me about you, and I figured I was in for more of the same,” he says, leaning back against the door as you perch at the end of his bed, wobbly. “But he said something pretty interesting, actually.”

“What?” you ask. Your voice is shaky. Yoongi grins.

“He told me he thought you were using him,” he says. “You barely talked to him, never took interest in anything he liked. Hardly spent time with him.” He pauses, before adding, “unless there were cameras involved. It’s a reasonable conclusion to draw, don’t you think?”

When you remain silent, Yoongi’s more than happy to continue.

“I tell him he shouldn’t have to take that shit, you know? It’s not fair. He’s a really good guy. So he tells me he’s going to invite you over, at least give you a chance to explain yourself before he dumps you. He didn’t want it to be a big thing, wanted to end things quietly.”

You whimper at that, your head in your hands now.

“Next thing I know, I’m seeing headline after headline,” he says, tilting his head at you. “And less than twenty four hours later, you’re at an award show, putting on this pitiful act for sympathy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think Kihyun was lying to me,” he says, matter-of-fact. “He’s not that type of guy. Everyone knows that. Admit it, you were using him. And now you’re doing the same thing to Jeongguk.”

When you look up, you have tears in your eyes. Yoongi’s gotta hand it to you, your acting is getting much better.

“I was a shit girlfriend,” you concede, sniffling. “But I wasn’t using Kihyun.”

Okay. He’ll bite.

“Why even bother dating him, then? You obviously didn’t like him that much.”

“I just—” you cut yourself off, taking a shaky breath. “He was nice. That’s hard to come by.”

“Too boring for you in the end, then?”

Yoongi expects you to snap at him, to get angry, but instead you let out a watery little laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Hm. Okay.

He’s not sure what to do with that.

“Look,” you say, wiping at your eyes as you stand up from his bed. “I don’t know how to convince you that you’re wrong about me, and I’m honestly sick of trying. You want to hate me? Fine. I hate you, too.”

At least they can agree on something, Yoongi thinks.

“But Jeongguk asked me to talk to you,” you add. “He’s hurting.”

God fucking dammit. Yeah, Yoongi noticed how fucked up Jeongguk looked when he finally came inside last night. Part of him was hoping that you two had gotten into it, that Jeongguk was about to buy you a one-way ticket back to Seoul.

But no. It was about him.

Fuck.

“Can’t we just pretend to get along? For his sake?” you ask. “Call a truce, at least as long as I’m here?”

Shit. You really care about him.

Yoongi’s still not convinced the relationship isn’t bullshit, but this doesn’t seem like acting. He thinks about what Namjoon said over the phone, about the idea of losing Jeongguk over something so stupid.

Pretending to get along with you while you’re in Jeju wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not if it means he gets to keep Jeongguk. He can always have a heart-to-heart with the kid after you fly home.

With a sigh, Yoongi relents. “Fine. But I still don’t fucking trust you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, holding out your hand for him to shake. Reluctantly, Yoongi takes it.

“Great,” he says, dropping your hand in an instant. “Can I go back to work now?”

“Do what you want,” you say, shoving past him to open his bedroom door.

And then you’re gone.

★ ★ ★

Yoongi doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, but even as he works, you invade every single one of his thoughts. The songwriting streak he’d been on since last night comes to a grinding halt, leaving him with nothing to show for his day alone.

When the kids get back, rowdy and excited, Yoongi’s guitar is long forgotten as he lays across the couch. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when Jeongguk makes a beeline straight for him.

“YN talked to you?” Jeongguk asks hopefully, and Yoongi’s heart clenches.

A truce.

Well, no better time than now to start.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up in what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Yeah, Guk-ah. We’re all good.”

Relief flashes over Jeongguk’s face, and for the first time since Yoojung Sikdang, Yoongi’s on the receiving end of one of his genuine, big grins. He feels bad lying to the kid, but it’s not like you’ve left him with much choice. And it feels good to be the recipient of one of those again.

Still, Yoongi can’t help but think about what you’d said earlier.

Yoongi might’ve shown his hand, but in a way you did, too. The photos? What the fuck did you mean by that? Is there something out there that can point to your guilt, and all Yoongi has to do is go digging for it?

Not to mention your resigned agreement when he guessed Kihyun was too nice for you, too boring. Maybe he can’t use Kihyun against you like he thought he could, but the way you’d looked at Yoongi when he was setting up Jimin’s drums…

That he can use.

He’ll hold up his end of the truce, so long as you do the same.

But you can’t blame him for wanting to know the truth.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

askbox ★ ao3 ★ anonymous feedback box

✧ TAGLIST:

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @jajabro @pitchblack0309

@ot72025 @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@sugar-snap @namjoonsbuspass @1800lxcifrrr @angellekookie @binniesbabe

@jalexad @daskewl @rebloginfics @ennvfv @curse-of-art

@tarahardcore @valhallawhispers @chimmisbae @broken-glowsticks @bontensbabygirl

@silencionyx @dropdeadbec

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

132 notes · View notes

easy-there-leftovers · 1 year ago

Text

I See You, Darling (3)

[Astarion x reader] As I mentioned in a previous post, this came along surprisingly easier than the last one. The same can’t be said about the quality though maybe– sorry for that. :,DDD|Word count: 2.6k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, one sex joke (lol), the normal warnings that you’d associate with the game

Part 2 here!!

Next Part here!!

As an outsider to most of everyone’s problems, you find your place by helping in whatever way you can. Even if that may be at the expense of your own comfort, but at least it’s been fun so far.

Alternatively: Reader can't catch a break from anything, can they?

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Being resident camp caretaker was surprising, for lack of a better term. You were away from the stresses of technology, corporate assholes, and disappointing family with your choice to pursue unpractical careers. Instead living the “cottagecore lifestyle” of foraging for food and cooking with a cauldron that those from the digital world claimed to be the best. What they failed to mention were the incessant pests coming in to nibble through rucksacks if you were not careful, and the occasional swarms of ants or flies coming in to nip at your flesh.

The experience was a mixed bag, so it would seem. But the tired smiles that the group would give you when you greet them with a warm and filling meal was always a comfort that you would have.

And it would seem they needed it now more especially than ever.

Your band of misfits planned to venture out and defeat the goblins at their camp in order to aid the tieflings’ journey to Baulder’s Gate. Per your instruction, you convinced the more solipsistic members of the benefits of eradicating the sect. Namely, they wouldn’t hinder you as much in the future if they were taken care of. Hence your plan to slightly increase the amount of portions for supper tonight.

By twilight, you had a good broth steeping in your cauldron. The camp having returned just a few moments prior from an earlier excursion. You were making a pottage that the others have expressed their enjoyment for. A stew of sorts that you had made when you had quite the number of items that would have spoiled before consumption had you not done anything about it. A mixture of fruits and meat, stewed in a consomme of a pig’s head and various mushroom caps.

This time around, you’ll be using fresher ingredients to hopefully lift their spirits.

As you’re chopping up fruits, you think about all that’s happened to you and possible explanations for why your character suddenly ceased to exist in order to make room for you. What’s more is that no matter how many nights pass, you never end up waking from your dream. Which you fear is lasting longer than your usual ones.

Your working theory is that whatever force, be it magic or fate, tethering you to this world is also responsible for removing Tav. Astarion claimed that he couldn’t remember the finer details when you had confronted him. And so you settled with that hypothesis. That like how a thread that unravels opens a seam in a garment, a new thread must be used to darn the cloth together again.

You laugh at the disgustingly poetic analogy you created in your head. You fear that you’re becoming more and more deranged as—

“My, aren’t you busy?” The intrusive voice causes the knife to slip out of your hand a bit, thankfully only cutting off a portion of your index finger’s nail. Your shoulders, that were raised in alarm, release their tension after feeling the sudden chill leave your body.

“Astarion,” Exasperated, you put the knife down on the cutting board to catch your breath for a while.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped sneaking up on me when I’m doing something dangerous.”

The high-elf offers a mischievous smile in response. “Very sorry, pet. But it’s hardly my fault when you’ve barely been paying attention to me.” There’s regret in his words, but not in his tone.

Because while perhaps it’s an odd interest, he enjoys hearing the quickened pace of your heart. The pulse getting louder, as it stays that way for longer.

“I’d feel sorry for doing so if you were too, but you’re not.”

You laugh out, breath still shaky but steadying slowly, as you pick up your knife again.

“I heard you’re part of the encampment that’s finishing off the goblins by midmorn.” Chopping the rest of the fruits, you feel his presence move from behind you to off to your side so you can see him from your peripherals.

“Hm? Yes. Although I would have preferred if we didn’t do this at all. It’s too much work, and the goblins could be entertaining! Killing useful spoils seems like an awful waste.”

This must be the reason why he approached you, to persuade you to call off the hunt. And his unfading smile supports that thought. When you voice said thought, it earns you a playful scoff.

“Don’t you have anything else on your mind other than the parasite lounging in it?”

The mood is light as you say this, the banter welcomed by you both.

And as you continue to converse, a few eyes begin to follow the two of you. They’ve never really seen Astarion interact with you for this long, at least not away from your private spaces. And even less without hushed voices. The interlocution is definitely a welcome spectacle to them.

“On my honor, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust.” He says, proudly. Gesturing to himself with one hand, and the other held high like he was swearing an oath.

Your closed mouth drops into frown, eyes wide, and your eyebrows skew upwards. A very undignified, but small, squeak coming from the back of your throat. You swore you heard someone groan in disappointment from far away too.

You know full well that the look of shock that you were sporting was by no means attractive, but the flagrant revelation, though not at all out of character, was shocking to have directed towards you. You’ve been trying to romance the elven vampire with your character, only to end up nowhere. Therefore you are completely unsure if the dialogue he was spewing was completely a figment of your imagination, or is, indeed, canon.

The elf in question has seen this expression of yours before. Quite often, too. And while he doesn’t think it a, “pleasant sight,” it is rather… charming to him.

Whether it be on purpose or not, people have the tendency to be on guard around him, preserving any twitch and sound that could give them away to themselves. Not that much had ever evaded him before with his naturally cunning behavior. But this clearly unscripted response, with the blatant confusion swimming in your eyes, is a rather refreshing sight to see.

“I see–” you clear your throat to lower your voice back to its normal octave. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to uh, bring those thoughts into fruition! Uh–,” You slide the rest of the cut fruits off of your cutting board and into the stew.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me? Something I should know?” You turn to face him. He laughs at first, but then his brows furrow in question, as if he did have something to say and forgot about it or thinks it is no longer an appropriate time to ask. He shakes his head and says something along the lines of, “letting you do all the hard work” and returns to his tent.

But you are not left alone for long as another member of your little ragtag team joins you to ask about dinner. To which you ask them for which meat would be better to toss into it.

—————————

After dinner, your little rapport concerning the plan and new findings with everyone is adjourned. Some thanked you before they left, and others simply walked away. From what you have learned from them, the Archdruid that was taken prisoner by the goblins was named, “Halsin.” He was a topic of interest as they said he might be able to aid you in your search for moonrise and understanding the Mindflayer worms.

Wyll had also approached you alone after dinner and offhandedly mentioned a dead boar being on the road. He had planned to return to camp with it if it could have been useful, but he had claimed that the animal had been unnervingly light. As if half of its weight was no longer there despite seemingly just keeling over for no reason.

You take note of that in one of your many journals, including additional information about the Archdruid and their kind in general. The book appearing more and more like the game’s quest booklet, with the exception of a few crossouts and colored ink to emphasize each quest’s urgency and relevance to finding a cure. When you successfully rescue the druid of the grove, it seems you will have to move out quite soon after, so you fixed up your pack just a bit to make it easier later on.

You look around, everyone seems to be in their respective areas. Doing whatever it is they usually do with the exception of Astarion. Though he has been known to either sneak off or hide away from time to time in his tent, so you think nothing of it.

You return to the communal chest, tallying up the remaining supplies and inspecting the wares. You sort the tradeable objects in one rucksack and appraise its worth. The chest also has pieces of gold, some that others have placed, and others you picked up and added. You prefer to let the others keep what they think is valuable to them, and only place what they want to share in the vessel.

If the party’s gold ever runs out, you think that the rucksack is worth a few nights of food when you travel out again. Assured by this knowledge, you placed your writing materials back in, closed the chest, and turned in for the night.

Maybe this time, you’ll wake up. But you also don’t really want to. Not just yet.

—————————————

As you slept, you wondered about the longevity of your knowledge of the media. You hadn’t finished the game, and although you’ve accomplished a fair bit of it, you worry about how you will face the events to come. One of the only reasons why you haven’t flinched so much at the terrors that occurred was because you had anticipated them. Braced yourself for the dangers ahead.

You fear what might happen when you no longer have that power at your disposal.

Perhaps it's the worry, perhaps it's the stiff, compact ground that you have yet to be accustomed to sleep on despite the bedroll, or perhaps it's the presence of something suddenly cool that stirs you awake.

But what you did not expect was Astarion’s face hovering over yours to be the reason. Fangs bared, and ready to bite. Your eyes go wide and you let out a small gasp, hands moving up in a gesture akin to clawing at yourself.

The elf realizes that you’re awake now and he curses. Moving away as you scramble upright just like you did all those nights ago. The look of genuine fear at the prospect of being bitten is apparent on your face, and he feels almost guilty to be greeted with it.

“Please, I wasn’t going to hurt you— I just needed, well, blood.” He says it in a panic. Worried that you might run off, losing his only sure chance, and possibly enraging the rest of the camp.

In this moment, you realized the error in your ways. Astarion had been hunting nearly every other night in the same area. And if you were progressing through the events like how the game did, he couldn’t have had the time nor energy to venture too far after feeding from most of the creatures in the vicinity.

‘The exsanguinated boar…’ You remember.

“You’ve been feeding on animals for the past few nights, haven’t you?”

“It seems like word got around then.” Although unknowingly, he’s referencing what Wyll delivered to you earlier in the night.

“I’m not some monster, I feed on boars, deer, kobolds– whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. And with the damned excursion,” He stops himself, complaining is only doing worse for his condition.

“It’s not enough. I feel so…weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” You’re conflicted. You had no problem offering yourself as your character for him to feed on, but even witnessing that through a disconnected screen was enough to make you feel uncomfortable imagining it. You care about him, want to give him what he deserves, but this…

What’s more is that you know what he’s saying is necessary, not at all overstating how dire his need to satiate his hunger is, making it all the more difficult.

He needs to convince you, if he wants to continue on, that is. Without the presence of the illithid, he resorts to more practical means of doing so. Similar to what he did to many.

Noticing the slight tremor of your hands, he takes the chance to slowly kneel down on your bedroll. Closing the distance between you. He takes your hand, now rougher from the work you do, and meets your shaken gaze with his dark eyes.

“Please. I only need a taste, I swear.” He had meant to tell you before dinner, had he not felt the eyes of the others on the two of you. This discovery is not lost on you. He needs you specifically. And you realize it's out of convenience because you’re an expendable resource. If you pass, the group can venture on, but he also still needs you alive for whatever reason. He can’t have the others finding out, not until they trust him.

He needs you to trust him. And this is the only way you can help him in this moment.

With that, you strengthen your resolve.

“I…I trust you, Astarion. But no more than what you need.” A dangerous bet, but you hope it would be worth it.

“Really? I–”

“Can I trust you on that?” The shock on his face fades, and he agrees.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” You lay down, preparing yourself to faint during the process and allowing your blood to flow throughout your body. He observes the rapid movement of your eyes as he drapes himself above you. Your sight flitting from anywhere but him and then returning all the same. No doubt that you fear being at his mercy.

He feels almost sorry that you have to do this for him.

So he graces you with what mercy he can give.

The bite is quick. You would have felt the flesh of your neck parting for him, had he not done so. You feel tears prick at your eyes and start to feel the area from your neck and upwards go cold.

A momentary, sharp pain, that lulls to a chilling numbness in what seems like a matter of seconds.

You feel his body start to grow warmer at your expense and you feel satisfied knowing that you could help him.

When he doesn't stop, you start to worry.

Your breath catches in staccato beats, pulse quickening in tandem. You try to stop him, hands coming up to push or tug, but the heavy sensation that washes over you only permits them to find purchase on his form.

You try to speak, but it seems as if the common tongue does not reach him.

Your mind goes into overdrive, all of a sudden it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore and genuine fear courses through your veins.

You need him to stop, and you try to think of more efficient ways of doing so.

But your mind starts slowing as well. The pain has certainly faded, but the presence of the vampire at your throat reminds you in case you’ve forgotten.

As a last ditch effort, you try to use whatever might appeal to him, to break him out of the trance that he was in from finally replenishing himself.

“Isalhal–” One of the few Elvish words you recalled.

The effort thankfully makes him pull back in shock, stopping him. Your eyes finally close, thankful for the reprieve you're finally granted. You hear a distant, “thank you,” and a more distant “shit” before rest takes over.

You worry about waking up tomorrow.

But for now, you’re thankful that Astarion will be able to fight well.

For himself and for everyone else’s sake.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, and @auszimbo for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #aware!astarion #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#bg3 x reader

906 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 1 month ago

Text

Eternal Flame (14) - Fighting Myself

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word Count: 6.4k

-I don't want you to promise you can change everything and make it better-

Turns out working again was the best choice Jenna could have made. It certainly kept her mind off of you and made her busy, meaning she had less time to miss you. Yet still, after a long day of shooting, she still went back to her room and wished you were there with her in some way. At the very least to hear your voice, to come back to her room and maybe open the messages and find you've sent her an audio message, or just a text message or anything really, if not outright have a phone call with you. But despite her own wishes to once again see you, and your own desires to fix things, the two of you remained separate, with no contact whatsoever for over a month and a half now.

So, to put her mind at ease and help her fall asleep a bit faster, Jenna got into a bit of a habit. She sat down, pulled out a piece of paper and grabbed a pen, and she began writing a letter that would never reach the one it was addressed to. She put her thoughts on the paper, working through her feelings in a way, and by now she had a clear picture of what was going on in your head back then.

And she truly felt that what Enrique had told her two weeks ago was right, that at the end of the day that choice was nothing but an unhealthy coping mechanism. More importantly, that not only would you never hurt her, there probably wasn't anyone then she could feel safer with. In her heart Jenna felt like you not only stand by her and support her through anything for as long as she wanted you in her life, but also be protective of her in a way she sometimes craved.

This was a lonely job, filled with so many unpleasant experiences, and every now and then Jenna just wished she could have someone who understood it and who she could feel emotionally safe with. That was the kind of protectiveness she craved, to have someone take her heart help shield it from the rest of the world as she did the same for that person. And she wanted that someone to be you.

Thus, she kept writing, and she was somewhat thankful that her writing was kind of difficult to read, even for herself, because she was bearing her heart out on these pages. She usually only wrote about a page and a half per letter, she didn't even think much about what to write, the words just flowed through her, materializing on the white paper until she just had nothing left to write. Once she was done for tonight, she folded the paper and took an empty envelope putting the letter inside and sealing it away.

She wondered what you were doing right now. She guessed you were probably sleeping, since it was the middle of the night in New York, where you probably were right now filming The Daughter with Hugh. But that didn't stop Jenna from still wondering how you were doing, if you were maybe dreaming about something, or if you ever dreamt about her like she so often dreamt about you. She sometimes dreamt of the days spent filming Scream, and sometimes her dreams were about things she wished would happen in the future. Jenna lost count of how many times she dreamed of reuniting with you; those dreams were always the most beautiful while they lasted and despite reality being different, she always woke up from them feeling happy and hopeful for the future.

She got up and put the sealed envelope in her bag next to about a dozen and a half letters already written, never to be sent to you.

~X~

You were sitting in a chair going through the lines of the next scene you had with Hugh; the filming was about a third of the way done and you were actually moving quite quickly with it. Much quicker than you, or anyone else, imagined you would. Hell you were several days ahead of the schedule because you and Hugh just kept nailing the scenes and Florian’s approach really worked for both of you.

It wasn’t just that though, it all felt real. Considering everything you and Hugh went through it was very easy to just tap into this father-daughter relationship that was strained and somewhat fractured, but still there. This idea of not knowing how to approach one another and still at the same time not knowing how to express yourself felt familiar, and in some moments, you almost felt like you weren't acting at all.

“You ready?” Hugh said as he patted you on the shoulder and you grinned, doing your best to lift his spirit as well, because you've had some tough scenes over the past few days.

“Ready whenever you are,” you hopped to your feet and left the script on the chair.

“Let's do this,” you went and took your positions, and soon enough you heard the signal to start.

As Hugh watched over the baby brought in to play Theo, you slowly came in “Dad, do you have a moment?” you asked slowly, speaking as quietly and with as much uncertainty as you could.

“Yeah, of course. I'm just trying to get him to fall sleep,” Hugh whispered back. “What's up?” he asked, rocking the bed slightly.

You stepped closer glancing at the baby with a hint of softness in your eyes, a genuine fondness could be seen in your expression, and it was something you, Hugh and, Florian figured out. Nicole was supposed to show this kind of softness only to her baby brother, showing that despite being hurt by what her father did she neither blamed nor resented the boy. “I was thinking about school,” you nervously brushed the few strands of your hair back.

“You're anxious about it, it's understandable. But you'll do great, you're a bright kid, Nicole, give it a bit of time and you'll be caught up before you even know it,” Hugh said almost dismissively and your jaw tightened at that, but he wasn't paying attention, he was busy with the baby.

“Wouldn't it be better to wait for September? It's the middle of the year,” you still tried, raising your hand slightly, but then letting it drop.

“That's nonsense, going to school will be good for you! It'll all be fine, you’ll meet new people,” he said as he gave up on rocking the bed instead lifting the baby into his arms. Yet you just looked away and sighed quietly. “What is it now? You'll be fine, you just need to put some effort into it.”

“Dad, I just don't want all these people's attention on me. I'm transferring in the middle of the year, everyone will look at me and ask questions,” you tried to explain yourself, putting more effort into your body language than the tone of your voice. You kept your tone a bit more even, resigned, but your body language was jittery. “And I don't have the answers.”

“They’ll just be curious.”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you!” you spread your hands cutting him off in a slightly sharper tone, but Theo began crying and you both fell silent.

“It's OK, it's OK,” Hugh cradled the baby, calming him down and you just took a couple of steps back.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make him cry,” you said while covering your eyes.

“I know,” Hugh’s voice softened as you just leaned back against the wall and pressed the back of your head against it. “Why are you so nervous about this? Why did you even stop going to school in the first place? I keep asking you that and you never even explained it to me,” he sounded tired, which was exactly what Florian wanted. He wanted Hugh to progressively get more frustrated, he wanted that from both of you, and you were giving him that.

You let out an exasperated sigh and quickly looked around the room, just for a moment adding your own flare to the scene. “I've been telling you, I don't know how to explain it. I just I can't take it,” your voice cracked at the exact same spot it was meant to, and you didn't even need to act it out, it just naturally cracked right there.

“Try telling me in your own words then. What can't you take? What happened at your old school?” Hugh tried, he reached out, and you just shook your head.

“I’m trying, dad, but I don't know what to tell you. I can't even explain it to myself, I just feel like I'm suffocating. Dad, I don't know what is wrong with me,” the desperation slipped into your voice as you just for a moment almost reached out to him, and for a moment it almost felt like you would, like your character was just about to open her mouth and ask for help she desperately needed.

“Was Theo crying just now?” and then Vanessa came in, breaking whatever momentum the two of you had.

Hugh looked surprised, as if he just remembered he still had a baby in his arms. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got him,” then he turned to you. “We'll talk later, OK? And you're going to school on Monday, trust me, it’ll be good for you,” and you looked like you were about to argue but you just let resignation show on your face as you walked past Vanessa and out of the room.

“Cut!” and the scene ended, and you could finally properly breathe again.

“Holy shit, this is intense!” you exclaimed, and by now it really looked like this was taking its toll on you and Hugh. You were both genuinely struggling with what was going on here. In every scene you shot you could both recognize the moments where just one tiny difference would have changed the conclusion of the movie, and you knew where you were heading. You were heading toward the tragedy where Nicole takes her life, and right in this scene you felt that if your character was a bit more open, or if Hugh’s character was a bit more attentive, or if Vanessa's character just didn't come in, that maybe it would have been the point where things could have changed.

“You can say that again,” Hugh sat down on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you were filming in while you went to the fridge to grab water for the three of you.

“Forget action scenes, I could do them all day long, but damn am I happy we do this only a few times,” you handed the bottle to Vanessa and then want to Hugh and leaned against the back of the sofa. “Maybe we could do more, today, maybe something lighter?” you asked Florian and then turned to Hugh and Vanessa. “If the two of you are up for it, of course.”

“It’s up to you and Hugh,” Vanessa said, since she mostly had to show up at times and wasn’t an active participant in most of the scenes.

Hugh thought it over. “I’m down, we could use a lighthearted scene after these past couple of days,” he figured.

“That settles it, the three of you go and get changed and we’ll keep going,” Florian clapped, and you all went to get ready for the next scene.

~X~

On the seventh of March, exactly three weeks after you began filming, and full two weeks ahead of the schedule, you were done filming The Daughter. And it felt incredible to have this behind you. You were emotionally drained, completely exhausted, and all you really wanted was to just fall asleep and go back to Denver tomorrow.

The knocking on your door made you sigh, but you still got up from your bed and put the necklace with Jenna's ring back on. You did it almost instinctively, rather than as a conscious effort, and you dragged yourself to the doors to open them. You weren't sure who you were expecting but you probably should have guessed it was Hugh. He looked just as exhausted as you, sleepless nights plagued both of you during these past weeks, caused by the heavy subject of the movie. The scenes you filmed were the most difficult scenes you have ever done. The scene in Logan where you pretend you were cutting yourself with the claws, the scene where Logan dies, or the heavier scenes from Scream, particularly the one in the hospital, none of them compared to what you had to do. It felt like the movie was pulling all the things you desperately tried to ignore about yourself to the surface.

“Hey,” Hugh leaned on the door frame and forced a small smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Can't sleep?” you asked, and he just nodded letting out a heavy sigh carrying all the exhaustion of the past three weeks.

“I just keep thinking,” Hugh paused, and you went and invited him in. You imagined things would have been a lot worse if his family wasn't here. With them here the two of you could have some form of light-heartedness during the nights, they kept both your and Hughes sanity in check. If it was just you and Hugh you doubted you could properly support each other through this.

Hugh came inside and slumped into the chair at the desk, and you just fell back onto the sofa. “You want to talk about it?” you asked, thought your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the conversation. You guessed it was just the final scene you filmed today, where your character broke down and yelled at him and he yelled back, and it just felt way too real and way too raw and you were thankful you didn't have to repeat it.

But instead of talking about himself Hugh looked at you and instead asked: “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” you said, dismissing the question out of habit. You weren't fine, it's been over two months since you last saw Jenna, you've been struggling and though you were adamant on never again fighting, you had to find another way to release all of these emotions.

“Come here. Tell me what's really happening,” his words surprised you, there was a different tone to them. When you sent him a questioning look he gave you a sad smile. “I've been told ‘I'm fine,’ is the biggest lie we tell, so I'm putting it to test. Tell me what's really going on.”

He was right, you did tell a lie. You got up and went to the table, sitting down next to him. “I'm worried. I don't know what will replace fighting for me, it was a form of release and now that I've done two movies and I'm about to take a bit of a break I’m afraid of falling into some other unhealthy coping mechanism,” you said, finally admitting it to someone else as well.

He quietly considered your words, seriously contemplated what you said, what that meant for you. And he took his time, and you patiently waited, knowing he would eventually say something. “I don't,” he began the words getting stuck in his throat. “I don't know what to do,” your eyes widened at that, you've never heard him say that, hell, you never heard any adults in your life say that. At least the ones important to you. “I don't want to make this about myself,” he tried to backtrack, but you put your hand on his shoulder.

“Finish that sentence, don't hold anything back,” you weren't even sure where that came from, but if there was one thing this movie thought you, and probably Hugh as well, it was that people should talk, should be more open about what they felt. And if your own life taught you anything it was that if you didn't take the chance to be open with loved ones, you might never get another one.

“I don't want to lose you, yet I don't know how to help you,” he admitted as tears filled his eyes and all you could do was just sit there and watch, almost unable to breathe. “I've done those scenes with you and all I could see were my kids, and all I could think about was if I was good enough for the three of-“ he stopped, both of you halting completely at the number he chose.

“Three?” you repeated, your voice hoarse and shaky as his lower lip trembled. “You said three,” you said again, a bit harsher than you intended.

“You as well. I consider you my child,” Hugh told you and you just stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you backed away, burying your fingers into your hair as you took several deep breaths. He got up and reached out to you, only to stop just as he was about to touch you, as if afraid that if he did he would only make things worse.

Your mind was in complete chaos, you found yourself caught in the whirlpool of emotions threatening to pull you under and drown you. This wasn't the emotion you were prepared for. Deep down, subconsciously, you were aware of it, you were feeling that warmth, and you knew he was more than capable of looking at you like that. Yet… “I can't give that back to you, I can't call you dad,” you gasped, looking at him as your heart broke over that. “I can't go through that again, Hugh. I already lost my parents once,” it wasn't even about replacing your parents, you knew that wasn't what he wanted. You always considered Hugh as someone like a father to you. Yet, that one word, that ‘like’ was the key difference. Hugh saw you as his child, you could only see him like a father.

“I don't need you to,” Hugh quickly told you, finally bridging that gap, slowly lowering your hands back down from your head and hugging you. “I understand, and I know how much you care about me. I know how many times you had a fight one night, only to the day after come to the hospital so you could be with me while I was waiting for the results. Always making sure that if somehow Deb and my kids couldn't be there that at least you would be there,” he told you and you gripped the back of his shirt, hugging him tightly. “I don't need you to call me dad to know how you feel,” and that brought you so much relief. “But I-“ he stopped again, now more vulnerable than he's ever been with you. “I need to know how you feel about other things, I want to know what troubles you, or what makes you feel alone, what makes you feel the need to escape. I want you to be vulnerable with me about yourself, I need to know that you can do that.”

And those words, perhaps for the first time in four years, just opened the floodgates. “I thought I was going crazy after their deaths,” you said pulling away and stumbling back to the sofa, not to get away from him, but so your legs wouldn’t fail you.

Hugh sat down next to you, full of understanding, as he put his hand on your back. “In what way?”

“I kept coming back to an empty apartment. Day after day, night after night, I kept being all alone. Thought that I would never again come back to an unlocked apartment, to people waiting for me, or to an apartment that someone else would come back to. I was sixteen and I just buried both of my parents in one day,” tears fell down your face, every word you spoke came out as a sort of a cry for help, often coming out as gasps as you tried to get your breathing under control. “I had you and Barbara, but you had your own lives, your own families, you couldn’t fill that void. I would never again be able to hear their voice, to hear them say my name, or laugh,” you paused, sobbing as you tried to put what you felt into words. “They never even got to see Logan, not even the trailers and they all that time in a coma.”

You felt cold, and you gripped Jenna’s ring, trying to find something to anchor yourself to. You felt like you were once again sixteen, going down the rabbit hole of the numerous studies about comatose patients.

“I kept thinking how they must have been in so much pain after that truck run them over. They must have felt it, and I had no idea how unconscious they were. In the worst moments I wondered if they somehow actually knew what was going on. Asking myself what if they were waiting for me to do something and wake them up? Or worse than that what if they wanted everything to end and I kept putting them through it. That pain must have been unimaginable, and I kept them in that state for two months,” you want it to be judged and punished for failing them, yes, but this was another reason you ended up going back to the fighting. “As unreasonable as it was, in that state I let panic and loneliness and dark thoughts consume my mind, and I felt-“ you clutched your head, tightly shutting your eyes. “I felt like I tortured my parents to death by keeping them alive in so much pain.”

And Hugh was unable to come up with words to say, he could only hold you tightly, grounding you, anchoring you to the hotel room you were in so you wouldn't slip back into that state of mind. He sensed you weren’t done talking.

“And then, right before I went back to fighting, that man, that monster that killed nine people, went and pleaded insanity, and instead of being locked away in prison for the rest of his life he got sent to psychiatric ward,” you spat out, anger rising within you again. “My parents and seven other innocent people died because he got high and lost control over his truck, and he gets to-“ you didn’t finish that sentence, instead focusing back on how you felt. “I was consumed with so much rage and hatred, and I became almost terrified of myself. I hated fighting more than anything else, yet it was the only thing that gave me any kind of release,” that was all that drove you back to the fighting, that insanity caused by loneliness, by isolation and the fear that it would just keep going, by rage at the injustice, and by the fear that you somehow ended up not only not saving your parents but hurting them in your attempts to save them. It all just pushed you back into that world.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never wanted things to turn out this way. I just wanted to find release for all those emotions, just for a moment. To feel the pain that I could explain instead of that thing ripping through my hear,” you knew it wasn't healthy, you knew it was wrong, you knew all of that, yet you needed it desperately to stay as sane as you could be.

“I was terrified when I saw what you did to try and save them,” Hugh began, seeing as you shut up and didn't continue. You just had nothing else to say. “I wasn't terrified of what you were doing, I understood it, I was terrified of losing you, because I had no idea how to handle what you went through. I didn't know what to say to you, I didn't know how to approach you, and it made me unable to talk to you properly. I couldn't get you to open up to me because I had no idea how to be open with you. I thought you needed me to be strong, when you actually needed me to approach you like this, without restraints, without fearing that if I didn't appear strong enough, that you wouldn't open up to me,” you supposed there was some truth in his words, and that that might have been a part of it, but it wasn't all there was to it.

“It wasn't just you,” you raised your head and looked him in the eyes, and you saw nothing but compassion and love. “Neither one of us was ready. You could have been open and vulnerable with me, but I wouldn’t have been ready. I needed to feel like maybe I could have someone by my side like that again.”

“And that was Jenna, wasn't it?” he asked, but it was more of a statement.

You nodded. “While we were filming Scream a lot of things happened between us, and one night I was supposed to go to a fight and Jenna appeared at my door just as I was about to leave. She stopped me and that night I spent hours thinking about everything. I was hoping that maybe one day maybe I could be able to find a place with her that I could call home. That it wouldn't be just a house or an apartment, but home we would come back to no matter how long it took or where our jobs took us,” and you still wished to have that with Jenna.

“You'll have a home again,” Hugh told you and somehow you believed him, and you just hugged him, finally letting all those pent-up emotions out. You were being vulnerable and crying without breaking, just releasing everything that made your heart feel heavy, and he cried with you.

And somehow that hour and a half or however long you spent like that healed you more than anything you experienced over the past four years.

“They would be so proud of you,” Hugh said, and it was a thought you held on to, hoping it was true. “I know this, if they were ever conscious of what was going on while they were in a coma, they would have been happy knowing you were trying so hard to save them. Y/N, if they felt anything when they were dying, they felt your love.”

And you cried like a baby, wailing and sobbing, finally letting them rest in peace and learning to live with their deaths instead of letting it define the rest of your future. “Thanks, pops,” that was as close as you could ever get. You couldn't call him dad or father, but pops would do, and the way Hugh’s breath hitched, and he held you a bit tighter made you know it was worth more than anything.

~X~

Barely twelve hours later you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, your suitcases in your hands and your backpack on your back. You set one suitcase down to grab your keys, since Hugh brought them to you, only to find out that your apartment was once again unlocked. You smiled and swung the doors open. “Barbara, you really need to find another hobby!” you exclaimed, leaving the suitcases at the doors and walking into the living room. You kept your backpack still on your back, after all you had some gifts from your vacation for Barbara in it.

“Nah, this is more fun than any other pastime I could acquire,” she jumped from the sofa and ran into your arms. “Welcome home I missed you so much, you stupid asshole,” right, since she met you Barbara hasn't ever in her life spent two months away from you. Not even when you were filming Scream, which lasted about a month and a half, so this must have been a really big shock for her. “I mean, I let you go get your girl and you not only fail to get the girl you take a trip to Italy before you needed to go, and then take a vacation, leaving me here and then instead of coming back here to talk to me, you go to work. That does it, we're breaking up.”

You laughed at her dramatic monologue. “We can't break up! We aren't together,” you chuckled, and she just swatted you on the arm, a playful smile appearing on her face,

“That's what you are latching on to? Incredible,” she pulled away, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I guess,” you shrugged and pulled her into a one armed hug. “Anyway, how about we go and get some shopping done? I wanna make something for you to eat,” you suggested, actually really eager to get some cooking done, especially since you learnt quite a few tricks on your vacation.

“I did the shopping, I was really bored,” Barbara said and you figured that was good, because you wanted to be in the kitchen right away.

“Great, thanks! I'm just gonna go and freshen up a bit, and I'll be right in the kitchen making us an early lunch,” you said and went to the bathroom. For a moment you caught yourself thinking Barbara had a knack for knowing how you felt, and you guessed that deep down she maybe even subconsciously understood your issues with coming back to an empty apartment. So, she tried her best to create an illusion of coming back home to someone, but it was an illusion broken by stepping into the bathroom and seeing only one toothbrush. You replaced it with a new one because it's been two months. That one toothbrush was just one of the little things that broke Barbara illusion, but you guessed the thought was what counted. Especially since she's been with you through the toughest moments

“Say, Barb!” you called out from the bathroom.

“Yeah, what's up?” she asked from the living room.

“I want to reconcile with your family! Think we could go and see them tomorrow night?” you asked her and were met with silence as you washed your hands and dried them on the towel, a clean one at that, courtesy of Barbara being here. You walked out and saw her utterly shocked.

“You mean it?” she asked and you could see the wide grin spreading on her face.

“Yeah, it's about time I start putting all the broken pieces back together,” and the smile on your face told her everything because it looked almost close enough to the way you used to smile before your parents died.

“YES!” Barbara yelled, spreading her arms up in the air and that cheer was for a lot more than just reconciling with her family.

~X~

You could see Barbara was more nervous than she was in a long, long time and as you stood in front of her family’s apartment. You couldn't blame her, you couldn't tell how this would end, or if you could accomplish what you set out to do, but you would do your best. You would start fixing your life one step at a time.

“We’ll be fine, right?” she asked, for the first time looking uncertain. A contrast to how excited and happy she was when you said you wanted to do this. But now that it was time to do it, she was nervous. “They’re going to flip when I tell them there was no boyfriend, and it was only you.”

You stifled a laugh at that, imagining the looks on their faces. From what Barbara told you they were actually happy that she was serious with someone, and it would turn out that it was just you, and it wasn't even that kind of relationship. “I mean, I had to dress up as a guy when I was fighting, so if you really want me to, I can put on a mask and play pretend,” you suggested just to light up the mood for a bit.

“Oh, hell no! I'm not risking Jenna killing me,” Barbara said and then she suddenly froze as you turned to look at her. “Ah, shit! I should really think before speaking,” she slapped her forehead, and you finally pieced everything together.

“You and Jenna are talking?” you completely forgot about the entire meeting with her parents deal and just focused on Barbara. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Why didn't you tell me anything? How is she?”

Barbara just blinked a few times, watching you blankly. “Of course that's what you want to know. She settled down with a guy and she's pregnant,” she paused for a moment. “She misses you, dumbass! How do you think she is? She's been asking about you damn near every day!” you sort of shrunk into yourself at those words and flinched. “You needed to fix things with Jenna the moment she comes back, because that girl loves you!”

You leaned back against her door and stared at your feet, nodding quietly and just taking everything Barbara was saying in. “I'm gonna fix it, I'm going to wait until she's back from New Zealand and then I'm calling her. Or maybe I should just show up at her door? Hell if I know! Fuck!” you ran your fingers through your hair, unsure of what you should do or how you should get in contact with Jenna again. If you should text or call her, maybe that wasn't the best option since Jenna got anxious when someone called her, so calling might be off the table. But then so should be going right there to see her, maybe she would be busy, or tired and sleeping, and your head was all over the place but you knew you needed to do something. Because she loved you, and you loved her, and there was absolutely no reason not to fix things between you.

You’d handle her parents somehow.

And then the doors behind you opened and you fell back on your ass, which all things considered, you deserved.

“Oh,” Barbara and Sophia gasped as you landed on your ass and Barbara burst out laughing as you looked back and then up at Sophia and then awkwardly waved at her,

“Hi, nice to see you again,” why did your voice suddenly sound so hoarse.

Barbara's mother looked at you for a few seconds. “Y/N?” she spoke slowly as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. Of all the ways you imagined meeting up with Barbara's parents again this was not one of the situations you thought would happen. Damn it, you were supposed to knock and slowly approach the reunion instead of going in ass first and falling into their apartment. “Barbara what is going on here?”

“Dear, what's wrong?” and then Richard showed up and looked at you, becoming just as confused as his wife.

“Mom, dad, there is no boyfriend. I've been going to Y/N’s apartment for these past two years,” Barbara told them directly, refusing to do this as if she was pulling teeth, she just went and said it.

You slowly got up and looked at them. “And she's still straight, by the way, it's not like we were in a relationship and trying to hide it,” you assured them because they were concerned about you and Barbara being friends, let alone you and Barbara being in a romantic relationship. They should know their daughter was about as straight as she could be.

“Y/N quit fighting by the way, three months clean now! Wait, can we say clean? Would that be appropriate for this? I never thought about it. Three months punchless? Three months violence-free?” Barbara kept suggesting the different ways they could describe your recovery of sorts.

“I think they get it, Barb,” you said and looked at her parents expecting any kind of reaction.

“And she hasn't hit you in those two years? Hasn't threatened you? Hasn't done anything to hurt you?” her dad asked and despite your best efforts you felt the words getting to you.

Barbara nodded. ”Never even raised her voice, and she put up with all of my bullshit, and all the teasing, and all the complaints about relationships, and all the times I tried to set her up with girls I met. And did I mention that she kind of solved a couple of my problems with some shady guys that wouldn't leave me alone? Because she did!” for once in her life Barbara was rambling and that was a rare sight to see, but you could see she was just as nervous about their reaction as you were.

“And you quit for good?” Barbara's mom asked and approached you, and she just raised her hand and tilted your chin up, only to then smile and push it lower so you would look her in the eyes. Your eyes widened as you were suddenly brought back to your childhood when Sophia would do that to Barbara and you and other kids you hung out. Only she would tilt your chins up because you had to look up at her, and now you were quite a bit taller than her. It was a subtle way she taught you not to lie to her, you would all look her in her warm, understanding eyes and tell the truth.

“I quit. I will never fight again,” you told her honestly and she smiled pulling you in for a hug.

“It's good to have you back, it might take some getting used to having you around again, but it really is good to have you back,” she said and Richard just gave you a thumbs up, trusting Sophia's judgment.

“Thanks,” you said hugging her back. It wasn't a tight hug you were used to, there was some distance still left to be bridged, there was time you needed to make up for, but you took a large step with them right now, and you felt so much lighter because of it.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

A/N: And with this chapter EF crossed the 100k words.

#jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x female reader

115 notes · View notes