#yes it took me from last night to now to figure out the songs that represent sonny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

godslino · 11 months ago

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PIECE BY PIECE | minho first date series. friends to lovers.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 6.2k genre: college au, mutual pining, fluff, angst warnings: drinking, referenced injury (very minor) summary: minho, on a drunken whim, asks you out on a date.

a/n: finally!! the minho part!! i’ve been sooo excited about this one since i first got the idea. i hope you guys enjoy! once again any and all feedback is appreciated, happy reading <3

“Dude, I think it’s clean.”

Minho looks up from where he’s scrubbing the counter, eyes narrowed. So what if it’s his third time going over every surface in the kitchen?

“Are you going to help me or are you just gonna sit there and make more crumbs?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He holds up his hands in surrender, the bag of chips in his lap crinkling. “I��m just saying. You’re acting like she’s never seen the place before.”

That’s the problem. You’ve seen his place. Minho has to stop the shudder that threatens to overtake his body at the thought.

“So you’re not helping? Great. Get out.”

“I live here!” Jeongin whines. “Why do I have to get out? You can’t banish me like this.”

“I can and I will. Now leave. I have two hours to make sure everything is ready and I am not going to vacuum for a fourth time.”

“Yes mom,” Jeongin rolls his eyes as he unfolds his legs from underneath him.

He stops just short of the kitchen counter, points an accusatory finger at Minho’s disheveled figure still hunched over an imaginary stain.

“For the record, Chan hyung would never do this to me. He loves my crumbs.”

Minho throws the scrub daddy at him.

🏠

The night it happens, all it takes is approximately three shots and a pep talk from Hyunjin for Minho to finally find the nerve to ask you out.

“You’ve got this,” the younger boy says, words slurred, his hands steady on both Minho’s shoulders. The bass thumps loud in the other room, drowned out by the walls of the kitchen until it’s nothing but garbled nonsense going in one of his ears and out the other, vibrations low in his chest.

“I’ve got this.” Minho repeats, the thrum of alcohol already spreading to his fingertips. He feels warm, light on his feet. His limbs are starting to loosen up and his insides are turning to jelly. He might even be floating.

“You look hot.”

“I look hot.”

“She’s gonna say yes.”

“You’re gonna venmo me twenty dollars.”

“I’m gonna venmo you twenty dollars.” Minho parrots before he can even process what he’s saying. Changbin, who’d been watching the entire thing unfold from where he stands with his back pressed against the sink, snorts.

“Wait, what the f—”

“Go get her!” Hyunjin screams, pushing him through the door of the kitchen with one last pat on the back, “And send me my money!”

Minho stumbles over himself, just barely able to stop in time before he goes crashing into a group of people. The living room is crowded: there’s furniture pushed up against the walls, bodies pressed front to back in the middle of the floor, a makeshift DJ stand in the corner where Chan is controlling the music from his laptop, drink in hand. Minho catches his eye from across the room, the glow of the LEDs reflecting off the toothy grin he shoots his way, dimples on full display.

“Hey!” Minho feels someone grab his arm, and he turns to find you staring up at him. “Where’d you go? You said you were gonna get a drink.”

Minho follows your eyes down to where you’re staring at his empty hands. “I��uh, well. I ran into Hyunjin and we took a few shots.”

The pout you give him does nothing but spur on the fluttering of his chest, his brain still hyper aware of the way your hand was resting on his elbow. “Shots? I want shots!” you whine, and Minho has to avert his gaze from staring at your lips when your pout only worsens.

“How much have you had?” he tries to ask over the music. There’s a shitty pop song playing, high pitched and wonky. If he remembers in the morning, he’ll make sure he berates Chan about his DJ-ing abilities.

“What?” you scream back, tiptoeing to bring your mouth closer to his ear.

Minho is only a man. A man who's been in love with you since the moment you accidentally spilled your coffee all over Hyunjin in the quad during freshman year. He remembers that day well, remembers the way your eyes went wide and your lips parted. He also remembers the way he wished it was him with the large wet stain on his shirt, that way it was him that was offered to have his lunch bought as an apology.

He’d never admit it, but sometimes really late at night, when the moon is high in the sky and he’s feeling oddly sentimental, he counts his lucky stars that Hyunjin had been in a relationship at the time. Minho doesn’t know what he would’ve done had he been forced to watch the two of you hit it off—some form of arson, presumably. Anything to take the edge off. But because of the fact that Hyunjin was not trying to have his head cut off by said girlfriend at the time, he invited Minho along as some sort of collateral damage. That’s when the two of you became friends. Kind of perfect if you ask him.

With the jumbled mess of butterflies in his stomach that he gets whenever you’re near him, and the threat of the alcohol slowly seeping through his skin, his brain short circuits the minute your breath grazes the shell of his ear. When your hand follows not long after, fingers gripping the nape of his neck to hold him in place, he almost passes out.

“Min? What’d you say?”

Minho is rendered completely useless by you. Absolutely ruined. Your existence has thrown his entire plan to woo you off course and now his mouth is opening and closing like a badly programmed robot. Pathetic. Nuts and bolts for brains.

By the grace of God (or some other higher being that Minho’s never bothered to believe in until this very moment) he finds his voice, but not before you’re pulling back with a confused look on your face.

“I asked how much you’ve had to drink,” he says, straining against the music.

A saccharine sweet grin that has him seeing stars spreads across your face, “Not enough!”

Minho is not an enabler. Never has been, never will be. There was one time, back in that fateful freshman year that also introduced the two of you, that he let Hyunjin get blackout drunk. A terrible decision on his end, if the earful he got from Chan the next morning was anything to go by. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was finding remnants of the resulting hacking session for the following week. So yeah, never again.

But while Minho isn’t an enabler, he is smitten, and the way your hand feels wrapped around his wrist as you drag him into the kitchen has his soul threatening to leave his body. He thinks that maybe he could do anything as long as you asked. He also hopes you can’t feel the way his pulse is rabbiting beneath his skin, right under the press of your thumb.

“There’s, like, nothing here.” you say as you rummage through the cupboard near the window, nose scrunched and a frown on your face.

Minho laughs, rounds the kitchen island to crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink. “That’s because you don’t know where to look,” he smirks, pulling out a fresh bottle of tequila. “Also, Chan hyung is greedy. He knows people like you will go scavenging his supply if he isn’t careful.”

“I resent that.” you frown, taking the bottle from him. “Besides, people like me deserve to have fun too.”

“Mhm, sure.” Minho says, grabbing a solo cup. He holds his hand out for the bottle, pours just the right amount before sliding it over and following it up with a can of coke.

“A man after my heart.” you joke, holding your cup up to him in a mock toast before downing it in one go. Minho watches with so much focus, fighting against the way his head spins. He doesn’t even know if it’s the alcohol anymore, it might just be the effect you have on him. Dizzying—you flip his entire world on its axis in the best way possible.

Minho’s gonna be seeing your exposed neck in his dreams later, he’s sure of it—it’s branded into his memory.

“That…is so fucking bad.” you giggle, holding your cup out. “Another one.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…”

“Pleaseeee Min,” the lilt in your voice sounds oddly familiar. Minho holds his breath just in case you—yup. There it is. There goes that pout again.

It’d be so easy for him to lean down and kiss it right off your lips. He could blame it on the alcohol, maybe, but then that takes away from how he actually means it.

He sighs instead. “It’s gonna cost you.”

“An arm and a leg?”

“What? No—I meant some water.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Three shots and a full bottle of water later, Minho knows you’ve hit your limit. Cheeks flushed pink, a dopey grin on your face, pupils blown wide. Even in this state, Minho is certain that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Anotherrrr,” you slur, waving your cup in his face.

Minho shakes his head. “No can do. You’re cut off.”

“Please,” you whine, placing both hands on his shoulders, “I’ll do anything.”

Minho, completely taken back by the sudden closeness of your body to his, freezes.

“Anything?” he asks before he can stop himself.

This is stupid. You’re drunk. There’s no way you’re going to remember anything in the morning, much less within the next thirty minutes. He’s pretty sure that you’ll lose control of all your senses soon, which is why he’s already texted your roommate Jiwoo to unlock the door so he can carry you inside. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“Anything,” you repeat, eyes going cross-eyed where they’re fixing on the mole he has at the tip of his nose.

This is stupid. But then again, so is Minho. A big, stupid fool that blames everything on the fact that he’s so in love with you it hurts. This might be the only chance he gets to shoot his shot.

Minho takes a deep breath, says something similar to a little prayer that’s more like Hey, if anyone’s listening, help a guy out, and hopes that the twenty bucks he sent Hyunjin works.

“Go on a date with me.” he says slowly, wincing when your eyes snap up to meet his gaze.

Well, there’s really no going back from that. The only thing that could possibly grant him redemption now is banking on the fact that you don’t remember anything in the morning.

Minho waits with bated breaths, watches as your eyes search his for a long while. He waits for the anger, the disgust, the visible repulsion that he starts to think might happen the longer the silence continues.

He’s about to backtrack, quickly conjuring up an excuse about how Oh, haha, gotcha! when your hands suddenly drop from his shoulders. You grab the cup, your chin tipped upwards, and hold it out for him to fill.

“Okay.”

“O…kay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Pour me another one.”

The next morning, when Minho all but drags himself into the kitchen in search of water and something to soothe the throbbing in his head, he nearly spits a mouthful at Jeongin, the poor guy too busy eating his cereal to realize he’s gotten a front row seat in the splash zone.

Y/N [10:34am]

when do you want to do that date?

🏠

Are candles too much?

Minho has options: clean linen, lavender breeze, ocean mist, warm vanilla. He really just needs something to get rid of the smell of cleaning spray.

He thought that having a night in for a first date would be ideal—less pressure, no unwanted attention, a bathroom that he can run into when he starts to hyperventilate if you smile at him for too long. But now that it’s happening, he’s convinced that every surface of his and Jeongin’s shared apartment will scare you away if anything so much as looks off-putting.

Minho is, to put it simply, freaking out. All the other times you’ve been over to his place were on a completely platonic level. Movie nights with all the other guys in tow, dropping off food that you felt generous enough to buy every once in a while, one time because you’d accidentally worn Minho’s jacket home from a party and needed to return it to him.

But this is different. This is a date. Minho’s not dreaming—he already pinched himself a dozen times in the bathroom mirror, tiny red marks on the inside of his forearm to prove it. He’s going to open the door, invite you in, cook for you, and then proceed to resist the urge to tell you how beautiful you are for however long the night continues on after that. He can practically hear Jeongin’s laugh in the back of his head, sneering at how pathetic his inner monologue sounds right now.

He needs to find another stain to scrub.

By the time you’re knocking on his door, Minho has changed his outfit seven times. Sweats were too casual, a button up was too fancy. Should he not have done his hair? No, that’s just lazy, the way his fringe is swept up and out of his forehead adds a nice touch that doesn’t scream Hey! I’m trying to woo you! You’ve never been the type to be impressed by grand gestures and shows of confidence anyways, he knows that well.

One time, when a guy from one of the frat houses hired the campus quartet to sing a song for you in the quad as he stood there with big beady eyes and a bouquet of roses in his hand, you’d all but ran from the scene, Minho following close behind as you called out to him over your shoulder. It’s one of his fondest memories. As soon as the two of you made it around the back of the science building, you’d doubled over in laughter, the both of you in disbelief at what had happened. Minho has had that information tucked into the deepest parts of his brain ever since, saved just in case he needed it.

(Later that night, in the safety of his own bed, he’d laughed maniacally at the situation. Something about watching you reject another guy filled him with a sense of joy he couldn’t explain. He just hoped he was never going to be on the receiving end of it.)

He does a quick once over of the kitchen: double checks that all the ingredients are out, blows a speck of dust off the glass stovetop, spins the tiny floral arrangement he bought so that it’s sitting at just the right angle. When the doorbell rings, the chime bouncing off the walls of the apartment, he visibly pales.

He has to reel it in, to remember that it’s just you. You might not even be here with any intentions other than to fulfill your end of the deal; one date in exchange for the extra three shots he poured you the other night. Minho takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob with conviction, and decides that he’s determined to show you the way you deserve to be treated. The opportunity is there, and he’s gonna take it.

As soon as the door swings open, every nerve that had somehow crept its way into his brain disappears, the sight of you standing on the other side immediately sending the anxiety scrambling and replacing it with fondness instead.

“Hi,” you smile, and Minho sees images of you coming home to his apartment flash across his mind. After class, after work, in the winter when it’s cold and your nose is tinted pink, on rainy days where the ends of your hair are damp and you have a wet umbrella in tow. He could get used to it. He’s so in love that it hurts.

“Hey,” he breathes out, stepping aside to make way for you, “Come in. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually. Been saving myself all day since I don’t always get to have your cooking.” You hop on to one of the stools, your attention momentarily stolen by the flower arrangement. One point for Minho.

I’d cook for you every day, he wants to say. But that’s weird, right? So instead, “Well then I guess today is your lucky day.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” You say softly.

Minho can’t see you with the way his back is turned, hands moving to grab out the knife and cutting board, but if he could he’d see the way your eyes are staring softly at his back, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

Conversation flows easily after that, despite Minho’s original worries about it being awkward. You’re not necessarily treating it as a date, and he isn’t really either. It feels more like a glorified hangout, just the two of you spending time together with the added glances and smiles that normally wouldn’t be there.

Minho finds it easy to get lost in you. He finds himself craving to know more about your day, about the things that’ve been on your mind lately and the hobbies you’ve picked up. Most of the conversation is a continuation of stuff that’s fallen through the cracks during the times you see each other, but he doesn’t miss the way you ask about him too, your eyes shining with genuine interest. It makes his heart slam against his ribcage.

“How are your cats doing?”

Minho looks up from the cutting board, follows your gaze to where it’s fixed on the scattered pictures that litter his fridge. “They’re good,” he says, smiling down at a head of garlic, “My mom sends pictures all the time. She says they claw at the door to my room when they miss me.” He smashes the garlic under the knife’s blade by hitting it with the heel of his palm. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

Minho, in a very flashy demonstration of what it means to be cool, calm, and collected, slices his thumb mid-chop.

“Shit.” he mutters, dropping the knife.

It’s not that bad, just a little nick, the surprise was mostly what scared him. He probably doesn’t even need a bandaid. But despite how small it is, nothing stops you from hurriedly walking up to him and taking his hand in yours, his thumb held closely to your face for inspection.

“Are you okay?” You turn his hand over between your fingers, the soft pads of them against his calloused ones. Minho is dumbfounded, struggling to find the words to say.

“Yeah—um, it’s fine. My fault. I was distracted.” He stammers out, pulling his hand back and holding it up. He wiggles his fingers, making a show of bending and twisting his thumb that, at most, has just a small cut on the side. “See? Perfect.”

Your face relaxes, and then you’re laughing. Why are you laughing? Either Minho looks like a complete idiot or he’s suddenly the funniest person in the world for being clumsy and reckless and almost ruining the night by losing a finger. Whichever one it is, he doesn’t care, as long as he gets to hear that sound again.

“Let me help cook, please? I know you said you would do it all but clearly you’re a threat to the integrity of this meal.” You say, bumping your hip against his to move him away from the cutting board.

Minho scoffs. “I wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t catch me off guard.”

“So what? You admit that I make you flustered?”

Oh.

Minho wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the—the flirting that’s clearly happening. You’re flirting with him, right? Why else would you have called him cute or given him that suspicious side eye after you asked that question?

You and Minho have joked around like this before, but it was always empty with no real feelings attached—as far as he could tell. You’re a naturally friendly person, getting along with others comes easy to you. He’s seen the way you talk to the other guys and has always just assumed he was no different in your eyes than they were. Sure, there were moments where maybe your hand lingered on his arm for a little while after he made you laugh, or the two of you would steal glances across the room. Sometimes when Hyunjin said something stupid you’d both catch the other’s eye and make a face, just another funny way of proving that you were both on the same wavelength most of the time. It’s kind of why Minho is so taken with you—he’s never met anyone that gets him the same way.

Reluctantly, Minho puts his pride aside and allows you to help. And as it turns out, you’re actually really good at cooking. Minho doesn’t have to instruct you much, and before he knows it you’re both working like a well-oiled machine, scooting past one another as you switch places between the stove and the sink, reading each other’s minds without even having to ask.

“Taste this.” You say, holding the spoon up to his mouth. Minho leans forward, front teeth poking out, and brings the spoon into his mouth. You cup your hand under his chin to catch any droppings, watching in anticipation as he smacks his lips together.

His eyes light up, big and brown and twinkling under the light of the kitchen. “Perfect.” He smiles.

“Oh you have—uh,” you stop him with a hand on his forearm just as he’s about to turn back to the sink, your other hand hovering next to his face hesitantly, “It’s just, um, your—here.”

Minho’s eyes go wide when your thumb swipes against the corner of his mouth, your touch feather light. It’s so intimate, the only sound being the music playing low from the speaker on the counter. He’s half convinced that you’re able to hear his heartbeat, blood pumping loud in his ears.

“You had some sauce…on your face.” You say shyly, your palm still pressed to his cheek.

“…Oh.”

Minho’s never really looked into your eyes from this close up before. He’s always known they were beautiful, the shape of them soft, full of nothing but the world. He can see himself in them from here, and, selfishly, he hopes you can see yourself in his, too.

He might be imagining it when your gaze flicks down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but there’s no time to unpack any of that when the sauce starts bubbling over the edge of the pot, spilling on to the burner as loud sizzling and smoke fills the kitchen.

It’s chaos. The bottom of the pot is burnt and there’s only so much of it that’s salvageable. He only bought the exact amount of ingredients too, because this is a self-proclaimed no-food-waste household (as explicitly stated in the napkin contract he has with Jeongin, much to his dismay). So, hooray for conscious consumption of goods!

At the end of it all, there’s no one to blame. You’re both guilty of…whatever that was.

Minho tries to reassure you that it’s okay as he dials the number for the pizza place just down the street, simultaneously shutting down all your attempts to pay as an apology. It doesn’t matter to him, he’d do anything as long as it means he gets to spend time with you. At the end of the day, it’s another memory that he’ll hold close to his heart.

“Listen,” you say, swallowing down a mouthful of pizza, the both of you seated on his couch with a half-eaten box of pizza open on the coffee table, “I know you wanted to cook and all—which, by the way, I’m still sorry—but this is so good. However I’m sure whatever you made would’ve been better.”

Minho chuckles. “Stop lying,” he wipes his hands on a napkin, “I can guarantee you that whatever I cooked wouldn’t be as good as this anyways.”

“Stop selling yourself short, Min. You’re good at everything you do.”

The words fall from your lips so easily, like it’s something you’ve convinced yourself of long ago. Minho’s never been the type to bounce around from one thing to another, always choosing to stick with it until he has it down to a science. Cooking is one of them. Jeongin can attest to all the times Minho has berated him with tasting his latest dishes, chasing him around the apartment with a spoon. The words tighten themselves around his heart.

“I’m not,” he rolls his eyes, “But nine times out of ten, grease and mozzarella cheese are gonna win. I know that for a fact.”

You laugh, and the conversation gradually diverts into a debate about the top ten best greasy foods in existence. You’re heated, half kneeling on the couch with a finger pointed at him as you plead your case for onion rings, when your eyes go past Minho’s head and settle on the shelf of games in the hallway.

“You have games?” you ask, suddenly giddy with excitement as you hurry over to inspect the selection.

Minho watches with fond eyes, collects the plates and napkins to throw away. “Yeah, most of them are Innie’s. We don’t really use them. Sometimes when we’re drunk, other times when we’re bored and decide to wager money for fun.”

You hum, not really paying attention. Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders, some decks of cards, Uno—you scan the shelf until your eyes light up at what you find hidden at the bottom.

“Min! Can we play Jenga?”

“Jenga?” Minho asks, re-entering the living room. The coffee table is clear now, and he sits between it and the couch, his back against the cushion. “Isn’t that kind of boring? We have other stuff there.”

“It’s only boring if you play it the way it’s supposed to be played.” You roll your eyes. Minho turns to you when you situate yourself on the floor beside him and only momentarily contemplates running to the bathroom when your knee knocks against his. He’s been holding it together pretty well so far, however The Sauce Incident had him ready to book it if anything had gone further.

“Well how else are we supposed to play it?” He frowns.

“We make up our own rules.”

The pieces scatter across the wood of the coffee table, clacking as you diligently begin putting them together. “This is a date, right?” You ask, stopping for a moment to turn and assess his response.

Minho stills. He genuinely forgot the grounds on which tonight had even happened in the first place. Spending time with you makes him forget everything else. And, despite his fears in the beginning, being on a date with you has felt so natural that it almost seems like you’ve done it a thousand times before.

Your eyes meet. For a moment, Minho lets himself wonder what it’d be like if he went for it right then and there. “Yeah,” he says slowly, unblinking, hoping you can see the sincerity on his face, “A date. One of the best ones I’ve ever been on, actually.”

He almost cries out in victory when your face flushes pink. “Now who’s a liar?” You ask quietly, going back to piecing together the game.

Minho has learned something new tonight: he really likes seeing you flustered.

“Why do you ask?” he decides to cut you the slack, “Or what does this being a date have to do with Jenga rules?”

He waits as you finish the stack, your tongue sticking out in concentration. You’re so cute. Minho mentally pockets that image for safe keeping.

“Sorry, okay, it’s done. But basically, if we pull out a block, we get to ask the other person a question.”

“And if the tower falls…?”

“Hmm,” you think for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Oh! I know. If you lose you have to tell me why you asked me on a date.”

Minho’s stomach flips. “Okay. If you lose you have to tell me why you accepted the date.”

Something unreadable passes over your face, but it’s gone in an instant. You hold your hand out for a shake, and Minho wraps his fingers around it gently.

“Deal.”

“Why are you taking all of the middle pieces?” Minho pouts.

The two of you have gone through a couple turns by now, throwing out random questions for the better half of fifteen minutes. Favorite colors, childhood foods you wouldn’t eat, the best memory you have from high school. Minho’s learned a lot, has fallen for you a lot more. But that was always a given. It’s impossible not to when he can feel the warmth from your body where you’re seated next to him, your presence overtaking all of his senses.

“Because I’m trying to win,” you laugh, putting your freshly pulled piece at the top. Just a little crooked, too. To piss him off. “Favorite movie?”

“Ponyo. Easy. My turn.”

“Seriously? Why Ponyo?”

“One question at a time, princess.”

He means it as a joke, really. He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until after the fact, the nickname making your heart skip a beat. Minho notices, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as he suppresses a smile. He manages to flick one of the side pieces until it gives way.

“What’s one thing you regret?”

“Ooh, getting deep I see.” You laugh, taking a sip of your soda. There’s a long pause, and then, “I regret spilling my coffee on Hyunjin that day.”

Minho’s brow furrows. You…regret it? He runs through all the possible reasons in his head. Surely it can’t be because you regret becoming friends with them, friends with him, right?

“Why?” He chances.

“One question at a time, princess.” You echo, laughing at his shocked expression.

You remove the last middle piece. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate our first date?”

Minho’s brain is going a thousand miles a minute. “A ten. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He says it fast, wastes no time in moving forward to remove his own piece. He doesn’t even notice that your cheeks have gone pink again, too busy itching to ask his next question.

“Why do you regret spilling your coffee on Hyunjin?”

Minho watches you, lets his mind wander to the worst possible thing you could say in this situation, and mentally prepares to book it to the bathroom.

You take a deep breath, “I regret it because I wasn’t supposed to spill it on him. I was supposed to spill it on you.”

Wait, what?

Minho blinks. “What are you talking about?”

This is humiliating for you. A terrible thing to have to admit. Up until this moment, you’d thought that this information would follow you to your grave. You press the heel of your palms to your eyes, “This is so embarrassing,” you groan.

Minho pulls one hand away. He’s not really sure what to say, mostly because he’s confused, but, “You can tell me.”

“I had…” you start, looking up at him slowly, “A plan. With Jiwoo.” Minho nods for you to continue. “I’d seen you and Hyunjin walking through the quad a few times, and I thought that you were cute, but I didn't know how to approach you. So I did something stupid and decided that I would literally just crash into you. But I fucked it up.”

I thought that you were cute. The words echo in Minho’s ears like a bell. All this time, all those stolen glances and lingering touches, all the ways you would make hope spike in his chest that maybe you felt the same—they were real.

“So you, wait—” Minho shakes his head, “So you’re telling me that all this time…”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Min, really. All this time.”

Minho’s never been skydiving, but he imagines that this is what it feels like. Free falling—his soul hurtling towards earth at a horrifying speed, slamming back into his body right here in his living room with a force so strong it would knock him off his feet if he wasn’t already sitting on the floor. You were interested in him first.

Wordlessly, you lean forward, pulling out a piece with practiced ease. Minho waits with bated breaths.

“Can I kiss you?”

Minho feels like he might pass out. “Am I dreaming right now?”

“You didn’t pull out a piece.”

He scrambles forward, clumsily nudging a piece on the side that ends up sending the entire tower toppling over. You smile at him, soft and sweet. “Looks like you have to pay up with an answer. You know, since you lost.”

Minho doesn’t care. “Because I like you,” he breathes out, “I asked you on a date because I like you. I like you so much, ever since I saw you that day. And, funnily enough, I’ve always wished you’d spilled that coffee on me instead, too.”

The confession feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s spent so long pining after you, laying awake at night thinking about how this would go down if he ever got the chance. He never expected for it to happen like this, much less for you to possibly feel the same.

Panic slowly starts to rise in his chest when you don’t respond. He watches as you reach an arm over, build a small tower out of a few pieces, and then knock it over. You turn to him with a small smile, “Oops, I lost too.”

Minho is so in love with you that it hurts.

“I accepted the date because I like you, Minho. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

He doesn’t think twice before he’s surging forward, cupping your face with one hand and kissing you with a tenderness that has you melting into his touch.

There’s no fireworks behind his eyes, no big bang or grand display of whatever it is that happens in the movies. But there’s a warmth, it starts out small in the center of his chest and spreads throughout his entire body, lights his skin aflame and travels all the way to his fingertips. You’re like that. A gentle presence, someone who worms their way into the very essence of his being and burrows into the deepest parts of him, like it was never his to begin with. Kissing you is slow, and deep, and right. He wouldn’t want it any other way. Minho doesn’t ever want to stop.

He lets his other hand fall to your waist, pulls you closer until you’re practically straddling him with his back against the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. Minho lets out a long, drawn out groan when you tilt his head back farther, his lips parting and allowing you to lick inside of his mouth. It’s so good. So good. He can’t believe he ever lived without knowing what this felt like; lived without ever having you this close before.

After a while, Minho reluctantly pulls back, holding you by the shoulders. When he looks up, your eyes are half-lidded. You look utterly debauched, cheeks pink and lips swollen from how hard they’d been pressed against his own. “We should probably slow down.” He tries hard to convince himself, too. “Talk about it all, you know? I don’t—this isn’t a one time thing for me. I don’t want it to be. I like you. I want you to know that.” He says softly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

You lean into his hand, smiling when he flattens his palm to let your head rest there. “You’re like, so perfect that I want to kiss you until you forget your own name.”

Minho’s ears go red, his head falling forward until it rests against your collarbone. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes you laugh and run a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck fondly.

“This is gonna be so bad now that you say stuff like that.”

“Bad? No, I think it’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he whines, but there’s no bite to it. Not when he can look up and press a kiss to your lips. A dream come true. The entire world in his hands, exactly where it was always meant to be.

🏠

In the morning, when Jeongin comes back home, one hand covering his eyes just in case, he calls out,

“Everyone better be dressed! Or else I’m ripping up that napkin and making a new one with No fornicating on the furniture added into the fine print.”

When he doesn’t get a response, he rounds the corner, and finds the two of you nestled into the couch. Minho’s back is pressed into the cushions, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

Jeongin huffs out a laugh, sends a quick text to Hyunjin that reads: Negative. Clothes are still on. But they’re so cute it’s almost sickening.

He snaps a picture to send to the group chat, grabs a piece of cold pizza, and retreats to his room.

Yang Jeongin Fanclub

jeongin: [Attachment: 1 image]

chan: AWWWWWWW

jiwoo: i’m gonna cry

changbin: dude is that the good pizza from down the street?

hyunjin: FINALLY

hyunjin: wait

hyunjin: does this mean i have to send back his $20?

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie ]

#lee know x reader #first date series : minho #lee know fluff #lee know angst #skz x reader #lee know fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know fic #skz fic #lee know fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfiction #lee know #godslino #first date series

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knavesflames · 2 months ago

Note

heyyy el

requesting politely reader ... tending to ... arlecchino with her mouth and going from starting timid to taking a bit more control to arles surprise

lots of care and love just like in the one you just posted :3

mhm ty

Hi anon<33 I hope you are doing well and having a nice night (it’s night for me). I liked this idea >:) sorry lol it took me a while to come up with a concept but I hope this suffices 😁😁😁 (hi guys the dirty words are slowly making a reappearance)

Word count: 2.2k

Contents: soft dom!reader (kind of yes), bottom Arlecchino, cunnilingus (funny word), fingering at the end, orgasm denial (ONCE GUYS OKAY ONCE), also praise (guys I’m cooked)

Songs I listened to (for fun): fantastic- king princess (is this one obvious or not), disease- lady gaga, shhh!- viviz, pivot- HEYOON, boyfriend- dove Cameron, impurities- le sserafim

There’s more but I forgot

Nsft utc<3

Arlecchino is not a receiver. She gives and takes nothing, it’s how she’s always liked it, whatever the reason may be. She has not explained, and you doubt she will. Arlecchino is very secretive, you’ve come to learn. She divulges what she must, and keeps the rest hidden. Even you, who seems to know more about her than anyone ever has, is kept in the dark about a lot of things– what exactly triggers her nightmares? What truly happened with that ‘Mother’ of hers? There are rumours, of course. Arlecchino is mad and cursed, she killed her Mother ruthlessly without reason, she killed her best friend for nothing other than a simple quarrel. You know them to be false, now you know her better, but what you can’t seem to understand is why she lets the lies fester, why allows herself to be portrayed as a cruel monster. She can’t seem to answer you.

Arlecchino also refuses to tell you why she pushes herself so hard, or why she has such strict rules for herself. You beg her to take that damn suit off constantly (for.. Multiple reasons, both you and her know that well enough– she only obliges when it ends in you as a quivering mess on the bed). “What happened to regular clothing? I know you dislike dresses, but you don’t have to force your body into that silly suit all the time.” is a phrase often uttered. Silence is the only answer given.

Silence seems to be an answer you get from her often. In different contexts, of course. Sometimes, she is silent when she is comfortable, when she is thinking, when she is angry.. You realised long ago that she is a woman of few words– and even fewer sounds. During the rare occasions you get to make her feel good (whether that’s simultaneous to your own pleasure, or before), the only sounds you really hear are the soft breaths and the slight grunts whenever you do something she particularly likes. You have made it your mission to coax more sounds out of her, even if it’s the last thing you do. You experiment with different things each time you get to make her feel good, anything remotely sexual she’s done to you, you try with her. Degradation doesn’t work, her only response is a cock of her eyebrow and a scoff. Praise is a little bit better, earning a soft kiss on whatever part of your skin she can reach. Tying her up is out of the question– she has made it abundantly clear multiple times she only enjoys the act of bondage, however small, when you are on the receiving end. It’s the case for a lot of things, and it almost irritates you. Almost. it turns out the answer is something much simpler than anything you’ve ever tried, and you mentally curse yourself for taking so long to figure it out (for Arlecchino, that was the point. She likes the game, even if she truly is trying to keep her weakness hidden).

The answer was something she had done to you almost every time you had engaged in some form of intimate act with her. There aren’t many acts more intimate than your partner giving up the ability to speak because their tongue seems to be.. Busy. You just hadn’t realised that Arlecchino would ever be on the receiving end. So, after much pleading (and begging to the point it almost seems you’re begging her to fuck you instead of the other way around), she seemed to relent. Barely.

“Let me try,” comes the soft whisper from your lips, hitting the side of her neck as you gently place kisses there. There’s no reaction, but you could swear you felt a shiver. Moving away from the milky, unmarred skin of her neck (one of the only places that isn’t marked with either her curse or an array of scars), you almost expertly push the blazer off her shoulders before slowly sinking to your knees. The carpet is fuzzy, but it doesn’t do much to soften the hard wood underneath. You can’t find yourself caring. The blazer lands on the back of the desk chair. Excited, desperate fingers tug at the buttons of those godforsaken trousers until they finally do what you want them to do. You’ve done what you can, you can’t push her hips up so you can continue to take them off, she’s stronger than you’ll ever be (you like that). “Don’t you think it would feel nice? You know it feels nice. Do you not think you deserve it?”

“I do not deserve the pleasure you give me,” she murmurs, a rare show of her inner thoughts. The woman criticises herself too much, you think. You wish she wouldn’t be so strict with herself.

“Irrelevant,” She shivers at the slight sternness of your voice. It mirrors her own. “Do you want it?”

Arlecchino doesn’t respond for a while. Her hand moves to your head, and she caresses your hair, gently stroking and tugging at the strands before she eventually speaks, a whisper, a subconscious attempt to hide the fact she’s about to chase something she never allows herself to. “Put a pillow under your knees, at least.”

You grin, so pleased with yourself. You stand again, only to sprint and find a pillow. It happens to be the pillow you sleep on, it doesn’t matter. You return to your position only to find her trousers messily on the ground, and the top four buttons of her dress shirt undone. The look in her eyes is one you’ve rarely seen– want. “Beg.” you whisper, the grin still on your face. Arlecchino’s own face twists into a frown.

“I will die before I beg for anything.” Her tone is resolute, and you sit there nonetheless, unmoving apart from the finger tracing up and down her toned thigh. You both stay like that for an agonising two minutes before she barely mumbles. “Please.”

You are incredibly aware that you won’t get more than that, so, even though you know it doesn’t do much, you mutter “good girl”. It does do something, though. You barely hear it, but her breath shakes. You take it as an initiative to start, so you let your lips find her thigh, planting wet, open mouthed kisses up towards her inner thigh. You continue, and– she’s soaked already. You’ve done exactly nothing and she’s as wetter than you’ve ever seen her. Your eyes move up to hers, a raise of your eyebrow as you open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off before you can speak.

“Do not. I am aware of the.. situation.”

“But you’re all wet and it’s all for my tongue. Isn’t that sweet?” You’ve never been this cocky at all, and Arlecchino would be a liar if she said she didn’t like it. She tries to find words, something to refute the claim, but her words are ripped from her lips when she feels your own lips graze her clit. It’s a tiny movement, really, but one she isn’t entirely used to. The only reaction she makes, however, is a slightly sharper exhale. Until your eyes stare straight into hers and you do it again, though for longer. Then again, though this time your tongue presses flat against it. Your tongue doesn’t move, much to Arlecchino’s dismay. The hand that rested in your hair gently tugs.

“Continue.” She speaks breathily, and her words shake. You can practically hear her gulp as she tries (and fails) to calm herself, and you know she’s probably telling herself to show no emotion. Though, when you finally start moving your tongue in slow, languid motions, you hear her shaky sigh and feel her hand in your hair tighten even more. You try to find a rhythm that affects her the most, alternating between soft licks and harder presses— you find that swirling your tongue around her clit, occasionally moving down to dip your tongue into her aching cunt. Your eyes dart up to her every few seconds to catch her mouth falling open and her head tilting back. When her mouth isn’t open, she’s stifling any noise she could possibly make, gritting her teeth so hard you’re almost certain they’re going to crack. The next time you tear your eyes away from her skin and move them to her face, her eyes are squeezed shut, and only then does a quiet groan escape her.

Something seems to change in your mind, because your hands move to grip her thighs, holding them apart despite them trembling. She’s sensitive, after all, it isn’t often she gets taken care of, is it? The blackened hand not pulling greedily at the strands on your head moves in an attempt to push your hands away, but your voice vibrates against her (which of course, causes another quiet sound to slip from her). “Keep your hands on the chair.”

Arlecchino’s eyes shoot open, a gasp practically ripping through her lungs. “You cannot expect me t—“

“Do it or I stop. Let me finish making you feel good.” She scolds herself internally for letting you get too comfortable with her own tricks. Either way, it feels good and she doesn’t want you to stop, though she’d rather cut off her own arm than admit it. She doesn’t need to say a word, though, the small groans (and whimpers) tell you everything. Especially when they grow louder, and her chest begins heaving, and her voice breaks with every utterance of your name. It’s the most pleasure she’s ever outwardly expressed.

“Why did you stop?” Her exasperated, breathless voice echoes the room. You stopped just as her orgasm was reaching the peak, causing it to ebb away quickly, a sense of disappointment growing in Arlecchino’s stomach. Her eyes, now piercing into you with that familiar irritated stare, meet yours, your own full of amusement. Wiping your chin (when you’re eating pussy like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat, it tends to get messy, doesn’t it?), you chuckle and respond in your own teasing lilt.

“You taste so good, and your pussy is so damn pretty, Arlecchino. I don’t particularly want to stop right now. You can take it, can’t you? Keep your hands still.” Her face twists into some odd mix of mortified and aroused, but your tongue meets her clit again, and the only sound she can make is something so uncharacteristic, a whine. You continue exactly what you were doing before, though this time you decide to slide a finger into her— the reaction she gave was definitely a pleasant one, her back arching off of the chair, her hands squeezing the seat of it in an attempt to keep them still. Arlecchino reaches the peak quicker this time, and despite your bossy orders, she finds herself melting into you completely, her hips grinding herself onto your tongue as much as she possibly can. It’s completely different to how she was at the beginning, her plan to remain unbothered and stoic foiled.

“Can I— please don’t stop this time.” When there comes no response from you other than a curl of your finger, she moans your name in a useless attempt to get you to answer her. You’re being mean, she thinks, and you’re using everything she does against her. “Answer me. Tell me I can cum.”

How is she still demanding things from you even in this position? She lost all control a long time ago. You find your eyes opening though, and while adding a second finger, your voice softens and you speak, voice full of affection. “Be good and cum for me, then. Now, before I change my mind. Let yourself feel good, yeah?”

Arlecchino doesn’t need to be told twice, because her hips lose whatever rhythm they had when your tongue presses flat against her, letting her choose the pace and the rhythm she knows will get her there quickest (it doesn’t take long, the woman is so sexually pent up it’s laughable). Within a minute, she’s crying out, her hands flying up to her face to cover the obscene expression she knows is there. You pay no attention, only watching every movement with a sense of satisfaction and a smile in your eyes. You keep your finger curling and your tongue still until her body stops rocking, and her hands leave her face. When her face, the one you find so beautiful, emerges from behind her hands, mascara slightly smudged, you can’t help but snicker as you pull out and away from her.

“Better?” You ask, wiping your chin once more with the back of your hand. You somehow look so smug and the look on your face pisses Arlecchino off, just a little. How you’re so calm and collected and she’s a fucked out mess sat in her desk chair.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sharper than she intends it to be really, but she continues in the same tone. “I do hope you don’t think we’re finished, hm?” Your head tilts in slight confusion, but the smile remains on your face. After a while, Arlecchino’s own lips twitch upwards, barely noticeable, but you notice nonetheless. “How could I leave you without feeling good, too? Go to the bedroom, please.”

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runnning-outof-time · 4 months ago

Text

Some Calm in the Midst of War | Wartime!Tommy Shelby x Reader

request: yes by @cybubuvubbu

pairing: Wartime!Tommy Shelby x Reader

summary: (Y/N) meets a soldier in a club. Not wanting to let go of this taste of calm amidst all of the chaos, they extend their moment of revelry into something a bit longer.

warnings: language, smoking, talks of war, suggestive situations (pg-13 in nature…I think)

word count: 1721

a/n: so this is what I decided to do in order to get these requests that have been sitting for months out to read. I really focused on just letting all of the inhibitions about it go and writing. Whatever gets put down gets put down, and however it gets put down flies also. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were hoping for/looking forward to from me, but please know that I’m doing this in hopes that it’ll help me figure out what I want to do next. Ok, I’m sorry for making this so long…enjoy! :)

a/n 2: I just can’t bring myself to write completely nsfw stuff but I wanted to take this request in this direction, so I hope anyone won’t be annoyed at the fact that it’s not explicit smut. This’ll probably be the closest my writing will ever get to it.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

comment/message me if you want to be tagged!

The unlikely pair met in a club. She was - once - a woman of higher class, and he was a man whose family lived on next to nothing. But now because the war had ripped through both of their lives, they were finding solace in each other.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her all night. She was there with some of the ladies who she worked alongside as a field nurse. He'd come into town with his company, whom he was in command of.

Both looking for some semblance of what their lives used to be; looking for a way to escape the hell they’d been stuck in.

She was the one who approached him. "Saw you staring from across the bar," she started, her confidence earning some whistles from the men who were accompanying the man she was speaking to. One was even quick to leave his stool, offering the space to her. The man was surprised how quickly his men left them alone. "Thought it'd be a crime not to come and talk with you," she brought his attention back to her, her lips curved up into a smile.

He didn't know what to say at first. Prior to this, he wasn't sure if he was even going to take things further than a couple glances in her direction. But now he couldn't take his eyes off of her, and shit... he still didn't know what to say! A laugh filled with disbelief left his lips as he finally tore his eyes from hers.

He took a drag from his cigarette before looking her way again. One thing he wasn't going to do in this situation was fuck this opportunity up.

The two didn't talk much. Sure a brief conversation occurred, but it wasn't long before she was pulling them to the dance floor so they could join in with all of the other carefree couples.

The fact that he wanted to stay after the first song was over shocked her. It was evident though that she was the only reason he wanted to stay.

They exchanged a kiss before even exchanging names.

It wasn't surprising to see how quickly they became engrossed in one another. All they'd known for the last stretch of time was war and the feelings, not to mention sights, of terror that came with it. Neither knew when they'd get another moment like this...so they most certainly weren't going to waste it.

Their connection grew over the next several dances they shared. Soon enough the tender at the bar was yelling last call and they were ordering one last drink together.

Both weren't able to find the groups that they'd arrived with, so they decided to bask in each other's company for as long as they were able.

They finally got to talking, sitting at the bar until the keeper was telling them they needed to leave.

It was during these conversations that they found out just how different of lives they had led prior to this point. Funny how war had the ability to blur the class lines. Neither cared at the moment that the other wouldn’t have even spared a glance prior to now. They simply cared about feeling human again.

She brought him back to the room she'd been given for her brief time of leave from the field hospital. Tensions had risen between them as they walked closely together down the street. There was purpose in their step and things reached a fever point the second they stepped across the threshold into the small room.

The slightest look was shared before their lips met. No words needed to be spoken. What they both wanted was written clear across their faces.

Their walk to the bed looked more like a dance as they blindly fumbled with each others’ clothes. By the time her back hit the mattress, she was left in a blouse and underwear and he his trousers.

Another look was shared as a pause was taken. They were both breathing heavily, but this time he asked: “are you sure?”

She blinked a few times, as if it was her own way of checking that he was indeed real and that this was really happening. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in a position like this. The longer the pause was held, the more it became evident that she would be insane not to let the opportunity pass. “So sure,” she breathed in response, a smile playing on her lips.

His mesmerizing blue eyes turned a shade darker as he heard her response. A grin spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to take hold of her cheek before she matched her lips to his again.

Their kisses were slower this time around. Both wanted to savor this moment, as they knew it may be the last like it they’d ever get. Inhibitions were thrown out alongside the rest of their garments and nothing more was said as they found a connection with each other.

Sweat stuck to their bodies and he made sure to hold her close, both reeling from the feeling the other was giving them.

They couldn’t remember the last time they felt this good. It was a feeling they never wanted to end.

Leaving was something neither of the two even thought about when they were finished. Their limbs stayed winded together, and they continued to exchange languid kisses as they came down from their highs.

“Shelby,” she breathed, her eyes focusing on the disc that was hanging around his neck. The disc that would be used to identify him if something were to happen in the field of battle.

Its presence made reality return to her mind. A reminder of the war they were still very much engrossed in flooded her thoughts, shrouding the state of bliss that she was previously experiencing.

“Tommy,” his voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?” she asked, focusing on him again with furrowed brows.

“My name’s Tommy,” he clarified.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tommy,” she said, then giggling as the context of the situation came to mind…usually these sort of introductions were done before she joined a man in bed.

Tommy cracked a grin at her statement, a chuckle leaving his lips before he leaned down to kiss hers, stifling her laughter in the process. “What’s your name?” he asked as they broke apart.

“(Y/N),” she answered, her smile still present.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N),” he used the same greeting as she had, and they both began laughing again.

Their laughter subsided as their eyes met, and the tension they’d been feeling from the moment he spotted her at the club arose again. Nothing more was said as their lips molded together for the umpteenth time that evening.

Tommy was the one to break away, but he didn’t move far. He kissed a line from her lips down to her jaw and settled against the crook of her neck. (Y/N) sighed wantonly at the feeling, her hands tangling in the longer parts of his hair as her heart rate increased.

“Tommy…” his name was uttered in a breathy moan, “Tommy, I don’t…” she couldn’t quite keep her thoughts straight as his lips trailed lower, finding a new home in the valley between her breasts. It was becoming harder to think with each passing second, but she felt she needed to get these thoughts out. “I don’t usually do this—I’m not usually like this.”

He stopped his ministrations and lifted his head to look at her again. She sighed at the loss of feeling. “What do you mean?” he asked, his brows furrowing together in confusion when it took her a few moments to respond.

“I’m not usually this…” she paused, struggling to think of the right word, “…easy,” was what she finally settled on, although it still felt as if there were better words to use.

Tommy’s brows straightened only slightly. “I never thought you were,” he told her honestly.

“Things have been so different with the war and all,” she continued to explain herself even though he didn’t ask her to, “it’s been so long—too long, since I’ve been in a situation like this so forgive me for being unsure of what now needs to be done, but I just…my fear is that I won’t have a chance to experience this again…” she paused, feeling her chest tighten, “things are so uncertain now…”

“Hey…” he cut her off she could continue. She bit on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering, unable to match his gaze for fear of it making her tears fall. “Look at me, love,” he gently coaxed her, his hand cupping her cheek so that he could make their eyes meet. A solemn expression was present on his features as he reached up to brush away a tear with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) apologized, now feeling pathetic for turning their passionate moment into this.

“Don’t be,” Tommy shook his head, his thumb running gently against her cheekbone. He searched her eyes for a moment before continuing, “no harm will ever come to you,” he told her, “not from me, not from anyone else…not while I’m here,” his words were spoken with the utmost truth, and his eyes never wavered from hers.

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never had someone profess something like this to her…especially not someone who was a stranger a few hours ago. But in this moment it felt so right, and hearing those words alone gave her some hope that maybe they’d both be okay.

She smiled at him, reaching up to slowly run her hand against his jawline. “You’ll be here?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising slightly.

“Until I can’t be,” he assured her, a smile playing on his lips.

His response made (Y/N)’s smile widen, and nothing more was said as she gently took hold of his chin and brought his lips to hers once more.

Staying true to his word, Tommy stayed with (Y/N) until they both had to ship out to their posts again. Both were equally grateful to enjoy some calm in the midst of war.

Check out THIS ARTICLE that I found about the history of how identification tags were used throughout time — it’s such an intriguing read!

**ALSO - the italized words that Tommy said at the end were taken from the caption on the photo from the request, which were taken from the movie The Edge of Love.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @strayrockette @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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faeriichaii · 11 months ago

Note

Hi!! Can you write something fluffy between Legolas and a female human reader? Even though Legolas has been around for a while, he is always watching the reader because he wants to learn about her little quirks and customs. The reader is always like “uhhh Aragorn why is he just staring” but Legolas reveals that it’s cause he finds her cute and wants to get to know her more while they’re together on the fellowship :)

Little Quirks ~ Legolas x Fem!Human!Reader

A/N: Ahh I missed writing for Legolas haha!! At this point he is like a major part of my life lmao <33 Ngl this took me longer than normal? Maybe I got a little rusty during my little time off haha rip but yeah here you go I hope you like it!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: The elven prince for some reason couldn't stop staring at you, which in return made you confused and very curious, as to why his eyes were constantly following you around.

Legolas tilted his head to the side, smile gracing his lips, as his eyes focused on the way you polished your weapons to perfection. The dagger in your hand reflecting the bright fire in front of you, while you rubbed a cloth against the handle. A few gems were embedded into the metal, giving it some colour. You can’t quite remember when you got the dagger, but you knew you would be incredibly upset if you ever lost it. Holding it out in front of you, you inspected it for any kind of grime or dirt that still could be there. While doing so you notice that the elven prince has been staring at you for quite a while. He always seems to be staring at you, no matter what you were doing. It not just confused you, but also made you feel unsettled to some extent. “I hope you don’t mind me taking up the space beside you.” Aragorn said, as he made himself comfortable on the log beside you. His sword was on his lap, as he began to clean it off of the dried blood from the battle of a few hours ago.

“Of course not.” You placed your polished dagger into the leather holster that was secured on your thigh, before grabbing your own sword to take care of it as well. Taking a quick glance towards Legolas, you notice that his attention was now on Gimli, who seems to be mentioning one of his stories to him. “You know the elven prince well, right Aragorn?” You asked him, while running the cloth against the metal. “I wouldn’t say that I know him well, but I do know him longer than most of the fellowship do.” He sat his sword aside, before turning towards you. “What is on your mind?” “Well, I have noticed that he always seems to be watching me, no matter what I do. Like for example last week.”

Standing in front of the pot, you stirred it with the wooden spoon before adding a few more leaves. Normally Sam would be the one in your place, however you insisted to take his place for the night and make everyone one of your favourite dishes. You added in the few chopped vegetables you had prepared earlier. Noticing a certain gaze on your figure, you looked up from the dinner you were making. Legolas smiled softly at you, before lowering his gaze from you. You didn’t think much about it, until you took another glance into his direction and caught him again.

“Is everything alright Legolas?” “Yes, of course.” He said, his eyes never leaving you once. After a bit of more stirring, you poured a little of the stew into the bowls, before handing them out. Walking over to Legolas, you sat beside him before giving him his own food. “I really liked the song you hummed.” You tilted your head to the side at his statement, not really understanding what he meant. He noticed your puzzled expression, smiling gently at you. “You were humming while you prepared the dinner.” “Oh- I did not notice.” A soft embarrassed blush dusted your cheeks. “I hope it did not disturb you in any way. I normally hum only at home but I guess I was so much at ease that it just happened.” “Like I said (Y/N), I really enjoyed it. Maybe you could teach me the song sometime.”

“That does sound completely normal to me. He just enjoyed the melody.” You huffed at Aragorns statement. You knew that this sounded like it was nothing special. But it was not the only time you caught him staring a little longer.

You were standing in front of one of the many stalls of a small town. The fellowship decided to take a quick tour through the closest town, in order to stack up on some essentials needed for your travels. Of course, you tried to focus only on things you really needed for the journey, however the shiny jewels from the table beside the one you were currently browsing through caught your attention. “Welcome young lady, what can I do for you today?” You gazed upon the silver and golden necklaces that were laid out in front of you. “How much would that be?” You asked the merchant, holding up a golden bracelet, that had a little heart charm attached to it. “Around 30 coins.” You bit your lip in thought at his answer, only having so many coins in your little pouch. “I will be thinking about the offer, thank you.” Putting the bracelet back onto the table, you made your way towards another one. This one sold various items like books, as well as scrolls, bags, pouches, brooches and other little trinkets. Taking a beautiful hand mirror into your hand, you looked at your reflection. You noticed a familiar elven prince in the background, who seems to be looking into your direction. Tilting your head, you stared back at him through the reflection.

After a while of staring back at him, you put the mirror back onto the table and decided to approach him. As soon as he noticed you, a smile graced his lips. “Have you already gotten everything you needed?” He asked you, as you stood beside him. “Well, not really. But I have been wondering something else.” You tilted your head to the side as you mustered him. A smile was still present on his lips, as he mirrored your movement. “Why have you been staring at me again?” “Have I?” “Yes!” At this point you believe he was mocking you. You caught him through the mirror and he still tries to deny it. “I think you are mistaken.” He said, giving your shoulder a soft pat before joining Aragorn at one of the stalls.

“And what if you really were mistaken?” “I was not! Aragorn, I know that he has been staring at me not just those two times! He stares at me while I eat, while I talk, while I polish my gear, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was staring at me now.” The both of you turned towards the elven prince, who in fact was looking at you once more. “See? I would just want to know why he does it.” Aragorn let out a lough at your desperate sigh. “I am pretty sure that you will get your answer very soon.” And with that he stood up and left you alone.

After finishing up polishing your weapons, you decided to approach the elven prince once more to try and get answers to your questions. “Hey Legolas, can we maybe talk?” You asked him, while taking a seat beside him. “Of course, what is on your mind?” “I have noticed you were staring quite a lot at me. Is there a reason behind it?” A chuckle left his lips, as he grabbed your hand gently. Warmth spread over your cheeks at the soft touch. “I really enjoy watching you (Y/N). Not in an unsettling way! I just love to see you react to specific things. Or how your eyes shine when you find something you like at one of the stalls. Or how you just sometimes have that little jump in your step when you are really excited.”

Your face was red, as you nodded to each of the words that passed his lips. “I think your quirks are so interesting and so cute. You always catch me off guard.” A smile graced your lips, as you squeezed his hand. You didn’t know he felt so drawn towards you. “For example, right now. Your eyes are shining brighter than the stars above.” His finger graced your warm cheek, as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want to get to know you more and understand you better with every passing day.” “I will only allow it, if you let me study you as well.” You answered boldly, earning you a laugh from Legolas. “Of course, Meleth Nin. Anything that your heart desires.”

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harrysfolklore · 11 months ago

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valentine

a valentine’s day blurb inspired by this song ! i hope you guys like it 💓

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Four months ago you agreed to be Harry's girlfriend, and it was safe to say that those months have been filled with happiness that you've never felt before.

You met Harry through your longtime friend, Anthony, who happened to be Harry's tour photographer. Anthony had insisted for months that you needed to come to one of Harry's shows so he could introduce you two, because he felt that you would get along perfectly, but you remained skeptical. You weren't one to easily warm up to new people, especially not someone as famous and charismatic as Harry.

But fate had its own plans.

You finally attended the famous Love On Tour when it was brought to Wembley Stadium, and you were convinced that it was the best concert you had ever been to.

You got to meet Harry and just as Anthony predicted, you hit it off right away. You texted daily, face-timed and every time he had small breaks from tour he traveled to visit you.

One of those times he ditched everything to spend time with you in the comfort of your small but cozy apartment, he asked you to be his girlfriend now you were about to celebrate your first Valentine's day together.

"You and me, movies and dinner at my place for Valentine's day, how does that sound?" Harry said over FaceTime, you had adopted the tradition of calling each other while you did your night routines, it was clingy but you secretly loved it.

"Valentines day? Is that a thing for you?" you replied, spreading your moisturizer on your face.

"Baby, I did a world tour called Love On Tour, of course Valentines day is a thing for me!" you laughed at his expression, "Besides, this year I get to celebrate with my pretty girlfriend."

You instantly blushed, and by the smug smile on his face you knew he had achieved his goal.

"You know, I never know to respond when you call me pretty," you admitted, trying to play it cool, "Do I tell you that you're pretty too? Can I say that? Don't have a clue."

"Yes, love. You can tell me that I'm pretty too."

As Valentines day approached, you weren't what kid of gift you should get for Harry, it was pretty much the first time you had someone as "your valentine", so you struggled a lot to figure out what would be the perfect gift to give your boyfriend of four months.

You settled for a personalized leather-bound journal, you wrote a nice and heartfelt message on the first page expressing your feelings for Harry and recounting some of your favorite memories together over the past four months. You knew Harry appreciated thoughtful gestures, and you hoped this gift would show him just how much he meant to you, since sometimes it was hard for you to express it with words.

With the gift box and a homemade apple pie you decided to bake last minute you headed to Harry's house, when you got there the door swung open and you were met with a cozy Harry, clad in a brown jumper and some sweatpants.

"Hey, love," he greeted, pulling you into a tight hug. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," you replied, returning the embrace, "I brought you something," you handed him a small wrapped box, shyness and excitement in your voice.

"Is this a gift?" Harry's eyes lit up with curiosity as he took the box from you, "Baby, you didn't have to get me anything."

"Just open it."

Harry carefully unwrapped the box and took the journal from it, turning to you and smiling widely.

"This is so nice love, thank you," he kissed your lips quickly, "Your gift is upstairs, I'll give it to you later."

He sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, you decided to begin with your movie night, pouring two glasses of wine and pressing play to "Crazy Stupid Love", one of your favorite romcoms.

Two bottles of wine and another movie later, both of you were pretty tipsy and clinging to each other, and you could feel a burst of confidence flowing through your body.

"Wanna know something?" you drunkenly asked, making him look at you, "I'm scared of flies, like absolutely terrified."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at your confession, "Are you now, love?"

"Yeah, I also think I'm scared of guys, well, at least I was because I dated soooo many douches in the past," you kissed his cheek playfully before continuing, "But now I'm with you and you're nice."

"Am I?" Harry teased, enjoying this new side of you he had not seen before.

"You are," you pecked his neck, "You're like, the first one to ever like me back and honestly, I can't believe I get to call you mine.

Harry smiled in total awe, his heart growing twice its size at your words.

"I feel the same way, love," he pulled you closer, "You make me really, really happy."

You snuggled into him, nuzzling your face into his neck and feeling tiredness take over you, you closed your eyes and enjoyed his warmth and smell.

"How the hell did I fall in love this time?"

You mumbled before you drifted off to sleep, but Harry heard it loud and clear and he felt like he could cry out of love.

"I love you too, silly girl."

He kissed your forehead and carried you to bed, he wasn't sure if you were going to remember your conversation, but he was ready to remind you that he loved you as soon as you woke up.

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fancyfeathers · 11 months ago

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What a Camera Cannot Capture (Yandere Harbinger Lyney x reader)

the inspiration for the came from the voice line from Lyney when he was talking about how he was Arlecchino’s successor. So here you go, older Lyney who has become a Fatui Harbinger.

The performance by the well known magician Lyney had just reached its conclusion minutes ago, you were now getting your coat on and getting ready to leave, the last person to leave actually. You were buttoning up the buttons on your coat and reached into your pocket to grab the scarf you had shoved in there only to find it was not there.

“Looking for this?” You heard the voice behind you, almost with a sing-song tone. You spun around to see the star of tonight’s show, Lyney holding your knitted scarf in his hand. How did he- oh wait, he’s a magician, sleight of hand was his thing. He tosses it back to you and as startled as you were, you caught it as he chuckled. “I wasn’t going to steal it, just playing with you.”

“I figured, but thank you for giving it back.” You replied as you wrapped it around your neck. You turned to the door once more but he called you back.

“You know, I’ve noticed you at almost every show, same seat in the front row.” He spoke as he circled around you, a skip in his step. “Don’t tell me I have an admirer, is that the case?”

“No, no, not in the slightest.” You laughed at his question, but he didn’t laugh with you, if anything he seemed sad. “I’m a photographer for the Steambird, my boss wanted me to get photos for an article covering Fontaine’s entertainment industry.”

“Well then, I hope you caught my good side...” His eyes drifted down to the camera case you held in your free hand and he smiled as his eyes drifted up to your face. He reaches over and before you knew if he was spinning you around and dipped you, his hand on your waist, his face only inches from yours. “…Like this”

He stood you up and spun you out of his embrace and you felt so flustered and your face must have been twenty shades of red. “Y-ya, exactly.”

“Well then, mon chérie, you must be off I suppose.” He walked over and opened and held the door for you. “Do consider paying me another visit at another show sometime, perhaps I could show you around backstage, the behind the scenes.”

“Perhaps, Monsieur, perhaps.”

—————————

“What do you mean your camera is missing?!” You sat in your boss’s office, feeling like a rotten child being yelled at. You had gotten back from the show last night and this morning when you went to get your camera out the case this morning to look at the photos it was gone.

“I-I don’t know, I opened it and it was gone.”

“Well you better find it because without it we lose this article and you lose your job, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

After that you ran out of her office, nearly in tears as you made your way to the Aquabus Station and took the Navia Line to the Opera Epiclese. You curled up in your seat, praying to whatever god could hear you that you would not lose this job because if you do, archons know what you’ll do then. Once the aquabus reached its stop you literally ran to the Opera Epiclese, your hair getting messed up with your speed and the wind blowing against you, people probably thought someone was dying by the way you looked. You opened the doors to the opera house and rushed into the theater proper. You looked around the opera seat, scouring for where your camera may have fallen. By the time you were finished looking through the seats you must have looked like an absolute wreck with your rush, panic, and tears.

You sat down in one of the seats and wondered what you were going to do. Then you hear voices from backstage, they clearly talked like they thought no one was there. You walked up the stairs onto the stage and walked over to the doors that led backstage. The door was slightly ajar and you slipped in and ducked down under a piece of furniture and listened, call it a reporter’s curiosity.

“My Lord, please excuse me but I doubt that camera has possible evidence against us.”

Camera?

“I know but it was better to be safe than sorry.”

That voice… It was Lyney. What in Teyvat was going on?

“Shall we dispose of the photographer behind these photos? Tracking her down would not be difficult.”

Your breathing stopped… dear gods, they were talking about you.

“No no, that won’t be necessary, she meant no harm by it, besides I have other plans for her.” You heard the voice of Lyney speak, followed by footsteps approaching you but not quite near you, making you think you were still hidden. “You can come out now, mon chérie.”

You could not breathe after you heard that, it felt like you were choking on your own fear.

“Now now, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” You felt your shaking legs push you up for the ground and you finally got a clear view of everything. The two other people next to the magician make you feel sick, two Fatui agents. Lyney gestured you to come here and you stepped forward, every step made your legs feel like they were led. You stood in front of him, not making eye contact, you felt terrified. Lyney looked to the two agents and addressed them. “You two may leave now.”

There were mutterings of acknowledgement before the shuffling of feet, leaving you and the magician alone. You felt Lyney’s hand reach down and tilt your head so you would look at him. “Let’s get you relaxed, come on.”

He took your hand and led you further backstage until he reached a door and opened it with a key. He held the door open for you while you stepped in, it was his dressing room. Lyney slipped in after you and you did not even notice the sound of the door locking as Lyney urged you to sit down while he got some tea for the two of you. You sat down on the velvet couch in the large dressing room while Lyney prepared tea for the two of you. Your eyes drifted around the dressing room, it was so beautiful, and so many flowers that must have come from Lyney’s fans. Then you noticed as Lyney brought the tea tray over and set it between you, you saw on his mirror that it was lined with articles, more specifically photographs from the articles, your photographs you have done, even some photos of you.

“I wish my father could have met you.” He said as he handed you a cup of tea and slowly you brought the cup to your lips and took a sip. “She died before she got the chance. I always talked to her about you though.”

“…how long have you been watching me?” You questioned, parting the cup from your lips.

“Straight to the point I see.” He gave a light laugh and sighed while he counted in his head. “Six years, almost seven.”

You nearly spat out your last sip of tea at that, but forced it down as a look of shock and horror came across your face. “S-seven.”

“Just about, since I started about a year and a half before father died.” Lyney spoke as if nothing was wrong when this was clearly messed up. “I’m guessing you have quite a few questions, so please go right ahead.”

“You’re a part of the Fatui?”

“Ah, yes I am.” He answered as he picked up a macaron from the tea tray to eat, but ended up setting it on your plate. “I was raised in an orphanage run by my father who was a harbinger and I ended up joining them with my sister when I got older. Now since my father passed I have taken her place.”

“You’re… a harbinger.”

“I am, but I’m not going to harm a single hair on your head.” He spoke as you raised the macaron he set on your plate to your lips, not trying to refuse and anger him. You started to feel dizzy and almost sick, your hands started shaking so badly and the pastry fell out of your hand and onto the floor. “Oh dear, are you not feeling well? I didn’t expect it to work that fast, I guess I should have taken Dottore’s word on that.”

“W-what… what did you give me?” You tried to stand up but Lyney’s hand came onto your chest, urging you to lay down on the couch.

“Shhh, just relax, it’s a harmless sleeping drug. You’ll wake up in a few hours.” You rampantly shook your head no, you were scared earlier about your job now you’re scared for your life. “Do you have any more questions I can answer before sleep takes you, my love? If you have any when you awake I’d be happy to answer then.”

“Why me?”

“Oh mon chérie…” his hand came up to stroke your cheek as your vision started to fade. “You’re just so beautiful, your curiosity, your passion for your work. See when my father ran the House of the Hearth she had my mother by her side, albeit a bit unwillingly on my mother’s end, but they ended up being happy in the end. Now that I’m the father of the House, don’t you think I should have a wife at my side?”

Your head felt like it was full of cotton, you could not even think as your body fell limp, your breathing shallow as you struggled to stay awake.

“Just relax my love, I promise everything will be okay when you wake up.”

A photograph can capture the visual, not what disappeared. So what will happen when the magician makes the photographer disappear?

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere lyney #yandere lyney x reader

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oracle-of-dream · 5 months ago

Note

taesan smut!

Just Talking

Summary: Taesan and you have a strange relationship. When you're invited on a talk show and finally get to see him again, he can't wait to get some alone time with you.

Warnings: Idol!Male Reader, Degration, Cum Swallowing, Blowjob, Deepthroat, Begging, Hairpulling

Wordcount: 1.5k (Not Proofread)

Taesan squeezed your side as his hand wrapped around your waist, leaning close to whisper in your ear. "I not play with me. Don't think for a second that just because other people are in the room. I won't just fuck you here."

You and Taesan were invited to do an interview for a radio talk show. Even though you were in separate groups, something always brought you back together. Eventually, Taesan took his chance and kissed you backstage at another event–which started the strange relationship you found yourself tangled in. On camera, you were colleagues at best. But alone, Taesan loved to be possessive over you.

You'd been with him for a few months and with how rarely you got to be in the same place at the same time as him–he made every second count. Even slightly teasing you in front of the camera in subtle ways. One of their favorite things was poking his cheek with his tongue, mocking the way you looked with his cock in your mouth. Breathing hard, eyes rolled back, twitching to show you what he wanted later.

Maybe you'd gotten a little carried away... It was pretty normal for him to tease you, it was only right you tried to get back at him! So you may have squeezed his thighs while he spoke, grabbed at his hard cock during song breaks, and whispered naughty things in his ear. That was totally normal. But he'd never threatened to fuck you openly before... You could only sit there and smile as the cameras flashed and fans cheered and screamed from behind the gate. Taesan answered a few questions and then turned to you for your reply.

You swallowed hard. "Y-Yes! Taesan and I are closer now. We've even met up to eat meals sometimes."

"Ahh, y/n, you can't tell them about our dates," Taesan whined. He knew his fans loved the tension between you, while it ate at you being the center of attention.

The hosts went along with it–playfully teasing about meeting Taesan outside of work as dates. But they didn't know they actually were dates. Or hookups. Whatever he wanted that night.

"Well, we're going to end this small talk section here. Thank you so much to these talented people for coming to our show and we can't wait to see more from them going forward!" The hosts started closing out the show as Taesan packed up his things. You started grabbing your things too, but froze when Taesan grabbed your hand.

"Got anything after this?" He muttered. You heard some cheering from fans outside, looking in through the glass of the studio that was open to viewing.

"T-Tae–" You pulled your hand away. "I don't have anything but you can't keep doing that. What if they start figuring it out?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. As long as I've got you, baby."

You rolled your eyes as you reached for your bag. Taesan was quicker and snatched it up. "Let's walk together, talk a little?"

Talking was Taesan's way of asking to hook up without tipping off anyone.

"Fine. We can talk."

He smirked. "Fine? We don't have to if you don't want to. But you seemed pretty into talking earlier, especially when others were watching. Maybe you're into that?" He leaned close, closing the gap between your bodies but hovering slightly away from you. "You wanna talk right here, in front of everyone? I've got no problem. And if you're the type who wants everyone to know who you are on the inside, we can do that."

You pushed him away. "N-no, let's talk in private."

"That's more like it," Taesan grumbled before pulling you away.

You darted around a few corners before finding an empty makeup room. Taesan pushed you inside, locked the door, and threw your stuff on the floor.

"Finally, it feels like ages since I had you last." He was about to pounce on you before you stopped him.

"Please no marks! The other members have been asking questions, and nothing too rough. The fans will notice if I'm limping out of here..."

Taesan grumbled as his shoulders fell. "That what can I do? My baby won't help me?"

"N-no, I'll still help you. I just can't let you go wild..."

"The least you could do is suck me off."

You nodded in agreement. "I can still do that."

Taesan gave a smirk and tongued his cheek. "Do it right, or I'll make you." He pushed you on the ground in front of him and stood over you. "Well? My cock's not gonna suck itself."

You've given him dozens of blowjobs, and the way he looks at you still makes you shy before every time. The way his eyes glare down, his head not even bothering to tilt and look down at you, making you feel less than him. You loved it, and he knew it too. You unbuckled his pants and pulled down both the pants and his underwear. Taesan's cock bounced out to greet you, shaking and throbbing with excitement.

"Don't tease me," Taesan warned. "Get to the good part." He grabbed the base of his cock and pointed his tip to your lips, pushing on the back of your head so they'd meet. He was always so demanding and impatient. But it was even more hot to you when he yelled at you.

You shyly kissed it, earning a hiss of appeasement. You gave it more kisses until it started leaking. He must've been saving it for you, his cock was almost like a faucet of pre-cum. You took the head into your mouth, placing your hand as the base, slowing you moved to make your lips and your hands meet around his cock.

Taesan's head rolled back as he pushed his hips forward, leaning back, making sure there wasn't an inch of them that was untouched. But he'd only be satisfied with that for so long.

With each stroke, your head went further down his shaft until you hit a part that made you gag.

"Oh, baby, don't stop now. You're doing amazing." Taesan's eyes rolled back as he faintly whispered swears.

You tried to continue but it was too much, there was no way you could swallow him whole. You'd never done it before.

"Taesannie, I can't–"

"Oh shut up! Then gag on it if you have to! No one wants to hear you talking right now!" He pushed your head down, forcing his cock down your throat. His jaw went slack as he guided you to move how he wanted–deep and fast. You struggled to keep yourself from gagging, but once his cock hit the back of your throat, you couldn't help choking and spitting everywhere. "Don't you dare make a mess on my clothes," He warned.

Your eyes streamed tears as he used you. Your brain was covered in fog as it began to fall numb, starting from your knees. It went all the way until you couldn't even feel yourself gagging anymore.

Taesan was losing it, fucking his favorite Fleshlight. "Oh, baby, you're so fucking warm. You're so cute when you're obedient–you'd choke yourself to death on it if I wanted, right?"

You moaned as your half-lidded eyes raised.

"Of course you would. But I need you, forever, I can't let you go... So, you'll just have to settle for all this cum I've saved just for you." Taesan's voice started to peak as he struggled to focus. "Relax, and take it, baby." He grunted as his cum shot across your tongue and down your throat, each pulse making his whole body shake. "J-Jesus, fuck~!"

When Taesan lost the strength to hold onto you anymore, his hands dropped, but your head didn't stop moving. You kept sucking through his orgasm.

"Wait– S-Stop!" He pleaded. His fingers dug into your shoulders.

You couldn't hear anything. Or register the pain. You just wanted to clean him completely, since he told you not to make a mess. You swallowed everything dutifully and cleaned him off, all while he struggled in your mouth.

"Baby! Y/n! Please, stop sucking. I'll pass out!" He begged, which finally convinced you to stop. As soon as his cock slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop, Taesan snatched his pants and pulled them back up. "I forget how much of a cock slut you are..."

You just smiled while he sat a few more insults at you.

Taesan knelt down to you and wiped your face. "Are you okay? I wasn't too rough?" His concern bled through the facade he'd put on for you.

"I'm fine~!"

"I'm glad. You're so weird, getting off on me being mean to you." He noticed the wet patch in your pants. "And you came in your pants. Again. You'll have to wait before that dries so you can leave."

"Will you wait with me?"

Taesan kissed you. "If that's what you want, of course."

"Can you... say it a little meaner?" You blushed.

"You're a real pain in the ass." Taesan groaned. "Fine. I'll stay."

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #kpop male reader #x male reader #x reader #x male smut #bnd x male reader #bnd x reader #bnd smut #bnd #boynextdoor #taesan #boynextdoor x male reader #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan

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thesilmarillionblog · 5 months ago

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟽

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language, Soldier Boy having anger issues, angst, drugs, discussions about relationship

Word Count: 5071

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

After taking a cold shower, Ben dressed himself while observing your peaceful sleeping figure on the tiny bed. In order to avoid waking you up just because he was horny or anything, the shower was quite brief and very cold. You could already handle no more of whatever was going on. Ben didn't care much about his surroundings in the past since he knew you would always come back to him, but now he knew you had changed and weren't really willing to give him another chance. Everything was on a thin line.

Last night was clearly too much for you already, and you weren't ready to let him into your life or open yourself fully to him. It was still a big step, and Ben understood that he must handle you with the consideration and patience that you truly deserve. He would take things slowly and give you whatever you needed.

There was a long way to go.

Cautiously sitting down the bed, Ben made an effort to stay silent. He desired more quiet time spent with you. He really needs to persuade Annie and Hughie to spend each night at that fucking house. After last night, there was no way you'd sleep in his bed, or vice versa.

Ben grumbled and slowly lowered himself to the bed, drawing himself a little closer to your body. He had to keep his hands to himself, even if he needed to have woken you awake with other things. You could even go one step further and enjoy a wonderful morning together in the cold shower, with him positioned atop your heated body and everything. He knew he needed to take himself in hand as soon as possible; his heavy balls were hurting like hell.

You rubbed your eyes and whispered, “Ben?” as soon as you sensed Ben's presence on your back.

He said, “Good morning,” and gently touched your hair as you slowly stretched your muscles to properly awaken your body.

When you turned to face him at last, you murmured in a sleepy voice, “Since when you're awake?”

“About an hour ago, or so. I just finished my shower.”

You muttered, “Yes, I can see that,” as you took in his delightful and fresh scent.

Ben shifted on the bed and reached out to touch your belly with one finger, but he quickly withdrew his hands, not knowing how you would react. It was difficult to keep from stepping over the line when he felt so desperate to touch you; it was absurd that he had eaten you out the night before and now there was a barrier between you. You looked at him in confusion, but you remained silent.

Eventually, he winked and said, “So you're telling me I smell perfect.”

You withdrew the pillow beneath his arm to yourself. “No, I'm just saying that I can smell that you have had a shower. Shampoo and all.”

“That's bad,” he muttered. “I almost thought you praised me.”

Seeing his face fall with fake disappointment, you couldn't help giving him a little smile. “Not happening.”

“Would you like to do some training today?” Ben inquired in a serious tone, hoping that you would spend some time together as he watched your dizzy expression and your yawnings for a while while you fought to resist falling back asleep. The way you moved and climaxed on top of him a week ago was all he could think about. He held his breath for a minute, remembering that moment so delicious and intense.

It was bad that he didn't let you go on top in the past. Now, your images on his body were haunting him for days like crazy.

You gazed at your naked legs and shuffled in bed, searching for something to say. “Ah,” you replied simply, your face warm. “Can we delay it?”

“Why?” Ben immediately inquired, dissatisfied with your answer. “You are improving. You need to take it seriously till we locate Mindstorm and figure out what's causing the issue you have.”

You asked in a sour tone, “You mean my 'weakness'?” You weren't pleased that even Ben had acknowledged that, despite your best efforts throughout weeks of training, you had become weaker.

Ben inhaled deeply to decide how to say things without hurting you. “How about we just refer to it as a 'temporary issue'? Let's see the bright side as well: you are not fighting to avoid blowing up at any moment and murdering people like me.”

You attempted to suppress your remorse at Ben's attempt to comfort you by sharing his ‘nuclear chest situation’ while you were feeling awful about yours. He was right—at least you weren't responsible for any innocent people being harmed by something you couldn't control.

You apologized, feeling a sense of guilt as you attempted to understand him as well. “You're right,” you said, pointing to his broad chest, “We also need to figure out how to keep you from blowing up all of a sudden. It's becoming more serious.”

“Come on, I'm not trying to tell you that my situation is more critical than yours.” He grinned and added, “Everything's fine. I appreciate how understanding you've been toward me. Well, I'm positive I'll manage it in a short while. Furthermore, I won't explode as long as you're with me, right?”

You answered right away, “Yeah, sure.” You knew that you had to stick by his side and be by his side whenever he needed someone to stop him from exploding and accidentally injuring others, just like what happened to him and the others in Herogasm.

You said, “Ben,” cutting him off from further conversation. “It appears that Butcher will need some more time to locate Mindstorm. Don't you think it will be simpler to locate the now-in-charge doctor? The one who is charging now about SUPE studies? They probably didn't just stop doing whatever it is they've been doing to us in those labs for decades.”

“Yeah,” he said in an irritable manner. Ben was displeased at Butcher's slowness in locating Mindstorm. Him analyzing all that transpired from your mind between you and the doctors would be safer and easier. “However, we can't be certain of anything. It would be better to locate Mindstorm and get him to speak.”

You urged, “But we have to start somewhere. If finding Mindstorm is taking that long, maybe we should find the doctor and learn about every detail from him.”

It was clear that you were completely out of patience, whereas Ben was only concerned with locating Mindstorm and learning everything correctly.

“I had located the doctor who has been examining your biology, genetics, and fuckever before I found you.” Ben sighed angrily. “He had told me that everything they were doing was for the sake of the future of supes, which you already know.” Recalling how the doctor had spoken of you as if you were nothing more than a tool of supreme perfection. “What I want to say is, it's better to locate Minstorm to be sure. We need to figure out what really happened to you.”

You noticed that Ben was not in a hurry to locate the doctor, so you fixed your t-shirt, which was barely covering your legs, and got up from the bed, sighing as he continued talking. “You know that I'm getting weaker despite all those trainings, but it's taking too long. Ben, I know you are aware of this; it's not too obvious, but I am getting weaker,” you remarked in a bitter tone.

Ben got out of bed as well, sensing that you were becoming anxious. He moved using physical contact as a sign of his support for you, but you withdrew in frustration.

“Ben, you may not take this seriously, but I do.” You said, “I hate to say it, but I'm scared.”

“Of course I’m fucking taking this matter very seriously. I don’t give a fuck about Homelander or anyone else right now,” he said firmly while his fingers lingered on your chin. “You’re the only one I care about.”

You just gave him a bitter look.

He nodded to you and eventually murmured, “Okay.” Given that he was practically between your legs, on your pussy last night, and he was still tasting you in his mouth, it was crazy how hard it was for him to get close to you now. You were making him confused. After what happened last night, it was insane not to melt in each other's arms now. You were distant once more, like if it hadn't happened at all. Ben realized he needed to talk to you about it as soon as possible.

“And?” you asked expectantly.

“We'll find the doctor and have him explain anything written in his files. You're..right. Vought just wouldn't throw away whatever they were doing about us. It will be easier for us to find a solution if we know about the root cause of the problem that you are experiencing. Of course, if there is an issue.”

Seeing that he wouldn't dispute or anything made you sigh with relief.

“All right,” you nodded to him. “I need to take a shower. Then let's speak with the others.” You pushed him a little too quickly and fled into the bathroom as soon as you noticed his serious and intense expression that made your face blush.

Ben murmured, “I could have waited a little longer, you know, if I knew you'd take a shower. It would be wiser to avoid wasting water.”

You said, “Ben!” in a warning tone as images filled your mind about him being with you in the bathroom. “Just get out already.”

Ben felt himself getting hard when he heard you removing your damp underwear and t-shirt inside the restroom and saw you shut the door swiftly. He could only picture how you filled his mouth when you came on his tongue the previous night. If your orgasm took longer than two or three minutes, it would be even better. He had no time to enjoy your taste. He definitely should have taken himself in hand in the morning. Reluctantly, Ben sighed and left the room.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Butcher said as Ben was looking around the table for some weed. “Where is Y/N?”

Annie and Hughie were enjoying a quiet breakfast when they instantly focused on Ben. When he was there, they were being overly cautious.

Ben said, “In the shower,” with a sharp tone. He didn't like how they, especially Butcher, always asked about you first. He didn't like them being too close to you.

Butcher arched an eyebrow, looked at Annie, and then smirked meaningfully at Ben.

“You know, paying the bills is difficult.” Ben was gazing at Butcher with annoyance as he amusingly handed him some weed. “You can just take a shower together to save some water or stay away from each other for at least a day,” Butcher suggested.

At last, Ben smelled some crack on the table, fixed his hair, and sent Butcher a warning glance. “Go fuck your face.”

Ben murmured in a harsh voice, “By the way,” and Butcher closed his mouth to hear what he was going to say. “Do you know who is currently in charge of

‘supe studies’? They must be examining other supes for decades or something. Blondie?” Ben turned to face Annie, glaring at both her and Hughie.

Annie said, “I don't know,” taken aback by the questioning.

“Why the hell you're asking this?” With a dubious tone, Butcher inquired. He was curious about what he was up to and what was going through his mind.

“Don't fucking question,” Ben abruptly interrupted, refusing to share any information on what was going on.

“You asked me to locate Mindstorm, and now you're asking me to find the head of Supe Studies. What the fuck you and Y/N are up to?”

Ben became enraged by Butcher's daring and suspicious demeanor, and he pointed his finger at Butcher's face.

“If you want me to fucking kill Homelander, you'll do what I want.”

“Well, you promised me that you'd murder Homelander, so I helped you find your partner. I believe that was the deal that was made.” Butcher tried to make himself seem less threatening by smiling and saying, “Don't be a bitch about it,” but it was obvious from Ben's expression that he had failed.

Ben stated harshly, “Call it an 'amendment.' I'll fucking murder Homelander and every single person here only to fulfill my promise, or you worthless fuckfaces find whomever I want you to find as quickly as possible. Now, what do you say?”

You quickly went down the stairs and placed the couch next to Ben, calling out to him in a worrying tone, “Ben!”

“You cannot just threaten to make Butcher do anything you decide on.” Annie spoke up to Ben, saying, “You have to stick to your word.” It was obvious that Ben's actions had annoyed her.

Hughie placed his hands on hers in an attempt to calm her down, but she quickly withdrew her hands and stood up, crossing her arms on her chest. “Butcher took a big risk to find Y/N and rescue you from your captivity.”

Annoyed by Annie's remarks, Ben abruptly stood up from the couch and walked up to her. “You'll follow my instructions to the letter.” He said, “All of you,” cutting out any debate. “You have to obey me because none of your asses are powerful enough to bring down Homelander. I'm a fucking romantic, so if I want you to find someone, you better do it or I'll murder you and your lover first. What say you about that?”

Butcher's pulse was racing, which indicated that he was anxious. “Calm down, pal,” he ordered sharply.

Ben snarled at him immediately, frustrated that nothing was going according to his expectations. “Fuck you,” he said.

“Stop that, Ben,” you murmured as you moved to his side to prevent him from becoming further angrier and acting impulsively in response to his abrupt outburst. His body began to heat up, so you forced him to sit by pushing his chest back into the coach. “You can't just threaten them. They...do have a point.”

“Well, I think I can,” he said, observing you caress his arms in an unconscious attempt to soothe him. Ben looked at you attentively. You weren't angry at all since you knew he was just as motivated as you were in finding the doctor and Mindstorm, for which you were somewhat glad.

You shot Annie an apologetic glance, and she responded with a gentle smile that let you feel a little better. Ben was just ready to lose his shit all of a sudden, and it was hard to keep him under control at times like this.

You turned to face Butcher and muttered, “Butcher,” as your hands came to rest on Ben's large arms. “We.. I really need to find whoever is in charge right now.”

Butcher questioned, perplexed, “What does it have to do with you?”

You continued, “Something might be wrong about my... powers or something,” ignoring Ben's sharp stare. “I want to ask him some questions.”

“What do you mean?” Annie approached you and spoke.

Ben just stood up and walked up to the whiskey bottle without saying anything. He was unsure of how long he could conceal your problem from the others. He just didn't want other people to know about your weakness or anything, and neither did you, but their never-ending curiosity was driving him insane already. If he had beaten Butcher to die, he'd feel better.

You inhaled deeply as you saw Ben drink whiskey while wearing a furious look. Although his warning look was directed at you, you wanted to reassure him that everything would be okay. It wasn't as though someone in the room was trying to take advantage of your sensitive condition. You hoped for it at least. Establishing trust with people like this was challenging, but you had to start somewhere.

“They.. might have done something to me when I was asleep, unconscious in the lab.”

“Did they get you pregnant...forcefully or something? You don’t have a supe baby, right?” Your eyes widened as Butcher asked with an awkward expression.

“Fucking watch your mouth,” Ben angrily growled. Putting down his drink on the roof, he sat next to you again.

“No, of course not. It's not something like this, thank goodness,” you replied to Butcher in a harsh tone, ignoring Ben's attempt to soothe you by placing his hands on your back.

You eventually said, “They might have done something..to weaken me,” after taking a long breath.

“What do you mean?” Although Butcher asked with curiosity, you could see he was excited.

You inhaled deeply, made an effort to sound calm, and stated, “I'm not as strong as I was in the past.”

“Fuck me,” Butcher muttered, realizing at last what was going on. “Are you getting weaker or getting weaker?” Excitement was obvious in his question. There must have been something the two of you were hiding from him and he clearly needed some answers.

“What the fuck does it matter?” Ben questioned him with a hint of annoyance. The fact that too much about you was now known to others disturbed him.

“Calm down; I'm just trying to understand her situation and why finding a simple doctor is so important out of the sudden,” Butcher said with a grin.

You just answered, “I don't know,” as you were unwilling to give him any further details. “Butcher, you have to locate him. In order to ensure that the experiments continued after Ben murdered the medical doctor in charge before him, Vought must have provided him with all the information. They just wouldn't discard anything since we are now free. They could be planning something.”

Butcher considered what you said and noticed that you were hesitant to acknowledge that you were not as strong as your previous form. This made him somewhat hopeful that Vought could have discovered a technique to make Supes weaker. Although it was well known that they were working hard to refine future Supes, there was undoubtedly more to this story. Perhaps there is another way to make Homelander weaker.

He concluded that it would even be better than anything if you were growing weaker every day. It might be possible to weaken other members of the Seven and all other supes if there was indeed anything causing you, one of the most powerful Supe women, to manipulate your biology like this.

As Butcher considered what you had said, you cast him an expectant glance. You repeated your question, “Will you please help me to find him?” Ben seemed to be growing heated continuously, but you didn't do much more than glance at him and go close enough to touch him in the hopes of distracting his attention.

Butcher eventually said, “Of course,” and gave you a cunning smirk. “It's better to know what they are up to after all.”

You smiled and nodded gratefully to him as Ben's body temperature began to return to normal, causing you to exhale with relief.

“Annie, can you guess who may be the next doctor?” You gently questioned, “I mean, you were one of the Seven members, right?” in the hopes that she might know anything about what was happening there.

“I'm sorry,” she replied, glancing at you shyly. “I've been away from the Seven for a while, so I wish I knew. In fact, I doubt that any of the other members are aware of the current state of Supe research. Things like these were usually very classified. Nobody was even aware of Soldier Boy's existence.”

“Can the CIA find out who's in charge now?” Ben asked Butcher, his fingers continually resting on your knee, but you didn't push him away, preferring to concentrate on your talk with Butcher.

“In any case, we must give it a go. They must have some knowledge of it.” As he stood up and removed his phone from his jacket, Butcher spoke.

“All right. Thanks, Butcher,” you said, attempting to smile at him.

You said, “By the way,” just before he picked up the phone. “I'd like to go out tonight.”

“I thought you would just sit here on your ass forever,” Ben remarked, grinning slightly. He was relieved that you had at last decided differently. He was really not wanting to go out without you, and the fact that the others weren't leaving you all by yourself with him was infuriating him.

“Yeah, me too,” you honestly said. You were getting frustrated too, spending weeks at home and losing your mind over your weakening body.

“That would be excellent,” Annie said without hesitation. “I think Butcher can find a nice place for us, right?”

“Yeah,” he said while looking at his phone. “Let me make some calls first, and I'll see what I can do for you ladies, alright?”

You and Ben did nothing but watch TV all day long after realizing that Kimiko and Frenchie had already left the home and that Annie was chatting to Hughie.

Finally, at around midnight, Butcher remarked, “Okay, as soon as you get ready, we can leave.”

You exhaled in relief as you muttered, “Finally,” as you massaged your sore eyes from spending hours on your phone playing games and watching TV.

You made haste to the upstairs, and as soon as you began undressing, Ben entered through the open door.

“Why is this fucking door always opened when you're naked?”

You replied, “Damn, Ben,” in a displeased tone as he quickly shut the door. “You are the only person seeing me, and I'm not naked. How many times do I need to say this to you?”

You were looking for something to wear like it was your first time ever going out, and he was examining your underwear without even blinking. Actually, it had been literally decades, and the night that you fought Noir didn't count.

Ben knew you needed to get some fresh air since he could see you were enthusiastic about it already, but he preferred that others go out and you stay with him so you could have your own fun loudly this time. But he couldn't help staring at the tiny lace that was barely concealing your lovely, sweet ass. His cock was felt hard beneath his jeans since it had been so fucking long since he had taken you from behind, and the situation wasn't made any easier by your bouncing tits as you looked for anything to wear quickly.

He arrogantly looked at himself in the mirror and remarked, “Well, my mouth was on your sweet cunt a night ago; I can still taste you, so that makes me different, right?”

“Oh, god,” you sounded embarrassed as you spoke. Of course, he would bring this out eventually. “It wasn't even important, so you see, I don't care if anyone sees me naked or not, Ben. Including you.”

The idea of someone else in the house witnessing you in this state enraged him, so he said, “Fuck that. Of course, it has a meaning. We are not some teenagers.”

Ignoring Ben's abrupt outburst of anger, you said, “Ah, found it,” as you grabbed the two separate clothings from the wardrobe.

You replied, “Of course it didn't mean a single thing,” as you turned your back to Ben and removed your bra in order to put on the gorgeous, shining top that barely covered your tits. “Ben, I've already said clearly from the start. I don't rust you.”

The square was adequate because of your somewhat tight dark-blue top.

He inhaled deeply as he observed you adjusting your tits within your attractive top. Ben wasn't sure if he should confront you, get lost in his own fantasies of putting you in a hundred different positions to fuck you, or make another attempt at seducing you. If he sucked your small pussy again, he was certain you wouldn't turn him down. Still, he clearly craved something more intimate, something special.

You put on the long skirt too, groaned, realizing Ben was silent behind you. They appeared to be a single item now, like a piece of clothing. The stillness in the room grew louder and heavier as you brushed your hair and checked yourself in the mirror.

“You look nice and beautiful,” Ben said as he assisted you in adjusting your skirt where your hands couldn't reach.

You said, “Thanks,” in a quiet voice for both. You had no desire to argue or engage in conversations regarding the past, present, or future. You were too overwhelmed by everything and too worn out by it all. All you had to do was recover and let the past go.

Ben remarked, “I don't want to ruin anything,” as his fingers continued to linger on your back before moving to your neck and gently playing with your hair.

“So why, just for once, aren't you actually listening to me? I'm tired of attempting to explain to you how deeply you have wounded me and why I will never be able to trust you. Whether or not you fucked Countess is unimportant.” You stared at Ben in the mirror as he rested his head on yours, and you matched his gaze. “What you have done was cheating anyway,” you replied. You did not move as his hands remained on your stomach and his entire chest touched your back.

“I know exactly what I did to you, and I do listen to you, but I just need you to see how much I care about you. I promise never to repeat the same mistake.” He replied, putting his arms around your body as if you would push him away, “I'll make you trust me, you'll see.”

“Ben, we broke up. It's been fucking decades. Actually, you were the one who abonded me in the first place, not me. Do you remember how many times I made an effort to reach you out, ignoring my pride and honor while doing it? I told you never to say those three words to you again. I meant it back then. I can't love you anymore. You're just being selfish.”

“That's not true,” Ben confidently and swiftly said. “You care about me as much as I care about you, even if you don't want to.”

“We're done. All I want is that you give up playing with me. Ben, I'm over everything. You're really wearing me out. We'll part our ways after you kill Homelander and I get my freedom. I don't know; I'll see someone else, and you'll do the same. We're getting older anyways. Make a family...of your own just like you wanted.”

“We're not fucking finished or something, and there's no fucking way you'll see someone else,” he said harshly and turned you to face him as you sighed and felt his chest growing warmer on your back. “For fucks sake, are you out of your mind?”

Ben remarked arrogantly, “You'd never let anyone touch you,” but it was obvious he didn't even want to think of you dating someone else. “Except me.”

“What makes you think that?”

With his rough hands stroking your cheeks, he sent you a glare and said, “Remember, I'm the man who took your virginity. It means something.”

Your cheeks burned from the memories of your first time with him on the couch, and you mumbled, “Oh, god. It meant nothing to me. You have an old-fashioned mindset.”

Ben said in a harsh voice, “Fuck, yes, I am,” instantly. “And keep in mind that you said how important it was to you. You know, even though I've been throbbing uncontrollably for days, I've been kind of fasting since I made you come and never beat my cock. It means everything.”

You patiently exhaled, realizing there was no need to continue to argue with him. You could see that he felt somewhat guilty when he realized how much he had broken your heart by being harsh with you and leaving you only because Vought wanted him to, and that you had been tortured and suffering because you had attempted to save him in spite of what he had done to you.

You were aware that he didn't love you; rather, he felt bound to you because of your loyalty and devotion to him. You desired for his emotions to be genuine, closer, and more meaningful. After that, everything would be different. But repeatedly establishing trust was pretty hard. You had lost count of how many times he hurt you. He had broken your heart so hard that it had made you lose your senses so much that you hadn't even thought twice about saving him that day.

That was not how you wanted to feel anymore. It was absolutely agonizing to love Ben.

You place your hands on his soft chest, hoping to cherish the moment as you gaze into his green eyes, seeking for something you've always craved.

You pushed him to the bed and stated, “So, it seems I owe you,” which caused him to narrow his eyes in an attempt to comprehend what you were saying.

He opened his mouth to say something, then looked at you in confusion. His jaw tightened with anticipation as you forced him to sit on the bed and straddled him. He instantly slipped his rough hands to both sides of your hips. You could feel him hardening beneath you as soon as you made a rapid attempt to press yourself against him.

This time, you gave him an understanding glance and allowed his passionate stare to melt your heart. You couldn't continue to bear anguish and suffering, but you wouldn't lie to yourself and say you didn't miss being with him.

Ben refrained from speaking this time and immediately stopped disagreeing with you as your hands gained the confidence to touch his hair and then glided down the back of his thick neck. As you positioned yourself so that you could feel him fully, you sensed his powerful hands becoming firmer on your body, as if you could choose to change your mind at any moment.

You muttered, “Consider this as a..payback,” and then you pushed your lips to his warmer ones before he could say anything more.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Hello again! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going.

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeeeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner @purplerosequartz @simpin4pixels @deebris @spideybv28 @mystic-mara @tranquilty @winchesterwild78 @jennifer0305 @ultraviolencexs @thecutestaaakawaii @justtnat @babythe67chevy @ashy-kit @ninii-winchester @anna6305 @startingstar

@darkqueen1995 @multifandomdiva @certifiedhaters @shadowghoul2525 @jenn-777q @hey-there0-0

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morningsharksworld · 1 month ago

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Baby, I'm Yours

A/N: Ive been listening to this song for a while due to a hazard edit that I found on tik tok and it just has been eating at my brain. AND I also wanted to test out on writing out his accent just for one fic though.

Summary: Hazard has something on his mind that he wants to talk to you about

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The sky was a bruised shade of purple, the last remnants of twilight fading into night as you and Hazard strolled along the quiet path. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and damp earth, but the warmth of his presence beside you made the chill feel distant. It had been his idea to escape the bustle of the world for a while, though he’d been unusually shy about suggesting it.

“It’s nice out here” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. Your eyes drifted to the horizon, where stars began to prick through the deepening dark. “I’m glad you dragged me away tonight.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and slightly nervous. “Didn’t take much draggin’. Yer always up for a bit of peace and quiet—not that I blame ye.”

You glanced at him, catching the faint blush dusting his cheeks. It was rare to see Hazard flustered, the man who seemed to thrive on chaos and sharp wit suddenly subdued.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked gently, stopping to face him. The moonlight caught the edges of his features, softening the usually sharp lines of his expression. His gaze flickered away, then back to yours, as if he were steeling himself for something.

“It’s... well, it’s nothin’, really” he started, but the quirk of your eyebrow stopped him in his tracks. “Alright, alright. It’s somethin.”

You waited patiently, your silence urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about how to say this” he began, his brogue thickening slightly with his nerves. “But words... they’re not exactly my strong suit.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Figured if I didn’t say somethin’ tonight, I’d never work up the courage.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the earnestness in his tone. “Hazard” you said softly, stepping closer. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Aye, I know. And that’s part of the problem. Ye make it too easy, bein’ yourself. Yer kind, patient, funny... and ye’ve got this way of makin’ me feel like I’m somethin’ more than just... me.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, your chest tightening at his words. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jacket as if it could distract him from the vulnerability of the moment.

“The truth is” he continued, his voice quieter now, “I’ve fallen for ye. Harder than I thought possible. And I’ve tried to keep it to myself because I didn’t want to muck up what we’ve got. But every time I see ye, every time ye smile, it’s like...” He paused, his voice catching slightly. “It’s like I’m yours already, whether ye want me or no.”

You blinked, his confession settling over you like a wave. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Then, without thinking, you reached out and took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Hazard…” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Ye’re... yer no’ just sayin’ that, are ye?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not even a little. I’ve felt the same way for so long, but I didn’t want to push you or risk scaring you off. You’re ... you’re important to me, Hazard. More than I can put into words.”

A grin spread across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He squeezed your hand, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you. “Well, I’ll be…” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. “Guess I’ve got to thank the stars for ye tonight.” You smiled, your free hand brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Then, with a tenderness that belied his usual bravado, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say, of every moment he’d spent wishing for this one.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m yours” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Now and always.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of relief, of finally finding something you hadn’t even realized you’d been searching for.

“Baby, I’m yours” you whispered back, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

The two of you stayed there under the starlit sky, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the night seemed to stretch on forever. And for the first time, the world felt right—not because it was perfect, but because you were together.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch imagens #hazard overwatch #hazard x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #get this character away from me #fluff

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thebigbadbatswife · 8 months ago

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He Let Me Steal You Like A Thief In The Night

Pairing(s) - (Starts with) Bruce Wayne x F!Reader, (Ends with) Selina Kyle x F!Reader

Summary - After Bruce Wayne continues to not treat you the way that you deserve, Selina Kyle decides to steal you away from him.

Warnings - Inspired by the song Diamond Girl by Set It Off. Bruce is a dick, Angst, References to cheating, Implied sexual content, Fluff and a happy ending, Bisexual!Reader. (If I missed anything, lmk!)

A/N - So, several months after saying I was working on this fic it's finally finished! It's also now my longest one shot to date which is cool! Anyway I hope the wait was worth it and that you all enjoy 💜

Word Count - 10k

As you finish putting your earrings in, you pause and look at yourself in the mirror. You look good tonight, you think. Your dress hugs your figure and accentuates your breasts and ass, but in a classy way that’s fitting for the charity fundraiser that the two of you are going to tonight. Your jewellery and makeup is much the same. Classy. Nothing too flashy. You wonder if Bruce will even notice the effort you have put in to make yourself look nice. He hasn’t the last few time. Hell, the last time he took you out to an event like this, he not only barely payed any attention to you, but he completely vanished from the venue. Leaving you alone and having to call Alfred to pick you up and take you back to your apartment.

Though Alfred had done a good job that night to try and hide it, you had still been able to tell he was absolutely fuming at Bruce. As are you each time that you think about it. Though you do have to keep in mind that he has been very stressed recently in regards to his company. While he hasn’t told you exactly what’s going on, you know it’s left him with a lot on his mind, a mountain of paperwork and has led to him being forgetful. You’re positive that it will all pass once he’s figured things out and then everything between you and him will go right back to the way that they were before.

Back when he would text you while in the middle of a meeting because he was thinking about and missing you. Or when he would call you, usually in the middle of the night, because he was miles away in another country and desperately wanted to hear the sound of your voice. And there were the times when you and him would curl up on a couch and watch a movie for date night instead of going out to some restaurant, away from the constant flashing of cameras that often left you becoming overwhelmed very quickly. Or there was that time…

Your train of thought is broken by a knock against the door of the en-suite. It’s probably Bruce wondering what’s taking you so long to get ready.

“Yes?” you call out.

“Master Bruce was wondering when you would be down.” It’s Alfred… Wait… Alfred? Bruce couldn’t even be bothered to come up and check on you himself? You push the thought away.

“I’ll just be a couple of minutes!” you call back.

“Of course, dear. I’ll let him know.”

With Alfred now gone, you turn you attention to the two bottles of perfume on the counter. One of the bottles is an expensive perfume that Bruce bought you for your birthday. It’s not your favourite scent in the world, but it was a gift from him and you have yet to wear it. The other is the perfume that you wore on the night that you and him finally went all of the way. Maybe if you wear that one he might actually pay you attention. The scent of it making him remember that night hopefully. After a moment of debating you decide to go for the latter. Tonight you wish to stay hopeful.

Once you have spritzed the perfume onto your pulse points, you grab your clutch and make your way out of the en-suite and bedroom and to where Bruce is waiting for you in the foyer. As you make your way down the stairs you expect him to look up at the sound of your heels clicking on the wood. Instead his eyes remain glued to his phone screen like a teenager; his fingers typing out a message just as fast as well.

You do your best to hide your disappoint, keeping your face blank, but it must have shown briefly because, as you reach the bottom of the stairs, Alfred suddenly clears his throat. The sound catches Bruce’s attention and he finally looks up from his phone. Before he’s allowed to say a word though, Alfred is speaking.

“You look lovely, dear,” he tells you. His compliment has you smiling. At least someone noticed.

By now, Bruce’s phone is back in his pocket and he’s stepping toward you. He checks you out, his eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than is gentlemanly. His smile that genuine one he only ever gives you.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he says, his hand coming to rest beneath your chin and tilting your head up a little. “Aren’t I the luckiest man in the world?” You can feel your cheeks heating up at his words and the way he’s looking at you, as he breathes in your perfume. He presses a kiss to your lips. It’s a light one so that he doesn’t end up ruining your lipstick. “Come on. We’re going to be late.” He pulls away and takes your hand in his.

You and Bruce grab your coats and say goodnight to Alfred, who wishes you both a pleasant night. He leads you down the stairs to the car already parked out front.

The drive is a silent one. Neither of you saying a word nor him even bothering to put some music on. It has you yearning for the days when you both couldn’t stop talking, discovering all of these new things about each other or even discussing how you’re going to sneak away from the event at some point. Usually so that you could do other things together. And then there were the times where the speakers of whatever car you were in at the time would be blasting music as you and him sing along loudly to whatever song was playing.

Not being able to listen to the silence any longer, you decide to break it yourself.

“What’s the charity that’s being supported tonight?” you ask him. You don’t remember him ever mentioning a name, just that there was a fundraiser.

“Uh, it’s something to do with endangered animals,” he replies.

“What sort of animals?” There’s so many of them this day and age that are in trouble and you doubt that tonight is going to cover every last species.

“I believe it’s for big cats, but I honestly can’t remember. We’ll find out for sure once we get there.”

“Right. Of course.”

The car once again falls into silence as you struggle to think of what else to talk about. What even is there for you to say? How that was the longest you have spoken to him without his phone ringing and him walking away to answer it? And it’s not like Bruce is trying to fill the silence either. Is it just as awkward for him? Or does he simply not care?

You turn your attention to your window, watching as the city passes by as he drives. Silently, you continue to hope that things will get better once you arrive and he is no longer focused on getting to the venue.

Upon arriving, Bruce does help you out of the car and keeps you shielded from the vultures who are sat outside of the venue, waiting. The bright flashes from their cameras is blinding as they do their best to surround both of you, making large dots dance in front of your eyes. You’re sure that you would be stumbling blind if it wasn’t for him keeping you close and guiding you toward the entrance. Even after you both are inside the building and the doors are closed behind with security making sure that the paparazzi cannot follow, he keeps his arm linked with yours. Despite the harrowing experience with the paps that has left your heart hammering against your ribcage, not once does Bruce ask if you are okay. Perhaps he assumes that since you have been with him for the past year and a half that it no longer fazes you? You honestly can’t imagine it ever not fazing you, how invasive those people can be.

You are about to say something to him, ask him why he cares enough to try and shield you, but not enough to actually check on you, yet you’re not given a chance to as you’re already stepping into the main hall. All eyes are on you both. Bruce is already smiling that dazzling billionaire smile of his and you quickly follow suit, shoving your irritation away. The last thing you need is headlines about how pissy you look.

Your arms stay linked together for the majority of the night. Though they might as well not have been considering he spends the night basically ignoring you. You sip on champagne while Bruce talks to men who have no interest in the good cause that they are all suppose there for and would rather try and get him to invest in their company.

It’s not like you expect him to have his tongue down your throat (though that did happen a few times very early on in your relationship). And it’s not like you’re just standing around expecting him to pick up that something is wrong simply by your mood. You’ve tried talking to him, but each time he dismisses you. You’re honestly starting to feel like the only reason he brought you is for you to be his arm candy. The thought has you wanting to be anywhere, but here with him. And you would call Alfred and leave if you thought that you wouldn’t end up on the front page news thanks to the cockroaches sitting in wait outside.

Even with that said, you still don’t want to be around him right now and this is a big hotel. There’s got to be somewhere for you to retreat to for a little while. Some sort of garden or courtyard perhaps? You’ll find out once you slip out of the ballroom.

You pull away from him, unhooking your arm from his, as you tell him that you need to get some air. He doesn’t look you, not even a glance, as he replies with an “okay” and continues talking to the three men in front of him. As you make your way through the ballroom, you place your half finished glass of champagne onto the the tray of a passing waiter and leave the room through the nearest exit.

You wander the halls of the hotel for a little while, following the various gold plated signs that eventually lead you outside to the flower garden. A majority of the flowers are in bloom, leaving a very floral and sweet scent in the air and there are lamps in the ground between the flowerbeds, lighting up the pathway for you. You follow it until you reach a bench, where you decide to stop and take a seat.

It’s nice and quiet out here. The perfect place for you to be left alone with your thoughts. All of them about Bruce. You honestly do not even know when things started to actually change. It’s like one morning you woke up and he went from being totally and completely head over heels for you to not giving a damn about you. It leaves you wondering if the girls, who had approached you shortly after your relationship became public knowledge, were right. Has he grown bored of you? Is he really only keeping you around while he looks for someone new?

What if he’s already found that someone new and is with them on the nights that he doesn’t come back to the manor?

Almost as soon as the thought has entered your mind, you’re shoving it away again. No. No! You know Bruce. You’ve seen the way that he looks in disgust at the people in these rich people circles who are cheating on their spouses. You’ve listened to how he talks about them, a sharp edge to his voice. He hates cheaters so why would he turn around and do that to you? No. Absolutely not. He would never. Maybe… maybe this is just the end of what they call the “honeymoon phase”? At least, that’s got to be part of it. And you cannot forget how busy he is. But the more that you think about it, the more you think about these last few months, the more the doubt starts to trickle in. What if you’re wrong? What if you don’t know him like you think you do?

The more that you think about it, the more upset you become. So much so that you can feel tears threatening to spill, but as much as you want them to fall, you can’t. You’ll ruin your makeup if you do and as upset as you are, you don’t want that. It took forever and you do look really good tonight. Not that the man you got all dressed up for even cares about the effort that you put into your look tonight. Other than back at the manor, he has barely even looked at you.

And that thought alone is enough to finally get the tears rolling. After all what the hell does it even matter if he doesn’t care?

As you cry, you don’t even hear her. You don’t hear her heels against the stone pathway that leads to the bench you’re sitting on. You don’t even feel her as she sits down next to you. You only become aware of her when her hand comes in contact with your back and she rubs your back. You don’t jump at the sudden contact, you’re just confused as you look up at her, brow furrowed.

You go to speak. You’re not sure what, maybe to apologise for the state you’re in? You honestly don’t know, but it doesn’t actually matter as she doesn’t let you say anything, shushing you softly. The woman pulls a handkerchief from her purse and uses it to dab away your mascara filled tears. As she does that, through your tear blurred vision, you do your best to make out her appearance. Perhaps you know her?

She has striking green eyes, almost like a cat’s, and long, curly black hair. She’s gorgeous. That much is clear to you, even in your heartbroken state. And you’re certain that you do not know her. You would remember if you did.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You shake your head, not trusting that the second you try to speak that you won’t turn into a babbling mess as your tears start to fall again. And it’s not really fair to burden a stranger with all of the reasons why you think that the man you’re in love with likely doesn’t love you. The look she gives you is one full of sympathy, which only makes you feel worse.

“A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t be crying over a man like him,” she tells you.

“But things were so good in the beginning,” you say. All reservations that you had a moment ago about not burdening a stranger with your problems are suddenly out of the window. As you talk you half expect her to come up with an excuse to leave, most people would, but she doesn’t. Instead she stays and listens. The more you tell her the more annoyed she seems to get, but it doesn’t feel like it is directed at you. More likely she is getting annoyed at your boyfriend. Hell, now that you’re talking about it, and therefore thinking about it more, you are starting to get annoyed at him yourself as well.

“I’m sorry. That’s a whole load of information that you really did not need. I haven’t asked you your name.” And now you’re completely embarrassed. So caught up into your own shit that you completely forgot about basic manners. She doesn’t seem to have minded though. She smiles softly.

“Selina Kyle,” she introduces herself. “And you are?”

You introduce yourself. For some reason her name strikes a cord of familiarity with you. It takes you a second for you to know where. Tonight’s fundraiser, of course! She’s the one who organised tonight; you remember seeing her name on the notice board just outside of the ballroom. She must be so busy tonight yet she’s still taken time to make sure you are okay and she doesn’t even know you? It has you feeling rather touched.

“We should probably be making our way back,” she begins, “but first let me help fix your makeup,” she offers as she reaches into her purse.

After she helps you fix up your makeup, making it look you had never cried to begin with, you and Selina make your ways back to the hotel’s ballroom. Not long after you have reentered the room you lose sight of her. Not that you expect her to spend the rest of the night with you. You are strangers, after all, and she is busy. Instead you set yourself your own mission; finding the bar. You don’t care to look for Bruce. He didn’t bother coming to look for you despite how long you were gone for, so why should you look for him?

It doesn’t take you long to find the bar. You order your drink of choice and take a seat. Now that you’re here, your only interest is drinking as much as the bartender will allow.

As soon as the two of you re-enter the ballroom, Selina leaves your side and quickly, but gracefully moves through the room. Her eyes scan the area as she moves, looking for someone in particular.

Honestly she can’t believe him. Actually, maybe she can. This is Bruce after all. It still infuriates her. How is it that he has a beautiful woman like you in his life, who very clearly loves him, and yet he treats you like you are just another one of those models he used to “date”? And, from what you have told her, things weren’t all this way.

She can easily think of what’s changed. It’s the exact same thing that led to her leaving, several years ago. No matter what. One way or another, Batman will always end up taking priority over everyone else. Clearly, he needs a serious wakeup call.

It doesn’t take her long to spot him. He’s with several other men and honestly looks extremely bored. Yet he would instead give them his time than give it to you. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Typical.

Bruce takes notice of her quickly, doing a double take as his eyes widen for a brief moment. He regains his composure, the shock disappearing as his eyes narrow and his brow furrows, his lips set in a grim thin line. He’s not happy to see her and, quite frankly, she’s not too pleased to see him either. A cat does not easily forget those who have wronged her.

She had been hoping that she would not have to interact him at all tonight. Simply take his money for her charity and then leave this city once more. Maybe forever. But things rarely go to plan in a city like Gotham.

Selina raises an eyebrow at him before gesturing with her head for him to follow her. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t wait for confirmation that he will. She knows he will follow. His curiosity always gets the better of him whenever she’s involved. Almost like it’s a law of life like gravity.

She weaves her way through the crowd once more, leaving the ballroom behind her. She decides to head back toward the hotel’s flower garden. It’s the perfect place to talk away from he nosey busybodies that make up Gotham’s higher society.

“Hello, Bruce,” she says, turning around to face him.

He scoffs. “Really? After all of this time that’s all you’ve got to…” he shakes his head. “I’m already with someone else. I–”

“Oh I know,” she cuts him off. “I’ve already met her. She’s beautiful, it’s just a shame that she’s so sad.”

Bruce frowns, an eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about? She’s fine.”

“She’s not, but you would know that if you were actually paying attention.” Selina steps toward him and leans in close. “Let me put it this way, clean up your act and start paying attention to her or I will.”

It’s toward the end of the night when you finally see Bruce again. You feel all warm from the alcohol running through your veins and each step that you take isn’t very coordinated, especially in these ridiculous heels.

“There you are,” he says as he approaches you. You’re currently using a pillar to steady yourself after almost tripping over your own feet. He looks troubled, but you don’t care enough to ask him what’s wrong. As of right now you really don’t see why you should. “Come on.” He links his arm with yours again, bringing you close to him to support you. “Let’s get back to the manor.”

You follow him back to the car. You’re so in your own head, focused on how good the drinks have made you feel, that you don’t even notice that there are barely any paparazzi around now, as he helps you into the car.

Much like the drive to the hotel, the drive back is silent. Of course you really don’t think you can hold a conversation properly any how. You’re sure to slur your words and, damn, your eyelids feel so heavy right now. It wouldn’t hurt to close them for a few minutes. Your last thought is how you’re going to have a killer headache in the morning.

The cafe had been busy when you had first entered, but the more that time passes and the lunch rush ends, the emptier the place becomes. You were suppose to meet Bruce for lunch, but while you showed up, he hasn’t. He hasn’t even bothered to reply to any of the texts you have sent him either. Instead they have all been left on read. You put his contact on mute. If he can’t be bothered to even reply to you then you can’t be bothered to talk to him full stop.

What makes it all worse is that, the day after the fundraiser, when you were somewhat recovered from your hangover, he had promised. He had promised that things would change and that you were important to him. And things had changed… For about a week. Once again you are left wondering whether or not the man that you love even loves you anymore.

The looks of pity and sympathy the other customers keep sending your way have you wanting to disappear forever. It’s humiliating. You decide that, as soon as you are done with your hot drink and food, you’re going straight back to your apartment and never leaving it again. You do your best to finish your drink and food as quickly as possible while also trying to not draw anymore attention to yourself.

As you are finishing up your drink, the chair across from you is suddenly pulled out and a woman sits down. Despite getting drunk, you recognise her instantly. Selina Kyle, from the fundraiser. Even now you still feel embarrassed about that night, crying and venting to a complete stranger about your relationship issues.

“Sorry I took so long, traffic was a nightmare!” She says it so casually, like she is the one who you were meeting today. She gives you a smile and wink. She doesn’t have to do this, hell you don’t even know why she is doing this, but you play along with her anyway.

“It’s fine. You’re here now,” you reply.

You briefly get up from the table to get another drink. After you have sat back down, the two of you beginning to talk. It starts off as basic small talk. The weather, the city’s current state, the money she had raised through the fundraiser and the good it was going to do for the big cats. She even leans across the table to show you pictures of her many, many cats. All of whom are, of course, utterly adorable.

As you take a sip of your drink, she asks you the question that you have been waiting for from the moment that she sat down at your table.

“That boyfriend of yours was supposed to meet you, wasn’t he?” she asks you. Though, you suspect, that she already knows before you answer her.

“Is it that obvious?”

She nods and, immediately, you want to disappear completely once more. She regards you for a moment, before speaking once again.

“Forget about him,” she tells you. “At least for tonight.”

“If I’m forgetting about him for tonight, what will I be doing instead?”

“You’ll be coming out with me to have some fun.”

The way that she says it. Like they are plans that have already been made and you are not allowed to back out. You don’t want to anyway. It sounds like fun, a night out with Selina, leaving Bruce alone and wondering where you are for once. It’s the least of what he deserves. Maybe it will be the wake up call he needs. And if not… You don’t want to think about that right now. He’s pissed you off, but he is still the man you love and, even with the way he has been treating you recently, you still cannot imagine a life where he isn’t in it.

So, you agree to going out with her and you exchange phone numbers. For the first time in a while you were actually looking forward to something.

The nightclub is loud, the base thrumming through you and you cannot hear yourself think. The place is packed and so many bodies close together has you feeling hot, and you haven’t even done any dancing yet!

These types of places are not usually your scene. You find them far too loud and there are far too many people around, but it’s hard to focus on all that with the woman in front of you. Selina’s outfit and makeup is casual, a strapless black top, jeans, a simple cat eye and red lipstick, yet she is easily the hottest person in the room. Sure, you’re in a committed relationship with Bruce, but you’re not blind and you can appreciate still. You are sure that he does.

She grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd and toward the bar. Much like the rest of the club, there is quite a few people around the bar. Definitely not enough room for the both of you to approach, so you tell her your preferred drink to order and she disappears amongst the crowd to get it.

You’re not entirely sure what to do with yourself, while you wait for her. Which has you feeling rather awkward. It doesn’t really help that people keep looking over at you. They’re likely just checking you out, but, standing here by yourself in your own head, you start wondering whether or not they are just judging you and the outfit that you have picked out for tonight. You aren’t left to fall down that rabbit hole for long though as Selina repappears, drinks in hand.

You do your best to shout over the music to thank her, but after the third time she finally moves in close to you. So close that her body is now touching yours, which leaves your heart thumping hard against your ribcage. Now that you have been able to thank her, she somehow moves closer, bringing her lips up to your ear. You can feel her breath fanning across you skin, making goosebumps raise across your skin, despite the heat of the nightclub.

“If you want to thank me, relax and have some fun.”

You almost laugh at her words. Is your nervousness that obvious? You had been hoping that you would be able to hide it more from her, but it seems she doesn’t miss a thing. Your nervousness doesn’t last. With the alcohol of a couple more drinks flowing through you, any doubts or anxiety you had before are quickly forgotten about. As are any thoughts of Bruce.

Hours fly by without you noticing as you dance and drink with Selina. Your laughter is loud, though still drowned out by the base, but she hears it easily enough. The green of her eyes seems to almost sparkle each time the neon lights hit them. The same way that you remember /his/ eyes lighting up when he first met you. Though you’re sure that it’s just the alcohol making you see things. She knows that you have a boyfriend and there’s not possible way she could be interested in you like that. (Though there had been a time you had thought the exact same when it had come to Bruce).

As the night draws on and the club starts to empty once curfew has hit, instead of finding your way back to your apartment, you and Selina find your way in a diner. With how late it is, the diner is mostly empty. The only other two customers there being a couple of cops taking a short break on their night shift. She leads you to the booth furthest from the cops, side eyeing them like she expects them to do something.

The waitress brings over a couple of menus. You thank her and take one of the menus while Selina declines, ordering only a coffee. After looking over the menu, along with your own coffee, you also order a burger and fries. While you did eat before coming out tonight, all of the dancing has left you absolutely starving.

While you wait, you decide to have a quick look at your phone. You quickly wish that you hadn’t. There’s dozens of messages, voice mails and missed calls from Bruce. He is very obviously worried and it has you feeling guilty. Maybe you should give him a call and let him know that you are okay?

“Your boyfriend?” Selina asks, breaking the silence that had fallen.

You nod. “Yeah. Maybe I should give him a call,” you say. “He seems really worried.”

“Does he call you when you send texts worried about him?”

You stop to think for a moment. “No,” you finally reply. “He usually only sends a short text.” Almost immediately, you understand what she is getting at. He doesn’t call you, only texts. So that’s what you do. A short text that reads “I’m fine. Still out with a friend.” Then you turn off your phone’s screen and return your attention to Selina.

Within that time, the waitress returns with yours and Selina’s coffees and your burger and fries. You both thank the waitress before returning to your conversation. You talk quietly, mostly about tonight. Despite your originally anxiety about tonight, you did end up having a lot of fun that you otherwise wouldn’t of had, had she not met you in that coffee shop and suggested it. As you talk, between taking bites of your burger, she steals a few of your fries, causing you to smile and shake your head.

“If you’re hungry, why didn’t you order your own fries?”

She shrugs. “They taste better when they’re not actually yours.”

Her reply makes you laugh and nod in agreement. After all, you are guilty of having done the same thing a few times, in the past.

The food and coffee does a good job at sobering you up. Not that you had been super drunk. Certainly not nearly as much as you had been after that fundraiser. Once you’re both finished, you reach for your bag to pay, but Selina beats you to it.

“You can pay next time,” she tells you.

You raise your eyebrow at her. “There’s going to be a next time, is there?”

“Of course there is.” She says it so matter of factly, like it’s already a done deal despite there not even being a discussion. Not that you mind. You would be more than happy to come out with her again.

With the food and drinks paid for, you and Selina leave the diner. Her driver is already waiting out front for both of you, ready to drive and drop you off at your apartment. You thank her again for suggesting that you go out with her tonight and that you definitely wouldn’t mind if there was a “next time”. You both say goodnight to each other and you make your out of the car and into the building.

Your apartment is pitch black and you fumble in the dark for a few seconds before your fingers finally find the switch. Despite the fact that you were expecting it, you still wince as the sudden brightness of the lights blinds you for a moment. You’re actually surprised to find your apartment so empty, you would have thought that Bruce would drop by unannounced, he has a key and you remember the endless messages and voicemails left by him, that you saw just a couple of hours ago. You haven’t checked them since then. Maybe you should do so now, but first your feet are killing you and you desperately need to get your shoes off.

With your shoes finally off, you collapse onto the couch. You pull your phone out of your bag and have a look at your messages. Since the one text you sent while at the diner, he’s only sent you one other text.

”Why didn’t you let me know? I had something planned tonight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to make it to lunch?”

As soon as you hit send, you decide to put your phone on do not disturb mode. You will deal with Bruce in the morning. Now that you are home, the high of the night is starting to wear off and you are starting to feel really tired. All you want to do is get your makeup off, get into your pyjamas, curl up and go to sleep. So that’s exactly what you do.

In the weeks that follow, you end up spending a lot of time with Selina. She takes you to the other nightclubs that are dotted around the city and you often meet up for lunch. You learn a lot about each other during these lunches. Like how she came to have so many cats and the passion she has in the various causes that she supports. In turn you tell her about your own work. As you talk you honestly expect her to lose interest and not pay any attention. You expect various hmms and huhs and to see her looking either at her phone or at something else in the room instead of you, but it doesn’t happen. The entire time her attention is always focused on you and she actually asks you questions. You have got so used to being ignored that you had forgotten what it was like to actually be listened it.

It’s not like Bruce didn’t ever not listen to you though. He did, in the beginning at least. But like everything else, with the honeymoon period being over, he just doesn’t do it anymore. All of it leaves you to continue to wonder whether or not he does actually love you or if you were just another “conquest” in a long line of them. But it’s not like you can even ask him. Right now Bruce is half a world away from you, thinking that sending endless gifts, flowers and chocolates is a good way to apologise. Which is not the effect you had hoped ignoring him that first night out would have. And even if he wasn’t half a world away from you, getting him to stay and talk to him is nearly impossible since you can never seem to hold his attention for more than a few seconds.

It’s late at night and you’re laying wide awake in bed. You can’t stop thinking about Bruce and not in the way that you used to. More like you have no idea how you even feel about him anymore. Do you love him? Before you had an immediate answer. “Yes, of course I do.”. Now though? You can’t answer it anymore because you don’t know what the answer is.

And then there’s Selina. The way that she looks at you from over the table during lunch or the way that she touches you when the two of you are dancing together. It makes it feel like there are butterflies fluttering around your stomach and your heart pounding hard against your ribcage. More often than not you have found yourself looking at or dreaming about her lips, wondering how it would feel for her to kiss you…

Almost as soon as the thoughts come to you, you shove them away. They really aren’t helpful to your current dilemma when it comes to you trying to figure out how you feel about Bruce.

You groan and bury your head in your pillow. When did things in your life become so complicated?

“You seem distracted,” Selina says. You look up from the plate where you have just been pushing the food around, like a child.

“Sorry,” you reply. She invited you out to dinner a few weeks ago, at one of the fanciest restaurants in Gotham and you’ve spent the entire time distracted because you can’t stop thinking about Bruce and how you feel about him. It’s been plaguing your mind for a few weeks.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I…” While you have thought the words a couple of times now, you don’t think you are ready to say them out loud. Especially in public with so many eavesdroppers. You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Selina frowns, clearly not believing you, but she doesn’t push it. Which you are thankful for. Saying those words out loud will make them really real and you don’t know if you are ready for that. How did the relationship you had once been sure would last forever end up turning into this?

For the rest of dinner, you do your best to push away any and all thoughts about Bruce and your relationship with him. He will be back from his business trip by the end of the week and you can deal with your feelings then. Though, as you eat and talk with Selina, it briefly occurs to you that he had once promised to take you, but never did. It leaves a somewhat bitter taste within your mouth.

You pull your coat close to your body as you and Selina leave behind the warmth of the restaurant and step out into the cold Gotham night. She links her arm with yours and pulls you close as you start walking down the street, back toward your apartment. It’s not a long walk, only a couple of blocks.

Selina knows why you have been distracted, not only tonight, but for the past couple of weeks. She’s felt the way you have responded to her touches and she’s seen the way that you have been looking at her. She has also seen how you are around Bruce now, during various events he’s taken you to. You are no longer looking at him, waiting for him to pay attention to you, instead you are looking around for her.

She hasn’t missed the way you react to her when she touches you, while you are dancing with her. And she certainly hasn’t missed the way that you look at her. Especially her lips.

She hasn’t made a move to kiss you yet though. While you’re drifting away from him, you haven’t actually broken up with Bruce yet. And you have so much inner turmoil right now she doesn’t think it’s fair to add on to it. But if you were to suddenly decide to kiss her, well, she certainly wouldn’t stop you. In fact, she would like it a lot.

Does Bruce even know? She wonders. He prides himself in being the world’s greatest detective yet, as far as she can see, he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re drifting away from him. Or that she is the cause.

At least he hasn’t caught on to it until tonight.

Out of the corner of her eye, high above on a rooftop on the opposite side of the street, she catches the sight of a large black mass billowing out into the wind. He lied to you. You have told her that he said he would be back at the end of the week, yet here he is. Using his mask to spy on you instead of the usual crimefighting he’s so passionate about.

Knowing that he’s watching, she pulls you closer to her.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be tonight and you’re nice and warm.”

She knows that Bruce can hear the two of you speaking and she knows that it must be driving him crazy that he can’t just swoop down and interrupt. There’s people everywhere and, from what she can tell, you have no idea what he does when the sun sets. Things probably wouldn’t be as bad between you and him if you did know about his nightly activities. Or, maybe, if you did know, you would have already left him.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask her, once you and her have reached your apartment and you’re opening the door.

“Normally I’d love to, but something has come up with the land I was hoping to turn into a cat sanctuary,” she explains. Selina has her phone out, open on the email she received at the start of the week. It’s not a complete lie. She has hit issues involving that land, but she’s not dealing with it tonight.

Your face drops for a second before it’s quickly gone and replaced by a well practised understanding smile. Even the words you say “Of course, I understand,” sound rehearsed. He has done a number on you and it has her feeling a little guilty. How many times has he pulled this move on you? And now she’s doing the same thing. She steps forward and takes ahold of your hands.

“Are you free tomorrow?” she asks, “We could have lunch, maybe even check out that new jewel collection at the museum? You know, to make up for me having to suddenly leave.”

You look at her for a moment, like you weren’t expecting that. “Oh, I’ll have to check my schedule, but I think I should be able to. I’ll text you?”

“Of course.”

As soon as you are in your apartment and the door is shut, Selina is gone. Back out into the night, into her car and then back out into the night once more; wearing a completely different outfit. It’s not long before she is swinging high above the streets of Gotham, with a certain pointy eared man following after her.

It doesn’t take him long to catch up to her. She feels the change in the air around her as his hand closes around one of her arms and her world spins briefly as he grabs and spins her around, slamming her against a wall.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Selina?” he growls, the white lenses of his cowl narrowed. His act might work on the common criminal, but it has never phased her one bit. Calmly, she removes his hands from her arms and pushes him away.

“I warned you, Bruce,” she says as she steps away from him, putting space between them. “Don’t you remember? I told you what would happen if you didn’t change how you were treating her."

“What? I didn’t think…”

“You never do. If it makes you feel any better she hasn’t kissed me yet. Maybe there’s still a chance for you, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Why?”

“It’s rather simple, you weren’t treating her correctly so I decided that I would.” Her shrug is causal, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which it should be to the person who considers himself a detective. “And maybe it’ll make you think twice before you decide to treat another woman like this.”

She doesn’t wait for him to say anything. She walks to the edge of the roof, not even taking the time to look back like she once did a long time ago, and jumps. He doesn’t follow. Likely too caught up within his own inner turmoil about the revelations of tonight.

If she was anyone else, Selina wouldn’t be able to understand how or why you are still with him. But she does understand the how and why because she was you several years ago. It’s easy to get caught up in a man like Bruce Wayne. With his looks and the way he talks, that silver tongue of his. The way that he makes you feel like the most important person in the world just with one look.

Though, she really does wish that you would break up with him and soon.

This may have started out with her proving to you that you deserve so much better than putting up with the way that he treats you, but she has grown to like you. A lot. And she would rather see you with her than him. Though, she supposes, it’s only a matter of time before that happens. She simply needs to have some patience.

When you wake up it’s to a couple of texts from Bruce. Telling you that he’s coming home early and wants to meet for lunch. You reply telling him you can’t, you already have plans. So he offers dinner at the manor, away from the prying eyes of the public. Just you and him. Normally the premise of having a quiet and private night with him would excite you. Finally having him all too yourself far away from flashing cameras and gossipers. Instead, you don’t feel… anything. There’s no more looking forward to seeing him. No quicken of your heartbeat against your ribcage, or between your thighs, as you think of him. No wanting to blow off any other plans so that you can see him sooner. Hell, you don’t even want to see him. Not really.

As you sit there in bed, looking over the text messages again, those words comes back to you. The ones that you have been struggling to admit out loud. Though, with this newest revelation, you know that you need to and sooner rather than later. It’s not fair on either of you if you don’t.

Lunchtime feels like it takes forever to arrive as you do some chores around your apartment. You only just saw her last night, like every time, you can’t wait to see her again. And that excitement has the hours ticking by so slowly. There is a part of you that does have you pausing for a moment, wondering if this new feeling of excitement will end up the same. But you remind yourself she isn’t him.

You meet Selina at the same cafe that you had when she had suggested going out and giving Bruce a taste of his own medicine. You often meet her here. The place essential becoming your “spot”. Like how the park had once been yours and Bruce’s.

She’s already at the table, waiting for you. She has her hair done up in a bun and she’s wearing a red dress. You feel your heart almost skip a beat when you lay eyes on her. There’s already a latte on the table.

“I’m not late, am I?” you ask as you sit down. There had been some traffic on your way, but you had been sure you would still arrive on time.

“You’re on time,” she says before covering her mouth and yawning, “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she explains. “I already ordered you your usual.”

“You’re not going to lose that land are you?”

“With all the work that I did last night, I would say that it’s safe and sound now,” she replies with a smile.

“That’s great news.”

She looks you over for a moment, her smile now gone and replaced by a small frown. “Something’s still bothering you,” she states.

“Bruce texted me this morning, he’s back early and wanted to meet for lunch, but I wasn’t about to cancel plans with you, so we’re having dinner instead tonight…”

“But you don’t want to go.”

“Is it that obvious?” You glance around the cafe, wondering if anyone is listening to your conversation. This city is filled with people who don’t know how to mind their own business. Especially when you are dating the renowned “son of Gotham”.

“I just… I know I have to face him because it’s unfair on both of us to keep this going, but I feel so guilty. He’s got no idea.”

“He would had he been paying attention,” she says. You can’t help, but agree.

Much to your disappointment the lunch goes by relatively quickly and before you know it your back at your apartment, getting ready for your date with Bruce. Just as your finishing up, there’s a knock at your door.

You answer the door to Bruce, who’s holding a bouquet of red roses and that genuine smile that he has only ever given you. You honestly weren’t expecting him to show up. Instead you had been expecting him to send Alfred.

“Hey, baby,” he greets you, using his free hand to pull you close and pressing a light kiss to your lips. Doing his best not to mess up your lipstick. “You look beautiful.”

The way he’s looking at you and kissing you has your heart skipping a beat. For weeks now this is all you have wanted. Your man looking at you like he actually loves you and wants you. All of his focus on you. But a voice in the back of your head reminds you of what he’s been like for weeks now and that he’s only acting like this now so that you don’t leave him. Chances are, as soon as he’s sure you won’t leave, things will go straight back to him ignoring you again until you think of leaving and the cycle will repeat.

You can’t go through that again. You won’t go through that again.

“I need a few more minutes,” you tell him as you let him inside of your apartment.

“Of course. I’ll put these in water for you?”

“You can just leave them on the side if you want. I’ll deal with them later,” you reply.

“It’s no trouble.”

You really wish that he would just leave the damn flowers alone. After tonight you’re only going to end up throwing them out. By the time you’re finished up and leaving the bedroom, he’s put the roses into a vase of water and set it onto your coffee table.

“Ready?”

The more that you look at him, the more you can see the man that you fell in love with to begin with. The way that he looks and talks to you, touching you, making you feel like the only woman in the world. But, once again, you can’t forget the way he’s been. Going from the most attentive boyfriend ever and then completely ignoring you like you aren’t his girlfriend, just another acquaintance he has on his arm and back again. And other than your heart skipping when he kissed you earlier you’re not feeling anything else. Your heart’s not even skipping anymore.

You haven’t eaten a thing all night. You usually love Alfred’s cooking, but tonight you have absolutely no appetite. It makes you feel worse than you already do, even if Bruce has barely touched his own food. You push your plate away from you.

“Sorry, I’m just not hungry,” you say.

“Same here,” he replies, shoving his own plate away. He sighs before taking a sip of his drink.

A long awkward silence falls between the two of you. Just as you start to think about saying something, perhaps the words that you have been too chicken to finally say, he breaks the silence.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Bruce. I just… I don’t love you anymore.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s my fault. Maybe if I had been more attentive or something. I don’t know. Maybe I could have saved this.”

“I still should have said something sooner.”

“Maybe, but at least this way I got to see you one more time.” Bruce gets up from his seat. “I’ll go get the car and I’ll drive you home.”

“I really am sorry,” Bruce says. His hand is cupping your face, thumb softly stroking your cheek. You expect him to kiss you for the last time, but he doesn’t. He pulls away, letting his hand fall away and back to his side. “Maybe we could have made this work if I was a different person leading a different life or maybe we would have ended up here anyway. I don’t know, but don’t blame yourself, okay?”

You nod. “I think I’m going to miss what we could have been,” you reply.

“So will I.” He steps forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Goodbye,” he says your name softly, as if it hurts him to say it. “Good luck with the rest of your life.”

“Goodbye Bruce.”

As soon as he’s gone, and you’re back inside of your apartment, you’re pulling your phone out of your purse and dialling Selina’s number.

“I thought you were supposed to be on a date,” her voice comes over the phone, sending butterflies swirling through your stomach.

“I was. Are you home?” you ask.

“I am. Why?” You picture her smiling, like she already knows why you’re asking.

“I have something to tell you, but honestly, I need to say it in person,” you explain.

“Oh? Well I certainly won’t say no to you coming over. You know my door’s always open to you.”

“Good because I’m on my way over.”

Your heart is hammering against your chest as you stand in front of Selina’s apartment, waiting for her to answer. It feels like forever before the door finally opens, which only makes the butterflies worse. Her hair is flowing over her shoulders and the only thing she’s wearing is a short red silk robe, that’s barely containing her breasts.

“I broke up with him,” you tell her.

“Well it’s about time,” she replies. She pulls you close. Her fingertips on your skin, sending electricity jolting through you. One of her hands remains on your arm while the other comes to cup your jaw. Her green eyes flicker down to your lips before quickly returning to your eyes. Understanding her silent question, you make your move and lean in. Your heart is somehow beating even harder, feeling like it’s trying to burst from your chest while everything else seems to slow down. Seconds feel like they trickle by before her lips finally connect with yours, making everything stop.

Selina kisses you slowly and sweetly. Her lips are even softer than you imagined them being. Kissing her is even better than you imagined. Your hands find her hips and you move forward, stepping more into her space until your bodies are touching. She smiles against your lips and pulls away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she says. Both of her hands are cupping your face now and that look in her eyes has your stomach doing flips.

“And you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that,” you reply. That makes her laugh softly.

“Come inside?” she offers. You agree eagerly and let her pull you inside of her apartment.

The feeling of kisses being pressed to your face slowly bringing you out of your sweat dreams. You grumble as you turn over and try to bury yourself further into the covers. Laughter reaches your ears and has you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. She keeps kissing you. Pressing them to your neck and shoulder blades. You sigh as you finally lift your head and look over your shoulder at Selina.

Playfulness sparkles in her green eyes. Her hair is a mess, but you think she looks as radiant as ever. You sit up and pull her close to kiss her. She kisses you back with fervour and heat rushes through you. Before you know it, she’s straddling you and has you pinned down against the mattress. You whine when she pulls away. You do your best to chase after her lips again, but she holds you down.

“As much as I would love to keep you in bed, we’re only here for a couple more days and we still have a long list of places to check out,” she says. She gets up off of the bed and walks over to the curtains where she pulls them open, letting the daylight into the hotel room and showing the view it has of the Eiffel Tower.

You and Selina had come here to Paris after visiting and exploring London. Shortly after getting together, you and her had decided you both needed a change of scenery, far away from Gotham. Before the two of you had left she had let you know about her secret double life.

She didn’t want there to be secrets. She knew how quickly they could break down a relationship so she told you about Catwoman. Stealing from the rich and how she was the East End’s self appointed protector, keeping the women and children safe from the men that prowled the area.

You didn’t believe her to begin with. That was when she showed you her catsuit and her bullwhip. You couldn’t not believe her after that. While it had come as a shock, it didn’t change how you felt about her. You love her.

“Don’t you mean you have a long list of places to case so you can take from them?”

She turns around to face you, hands on her hips, completely unashamed of her nakedness. Not that you’re complaining as you run your eyes over her body. “They’re not all for me. Picked out a few spots that I know you’re going to love.”

As soon as you have showered and you’re dressed, you and Selina leave the hotel. You let her lead the way, like always. First she takes you to a small cafe for breakfast. The food and drink is good, though your company is certainly better. Once you were both done eating she takes you by the hand and you continue your tour of the city.

She takes you to a couple of different museums, sharing with you her favourite exhibits. And then she’s taking you to almost endless jewellery and clothing stores. Neither of you buy anything from any of the stores you visit, but you know, beyond a doubt, that she is shopping. You don’t know the ins and outs of it, it’s safer that way if the cops come knocking, but in the fifteen minutes you’re in each store, she already knows what she wants and how she’s going to get it without tripping the security systems. And she knows what you want as well, keeping an eye on whatever your eyes linger on for just a moment too long.

As evening time rolls around, you and Selina decide to end your long, yet enjoyable, day at a rooftop restaurant. The Eiffel Tower acting as the backdrop, like you’re in some ridiculous cheesy romance movie.

Though you both arrived back at the hotel to change for dinner, she leaves long before you. You know why, but if anyone was to ever ask you where she is was on any particular night, you already have an answer. “Yeah, she was with me all night.”

Selina doesn’t leave you waiting at the restaurant for long, arriving five minutes after you. She arrives breathless, but looking perfect. Ringlet curls, a smokey cat eye and purple lipstick that matches her dress. Your mouth almost drops open at the sight of her.

“I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?” she asks as she sits down.

“Of course not. You never do,” you reply.

Dinner goes by quickly which isn’t hard with how caught up you and Selina are with each other. The subtle touches sending goosebumps across your skin and how she looks at you. Only this time there’s no guilty when you think about kissing her. And you can kiss her. Nothing and no one in your way to stop you. And you do love kissing her.

“I’ve got you something,” she says. She reaches into gift bag she brought with her and presents you with a blue rectangle box, complete with a green bow. It’s light and doesn’t make much noise when you gently shake it.

You undo the bow and remove the lid. Inside of the box is the diamond bracelet that you had been eyeing up earlier. You smile at the sight. She leans over to help secure it to your wrist.

“You shouldn’t have.”

She shrugs. “It’s not like it cost much,” she laughs.

After dinner, you go for a walk together through a nearby park. You walk hand in hand, talking and laughing quietly. She suddenly stops in her tracks and before you can ask what’s wrong she kisses you. It’s not a peck either. Her full lips move against yours, tongue working your mouth open and stealing away your breath. Not that it’s hard for her to do that.

She rests her forehead and you can’t stop thinking about how happy you are. It’s strange for you to think that there had once been a moment not too long ago when you had thought you knew what happiness was. You had been wrong. Standing here with her, you know what real happiness is supposed to be.

“Let’s sit,” she says. You agree, thankful for the chance to sit, your heels are starting to hurt. She leads you toward a nearby bench where you take a seat.

With that feeling of happiness that’s flowing through you and the realisation you have come to, you decide to take a chance.

“I love you, Selina,” you tell her.

She looks a bit taken back which has you panic. Is it way too soon to say that? It only lasts a moment though as she smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling before she’s leaning back in to kiss you again.

“I love you too,” she replies. Hearing those four words has your heart feeling like it might burst from how happy you are. You can’t hide your huge smile, nor would you want to. She then leans in close and lightly strokes your hair. “How about we go back to our hotel room and, should we make it the bed, we won’t leave it for all of tonight and tomorrow hmm?”

You agree eagerly.

#catwoman x reader #selina kyle x reader #catwoman x fem!reader #selina kyle x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #selina kyle imagines #catwoman imagines #dc x reader #fem!reader #bisexual!reader #my writing

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cherrychilli · 10 months ago

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18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, new relationship, discussions of sexually explicit music.

A/N: this is my THIS. IS. MUSIC!!! moment. CupcakKe is my girl and if you can't appreciate a good hoe anthem then we can't be friends. Anyway, writing's been super tough lately and it feels like it's only getting more difficult with each passing day so I just wanted to attempt something fun. Hope you enjoy!

"Whatchu listening to?"

"Oh, just..." you plucked your earbuds out, placing them next to your phone on the kitchen island, your eyes avoiding his. "The Cure, Bowie. same old stuff."

"Right, yeah..."

He didn't believe you. Not this time and not any of the other times before that either.

This was the latest instance of him finding you like this -- hips swaying rhythmically with a kind of confidence that felt different from usual, the kind you fell into when you think no one's looking, your lips mouthing the words to a song he was yet to figure out.

The front door had been left unlocked for him and quietly, he'd let himself in, inching closer while you danced. Your back was to him, a bowl full of brownie mix in one arm that made the room smell sweet with few drops of vanilla, wooden spoon in the other as you stirred it into the rest of the contents -- snacks for your movie date tonight he gathered.

Eddie had hoped to catch a few of the words you were uttering under your breath, even holding his own in an effort to be more quiet as he loomed nearer but it's the faint scent of cigarettes and Irish Spring still clinging to him that gave him away. You'd managed to sense him just in time once you smelled it, a jolt scraping up the length of your spine alerting you.

Your lips pressed together instantly, lengthening into a quick, tight smile as you turned to him and hastily hit pause on your phone. It took some effort to stop his own lips from drooping into a frown when he saw you do it, screen going dark as you press down once on the power button next.

Ouch.

It bothered Eddie that you'd try so hard to hide something like this from him when all he wanted to know was what had made you light up like that, all lively and clearly enjoying yourself. So why all the secrecy? Why shut him out?

The questions he wants to ask are packed tight in the back of his throat but he keeps them from erupting out of his mouth for the time being, accepting the kiss you place on his lips as you greet him properly. His heart thaws at the sincere "missed you", you whisper to him when you pull away, your smile now the kind that reaches your eyes as you hand him the bowl and spoon right after. "Could you mix this up for me? I'll be right back", you explain as you head off in the direction of the bathroom with a little wave.

Oh. This was his chance.

"Yes Chef!", he calls out to you with a convincing smile, placing the items down on the counter, spoon speared into the mix and forgotten as he picks up your phone instead once you're out of sight.

Sure, he does feel a little guilty going through it but you'd been so mysterious about the whole thing, always finding a way to sidestep the question like an arrow aimed in your direction whenever he asked you what you'd been listening to. He just had to know once and for all what was on this damn thing so he could put all his wondering to rest and enjoy the rest of the night with you.

Opening up Spotify, he taps on your last viewed playlist. 'Playlist 1'. Inconspicuous. Too inconspicuous, he thought while narrowing his eyes. Scrolling through, he sees that most of the songs are by one artist, someone he's never heard of before so he decides to hit shuffle, unsure of which track to pick and listen to first.

A beat commences, something quick and jumpy and what sounds like wet slurping? okay, he hadn't expected that. Already off to an interesting start.

His eyebrows rise up slowly past his shaggy bangs when the moaning begins, high pitched and accompanied by more sounds that fall short of what he'd call family friendly.

"Oh honey, what have you been listening to?", he mumbles, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk when the vocals begin.

No quick head in my bed I can't have that I want that long neck not talking giraffe neck Aint no laying down man we bout' to have late fun I'm about to make your balls stick up like space buns

"Holy-"

Want your dick soaked? place it down my throat Tongue tickle your dick but not telling a joke Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking periscope In the sheets I am a bully Give more head than a hoodie Every time you make me cum it looks like vanilla pudding-

"Eddie?"

The sound of his name makes him turn, finding you back in the kitchen with your eyes darting back and forth between your phone in his hand and the slack jawed look on his face.

Pulling an earbud out of his left ear, the song continues to play in his right.

"Baby, why-"

I got three holes for it like a pretzel Tight as a virgin boy don't get nervous(tight)

"Why've you been hiding-"

I save dick by giving it CPR Put my mouth on it like CPR Let's make porn and watch it on VCR

The question fizzles out on his tongue like a dying fuse, unable to hold back the snickering laugh that rolls up out of his chest, doing his best to stifle it and failing even when he presses a palm to the front of his lips.

"Oh god", you realize what he's listening to, stomach somersaulting as you try to snatch your phone back but he's too quick for you. "Nooooo way, sweetheart" he holds it up high out of your reach, a grin so bright it's bordering on blinding on his face.

You struggle like that for a minute, chasing him around the island with one hand desperately yanking at dark leather to pull him closer as he puts some distance between you, the other trying to reach for or even swat your phone out of his hands, too rattled to care about something like a cracked screen right now.

But despite your best efforts, all those years of hauling ass out of beer soaked back yards with pockets full of illicit party favors at the first sound of sirens has made Eddie impossible to pin down, slipping out of your grasp with expert ease.

"I fuck doggy style so much I need to go to the vet? Fuck me, she's a modern day Hemingway!", he barks out another laugh, this time no longer holding back and the sound of it triggers a giggle to work it's way out your own throat. He always did have an infectious laugh.

You give up trying to retrieve your phone then, pressing your face into the front of his shirt as you build up into a laugh too, shoulders shaking, arms lowering.

"So, pretty demure taste in music you've got here", he winds an arm around your waist, pulling you in for an embrace.

You look up to offer him a smile, a little sheepish considering how ungracefully you'd evaded the topic this long, only to be found out like a teen caught with a copy of Penthouse under his pillow.

"Where'd you learn that word, Munson?", you try to deflect long enough for your cheeks to cool down.

"Where'd you learn about the queen of obscene?", he shoots back breezily, tapping his thumb on your phone screen.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second. It's not often that Eddie bests you like this but there's something sort of enjoyable about the way he makes you want to squirm a little under his gaze, knowing he's got the upper hand.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you. She can come off a bit...strong, I guess".

His lips pinch together, forcing away a crooked smile. "Really? because-", he looks back to the screen to read off the lyrics. " 'your dick getting more blows than a birthday cake's pretty subtle in my opinion. A real thinker".

You laugh again, delivering a weak punch to his left shoulder. Things were still new with Eddie. He hadn't yet seen this side of you and those whispering new relationship jitters had gotten the best of you, worried he'd think of you differently like shitty ex's past unless you found a way to ease him into your other interests.

But now that he's ripped the band aid off for you, you realize how stupid you'd been -- really damn stupid because this was Eddie Munson. He'd never judge you, least of all when it came to your taste in music of all things and that reminder was everything you needed to shake off those unfounded nerves for good.

So, you happily forget the movie that night, both of you sat atop your island with your legs crossed like something out of Sixteen Candles, eating warm brownies right out of the pan placed between you.

The rest of the night's spent playing CupcakKe's discography for Eddie, both of your cheeks sore from how hard you've been laughing and smiling every time he pretends to be scandalized by a verse one moment and then shamelessly belts out the next once he'd got the lyrics memorized, exaggerated fake moans and all.

You wouldn't be hiding anything from Eddie again, not now when you've found someone with whom you can be yourself around, always.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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spnbabe67 · 3 months ago

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Run Baby Run

Kinktober Day 6: Knife Play (D.W.)

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: DUBCON!, Knife Play, Choking, Handcuffs, Smut, Masturbation (F and M), Deanmon (Yes, he is his own warning)

Summary: Tori was trying to be sneaky. But when Dean spots her at the bar he tracks her to her motel room and she tries to convince him to come back home (I suck at summaries sometimes, I'm sorry!)

Word Count: 1749

Authors Note: This is a lot darker than I usually write so bear with me on this. I saw a thing on tiktok that inspired this fic. Title is based on the song Run Run Run by Dutch Melrose

Taglist: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Tori knew that Dean was different. She hadn’t been there when Sam got back to find Dean’s note, but when Sam called her from the other side of the country telling her that Dean was now a demon, Tori couldn’t believe it, refused to believe it. But there he was lounging at the bar and every so often she watched his eyes flick to pure onyx then back to that gorgeous emerald green. The last semblances of hope she had that maybe Sam had hallucinated, he hadn’t been getting much sleep, neither of them had been. All of that flew out the window when she locked gazes with him from her hidey hole in a booth in the back corner of the tavern and his eyes blinked black, narrowing with recognition before returning to their normal color. She wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, that good and kind heart she knew beat steadily in his broad chest would override the corruption that turned souls into demons.

Much to her dismay, Tori knew she couldn’t bring him back by herself, at least not without putting herself in significant danger. She knew what Dean was capable of as a human, a deadly and cunning hunter. What would he be capable of as a demon? She slipped out the back of the roadhouse, climbing into Baby with a gentle hand on the steering wheel and ran, tail between her legs, back to the motel she’d rented for the night. A pit had opened up inside her, filled by despair, anger and desperation. She sat down at the table in her room, palming the Demon Blade. The polished antler handle was smooth, the pommel rounded off from years and years of use. Tori didn’t know if it was part of the enchantment of the blade, but it never seemed to dull, always razor sharp and ready to be plunged into a demon’s meatsuit. She ran the pad of her thumb parallel against the blade, feeling the edge scrape against the ridges of her skin. Tori had to pull herself from the thought of using the blade on Dean; she wasn’t sure she could if it came down to it. She knew that Mark of Cain was a bad idea, but did anyone listen?

Tori clenched her fist around the handle, starting as a knock sounded at the door. The seedy motel she chose to hole up at didn’t have peepholes so Tori held the knife behind her back as she slowly eased the door open to be met with a pair of green eyes.

“Hiya Sweetheart.” Dean shot her a saccharine smile, shouldering his way into the room all masculine swagger.

Tori stood there stunned for a moment as she processed what just happened. Once her brain and body reconnected, she slammed the door shut and stormed over, shoving Dean against the wall with an arm across his broad chest. It’d been months since she’d seen her lover let alone been this close to him. He had grown a stubble, his hair longer and styled a little differently and sans the black eyes, he was still her Dean. Yeah, this is gonna be hard.

“Okay, this is how this is gonna work.” Tori reached over to the table and grabbed the warded handcuffs. “You are gonna put these on and then we are gonna take you back to the Bunker and figure out how to turn you back.”

Dean smugly looked down at the handcuffs in her hand before trailing his gaze back up to hers. His hand brushed hers as he took the cuffs from her, the other Tori found around her neck. She took a shaky breath as his fingers encircled her neck, pads pressing against her thundering pulse.

“What makes you think that I would ever want to be changed back? I’m stronger, I’m faster, and I can fuck you so much better than I could before.” Dean purred into her ear as he tossed the cuffs to the ground, snatching the knife from her shaky grip.

Tori felt her bottom lip wobble with fear and anger. She knew she shouldn’t have come here alone, should have taken Sam up on his offer to have him come with her to chase this lead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tori hated the way her body quivered as she felt the cool metal of the blade against her stomach as Dean slid it between her skin and her tank. The sound of ripping fabric meddled with her shallow breaths as Dean slowly cut away her shirt, leaving her naked from the waist up, her nipples pebbling from the cold air.

“Get on the bed.” His voice void of humor.

Tori swallowed thickly as she backed up until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Dean followed her, stopping at the foot of the bed as Tori retreated towards the head of the bed.

“Strip.”

The one word was enough for Tori to feel her panties become wet. Tori kept her eyes on Dean’s as she slowly hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her basketball shorts, pushing them down her thighs and discarding them off to the side. She felt her breath get caught in her throat as Dean slammed the knife down blade first into the mattress. The blade sank into the fabric, the smooth handle Tori had just been admiring stuck straight out of the duvet. Tori felt her cheeks burn hot as she slowly realized what Dean wanted her to do, brown eyes flitting between the knife and Dean as he pulled a chair towards the bed. As he sat down his fingers made deft work of his jeans, sliding them down to lay loose around his muscled thighs. His pretty cock was standing at attention, the head of him red and weeping with precum.

Dean jerked his chin towards the knife. “You know what to do, pretty girl.”

Tori flicked her tongue across her lower lip, watching Dean’s eyes dip to her lips. Tori hesitantly crawled forward, positioning her knees on either side of the blade, clocking Dean spit into his hand before lazily stroking his length. Tori could feel her core pulsing with arousal as she sank down, the pommel of the knife pushing against her entrance. Her breath hitched as the handle of the knife slid, with little resistance, into her. It didn’t fill her half as good as Dean’s cock, but the curves of the lacquered handle provided delicious pressure against that spot inside her. She set a steady pace, rolling her hips up and down on the handle, breathy moans escaping her lips every time the handle became fully seated inside her. Dean before her stroked himself in time with her movements, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he watched her. Tori snaked a hand between her legs, coating her fingers in her slick before rubbing small circles around her clit.

Tori whimpered as she felt her orgasm start to build, her free hand kneading her breast as she sped up her movements on the knife, grinding her hips harder. She could see Dean was close, his hips stuttering upwards, chasing his hand. Just before she teetered over the edge Dean lunged at her, pulling her off of the knife, tossing the blade to the ground beside the bed. His lips tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking back at the bar. They crashed against her own as he roughly pawed at her hips, her chest, her thighs. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, or the humanity still inside him still craved her after being away for so long, she was his anchor and he was desperately trying to moor himself. One second her mouth was being devoured by him, the next she was on her stomach with a mouth full of sheets as Dean shoved his cock inside her. Tori moaned loudly into the bed, Dean’s cock stretching her until she felt like she’d be ripped in two.

“So fucking tight, Sweetheart.” Dean groaned out, a hand braced on her back as he fucked into her at a punishing pace.

Tori fisted her hands in the sheets, rocking her hips back to meet Dean’s thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of her with insanely pornographic sounds. The buttons of his shirt brushed against her spine, adding to the plethora of sensations assaulting her all at once. Her head was pressed further into the bed as Dean’s hand threaded into her hair close to the scalp. He growled dirty nothings into her ear as his cock hit every spot within her, pushing her closer and closer to her orgasm. With a cry swallowed by the bed, Tori came, her legs shaking and sure her nails would rip the stitching in the duvet with how hard she was clenching the fabric. Her walls clenched around Dean’s cock, overstimulated and trying to get away from the sensation as he sped up his thrusts, his hips meeting her own making sloppy noises from her slick as he chased his own high. Tori felt her tears caused by overstimulation melt into the sheets as Dean came with a loud groan, spilling himself into her.

Tori was already maneuvering onto her back, a plead for reason coating her tongue when she felt the cool metal of the handcuffs slap around her wrist, anchoring her to the headboard of the bed. Her mouth dropped open as Dean buttoned his jeans back up before he rooted around and found the key, setting it on the table where he had sat.

“Dean please.” Tori begged as he came back up to her.

He gripped the hair at the back of her head, smashing his lips to hers before pulling back enough to look her in the eye. Tori flinched as Dean’s eyes flicked black. “Be glad I don’t kill you where you sit. Don't come looking for me again and I won't make the same promise.”

Tori felt tears slip down her cheeks as he turned and walked towards the door. “Dean!” She called out. He paused in the threshold. “This isn’t you.” She said quietly.

Dean didn’t move for a couple seconds, and Tori could see his grip on the doorknob tighten. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, eyes still black as night. “It is now.” And that was all he said before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

#dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural dean #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x tori #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

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signedeclipse · 2 years ago

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Signed with Love - Upper Moons

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely fem!readers! Its valentines/love letters cards from your favourites <3

Series Parts Kamaboko Squad - HERE The Hashira - HERE

Akaza

To the girl of my dreams, Happy valentines! I'm sure you thought i'd forget sorry about last year, but I've got plans and everything. Theres a light show in the city, if you want to come I'm sure we can stop for some snacks and i'll get you the best view of them. If that sounds like a plan, i'll be by your house the moment the sun goes down. Can't wait to see you dolled up, Akaza.

Daki

Dove, Free your schedule on the 14th, I won't let plans get in the way of us spending this year together after so many times of it falling through! Oiron duties always take precedent, but I'm sure I can pull some strings to spend the night with you, the "new" girl, to do some "training". Dress for the part, I know you can lie your way in. Good luck, even if I know you won't need it, 'Warabihime'

Douma

Hello, lovely! I am over the moon knowing i'll get to spend valentines with you again! I miss you more and more every day you are away... How about this year we sneak away from the cult and I show you someplace you might really enjoy, and we can pick up some treats you like to keep at the estate! Don't leave me waiting too long. You know who ♡

Gyokko

To my precious muse, This velentines marks a decade together, and I figure its about time I let you closer than ive let any other. I know I can be more conservative in sharing my art, but this year i'd like to take you into my studio and teach you some of my craft. You know where to find me. Wear something you don't mind having ruined. Gყσƙƙσ

Gyutaro

Angel, I promised i'd always ask, so I expect you to say yes when I ask you to be my valentine again. It's too risky to go out with being on the radar, so when you come back home keep low and we'll do something simple. I can't risk getting you in trouble. Don't stray too far, GT.

Hantengu

Dearest, If possible, I would really appreciate if maybe you might consider being my valentine Whatever you'd like is yours Please H/S/K/A/Uro/Z/Ura

Kaigaku

Princess, I know you'll say yes anyways, so instead ill congradulate you for keeping me intrigued for so long. Long enough to call you my valentine. I'll be home to see you the moment the sun drops, and we can spend all night hanging out. I like you better where no one else can chew on you like eye candy, so I'll bring some snacks you like if it keeps you inside, Don't get too flattered, Yours, Inadama

Kokushibo

To the most beautiful woman I know, I would be honoured if you would decide to be my valentine once again. If you are inclined to accept my invintation, know that not a drop of the night would be wasted on anything you wouldn't like. You know you can trust me. I anticipate your responce, 黒死牟

Muzan

To the only sunshine I require; With this letter is a box of clothing. It's all custom to your fit and yours now, pick whatever you like and wait outside the gates of tokyo by sundown tonight. We'll be visitng some places I know you've wanted to see, and I'll make sure it's not on an empty stomach. Don't leave me waiting, M. Kibutsuji

Nakime

My dearest lullaby I am not one to partake in holidays, however, I cannot help myself when it comes to you. I was hoping you would be my valentine; not just today, but in life as well. There is a concert hall I used to perform at, and I would like to bring you there to hear the music I was so very fond of. It is very formal, so if you need any help getting ready you have my assistance. I miss your sweet song, Nakime Otokawa

Authors Note - This took me so long ahhhh thank you for your patience darlings <3 The tags took me longer than writing this entire thing /j

Disclaimer - All characters within have been aged up to at least 18 or older, and have been altered to reflect such change as needed.

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jules-writes-stories · 3 months ago

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I had a couple of asks about WIP Wednesday (including a playlist!) so wanted to post a blurb for Chapter 6. I threw a playlist together really quick. They're songs I listened to while outlining/ made me think of the story, setting, and characters. All vibes. No order or hidden message. This is not my strength, lol. 🖤

The Night Court Lounge | Tribeca, NYC | Ch 1-5 on AO3

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 6 (Excerpt)

Tribeca, NYC

“Lemme guess. Black hoodie?” Akon’s eyes peered back in the rear view mirror.

Eris saw Azriel’s figure the same time his driver did. Of course he would do something reckless like walk up the island of Manhattan in the early hours of the morning. The pretty man clearly enjoyed stressing him out.

Eris took a breath. No good would come of acting distraught.

They followed him down a cobbled street to an overpass that crossed over a highway below. Steam rose over manholes. Squares of light from empty, lit office buildings reflected off rain slicked streets.

The car slowed to drive alongside Azriel. He wore Airpods and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. Eris rolled down his window.

After several seconds, Az turned to look directly at Eris and his eyes grew wide. Something like embarrassment and rejection passed across the man’s face, before it froze into a cool mask of neutrality. He pulled his dark hood up and picked up his pace.

His beloved bat was growing fangs…

Akon’s eyes flicked up to meet Eris’s and laughter shined in those dark pools. He needed no directions as he began to drive alongside the petulant pedestrian.

“Azriel. Will you at least tell me why you stormed off?” Eris called out of the slowly moving vehicle, his voice laced with humor.

Hazel eyes were brazen as they narrowed at Eris. There was the magnificent creature in his submissive. Jealousy made a beast of Azriel. And Eris had the strange impulse to pet the beast, to soothe it.

Azriel pulled out his earbuds and faced the car. They were stopped on the overpass now. Traffic flashed below like a river of light through the chain link fence behind him.

Eris could tell the younger man was struggling, was on a precipice. And he considered… In business, it was customary to offer a concession. Eris would give something, and then, perhaps, Azriel, the silly man, would get in the car.

“Azriel. I can’t fix it, if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Eris tried to keep his voice reasonable. This was him being reasonable. He was being… Yes, reasonable was the word.

The beautiful man stalked towards the car. “Why did you even follow me? What do you want?”

Eris felt that prickle of panic, control slipping once more.

Thesan’s words clanged through him. Be vulnerable with him, or end it… All or nothing.

And the thought of ending it, of not seeing those hazel eyes or that shy smile, the way Azriel’s dark lashes fluttered against his cheekbones when Eris praised him. No. He did not like that idea at all. And panic grew at the thought.

In fact, if Eris was being completely honest, he wanted to learn more. Who were his favorite artists? When was his birthday? Why did everyone at the Night Court feel the need to protect him and what happened to his hands?

Be reasonable. The last time Eris fell, it had been for Thesan. And it had cost him a year of his life.

What did he want? Right now?

“I want you to get in my car. And talk to me.” Eris kept his voice level, even as the authority he was accustomed to using slipped through his timbre. He pushed it aside. This was not the bedroom or the boardroom-- this was a highway overpass, and he wanted this man.

Azriel stepped closer, backpack slung over a shoulder. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you, Eris?” His tone was icey, but there was something soft and needful in his gaze.

Eris stepped out of his car and leaned against the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. They stared at each other beneath the fuzzy glow of the street lamps. The hum of traffic rattled the overpass.

“What if I want you?”

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the tag | @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @talibunny30 @amalhe-kofee @shadowsandlint @queercontrarian @molcat07 @c-starstuff-man0 @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @hieragalbatorixdottir @brunetterebel010 @pippsmcgee @theartofmischief @born-to-riot

#azriel x eris #azris fanfiction #eris vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #azris #acotar fanfiction #Spotify

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years ago

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Garden of Secrets [8] - Begonias

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Impatience can be dangerous.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms.

Word Count: 4200

Series Masterlist

The following week after that conversation at the rooftop was actual torment for you.

You had tried everything to divert your attention elsewhere, but for the first time in your life, nothing seemed to work. Even while tending to your garden, that night refused to leave your mind, as if your mind had sworn to make you remember it over and over again.

If your sister were here she would’ve said you were heartbroken, but even the thought was absurd.

You weren’t the type of person who got heartbroken.

Even if you were -which you weren’t- one simple glance at Lady Whistledown’s lines throughout the week would be enough to snap you out of it. You had managed to avoid balls, pretending you were still in a delicate condition after the heat exhaustion incident, but Benedict on the other hand had been quite busy as far as you could tell. Day after day, Lady Whistledown wrote how he only stayed at the balls he attended for less than an hour and spent the rest of the nights somewhere else, returning home only around dawn, looking quite disheveled. It had to have been bad because the latest Whistledown issue had mentioned his brother Anthony pulling him aside just when he was about to leave the last ball for a short argument which he had walked away from.

Anyway. It wasn’t like you were interested in his whereabouts.

“My lady, are you sure…?” the cook trailed off while Teddy giggled happily, sitting on the counter and covered in flour from head to toe, and you winked at him before turning to the cook.

“You have no reason to worry Mrs. Booth,” you said. “We will not burn the house down.”

Mrs. Booth did not look relieved at all, but she chose not to comment on it and instead walked over to the other side of the kitchen to check on the soup for tonight’s dinner. You turned to Teddy and put your hands on your hips, sticking your nose up in the air.

“Now,” you said. “Are you ready for this incredibly important task?”

“I am!” Teddy said, dangling his legs off the counter, excitement almost radiating off of him. You tilted your head.

“Are you sure? It’s quite the responsibility, you know.”

“Yes!” he said, jumping in his spot and you pointed at the other side of the counter.

“Over there,” you said. “We have our cookie dough. And of course we must have a theme for our cookies, it goes without saying.”

“Of course!”

“You are to decide what our theme will be and help me shape them.”

Teddy had such a concentrated look on his face that one simple observer would think he was to decide the fate of the country and you repressed a laugh, waiting for him to decide. He held his breath as the idea hit him, his whole face lighting up.

“A garden!” he said. “With people in it!”

You gasped. “That’s such a perfect idea Teddy!”

“And—and—” he said, flailing his arms. “We will have trees and flowers and people—you can shape the flowers and I can shape the trees and people!”

“That sounds like a good deal,” you said as you grabbed the cookie dough and gave him the half of it before you took a small amount of it out of your half, and started making a small flower. Teddy was humming a song to himself, his tongue sticking out, his whole concentration on the stick figure he was making from the cookie dough and you leaned over to press a kiss into his hair, making him let out a whine.

“Y/N I love you too but I’m working!” he said in a serious manner and you let out a laugh, then held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Alright, alright. Sorry.”

“You can kiss me afterwards, not now though. This is very important.”

“Got it,” you said, still smiling as you got back to making flowers from the cookie dough and he stole a look at you, then shifted in his spot.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“What does propose mean?”

Your head shot up from the dough. “Hm?”

“I heard auntie and uncle talking about a lord wanting to propose to you.”

You cleared your throat and put aside the flower to start on another one.

“Propose means someone asks someone to marry them.”

Teddy held his breath, shaking his head fervently. “But you’re not going to marry someone are you?” he asked. “You can’t!”

You pulled your brows together. “Why not?”

“Because then you’d leave!” Teddy said, tears already rushing to his eyes and you heaved a sigh, then wrapped your arms around him to pull him into a hug.

“I’d never leave you,” you said, placing a kiss on top of his head. “I promise. Even if I married someone, which I will not anytime soon.”

“But people leave when they marry.”

You frowned, pulling back to look at him better. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “But Josie isn’t here and she’s married. You always say she is our sister but I don’t even remember her.”

You could swear your chest was hurting but you managed to smile at him.

“Teddy, Josie isn’t here because she had to leave,” you said with a sigh. “One day I will tell you why, alright? But for now, the only thing you need to know is that she loves you and misses you so much. I read you her letters, she always asks about you, remember?”

Teddy nodded, still pouting.

“But you won’t marry anyone?”

“Not anytime soon,” you said. “And regardless of whether I get married or not, I will never leave you. I swear to you.”

He lifted his head and gave you a big smile, then hugged you tight and pulled back.

“Do you think this cookie man looks nice?” he asked, holding up the cookie and you smiled, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “It looks perfect.”

One of the many bad things about being a debutante was that there were only so many balls you could avoid. Seeing that you would have to attend one eventually, you figured you could do it tonight and get it over with.

Besides, according to Lady Whistledown Benedict barely spent any time at the balls nowadays so you were going to be just fine.

“So how did Lord Shaw take it?” you asked your aunt as you stepped out of the carriage when it stopped by the garden, the music of the ballroom reaching there already. Your aunt linked her arm with yours and you both started walking through the garden.

“Well, apparently he was quite sad about it,” she said. “Your uncle was very clear though, he said you two would not make a suitable couple in matrimony.”

You squeezed her hand in yours while you two climbed the marble stairs. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” she said. “I know you cannot stand him.”

“It’s not that,” you muttered. “It’s just… He does not fit my criteria.”

Your aunt hummed. “Are you sure it’s not also because you have affections for someone else?”

“I don’t have any affections for anyone,” you said way too fast and your aunt stopped when you two reached the entrance of the ballroom.

“Whatever you say Clover,” she said. “Just promise me something?”

“Of course.”

“Try to have fun,” she said and you heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, I can see Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

She made her way to them and you nodded at them with a small smile, then turned your head when you heard your name being called.

Oh God damn it.

Benedict looked as frozen as you were unlike Charlotte who seemed incredibly cheerful as usual, waving at you. You swallowed thickly and looked around, considering leaving the ballroom for a second but you knew you couldn’t do that to Charlotte, so you made your way to them.

“Good evening,” you said curtly, making sure to keep your gaze only on Charlotte who squealed, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Oh finally you’re here!” she said. “I was beginning to think you were going to avoid balls forever.”

“I’m not that lucky, it seems.”

“Benedict was just asking about y—” she stopped talking as Benedict elbowed her and she rolled her eyes while Benedict cleared his throat.

“Miss Y/N.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted him back and Charlotte looked between you two, then put her hands on her hips.

“Well,” she said. “Anthony looks annoyed yet again, so I’d better go and ask what that is about.”

“What?” Benedict asked as your eyes widened and Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m curious about the reason so I must go.”

“Lottie—”

“Charlie—”

“No to both of you, I will see you later!” Charlotte said and walked away from you in a haste, making you shake your head.

“Not very subtle, that one.”

“She has many strong suits, subtlety has never been one,” Benedict commented and took a deep breath, then shot you a crooked grin. “Hello again.”

You raised your brows. “You know we don’t have to do that, right?”

“Do what?”

“Have a conversation,” you said and he took a deep breath.

“I was actually hoping for it.”

“You were hoping for—Jesus Christ, no,” you were distracted mid-sentence as soon as you saw Lord Shaw’s eyes stopping on you, and he fixed his waistcoat before he started to approach you.

“No to having a conversation?”

“No to the universe having a grudge against me for some reason,” you said through your teeth and Benedict followed your line of sight, then turned to you and offered you his hand.

“A dance, my lady?”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s a ballroom,” he said as the music started. “People tend to dance at balls, in case it has escaped your notice.”

You stole a look at Lord Shaw coming closer and let out a breath, then placed your hand in his.

It was like a lightning. As soon as your skin touched his, you could swear sparks ran through you, that familiar warmth engulfing your hand and judging by how his hand twitched over yours, you could tell he felt the same. He hesitated for a moment, letting out a breath, then led you to the dancefloor with the other couples. For a moment you feared everyone else in the ballroom could hear your heartbeat because of how deafening it was in your ears as soon as he had put his hand on the small of your back, but you tried to repress the excitement and took a step towards him as the dance required.

“I appreciate your help,” you said after a moment and he smiled softly.

“I was going to ask you for a dance anyway,” he said, his smile widening at the apparent confusion on your face. “So, did Lord Shaw bore you that much?”

You rolled your eyes. “Worse.”

“Worse?”

“He proposed.”

Benedict’s whole body froze mid-dance and you shot him a warning glare, raising his hand above your head to twirl yourself as if he was the one still leading.

“Did they not teach you how to dance? Or can you only put up a decent performance in bed—”

“What did you answer?” he cut you off and you scoffed.

“I said no, obviously,” you said. “I told you. He does not fit my criteria.”

His eyes flickered over your face. “Y/N…”

“That was not an invitation to talk of that now,” you said. “It has been a nice evening so far, I don’t wish to ruin it.”

“But we must talk of it.”

“Not really,” you said, those sparks hitting you with their full force when his fingertips brushed over your wrist. “What did you want to have a conversation about earlier?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “The rooftop.”

Your breath got caught in your throat and you stole a look at him before averting your gaze to the other dancing couples.

“I don’t think that we should.”

“Y/N.”

“We can just pretend it did not take place,” you managed to say and he let out a dry chuckle.

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Your throat tightened as you let him lead the dance, barely aware of your own movements as if you were in a haze. You knew there were couples all around you but somehow it felt like you two were the only people in that ballroom, like he was the one person whose presence mattered.

Especially when he was looking at you like that.

“Talking of it will not change a thing,” you forced yourself to say. “I told you; you mustn’t even think of it. I will break your heart terribly—”

“Alright.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“What?” you asked, “What do you mean, alright?”

He pulled you closer the moment the note of the music changed, signaling the slow end of the tune and he grabbed you by the waist to lift you up as the dance required, taking your breath away. You grasped at his broad shoulders, your heart leaping to your throat and he gently put you down, your hands still on his shoulders. His pleasant scent filled your lungs and you swallowed thickly, your eyes still locked in his.

“You said you would torment me,” he said, his voice low as the music came to a stop. “So be it. Torment me if you wish to.”

He bowed his head and walked away from you, leaving you there completely dumbfounded. It felt as if the whole room was spinning as you watched him walk out of the ballroom -probably to the garden- and you looked around to see whether your aunt would notice your absence, but she was nowhere to be found, neither were any of her friends. You licked your lips, then walked out of the ballroom as well, the cool air hitting your burning face as soon as you stepped outside. You pressed the back of your hands on your cheeks and checked whether anyone was around, but it seemed safe enough.

It was considerably a small garden, at least not as big as the last ball’s so it took you only five minutes to find him. He was at the far end of the garden, leaning back to the wall of the gazebo, exhaling the smoke of the cigarette in his hand into air. Your heart skipped a beat but you refused to let it intimidate you, so instead you passed by the begonias and stomped over to him, your brows pulled into a frown.

“Are you insane?” you asked, making him turn his head and he pushed himself off the wall.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” you insisted. “You long for heartbreak, is that it? You could not find a lady within the ton to break your heart for some sort of inspiration for your art, that’s why you keep saying these things to me—”

“Is that what you think?” he cut you off and let out a breath. “Come on now.”

“Then what is it?”

“Do you really want to hear it?” he asked you. “Because I think if I say it out loud, you’re going to run away as fast as you can.”

You scoffed a bitter chuckle. “As always, you put too much importance in your words’ impact on me.”

“Is that right?” he said, looking you in the eye. “Why are you here then?”

You blinked a couple of times. “I…I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”

“Why are you here, Y/N?” he asked again, his voice on edge and you gritted your teeth, then stuck your nose in the air.

“I cannot have you hope for something impossible,” you managed to say. “You must cast that thought out of your mind—”

“You don’t think I tried?” he cut you off, and shook his head. “What on earth do you think I’ve been trying to do since I met you? It’s not working like it’s supposed to.”

You let out a dry laugh, the familiar bitterness that tasted terribly like jealousy reaching your throat.

“Right,” you said. “Spare me those lies, will you? I’m not as clueless as others in that ballroom. Whatever you were doing was done for your own pleasure, it had nothing to do with me.”

“You—”

“Nothing could ever happen between us no matter how much you may hope for it.” you cut him off and he stared at you, a flash of pain crossing his handsome face.

“It’s just me then?” he managed to ask and you pulled back slightly.

“Pardon?”

“It’s just me who feels this fire,” he said, taking a step towards you, his gaze pining you to your spot. “It’s just me who cannot cast you out of my mind, it’s just me who is in lo—”

“Don’t,” you said, the warning word like poisoned honey on your tongue, half sweet and half painful. "Don't say it."

“Why not?”

Because I don’t believe it.

You gritted your teeth, your jaw set firm in determination. “I do not wish to hear it.”

A soft smile curled his lips.

“Alright,” he said after a beat. “Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me you feel nothing for me,” he said. “Tell me it’s just me who feels this, and I swear on my honor I will never bother you again.”

It was supposed to be easy.

The whole ton could say lots of things about you, but no one could say you weren’t an expert on keeping your emotions under control. That required you to come up with lies whenever you needed to, but somehow you couldn’t will the words out of your mouth, they all got stuck in that lump that was growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

Your uncle was right, unfortunately.

Silence was enough of an answer sometimes.

“You—I—” you stammered, averting your eyes for a moment. “That has nothing to do with the discussion right now.”

He stared at you for a moment, that light in his gaze growing soft before he took a deep breath, looking down at the cigarette between his fingers.

“Y/N,” he said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You either go back to the ballroom or—”

“What exactly makes you think you can tell me what to do?” you interrupted him, narrowing your eyes into a glare and he repressed a smile, then shook his head.

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what I am going to do,” he said. “You either go back to the ballroom, or I will kiss you. You have time until this cigarette is finished, so think carefully.”

That…

No.

No that was a bluff. It just had to be, of course he was not going to kiss you. Being under the delusion of infatuation and fooling himself into believing he was in love in order to experience heartbreak was one thing, but him actually kissing you was another.

Deep down he didn’t want or love you. He simply could not, even if he tried.

By some miracle, you managed to find your voice even though you felt as if excitement had already taken over you. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

He shook his head and took a drag of the cigarette.

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m just telling you what is going to happen.”

“You do remember I have a knife for times like these, do you not?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m willing to take my chances.”

You needed to leave. Any rational woman would leave immediately so as to protect their reputation, but somehow all your logic that would normally scream at you was drowned by the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

You were never the one to back away from a challenge after all, and the fire that was roaring through your veins was too powerful for you to even consider fighting against it. It was as if you were in a dream, and you were nearly trembling with anticipation, your whole body refusing to just take the step to go back to the ballroom.

It was just going to be one time.

You would only kiss him once, you would only taste that desire that had been haunting your dreams, tantalizing you every single night to wake you up gasping only once, and then—

Then you were going to go back to your original strategy. You were going to forget about him and this night, and find yourself a very old husband as you had planned and move on with your life.

Just once.

Just once couldn’t hurt.

You felt yourself take a step towards him before you pulled the cigarette from his lips to flick it to the ground, as if daring him to make his move. The fire in his eyes was so intense that for a moment you felt as if your whole face was burning, but you raised your brows, looking up at him before you scoffed a laugh.

“Just as I thought,” you said and turned around to leave, but felt him grab your upper arm to spin you around, drawing a gasp from you as your gaze snapped up to his.

“You, my poisonous flower,” his voice was a low murmur, making your heart skip a beat and he ran his knuckles over your burning cheekbone. “You will be the end of me.”

With that, his lips claimed yours.

Oh.

This was the infamous euphoria that every artist chased through centuries.

You could swear you felt yourself melt in his arms as he pressed you back to the wall of the gazebo, his hand cradling the back of your head, messing up your perfectly coiffed updo your maid had spent almost half an hour on but you couldn’t find it in you to care about it.

You couldn’t find it in you to care about anything else but him and his touch as long as he kept kissing you like this.

Desire spread through you like wildfire as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, blindly chasing that feeling which made you feel like you were falling off a cliff, your heart pacing in your chest, your whole body taken by this newfound high—

And then someone gasped.

It was as if you had been splashed with ice cold water. Benedict pulled back immediately and you turned your head but as soon as you saw who it was –who they were— you felt your stomach drop.

Lady Featherington’s mouth was open in shock, her eyes wide while your aunt looked almost frozen in her spot. Lady Bridgerton was covering her mouth, obviously as shocked as the rest of them and Lady Danbury let out a breath, shaking her head.

You could feel the fear smothering every single trace of happiness that was rushing through your system just a moment ago and you swallowed thickly, digging your fingernails into your palm while Benedict took a step sideways in your direction, almost shielding you from their gaze.

Through the fog of absolute fear, your mind managed to notice that tiny detail. You could claim he had no understanding of responsibility, that he was one of the most privileged men in the ton who never thought or cared about consequences, but it didn’t change one single fact:

Benedict Bridgerton; the unbridled philanderer, the spoiled second-son and free-spirited artist, had quite literally placed himself between you and the ton’s scrutiny.

Lady Featherington was the first to break the silence.

“A scandal!”

“Benedict…” Lady Bridgerton whispered and you shook your head, looking at your aunt while you blinked back the tears.

“I knew Lady Whistledown was right!” Lady Featherington said. “I knew it!”

“I’m sure there is an explanation,” Lady Danbury said through her teeth, glaring at Benedict, “Is there not?”

“What explanation?” Lady Featherington said with a small laugh. “Did you not see what I saw?”

“Y/N, what on earth do you think you are doing?” your aunt managed to ask in a whisper as if she was as shocked as you were, and you tried to gulp down the lump in your throat, keeping silent.

“This is unacceptable,” Lady Featherington said and motioned at you two. “Unchaperoned and—and— doing that!”

Air.

You needed air but somehow, you couldn’t seem to get enough of it into your lungs.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Lady Featherington continued as Benedict stole a look at you, his hand curtly brushing over yours as if he wanted to remind you he was there before he turned to them. “This is no position to be found! Y/N, your reputation will be ruined when—”

“That is not going to happen, Lady Featherington,” Benedict cut her off, his voice completely calm and collected, the opposite of the mind-numbing fear that was nearly smothering you at the moment.

Lady Danbury raised her brows. “Is it not?”

Benedict shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said, his words piercing through the chaos in your mind. “We’re going to get married.”

Chapter 9

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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