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espinosaurusrexex · 5 months

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Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.

Holy Shit.

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.

“You aren’t serious.”

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”

“You’re rich, too, Sam.”

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.

You knew better though.

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.

It was worrisome.

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture.

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong.

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

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chuluoyi · 3 months

Text

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

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feyascorner · 3 months

Note

Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

2K notes · View notes

andvys · 8 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 6

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve finally gets the answer to a question that has been haunting him for days.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @belokhvostikova remember the ask you sent me about the idea with the denim jacket? I had to include it in this chapter, so thank you hehe <;3

series masterlist

Steve’s phone kept ringing all day, since the early morning hours. He doesn’t know if it was her or his mom, he didn’t bother to get up and check. At some point, the doorbell rang twice, he didn’t get up to open it either. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to see anyone except for you. The thought of you just made him cry harder and made him feel more pathetic about himself – he kept reminding himself that it was him who fucked it all up.

He never felt such self hatred for himself the way he does now. All day, he laid in bed thinking about you and all the things that happened that led him here, getting drunk at a bar he used to hate, wallowing in self pity while he knocks back one drink after the other after throwing his fake ID on the counter.

How will he keep going?

Steve downs his fourth drink of the night and slides the empty glass over to the bartender, asking for another one.

The man gives him a look of concern, eying Steve for a moment.

“Just.. please,” Steve mumbles.

The bartender sighs, shaking his head, he mumbles something under his breath but still, he picks up the bottle and pours the whiskey into the glass, “you’re getting water after this one, son.”

“I have water at home,” Steve says. He reaches for the glass and slides it back towards himself. He leans his elbow on the counter and looks around the mostly empty room. Some rock song is playing in the background, one he doesn’t recognize. There’s a heavy cloud of smoke in the corner of the room where two men are sitting, laughing at some jokes that probably aren’t funny as they smoke their cigarettes and drink their beer.

The door opens and in walks the guy that is probably one of the most irritating people at Hawkins High – to him, at least. Steve bites back a groan when their eyes lock. He turns back around, avoiding eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he sees him walking towards the bar.

“Hey Tony.”

Steve lifts his head a little to see the Bartender smiling.

“Hey Ed, how’s it going?”

Eddie drums his fingers against the wooden counter, he looks around the room, “good, uh, have you seen my notebook? I’ve been looking for it everywhere but I can’t find it – I even cleaned out my van, can you believe it?”

Tony chuckles, “was about time you cleaned out that thing, boy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, snorting, “yeah, well I’m busy.”

“With what?”

Eddie pretends to think as he raises his brows and looks up at the ceiling, “well, working my ass off so I don’t have to repeat senior year again, I recently found a good tutor,” Eddie smirks, “got myself a muse to help me write the song texts,” Eddie wiggles his brows, making the older man laugh, “working on a new campaign. Oh and of course, how could I forget, comforting the broken hearted – you know, just the usual,” he shrugs as his eyes flicker over to Steve for a moment.

“What a busy man you are, Eddie,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. He throws the towel on the counter, “I’ll take a look in the back.”

“Thanks man,” Eddie smiles, watching him disappear in the hallways. He turns his head to look at Steve.

“What is King Steve doing at the Hideout?”

Steve turns to face him and Eddie raises his brows in surprise, “damn, you look like shit, man.” Eddie says. Taking in the puffy eyes and the dark circles beneath them, he almost feels bad for him. His hair looks messy, not as perfectly done the way it always is.

“Get lost, freak.”

“Always the douchebag,” Eddie mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Steve turns away, he raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, swallowing the bitterness.

“Are you pre drinking for the dance tomorrow or are you just drowning your sorrows in alcohol because you finally realized what a piece of shit you are?” Eddie asks. Not being able to hold back.

Steve frowns, he turns to face him. There is something in Eddie’s eyes that Steve can’t read.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asks. Not understanding the anger that is directed at him. They never liked each other but they never attacked each other either. Steve avoided him, he never had the jock’s back when they bullied him but he never really did anything about it either.

Eddie looks at him for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it. He sighs and looks away but Steve keeps staring at him. A weird feeling takes over him when he looks down at the jacket Eddie is wearing. His heart stops and his face pales.

It’s that jacket. The one that has been in your room all week. It’s just a normal dark denim jacket, it could just be a similar one, he tells himself. But the Metallica pin on the sleeve is the exact same one that he had seen on the jacket in your room.

Eddie smells like cigarettes and weed, the cologne that he can smell even from a distance is the same one that he had smelled on you. Realization floods through him in a cold wave.

Eddie Munson is the stoner Billy had talked about?

Eddie Munson is the guy you have been seeing?

How did you even meet him?

You never even talked to him when you were still with him.

“You got lucky, Ed,” Tony says, holding up Eddie’s notebook, “you gotta take better care of your things.”

Eddie chuckles, feeling relief. He takes the notebook and sighs, “I know, I know,” he mumbles and steps back, “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Tony.”

“Tell your old man to come by too.”

“Yes sir,” Eddie salutes, grinning at the older man, he takes another look at Steve, who stares into blank space as he holds the half empty glass in his hand. Sighing, he turns around and leaves.

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, he reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and picks out a fifty dollar bill. He throws it on the counter and puts his wallet back into place, he grabs his jacket and makes his way out of the bar, following Eddie.

“Hey! This is too much, kid!”

“Keep the change,” Steve mumbles before he stumbles out into the cold. He clumsily puts on his jacket. The cold air hits him harshly and he suddenly feels much tipsier than he did while he was in there.

Eddie stands by his van, the notebook is tucked under his arm, his hand is cupped over the cigarette that is between his lips as he lights it up.

“Hey!” Steve calls out to him. He stumbles through the snow. He blinks, trying to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes.

Eddie turns around to face him, a curious look residing on his face. He blows the smoke into the other direction and leans against his van.

“What do you want, Harrington?”

Steve stops in front of him. The wind feels harsh on his skin, not even the thick jacket does anything to shield him from the cold. How Eddie is able to walk around with a denim jacket and not freeze to death makes him wonder.

“W-Where did you get that jacket?” He asks. Not knowing what else to ask now that he stands in front of him.

Eddie stares at him with a serious look on his face, eyeing him up and down. “Why?” He asks. “You wanna buy it?”

Steve furrows his brows, he shakes his head, “no?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Steve’s mind is a little hazy, he feels more drunk than tipsy, right now.

“You’re the stoner.”

Eddie raises his brows, his dark eyes flash with amusement and confusion, “the stoner?” He chuckles and takes another drag from his cigarette. “They usually call me a drug dealer but sure, I’m also a stoner – sometimes.”

Steve shakes his head. “A-Are you with y/n?”

Eddie tilts his head. “With y/n?”

“Are you hooking up with her?” Steve asks, angrily.

A knowing look takes over Eddie’s expression. He pulls back and sighs in annoyance.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I don’t take advantage of vulnerable girls. And not everything is about sex,” he glares at him. He feels irritated by Steve and by the way he looks so confused about this revelation.

“Then what is it about?” He slurs. Throwing his hands up.

“Jesus, you’re a real douchebag. Is that all you think about? Sex?” He asks. “Can’t two people that like each other just be friends?”

The look on his face tells him no. For some reason, Steve can’t comprehend that thought. How can Eddie be your friend and not want you? He always wanted you. Ever since you were little kids. He always loved you. He always wanted you to be his – until he didn’t.

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he throws the cigarette into the snow and walks away. The sound of Steve’s keys jingling makes him halt in his tracks though. He closes his eyes, annoyance rushes through him. He doesn’t like Steve, he never did and after what he did to you, he started liking him even less but you are his friend and you still care about him. He takes a deep breath and turns around.

“Put those keys away, dude.”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles. Looking up in confusion.

“You’re not driving home like that,” he says. Pointing to his drunken state, he watches Steve trip over a small pile of snow. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve laughed at him. “Get in the van, I’ll drive you home.”

Steve looks at his car, knowing he is in no state to drive himself but he refuses to get into a car with Eddie Munson.

“I’ll walk.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you let the freak drive you home.”

It’s not about that, it’s about you.

Steve looks at Eddie, who stares at him in annoyance.

“Get in the car, dude. She’d kick my ass if she knew that I let you drive home like this.”

Steve looks down for a moment. He takes a few deep breaths and nods. He puts the keys back in his pocket and opens the door, careful not to slip on the icy ground, he looks down and gets into the van.

Eddie jumps into the driver's seat and closes the door. He throws the notebook on the windshield and puts the key into the ignition, startling Steve with the loud music when he starts the car. He scrunches his face up and turns down the volume, “shit, my bad.”

Steve’s heart is pumping in his chest, sighing, he opts to look out the window after putting the seatbelt on.

“Your music sucks.”

“The audacity you have, Harrington,” Eddie scoffs. “Here I am being nice, inviting you into my van and you dare to insult the best music that there is!” He says dramatically.

Eddie hits the buttons, turning on the radio instead, Heroes by David Bowie starts playing, “here, just for you, King Steve.” He snorts. Not knowing that this will turn out to be a bad idea. Steve tenses up when he hears the song but Eddie doesn’t notice, he is too focused on the street as he backs out of the parking spot.

The song takes him back to last year, back to you.

“If you had to give us – our relationship a song, which one would it be?” You asked him as you sat on his lap.

“A Song?" He asked, chuckling.

You nodded with a smile on your face as you looked through your new polaroid pictures that you have taken with him in the snow. He leaned his chin on your shoulder and tightened his grip on your waist.

“Uh– probably, Heroes.”

“By David Bowie?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded, humming. For a moment, it was silent between the two of you, you placed the polaroids back on the table and turned to face him.

“Isn’t it sad though?”

Steve shrugged, not thinking as deeply as you did.

“He sings,” you cleared your throat and looked at him shyly. “And you, you can be mean,

and I, I'll drink all the time. 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day. We can be heroes for ever and ever. What d'you say?”

Steve was smiling at you, his heart was fluttering in his chest and you, you were blushing by the time you were done singing.

He poked your waist and leaned in to kiss your cheek, giving you one of his rare soft moments. “Exactly, he sings ‘we’re lovers’.”

“You are not listening to the rest of the song, Steve!”

“Then keep going.”

“No,” you giggled.

“Please,” he whispered, pouting. “I love your voice.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully. You kissed his cheek and began to sing again, clearly loving the sweet moment between the two of you when he watched you with soft eyes. He cleared his throat and picked you up, laughing at the squeal that fell from your lips, he leaned in to steal a kiss before he placed your feet on the ground. He grabbed your hairbrush from your desk and held it up to his lips.

“I, I will be king and you, you will be queen.” He sang.

You giggled and walked backwards as he began to walk you towards your bed.

“Though nothing will drive them away. We can be Heroes, just for one day.” He furrowed his brows as he tried to remember the rest of the lyrics. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, “and we kissed, as though nothing could fall.”

“You forgot the rest of the lyrics–” he cut you off with his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. He pulled your body so close against his, he could feel your heartbeat.

Now he feels his heart breaking in his chest.

Maybe it’s the ache in his chest, maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or maybe it’s just a combination of both that makes him break down in Eddie Munson’s van. Startling the man who was bobbing his head to the music until he heard Steve’s quiet sob. Stopping at the red light, he furrows his brows and looks over at Steve.

“Uh– you good?” He asks. He feels a little stupid to ask him that, clearly, Steve is feeling anything but good. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and presses his lips together. How does he comfort a man that he doesn’t even like?

Steve cries softly, the shame isn’t there yet, right now, he doesn’t care that he is crying in front of Eddie who could tell everyone that King Steve broke down in his car while listening to David Bowie.

“Need a tissue?” Eddie asks even though he knows he doesn’t have any in his van.

Steve just shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone.

Eddie nods to himself, taking a deep breath, he sighs. Eddie knows why he is crying, it doesn’t take him long to figure it out. The moment he saw him getting drunk at the Hideout, he just knew.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive over to Steve’s house. The music and Steve’s soft cries sound through the van. A part of Eddie pities Steve, the other part doesn’t – after all, it’s all his own fault.

He pulls up into Steve’s driveway, still remembering the way to his house from the last party he threw back in august when he had first talked to you. He stops the car and turns down the music a little.

“We’re here.”

Steve nods. He wipes the tears away and he reaches for the door handle but he doesn’t leave, not yet. His eyes fall on the note lying on the floor, it must’ve slipped out from his notebook. He instantly recognizes your handwriting and his heart drops a little when he realizes that you are writing them for someone else now. It’s not affectionate or romantic, the note only says ‘good luck on the test today. Can’t wait for the milkshakes you promised!’ Next to a smiley.

“I miss her.”

Eddie didn’t expect to hear those words from him. He leans back in his seat.

“I-I miss her so much,” he whispers. “I-I don’t know what to do without her. I want her back.”

“You have a girlfriend, man. You left y/n for her,” Eddie mumbles. “Do you even know what you want?”

Steve feels the bile rising in his throat. He feels sick.

“I do now, b-but it’s too late.”

Eddie glances at him. The look of sadness and the tears are genuine and so are his words but there isn’t anything that he could say that could make Steve feel better. He doesn’t deserve you, you are too good for him and you have suffered enough to give him another chance to break you again.

“I don’t know what you wanna hear, dude. You broke her heart and you did it in such a fucked up way too, there’s no coming back from that.”

Steve isn’t sure about what he wanted to hear but it’s definitely not that.

“Just leave her alone, you’re only making things worse,” Eddie sighs as he thinks about you. “Go home, Steve.”

Steve sniffles, he opens the door and nods.

“And don’t ruin the night for her tomorrow.”

Steve’s eyes widen, he looks at him through the tears. “She's coming?”

Eddie nods, “yeah, her friends convinced her to come.” He can see the look in Steve’s eyes, it’s the same one he sees in your eyes. He loves you, which makes everything so much more confusing. Why did he leave you for someone else when he loves you so much?

Steve blinks. He looks down for a moment, staring at the note that makes his heart ache. “Oh okay,” he whispers. “T-Thanks for driving me home.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, this is the most kindness he had ever shown to him.

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. He narrows his eyes at him. Steve doesn’t move yet. The look on his face tells him that he wants to say more.

“Spit it out, dude.”

Steve looks up. Tears continue to brim in his eyes, the words are strangled in his throat. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to stay calm.

“T-Take care of her?”

Eddie wants to tell him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he decides against it. He nods. Even though he can’t understand why Steve did what he did, he can imagine the self hatred and the sadness he is feeling. A flicker of sympathy flashes in Eddie’s eyes.

“I will.”

Steve almost breaks down when he thinks of your words again, of the way you cried when you begged for him to leave, when you called him bullshit.

He walks away when he feels like breaking down again.

He fumbles with the keys, almost dropping them when his hands begin to shake. He manages to open the door, he steps inside and closes it. Leaning against it, he drops the floor and buries his face in his hands, a broken sob leaves his lips.

He knows he has to let you go, the way you let him go but how?

How?

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. You apply the red lipstick that Chrissy convinced you to get when you stopped by the drug store after you bought the dress that you had caught your eye the last time you went shopping with them. A black, glittery dress. It’s not too tight but it’s not a wide one either, though it fits your body perfectly. The straps are thin and it has a cut on the side. You love it. It’s not something you would usually wear, you always opted for the colorful dresses but, you feel like it’s time to switch things up.

How you let them convince you to come to the dance after all? You have no idea but the thought of spending another night filled with tears made you feel miserable.

Heather is standing behind you with the curling iron as she finishes off the rest of your hairstyle.

Some Christmas song is playing on the radio, the room smells like a mix of hairspray and perfume.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as you stop applying the lipstick.

She hums, glancing at you through your mirror.

Heather purses her lips, she pulls the curling iron away from your hair and twists the wave.

“Is it just me or is Chrissy being weird towards me?”

“What do you mean?” She asks. But you can see the knowing look in her eyes, you know she – they are both not telling you something.

She runs her fingers through your hair and smooths down your waves and applies more hairspray.

“She’s just, I don’t know. I feel like she’s keeping something from me,” you mumble. “And she seemed so sad when I agreed to go with you.”

Heather hesitates to speak up. You can tell that she is trying to come up with a lie.

“She’s probably just sad because she has to go with Jason Carver.”

You look down at your painted nails and nod, “yeah, I guess.”

“Which I totally get, who would want to go with him?” Heather tries to change the topic, you know she is.

“Literally no one,” you snort. “But he will probably be the new King of Hawkins High once Steve and Billy graduate and the naive freshman girls will throw themselves at him,” you say with a disgusted look on your face.

“God, that’s a disgusting thought,” Heather says. “Let’s talk about something else – look at you,” she smirks as she leans down, placing her finger under your chin, she raises your head, “queen of Haw–”

“Don’t say that,” you groan as you tilt your head up to look at her.

She chuckles and ruffles your hair a little. “You look amazing, now get your ass into that dress and let’s go. Maybe Munson will show up for you and steal you for a dance,” she wiggles her brows.

You roll your eyes but you can’t fight the smile off your face.

“Shut up,” you mumble. You reach for your half finished drink. Maybe it’s not a good idea to drink alcohol but you need it, right now. You don’t plan on getting drunk, just a little tipsy to make it through the night.

You both finish getting ready, you put your dresses on and take a few polaroid pictures in front of the fairy lights in your room. You throw a mint into your mouth and spray more perfume on yourself, hoping that your mom won’t smell the wine on you.

She doesn’t notice it or at least, it seems like she doesn’t. She takes more pictures of you and Heather in front of the Christmas tree before you leave.

The school hall is bustling with people, loud music is playing and everything is decorated in gold, red and green colors – fitting the Christmas season. Your arm is linked with Heather’s. She seems excited, you feel overwhelmed.

The lights are flashing, girls in colorful dresses rush past you with their dates. You look around, trying to spot Chrissy but you don’t see her anywhere. You sigh, the first few minutes of a big event are always the most awkward ones.

Where do you stand? Where do you sit? Who do you talk to? Is it too early to dance? Is it too early to leave?

“Hey, are you okay?” Heather asks.

You nod, smiling at her.

“You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m fine, I-I just need something to drink.”

“A drink?” A deeper voice asks. One that instantly makes you roll your eyes.

Billy steps in front of you with a smirk on his face, he eyes you up and down before he looks over at Heather, checking her out as well. He is wearing a tux, the button down underneath the jacket is almost fully unbuttoned.

“You look slutty, Billy.” You joke, “you’re lucky Mrs. Myers isn’t around or you’d be sent home for violating the dress code.”

He chuckles darkly, leaning closer to you, he holds up one finger, “the slutty look is exactly what I was going for.”

“As always,” you snort.

“Do you wanna dance?” Billy asks you.

“No thanks but Heather wants to dance.”

She turns to you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I know you want to,” you whisper into her ear before you pull away and place her hand into Billy’s, who smirks at you.

“I’ll drown you in the punch if you don’t treat her well.”

He only laughs in amusement, clearly not taking the threat seriously.

“Y/n?�� Heather glares at you.

“Have fun, babe.”

You know all about her not so secret crush on Billy – she is good at hiding it but you saw right through it.

You make your way over to the snack table. Waving at some of the girls from the cheer squad who are taking pictures with their dates.

A huge bowl is in the middle of the table, filled with red liquid and fresh fruit. You wonder if someone spiked it with alcohol yet. You pour some of it into a cup and take a sip. Definitely spiked. You down the rest of the drink and pour yourself a second cup.

“Hey.”

You freeze. You stare down at your drink. Yeah, you definitely need the alcohol tonight. You haven’t talked to him since that night, you sat next to him during English class today and you had submitted the essay together but you didn’t talk and you hoped that it would stay that way. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

“Careful with the punch, Tommy spiked it.”

You turn around to face him, his eyes widen a little when he takes in the sight of you. He looks you up and down, not in the same way Billy did but in a way that leaves your skin crawling and your heart racing.

He is wearing a black tuxedo with a red bow tie. His hair looks amazing as always but his eyes are filled with sadness.

“Good,” you mumble as you drink the spiked punch.

“Y-You look beautiful,” Steve says. His heart flutters, you steal his breath away. The dark eyeshadow makes your eye color more prominent. Your red lips look so kissable and the dress looks like it was made for you. You are perfect.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Steve?” You sigh. You refuse to look into his eyes, knowing that it will only make things worse.

He blinks, furrowing his brows. He looks over your shoulder to where she’s standing with Jonathan, smiling at him. “She’s uh–” he stops talking when he sees you walking away. He sighs, clenching his hand into a fist, “shit..”

You already feel like going home – you knew you would run into him, you still weren’t prepared, you never are. You are sick of the feeling he leaves you with whenever you see him. You are so over it.

You take a seat at your assigned table and look around, finally spotting Chrissy in the crowd. She’s dancing with Jason, you can see the forced smile even from a mile away.

You can’t stand him. You always hated the way he treats others – the way he thinks that he is so much better than everyone else and the way he thinks he can have anyone he wants. The way he uses Mrs. Cunningham’s liking towards him to force himself into Chrissy’s life, knowing that she doesn’t actually like him.

You relax a little when you see Heather heading towards Chrissy, pulling her away from Jason so that they can dance together. You lean back in the chair and sip on your drink.

You wish you would have stayed at home.

You wish you would have listened to Eddie when he said that this sucks.

You feel like a loser, sitting by yourself at this empty table, sipping one drink after the other as your eyes continuously move back to him. You see him with her and it breaks your heart all over again. By now, you should be used to it and you were – you have gotten used to this. To him not being yours anymore, to him loving someone else, to him being with someone else but then he turned everything upside down.

His confession left you in shambles. He had broken everything, again. All the strength you have gathered since the day he left you, he took it all away from you with a few words and a kiss that almost happened.

He loves you, that’s what he said. But he is here, holding her in his arms, kissing her as though he didn’t try to kiss you, two nights ago. He is dancing with her, whispering things into her and holding her tightly.

None of it makes sense to you.

If he loves you so much, then why is he dancing with her as though nothing ever happened?

Why is he still with her?

Is she a rebound now or were you just the backup plan all along?

The girl he’d come back to once things with her go downhill?

Are they already going downhill?

Is that why he told you he still loves you?

So that he has someone to come back to?

You feel so miserable. The longer you stare at him. You begin to feel worse and worse.

Not even a dance with your friends helps you lift your mood. Not even the compliments and the nice things that people have said to you tonight, make you feel better. Nothing makes you feel better but you force a smile on your face, a happy one. The way you always do and you dance with Heather and Chrissy, holding their hands and pretending to have the time of your life when all you wanna do is go home and cry yourself to sleep.

It’s when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers with a sad expression on your face, ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go home, that your night takes a turn for the better.

You don’t hear the footsteps coming your way, you are too busy looking at all the happy couples. Someone clears their throat.

“May the Master of Dungeons have a dance with the ethereal Queen of Hawkins High?”

Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you straighten up and turn to look at Eddie who playfully bows in front of you with a smile on his face, getting a few weird looks from the other, which neither of you care about.

A giggle falls from your lips, “Eddie!”

“Come on, give me your hand, Queen.”

You laugh and place your hand in his. He pulls you up and smiles at you when your eyes lock. “Look at you,” he beams. He raises your hand over your head, “give me a twirl,” he winks.

You roll your eyes, playfully. Giving him the twirl that he asked for, you can’t help but giggle when he begins to whistle.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart!”

He grabs your waist when you stumble a little. He instantly smells the alcohol on you.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

He eyes you with a smile on his face, “love the smokey eyes and the dress – honestly, you look like a witchy fairy.”

“A witchy fairy?” You laugh, tilting your head.

He puts his hand over his heart, “I mean that as a compliment – a badass witchy, fairy, shit, I’m gonna have to create a character based on you now.”

You shake your head, laughing at the concentrated look on his face. He is wearing a white button down, a few buttons are left undone, one of his tattoos is peeking out from beneath the shirt, and a silver chain is around his neck. His curly hair looks as good as always.

“You look amazing, Eddie.”

He raises his brows in surprise, his dark eyes light up.

“Thank you, badass fairy witch,” he winks. “Look, I stole these pants from Wayne, I have none without holes in them,” he laughs, pointing to the black pants he is wearing.

You can’t even help but giggle.

“I thought this isn’t your thing,” you say. Gesturing to the dance.

He shrugs, “yeah well, I thought you could use a dance partner.”

Your gaze softens. A feeling of warmth and comfort rushes through you. “You came for me?”

He holds your hand tighter, “who else would I come here for?” He asks as he looks into your big eyes.

“My knight in shining armor,” you tease.

He snorts at your words, “come on.” He says as he pushes you in front of him and leads you into the middle of the dance floor, pushing some jock out of the way. You can feel the eyes on you, you can see the weird looks from the cheerleaders when they see you with Eddie. It only makes you scoff at them.

A squeal leaves your lips when Eddie suddenly twirls you again, laughing when you hold onto his hand tightly. He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans in, “let me guess, you had some of that spiked punch?” He whispers into your ear.

"Absolutely,” you giggle and turn around to face him. You place your hands on his shoulders.

“Bad girl,” he smirks, tapping your nose.

“I learned from the best.” You tap his nose back, making him laugh.

Steve watches you and Eddie with an irritated look on his face. You seem so carefree and happy with him. So familiar. Like you have known each other for a long time already. You melt into his touch so easily and laugh at whatever he is whispering into your ear.

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He knows it’s jealousy. He can’t do anything about it though. The girl in his arms is his, you aren’t – not anymore.

Every breath you take by The Police starts playing. Some leave the dance floor, some stay to slow dance with their partner. Steve pulls Nancy closer and looks over her shoulder to see what you will do.

Eddie pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around him, you lay your head on his chest, melting into him so easily. It breaks Steve’s heart a little. He feels tense, it’s hard to see you with someone else, even when Eddie said that there is nothing but friendship between the two of you, it certainly looks more than just that to Steve.

You don’t even notice the weird looks you are getting from the people around you. You are only focused on him. The thought of you and Eddie somehow hurts more than the thought of you and Billy. Because Billy would be nothing more than a hookup but Eddie? Eddie is a good guy, one who will treat you well and love you the way he couldn’t.

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asks as she lifts her head to look at him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles with a frown on his face. “Why?”

Her blue eyes are filled with confusion, she shrugs, “you seem tense.”

“I’m fine, Nance,” he says, softly.

“Okay,” she smiles.

When she lays her head on his chest, he squeezes her and looks back up. His breath hitches in his throat when his eyes lock with yours as you rest your chin on Eddie’s shoulder, who’s back is turned towards him. For a moment, you look at each other. Steve’s heart begins to beat faster in his chest, the longer you look at each other. He longs for you. This, all of this, feels so wrong. He shouldn’t be here with her and you shouldn’t be there with him.

But while his eyes soften, your eyes harden.

His are filled with longing and sadness.

Yours are filled with indifference.

You look at each other for a few long seconds and then you take one final look at him before you tear your eyes away from him. Somehow, that felt like a stab to his heart because that moment felt like the end. The realization that it is truly over makes his blood run cold. He feels paralyzed by the pain that he had caused himself.

Eddie tightens his hold on you when he feels how tense you are, he looks down at you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

"Yes, please."

next part

only tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

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avis-writeshq · 1 month

Note

not me asking for it https://www.tumblr.com/avis-writeshq/744966259884556288/if-someone-asks-for-it-ill-write-a-fic-based-on?source=share

pairing: s9!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff, established relationship, SMUT warnings: 18+ CONTENT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !! oral fem receiving, spencer reid is a munch, hair pulling, fingering a/n: a promise is a promise !! based off of this post <3 i hope this lived up to expectations !! first time writing fem oral ha h a ha wc: 1.1k

Honestly, if there’s one person Spencer can blame for the situation he is currently in, he blames himself. After all, he should have known that a ‘gathering’ at Rossi’s house that was planned by Penelope would only call for a lot of teasing, a lot of ‘get to know each other!’ games (despite the fact that he has worked with this same team for more than seven years. What else is there to know?), and a lot of alcohol. He didn’t quite realise that these games would be of the drinking variety. Alas, here he is, sitting on one of Rossi’s incredibly expensive leather couches and cringing at the horrid taste of whiskey.

The game they’re currently playing is an alcoholic’s rendition of ‘who is most likely to?’, involving a thick stack of cards with different topics while each member of the team took turns reading out. Whoever ended up with the most amount fingers pointed in their direction was forced to drink.

Spencer hates this game. He has drank from his cup a grand total of six times, and he is not getting any more used to the spicy-poison-equivalent in his hand.

“Alright, this is a good one,” Derek announces with a manic snigger. “Who here is most likely to be a munch?”

There is no hesitation in anyone’s answers, and all six fingers point into Spencer’s direction. His jaw drops at the betrayal, his head spinning from the sheer amount of shots he had to take but also what the hell is a munch?

“I don’t even know what that means!” He insists.

“Oh–” Penelope wears a half delighted half pitying expression at his words. “We really need to get you onto the internet more. Reddit is probably up your alley.”

“Even Rossi knows what it means,” Emily cackles, gesturing to Rossi who looks all too pleased. “Hotch was my second option though.”

Aaron shrugs, sipping at his drink. “Guilty.”

A chorus of laughs and shrieks erupt from the group, leaving Spencer even more confused. “What?”

“Don’t Google it,” JJ chimes in. “Seriously.”

Spencer nods, and although he knows that he should have taken the warning seriously, the curiosity was getting to him and he had no choice but to search it up as soon as he got home. He gets the usual answers– the etymology of the word, what it means in the Oxford Dictionary, the popularity of the word since the early 1800s, and he really doesn’t understand what the fuss is. Does the team think that he eats loudly? Or that he chews with his mouth open? His brows furrow at the unsightly thought.

His interest soon shifts to a different a different link, namely The Urban Dictionary. He blinks, clicking on the link without much thought and– oh. He does not get much sleep that night.

***

Your relationship with Spencer isn’t a secret. At least, it was never supposed to be classified as such. He is simply an incredibly private person that even his closest friends don’t know that you exist. It simply never popped up in conversation– or so he says.

The relationship isn’t necessarily new either. It’s nearing the one year mark and you have gotten to the point where the two of you have been more ‘experimental’ when it comes to sex. He finds it embarrassing. You find it unsurprising that he would. You find it even more surprising when he breaks a kiss halfway to lower you onto his bed, your head falling to one of his very expensive memory foam pillows.

“I want to try something,” he announces softly into your ear, squeezing gently at your waist and looping his fingers into his shorts. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, body hot with anticipation as he pulls down your shorts. It’s only when he brings his face between your thighs do you realise what he intends to do. “Spence, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” he repeats softly, his fingers running up and down the lacy fabric at your slit. “If you want me to stop, you can tell me.”

You shake your head immediately at that, your hands moving to his grip his shoulders. “No, I don’t want you to stop but– but Spence, this is the first time you’ve done this. It’s okay–”

“Let me do this for you,” he says, his breath ghosting against the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I’ve done my research.”

“What–”

You’re silenced as soon as he presses his lips to your cunt, only separated by your pretty lacy underwear. He groans quietly at the taste of your slick seeping through the fabric, and his hands hold onto your thighs to keep them parted. It’s so good, so good, but it just isn’t enough. He pushes the fabric to the side, watching the way it clings and sticks to your skin.

All it takes is one swipe of his tongue on your pretty clit for his brain to grow blank. The grip he has on your thighs grow firmer and his fingers dig in hard enough to leave little marks. His nose bumps against your clit while his tongue travels against your folds.

“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes against you, lapping at your dripping cunt. “Fuck, angel, you’re so beautiful.”

Then, he’s on you all over again. His lips wrap around your clit and he whines into you as he sucks at the bundle of nerves. Each one of his actions has your back lifting from the bed and your hands tugging at his curls, to which he responds with a quiet moan. Amidst the pleasure, your mind nags you to be gentle, and you loosen your grip despite it taking all of your self control.

“Do that again.” He says it as a demand, guiding your hands back into his hair. “Do it again, angel.”

His head is spinning and he craves for more of you, his tongue flattening against your clit over and over again. He brings his own fingers to brush against your entrance, coating them with your slick before slipping his middle finger inside. It’s only the first knuckle but it’s enough to have you squirming beneath him. He pushes further until it reaches all the way, and Spencer groans at the feeling of you tightening around him. He kisses your clit again at the same time he curls his finger inside you and it’s all too much.

“Spence–”

You gush around his finger and he licks and laps at your pussy like he needs it to breathe. His finger curls open and closed inside you while you rock your hips against his face, your grip on his hair tightening as each second of your high passes.

“So good,” Spencer moans, kissing your clit. “Taste so good. You can do one more, right, angel? Just one more, I promise.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

tagging the people who commented on the original post: @mosaicbrokenherz @doigettokeepyou @goblinintheblog @cassioxpeiaxmgg @daddytenebra @lilliumrorum @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @lightreiding

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scatteredskittless · 2 months

Note

hello!! i saw you wanted requests and I was wondering if you would be willing to write some platonic headcanons for the Hazbin Hotel crew with a reader who has chronic pain. (i totally get if you don't want to) thank you so much and I'm excited to see what you write in the future 😺

Hazbin Hotel Crew x Chronic pain having! GN! Reader

A/n: tysm for the request !! This is my first time writing something like this so I hope it’s okay :3 (if there’s anything I got wrong, please correct me)

Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain and disability (but like.. that’s pretty obvious lol)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 After a while of Alastor observing you, as he does with most, he’d notice your body language and think the way you acted was a bit odd…

📻𖤐 Not in a bad way, he just didn’t understand at first why you sometimes visibly look like you were in pain or even just hobbling around to get somewhere

📻𖤐 it definitely raised his brow…

📻𖤐 Before actually approaching you and asking you about it, I’d like to think he made one of the egg boiz spy on you like he did in that one episode 😭😭

📻𖤐 I don’t know what he was expecting though. The only somewhat valuable piece of information he gathered from what the little talking egg had told him was that it saw you taking pain medication. Which did not narrow it down at all and not much of his curiosity had been quenched quite yet..

📻𖤐 So, one peaceful and early morning in the hotel, he decided it’d be best to just ask you about it.

📻𖤐 “My dear, are you feeling alright? You look to be quite discomforted…?” He’d ask casually as he took a sip from his coffee mug, one brow raised and his eyes fixed on yours, pretending like he hadn’t noticed this before today.

📻𖤐 After a chat, he was informed you had something called “chronic pain”. He asked a few questions, nodding when he got the answers and once he was satisfied, he walked off back to his quarters in the hotel.

📻𖤐 After all, he had so much research to do.

📻𖤐 Adding onto that last once I do feel as though Alastor would do more research on it when you decided to tell him about your condition.

📻𖤐 Mostly for his own benefit of learning something new since he hadn’t heard of this before… but it came in handy if you ever needed a bit of a helping hand.

📻𖤐 Like, if you happened to have a flare up or just a particularly bad day he’d sit with you and made sure you rested up.

📻𖤐 He wouldn’t verbally express it but he did take pity on you. How unfortunate you were in constant agony.

📻𖤐 He is a sadistic little fuck though so he’d probably find it mildly entertaining or at the very least fascinating to see what’d make you tick or was a challenge for you

📻𖤐 Although he’d try to be careful not to push you too much.

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ We all know Angel Dust doesn’t have much of a filter so it wouldn’t take him long to ask you why you could barely stand upright for too long or look like you’re genuinely struggling all the time.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ In fact, he’s more perceptive than people would like to think he is. He noticed it shortly after you two had met.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ He’d probably come off a bit strong, saying something along the lines of “toots? Ya alright over there? Ya don’t look so uhhh.. you don’t look too hot.” As he gave you a one over.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ You could tell he wasn’t trying to be insulting to you though, he was just concerned and wanted to know what was troubling you. It showed ever so slightly on the spiders face.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Once you explained to Angel your condition he felt bad. Like, huh? Whatdoya mean you sometimes have trouble even getting outta bed in the morning because of how much pain you’re in?? Sometimes you neglect your own basic needs because you’re in constant pain?

🕸️ᥫ᭡ As he tired to wrap his head around the thought, he’d ask if there’s anything he could do to help. Of course though, there wasn’t much he could do.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ From that day on, Angel would try to make things at least a little easier for you. You had earned the title of his friend, after all. Why would he let his friend suffer alone?

🕸️ᥫ᭡ He loves to cook and is pretty good at it so expect a few homemade meals on him at least a few times <3

🕸️ᥫ᭡ If you ever had a flare up you better fucking believe he’d sit there with you and just talk. He rambles like an old man lol

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Also 100% has movie nights with you with both of you guys’ favourite snacks.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Oh and of course his pig Fat Nuggets would be joining you two

🕸️ᥫ᭡ And thankfully the little guy adores you. Which gains some points with Angel

🕸️ᥫ᭡ The piggy would crawl into your lap if you were up for it. He’s pretty light and his oinks and squeals are bound to make you crack a smile

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel is no stranger to feeling pain, so he knows how much it sucks.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ That’s why I believe he’d be one of the best people to tell. You’re his friend and wants to make sure you’re okay as possible.

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Husker, much like Angel, would notice almost immediately that something was up with you…

🍺🃁 At first Husk couldn’t place it. He just knew that he didn’t often see you standing up straight for long periods of time and that you looked like you were constantly unwell.

🍺🃁 Was it just bad migraines? He’s never really seen you drunk before so it’s not like it could be really bad hangovers.

🍺🃁 Plus, this has been going on since you arrived here so that seemed highly unlikely.

🍺🃁 Husk was the type of guy to keep it to himself though. If it didn’t concern him, why bother saying anything about it?

🍺🃁 One day though, you sat yourself down at the bar and asked for some water. This time however, you looked worse than usual, practically doubled over as you stared down at the bar.

🍺🃁 Even though Husk usually kept his mouth shut.. he couldn’t help but ask if you had a headache or something and if you needed some migraine medication.

🍺🃁 He wasn’t heartless.

🍺🃁 When you shook your head no slowly and told him you were just having a “flare up” he asked what you meant to which you gave a brief explanation of the condition you have.

🍺🃁 Suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why you looked like you were constantly in pain. It’s because you were.

🍺🃁 He slid you the ice cold water gently and observed you for a few moments before going back to wiping the glasses as he spoke to you.

🍺🃁 “If you need something don’t be afraid to ask for it.” He’d say, his deep voice trying to be as comforting as it can while also maintaining somewhat of a nonchalant tone.

🍺🃁 Then, after that, it became routine for you to sit at the bar with him.

🍺🃁 He definitely wasn’t complaining. It was nice getting to know you and since you had a place to just sit and rest, he got to see you more often.

🍺🃁 you swiftly became good friends with him and he was pretty helpful when it came to your condition.

🍺🃁 he’d do his best to check up on you often :)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie heard about your chronic pain from Charlie so there wouldn’t be a need to tell her about it lol

🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d be a little awkward with attempting to help you out…

🗡️☪︎ Like it’s not like she can really make you feel better so it’s a bit of a struggle for her..

🗡️☪︎ But she does try her best though because she cares about you. You’re her friend.

🗡️☪︎ After a few motivational words from Charlie she’s good to go, attempting to comfort you.

🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d try to help by grabbing you stuff you wanted or needed and chatting with you.

🗡️☪︎ She’s actually quite fun to converse with, she’s pretty sweet when she wants to be and can hold good conversations :))

🗡️☪︎ She’s a good listener so if you wanted to vent or just had something on your mind, she’d listen.

🗡️☪︎ During flareups, Vaggie would just stay by your side and wait it out with you, if you needed anything, she’d be on it and would be back pretty fucking quickly too 💀

🗡️☪︎ Would put a random show on if you wanted a distraction and might let you rest your head on her shoulder if you so desired

🗡️☪︎ I can’t think of much else for her other than the fact she’d try her best. Maybe mess up a few times but ultimately she means well and tries to be as understanding as she possibly can be <33

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ The first thing you did when you arrived at the hotel was inform the very excited daughter of Lucifer that you had chronic pains so you might have to take it a bit slow when showing you around the Hazbin Hotel..

⭐️☀︎ And of course, Charlie being who she was, was very understanding and accepting of that fact.

⭐️☀︎ She’d heard about your condition before so making accommodations for you wouldn’t be an issue

⭐️☀︎ She’s a sweetheart so quite literally your biggest supporter

⭐️☀︎ Like, oh? You need something??Ohmygodwhydidntyoutellmesoonerhereitis :33

⭐️☀︎ Much like Vaggie, she’d sit and talk with you during your flareups

⭐️☀︎ Maybe make you a tea and discuss future plans and such for the hotel to get your mind off of things. Works sometimes surprisingly enough.

⭐️☀︎ She’s nice to talk to, very comforting vibes

⭐️☀︎ But it may get a bit annoying how many times she asks if you’re sure there’s nothing she can do to make your pain go away somehow lol

⭐️☀︎ Or even just how many times she asks if you need something. “Do you need anything? No? Are you sure? Okay…. But are you really sure?”

⭐️☀︎ Might stress herself out on occasion over it tbh😭🙏

⭐️☀︎ But she only means well, you know that.

⭐️☀︎ Her cat Keekee I’m sure would love to cuddle, the cute cyclopean kitty pushing its forehead against your hand for pets (only if you’re up to it, of course.)

⭐️☀︎ Asides from Angel, Charlie would definitely be the best person to tell in the hotel because like… genuinely she just wants to help In any way she can lol

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Niffty is quite blunt as well, very out there and doesn’t really think before she speaks half of the time it just kinda comes out 😭

🧼𐙚 So.. she’d probably take one look at you, and ask why you’re in pain.

🧼𐙚 To which you’d explain to the little one eyed maid your condition, she’d think about it for a moment before asking a shitload of questions about it to which you answer :))

🧼𐙚 Other than that I don’t think Niffty would like… really do much?

🧼𐙚 Maybe clean for you

🧼𐙚 But there’s not much else she would do, realistically, she might forget about it and then ask again. Once you remind her she remembers tho lol

🧼𐙚 During your flareups I do believe like the others she’d sit with you for a while…

🧼𐙚 Before spotting a roach and scurrying off to go take care of the pest. Once done, she’d come back and the cycle repeats.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/writing/headcanons without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittless

#husk x reader #alastor x reader #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #charlie morningstar #charlie morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel comfort

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hannieehaee · 4 months

Text

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2- pu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, jun's has one brief suggestive mention, fluffy ending, etc.

part 1

wc: 3232

a/n: tysm to everyone who read and enjoyed the whole series <33 it was rlly fun to write angst with a fluffy ending hehe

masterlist

jun -

against his better judgment, jun sat in silence for a while as he contemplated what to do. you were likely not only mad, but also disappointed at him ditching you like that. except he hadnt meant to! he truly had no idea he would sleep through the entirety of the morning. he had been so excited to spend his favorite day with his favorite person, but now he was left as a complete asshole while you believed him to have carelessly put you aside with no warning

after a few more minutes of self-pitying, he decided to get up. it was better to try and make amends and explain himself than to let even more time pass. he knew you'd be out by the time he arrived to your place, but at least that way he could fix something up for your arrival. he decided against calling you. it didnt feel personal enough, plus, the least he could do was surprise you.

without further thought, jun headed straight to your place, but not before inquiring his mom about a few recipes he knew you liked. his current plan was to make you a romantic dinner upon your return. in order to allow you to enjoy your day in whichever way you wished to, he continued to not contact you with his new plan. he knew it might've been dumb to not even answer the multiple messages you'd left him while he slept, but he wanted to apologize face to face with a romantic gesture.

preparing the meal had been easy enough. he followed it by creating a nice ambience with the lights and a few candles, along with some mellow music and incense. the next step in his plan was to offer you a massage and his wholehearted company for the rest of the night to do whatever you so wished.

luckily for him, your outing did not extend into the night, meaning his meal would become either a brunch or an early dinner. but that didn't matter to him the moment you stepped in and spotted him in suit and tie waiting for you in your apartment, eyes wide as saucers at the unexpected intrusion.

"jun?"

"wait! dont say anything. i rehearsed this, okay? let me say my thing first."

you were already used to his shenanigans, so you gestured at him to continue before voicing any questions.

"i'm so sorry. i know i promised to be here. and i was planning to be here on time! but i, uh, i fell asleep. i know how stupid that sounds, trust me! i didn't plan on this. i was so exhausted and i didnt realize that id sleep through all my alarms and your messages. my phone died last night too, so i didnt even realize you had called me. i'm just ... im sorry. i know im an idiot. please forgive me? i made you a romantic dinner to make up for it! i hope you like it, they're my mom's recipes," he paused for a second before continuing, "i love you! i wanted to spend the whole day with you, i swear. i know it didnt go as planned, but id you let me, id love to spend what remains of it doing whatever you want. im sorry i left you alone. i never meant to."

"junnie ..."

jun immediately noticed your lip begin to stick out in a pout, with watery eyes to match.

"oh, fuck. baby, i'm so sorry," he rushed you into his embrace, "i didnt mean to make you cry! i- how can i make it up to you? i'll do anything, just say the word."

you halted him before he could continue, remaining in his hold but disconnecting yourself enough to look into his eyes.

"no, junnie. it's just ... fuck, im sorry if my texts were harsh. i thought you had just ditched me for no reason. you must've been so exhausted, baby, im sorry. i understand why you weren't here, and ... god, thank you for the dinner. you're so sweet, junnie, im so so-"

"no! dont apologize. you're not allowed to apologize on your birthday. in a perfect world i wouldve made it home and fallen asleep in your arms instead. will you have dinner with me? then i can take you to bed," he interrupted himself upon realizing what he said, "oh, wait! not like that! but well, if you want too ... it's your day, anything you say goes. happy birthday, by the way," he pressed his nose to yours, "i love you."

you couldn't help but giggle at his panicked state, appreciating the sweet words nonetheless.

"thank you, junnie. i love you."

soonyoung -

soonyoung wasn't too sure where he was going.

it's not like be was blackout drunk, he was just drunk. period. he still had some sense of reason. he was almost 85% sure he was in minghao's car. but there was no way to be completely sure from the angle in which he was laying down. that's when his friend decided to inquire his name to check on him, thus confirming soonyoung's current whereabouts. that was also when soonyoung fell right back asleep.

next time he gained consciousness he was being dragged out of the car and being directed to follow minghao. he could recognize his new location anywhere. he was standing right outside your apartment. when you opened the door, he couldnt help but instantly let himself fall atop you, attacking you with a hug as you were forced a few steps back due to his body weight being dropped on you. you held him back, patting his back as you spoke to minghao about something. he wasn't too sure. the familiar scent at the crook of your neck had him too distracted to care.

finally minghao left, allowing you two some alone time. you left him on the couch and got him water, telling him he needed to sober up before you could talk, because apparently you had something to say to him. it was odd. you weren't cooing at him as you usually did. you also weren't stuck to his side, giving him his daily dose of physical affection like he'd always demand. he decided to shrug it off, allowing himself to fall into deep slumber on the uncomfortable space of your couch. he'd figure it out tomorrow.

when tomorrow came, soonyoung was hit with two things. one came after the other.

the first was his headache, which almost went away on its own at the mere aight of the aspirin you had left on the coffee table in front of him. he made a mental note to give you a thank you kiss the moment he saw you.

the next thing he was hit with was realization of how uneven this relationship seemingly was.

as he got up to seek you out, he stopped just before entering your bedroom, realizing you were on a phone call. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he was also really nosy by nature, so the math did itself.

"yeah. im sorry for cancelling on you yesterday ... no, i know ... it's not like that .... he just forgot .... yeah ..... he came home drunk .... i dont know. i think i'll just let him figure it out on his own .... i am hurt. we made plans and he just blew me off to drink with his friends, of course im hurt .... i'll just see you tomorrow, i gotta go take care of him .... yeah, i know im an idiot, but i love him .... okay, bye. love you too."

soonyoung could only hear your side of the conversation, but that had been enough for him to clue the pieces together. your birthday was yesterday. which was something he knew, but had completely left his mind at the mention of free drinks with the guys.

after that realization came many others.

you had shown him no type of anger upon his arrival, even making sure take care of him in his drunken state. you had changed him into his pjs as he slept, tucked him into your couch, given him medicine. even after he blew you off. on your birthday. fuck.

he gave himself no time to think before he barged into the room, immediately kneeling in front of you as he grabbed onto your hands. he paid no mind to your shocked state as he started babbling apologies to you.

"im so sorry, i- i dont know how i forgot. baby ... im so fucking sorry. i cant believe you took care of me even after i forgot. you shouldve punished me. you should punish me. i dont deserve you. im so so so sorry. i love you so much, i swear i never meant go forget. im just an idiot. that's not an excuse! you're just too good for me. I'll make it up to you! how can i? anything! please, i love you."

his rambling could only be blamed on his still buzzed state, as that had only been half of his apology. he kept going for ten minutes, allowing you no room to respond. he was surprised when by the end of it you'd instructed him to get up, almost tackling him in a hug as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he might've been an idiot, but he'd accept any affection from you he could get. always.

"soonie ..." you pulled away to look into his eyes, a sweet softness behind them. them you decided to slap his chest, making him wince at the unexpectedness of it, "you fucking idiot! i waited for you all day, and you ditch me for alcohol?"

"baby, i-"

"no! i cant sit through another ten minutes of apologies. im pretty sure you're a little drunk still. i forgive you. but you have a lot of making up to do, understand?"

he felt like a scolded puppy, but agreed regardless, telling you that he would swear off alcohol if that's what it took. he enjoyed your giggle as he suggested ridiculous ways to make it up to you, knowing he'd genuinely do anything to make up for ever making you upset.

minghao -

if he hadn't felt immediate regret the moment the words came out of his mouth, he sure felt it now, hearing you cry through the door to your shared bedroom.

he had no idea what had gotten into him. never had he ever even entertained the idea of disrespecting you like that, much less ever making you cry. he could take his job too seriously sometimes, making him a bit too irritable when his work ethic was questioned in any way. although this was true, he knew it was still just a cheap excuse for his behavior. no matter what had been going through his mind, he knew he had no right to speak to you in the way that he did, dismissing you so coldly on a day that was meant to celebrate you.

he was unsure what to do. he wanted to comfort you so badly, but he knew that he had been the sole cause for your pain. he felt himself get emotional at the mere thought, with your sobs making him weak at the knees in regret. he sat himself down on the other side of the door, knowing from the proximity of your cries that you must've been on the opposite side as well. he kept quiet, simply torturing himself as he heard the love of his life cry because of him. there was only so much he could take, however, before finally interrupting.

"my love ..?"

your cries seized a bit at his interruption, but your sniffles and heavy breath could still be heard, breaking his heart bit by bit.

"angel ... im so sorry ... i- i don't know what came over me. you're right. i should've called you. there is no world in which i wouldnt want to be with you to celebrate the birth of the love of my life. you're my everything. i want to shout it from the rooftops. i want everyone to know who my entire world is; who makes my heart beat," he took a pause to breathe, allowing himself to think of how to properly apologize to you, "i should never speak to you the way i just did, i ... im disgusted with myself. you're the most important thing in my life. being the source of your sadness makes me lose my mind. my one purpose in this life is to love you with all i have. im so sorry ... my love, please dont cry over me. no one deserves your tears."

by the end of his speech you had begun to cry harder, making his heart crumble even more.

"angel ... let me see you, please. i need to hold you, need to- need you in my arms. cant stand not taking away your pain, please, i-"

his words were interrupted by a sudden opening of the door. by the time he'd gotten up, you had already walked further into your room, sitting on the edge of the bed as you made yourself as small as possible, looking down while he approached. he knelt in front of you, grabbing your hands as he held them against his own, kissing at the back of your palms as he professed his love for you once more. he then got up and made it so you'd stand up with him, allowing him to cradle you in his arms.

"please forgive me ... i adore you more than anything."

you finally looked up at him, bloodshot eyes as he looked down at you with both worry and adoration.

"did you mean it? do you really not care to ditch me for your career? did you-"

"no! never. you're everything to me. there's nothing i hold more dear to my heart than your own. i'll never make you cry again. i'll grow old with you and give you nothing but happiness. please, please forgive me."

he knew his words could only get him so far, being fully aware that he had purposely hurt your feelings in the heat of the moment. he simply hoped that this would not cause a strain in your relationship; that you would somehow look past it and give him the forgiveness that he didn't deserve.

his thoughts were fortunately interrupted by a soft meeting of your lips, allowing him to melt into you before you pulled away.

"hao ... i forgive you. i- i never thought you'd just disregard me like that," he physically winced at the thought, "but you've shown me nothing but love and respect otherwise. i understand you were stressed, and i love you, so i forgive you."

"thank you, angel. i'll take tomorrow off, okay? let me keep you all to myself so i can show you how sorry i am; how badly i love you."

he then spent the rest of the night attached to you, waxing poetic at you as he told you of all the plans he had for the two of you tomorrow, even eventually progressing into talking about his night at the fashion show. your enthusiasm at his rambles made him realize how fortunate he was to have you all over again. he made a promise to himself and to you that he'd never lose his temper around you ever again.

chan -

"wait, what? ah! don't hit me!"

"you idiot! you're dating a literal angel and you forget their birthday?! what is wrong with you?"

"it's not today! it's, uh, wait. fuck. today?!"

checking his phone really quickly he realized that today's date was in fact your birthday. he hadn't bothered to write down a reminder for your birthday anywhere, knowing there was absolutely more way he could forget. except that the days had begun to blend together at some point, rendering him into a machine as he just went to his schedules without much thought. what he hadn't accounted for, however, was for your birthday to get lost in the mess also.

chan hadn't planned for his day to go like this. he 100% was not expecting to be berated by seungkwan the moment he stepped foot into the practice room, being scolded over being a careless boyfriend. even as annoyed as he was at his friend, he knew he was right. he hadn't meant to, but ultimately he had forgotten about you. it sucked to think about how he had bid you goodbye just this morning with not a single care in the world, now realizing that you were probably alone and feeling disregarded by him. i mean, for fuck's sakes, he had told you to take the day off a few weeks back. promising a fun afternoon together after he got off work. and now he had completely forgotten about it.

he needed to fix this, and quick.

like any lovesick guy (such as chan, who was immensely down bad for you), he ran to leave practice. he knew soonyoung would have his ass on a silver platter the moment he arrived and noticed chan's absence, but after weighing his options (hurting your feelings vs. being berated by yet another one of his older brothers), he decided you were the clear priority.

ran might've been an overstatement, but he did rush as much as he could. he wanted to account for the extra time he'd need to spend to stop by a flower shop on the way in order to beg for forgiveness in a more heartfelt way.

after picking a bouquet of your favorites, he instructed the driver to take him to your address, which led him to his current predicament as he stood outside your apartment door, breathless due to having ran up the stairs in very dramatic fashion. what could he say? he was just a boy in love.

the moment you opened the door to his knocks, he rushed in, rambling endless apologies to you as he handed you the flowers, professing his love to you while also whining (mostly at himself) that seungkwan of all people had been the one to remind him of the love of his life's special day. it was funny, really, how he didn't seem to run out of words when expressing his regret at his mistake.

you interrupted him halfway through his fourth apology, giggling at his widened eyes. okay, this was not exactly the reaction he was expecting.

"chan! jesus, breathe," you interrupted, "i'm not mad. i mean, i was. but you literally only left an hour ago, i cant believe you're back already."

"i headed back the moment kwan told me. baby. i'm sorry. i had planned to take the day off and surprise you, it just slipped my mind, i swe-"

"chan! it's fine! i'm not- i'm not mad, i promise. the fact that you came back running is so ... it's funny," you giggled again, "but its also very sweet. you have nothing to apologize for, okay? i'm just happy you're here."

he hugged you after that, disregarding the flowers in your hands as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

"remind me to thank kwannie for reminding my bad, forgetful boyfriend about my birthday."

"yah! you're not allowed to hang out with him anymore, okay? he's a bad influence," he complained against you, enjoying the vibration of your laugh in return.

a/n: sorry some are way angstier than others ;-; i wanted to vary them a little. anyways tysm if u read the entirety of this mini series <3

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thelargefrye · 6 months

Text

GODS … mature one - shot | pt. one

pairing : emperor!san x princess!f!reader

genre : slight historical fiction, mature, dark, arranged marriage, second chance, slow burn, eventually smut

word count : 3.5k

warnings : language, blood / body gore, death / murder, hints of dismemberment, san is evil, name calling (stupid girl)

special birthday suffering tag : @sanjoongie please accept this as an early birthday present from your braincell

note : inspired by san's performance video that literally wrecked all of us. none of are safe from his power and this proved it. also this was getting a little too long so i decided to split it up into at least two parts

after your life is unrightfully taken from you, you take this second chance as a way to finally survive and make a difference for yourself. you were tired of being a prisoner and feeling unwanted.

the dining hall was empty except for you and a few guards and servants. not another soul sitting at the long dining table despite it being able to sit twenty people easily, if not more.

it bothered you that you ate alone. every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner was by yourself. honestly, a lot of things bother you, but you were never allowed to say what was on your mind. it bothers you that you eat alone, that you have no one to talk to, that your family willingly gave you up to some demon emperor. what bothered you the most is that your "husband" never even gave you the time of day and that you were forced to listen to the maids whisper and gossip about you.

you saw the look of pity in their eyes.

you don't want their pity. you've never wanted anything but freedom for the last three years you've been trapped in this palace.

you were supposed to marry someone who loved you. have a big ceremony and live happily ever after. instead... instead you were taken away from your family by emperor san and forced to marry him. you were a pawn to him in order to gain control over your kingdom.

a prisoner forced to spend the rest of her life trapped in a loveless marriage and life.

you do your best to push down the negative thoughts as you eat. not wanting to get choked up on tears and cry. you didn't want anyone to see you cry.

especially not these gossiping maids.

"i heard the emperor went to the brothel last night."

"again! does him and the princess not spend nights together?"

"of course not. his highness isn't interested in the princess. their quarters are on completely different sides of the palace. i'm surprised he hasn't killed her, yet."

"i am too."

you try your best to ignore them.

when you've finished eating, you get up from the lonely dining table and exit the room. the maids have their eyes casted downward as you walk past them, acting as if they hadn't just been talking about you. your personal guard, mingi, follows you down the hall.

you remember when you first arrived at the palace, san introduced you to mingi and explained how he will be your personal guard.

"don't try anything stupid, mingi has orders to kill you on sight if you do," san's words still haunt you. mingi wasn't here to protect you, but to watch over you and make sure you never tried anything stupid.

when you return to your quarters, you take your usual seat by your window. the window that overlooks most of palace's entrance and the palace wall that keeps you trapped. too high to climb and too far to even try to attempt to make a run for it. like san purposely chose this room for you as a way to mock you. to let you know that you will always be a prisoner.

still, you can't help but wonder if one day you'll be able to be free and live happily.

however, that will only remain a dream until san crushes it as well like he done to all your other dreams.

"ow," you hiss out, finger immediately coming to your lips to try and stop the small prick of blood. you guess that's what you get for getting lost in your thoughts while attempting to work on your embroider.

you look down at the small cloth with the flower design slowly being sewn into it. embroidering was the only thing that kept you sane in this prison. you're waiting for the day san takes this away from you as well.

"princess, are you alright?" a voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you look up to see one of the other guards, yeosang, coming into your room.

"i'm fine. just pricked my finger," you say and he nodded his head.

"the emperor is here to see you," he says before stepping aside to let your husband enter your room. he walks in exuding so much power and authority and you hate it. you hate him for how much control he has. you're forbidden from entering the west wing – his quarters – of the palace, yet he's allowed to come in the east wing and even your room without having to ask. you hate it.

"girl," he begins, never has he addressed you by your name. always just 'girl' or 'stupid girl' when it comes to you, like you weren't of your name let alone your title. "pack your bag, i'm sending you back to your home kingdom for a week. you'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

his words take you by surprise. you'll be... returning home? after three years of being away from your family, you'll finally get to see them?

"r-really?" you ask, standing up and completely forgetting about your pricked finger.

"what are you deaf, girl. i'm not going to repeat myself," he says with an annoyed huff and turns to leave.

"wait!" he stops in his tracks at your voice, but he doesn't turn around to look at you. "why am i going? is everything alright?"

"when did you ask so many fucking questions? be grateful i'm sending you there in the first place," he doesn't say anything else before he takes his leave. the door to your bedroom slamming shut behind him and you immediately flinch at the sound.

"are you ready, princess?" yeosang's voice catches you off guard as you look up at the palace you had been trapped inside for three years. being in the front courtyard gives you a completely different set of emotions knowing that you will be away from this place. even if it is for a week.

you asked yeosang if san was going to come, but the guard completely avoided your question. you're not surprised he's not showing up, but it still hurts nonetheless.

then something else hits you.

"where's mingi?"

"he's had some last minute orders from the emperor," yeosang says, keeping his answer vague like always. "come, princess, we have a long trip ahead of us."

you don't say anything but instead silently climb into the carriage. once you're settled inside, the carriage begins to move and you can't help but look out the window watching as you leave the palace.

you couldn't help the smile that painted your lips knowing that you were finally getting to return to your family. you knew nothing could ruin this moment, not even your ruthless husband.

yeosang let out an exhausted breath as he ran towards the palace. the guards standing at their post immediately recognized their fellow soldier, even with his beaten and bruised body.

"yeosang!" the handsome guard recognizes the deep voice from anywhere and he immediately falls into mingi's arms. collapsing from his injuries, no longer able to stand. then mingi realized something as he and some other guards helped his friend. "where's the princess?"

yeosang looked at mingi with tearful eyes before he shook his head and mingi felt something in stomach twist.

"where's the princess, yeosang?"

"i couldn't... i couldn't– bandits ambushed us... i tried, mingi, i really did, but they–

yeosang couldn't finish his words due to how choked up he was getting, but mingi understood what his friend was trying to say.

"where is she?"

"she's in the forest," yeosang answered and mingi immediately set out on his horse with his best friend and fellow guard, yunho. the two were deep into the forest before they finally came across the carriage you had left in.

the entire carriage was destroyed, the wheels broken off and the main part crashed into a large oak tree. bodies of the driver and some others were laying, scattered around and blood was everywhere.

"mingi..." yunho is attempting to be strong as he watches his friend make his way towards the carriage door. it too had been broken and destroyed and the two guards noted how all of your luggage was gone. "those bandits took everything."

mingi ignored his friend in favor of opening the carriage door. however, instead of being met with an empty carriage, he was greeted with something worse.

"fuck!" mingi has to pull himself away from the carriage. tripping over the tree roots as he bends over and vomits. the sight in the carriage burned into his eyes even as he blinks. yunho watches his friend with concern before he's watching him breakdown and sob. tears running down his cheeks and snot running down his nose and over his chin from how hard his was sobbing. mingi's throat burned from when he threw up.

yunho looked between mingi and the carriage before taking several steps towards the carriage. mingi's voice repeating "oh god, oh god, i'm so sorry. please forgive me" is like a broken record in the background. and then yunho reaches over and opens the door and the sight within makes his whole being shake in terror.

when they arrived back to the palace, mingi carried a bag with him as they reached the throne room. san was sitting on his throne with his usually bored expression; however, mingi and yunho entering caught his attention.

"what's wrong with you two?"

"your highness," yunho begins, voice shaking as he starts to talk. however, yunho doesn't know what to say. he's at a loss for words.

"well? what the fuck is wrong you both?" san asks again, standing up and walking towards the two guards. mingi doesn't say anything except hand the bag over to him. "what is this?"

"your highness, the princess's carriage was attacked by bandits. yeosang managed to make it back, but..." yunho says, finally finding his words. he continues after a moment and at the same time san opens the bag. "the princess did not make it. we brought back... what was left of her."

the image of your body laying in the carriage burns in yunho's mind. he had never seen something as horrific before during his time as a soldier and especially done to an innocent woman like you. you did nothing wrong, just someone trapped in a situation you had no control over.

san says nothing as he looks inside the bag, letting the contents settle into his mind before he's carelessly dropping the bag onto the ground in front of his feet.

"oh well."

you can't help the scream that rips through your throat as you thrash around your bed. your covers flying everywhere before settling either back onto your bed or in the floor. your heart is beating rapidly in your ears and your eyes scan the room around you.

you couldn't help but let out another scream as your door is thrown open and in comes mingi with a concerned look.

"what's wrong, princess?" in any other moment you would have found his voice a comfort. but in this moment, you couldn't even find the proper words. the only thing leaving your lips were sobs as tears ran down your face.

it had felt so real, you thought as you curled yourself into a ball. you felt like you had actually died. alone in that forest as those bandits... no. you don't really want to think about it anymore.

"princess y/n?" mingi speaks again earning your attention as you look at him with tear-stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

"i... i had a nightmare," you said as you wiped away your tears. you hated yourself for crying in front of someone, mingi especially. "sorry."

"ah, its alright, princess. just gave me a scare is all," he says before he's bowing his head towards you and leaving.

when the door closed behind him, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. your hands instinctively come up to your neck, feeling a slight ache course through your body. you try to push back the feeling as your stood you and made your way to your ensuite bathroom to get ready.

you remember when you first arrived how you had at least three handmaids to help you get ready, only helping you because they were afraid of san. however, once they realized san didn't care about you, they stopped doing their duty and showing up. only one continued to be loyal to you, yeri.

but then three months ago you found out that yeri only remained by your side because she wanted to try and get close to san. she knew she was a pretty woman and san went after any pretty woman. after she got what she wanted she too–

"princess y/n, what are you doing running your own bath?" the familiar feminine voice snaps you out of your thoughts. standing up from the the edge of the tub, you're surprised to see yeri standing at you bathroom door.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, a little surprised to suddenly see her in your room.

"hm? what are you talking about princess? i'm your handmaiden, i'm suppose to be here," she answers and something feels unease as seeing her settles in your stomach. something wasn't right.

you vividly remember the night you found san pinning her to the wall and her words that were meant to bring you down. "wouldn't you rather someone who could properly please you, your highness? someone much prettier than your ugly and boring wife?" you remember who she tilted her head to the side in a flirting manner, even twirling her hair as the word left her mouth a stabbed your heart.

you remember how san only smirked at her before continuing to have his way with her. right there in hallway and in the east wing – "your" wing.

you had thought she was a friend, but when you heard those words you immediately knew she wasn't. you trusted her and she betrayed that trust. she didn't care. she was like everyone else.

"here, princess, let me finish–

"stop talking," you cut her off, voice as cold as you could make it. you couldn't stand looking at her. "is this some sick and twisted joke to you?" you ask, glaring at her. yeri's face is immediately covered in confusion and she opens her mouth to say something. "get out. i don't need you to do anything for me."

"but princes–

"i said get out!" you've never raised your voice, but the longer you looked at her the more you realized that she was able to easily get what you could never have. san's attention.

you could have sworn you seen yeri's fake persona fall for a split second from your new attitude before she's turning on her feet and rushing out of the room.

you let your anger subdue before you're turning back to the tub and quickly turning off the water before it begins to overflow into the floor. because honestly that was the last thing you need right now after just waking up.

you allow the warm water engulf you and you let out a sigh as you sink into the water. your hair placed carefully on top of your head as a way to keep it dry, knowing it was going to be a pain to do if you got it wet. the ache and soreness in your body was still there all around you. your neck, wrist, arms, stomach, and legs all had a type of ache to them that you never experienced before.

maybe you should visit the palace doctor later, you think before you let your eyes close. however, once you close your eyes you are immediately brought back to your nightmare. the screams of the driver and other servants ringing in your ears, the carriage door ripping open and those bandits standing there and their swords shining despite the darkness of the night.

you suddenly open your eyes again in order to make sure you were still in your bathroom. eyes darting around the room as if those bandits would also be here. its only after several minutes does your heart rate calm down before you can even will yourself to get out the tub.

the water had grown cold.

"princess, are you alright? do you need to see the doctor?" one the maids ask when she notice you keep repeatedly rubbing your wrists and neck.

"i... i think i just slept wrong," you say in an attempt to brush her concern off.

"alright, princess, but if it gets worse please let someone know," she says and you nod and thank her before she's going back to her place with the other maids in the dining room.

"i heard she dismissed yeri this morning, yelled at her and told her to get out," one of the maid's said in a hushed whisper.

"really? that's surprising considering how much the princess liked her."

"i say yeri deserved it because of how she has been trying to sleep with the emperor."

trying? as if she hadn't done it yet? how is that possible when she did sleep with san three months ago?

the unsettling feeling reappears as you continue to think about yeri and the nightmare. something just wasn't clicking.

"excuse me," you say and one of the maids immediately come over to you.

"yes, your highness? what's wrong?"

"what... what month is it?"

"august, your highness."

"a-august?" your shocked by her answer. it was august? that was three months ago. how is this possible?

"p-princess are you alright? you look ill," her voice sounds far away as you begin to lose focus on the things around you. everything becomes blurry and you're quick to stand up. chair scraping along the floor before tipping over and falling to the floor.

you begin to walk away, ignoring the maids calling after you and even some of the guards, but you ignore them all. this was just some sick joke from all of them. from yeri, to mingi, to the maids, to san. you were supposed to be in october and spending a week with your family. not in fucking august with people who hated you.

you don't have time to comprehend anything else before your falling to your knees and passing out in the middle of the hallway.

after you had passed out, you had woke up in your bedroom with mingi, yeosang, and the palace doctor surrounding your bed along with a young maid.

the maid was the first to notice you awake and she immediately collapsed at your bedside with tears welling up in her eyes.

"oh, princess, i'm so glad that you're awake! we were all worried sick about you!" she said and your eyes moved from between her to the two guards and then the doctor.

"how do you feel, your highness?" the doctor asked and it took you a moment before you actually answered him.

"i'm fine," you answer despite how your body still aches, you force yourself to sit up. the young maid is quick to adjust your pillows for you as you do.

"you all can leave," you add on looking at the guards and doctor. mingi and yeosang as hesitant to follow your orders, but the doctor does so before giving you instructions to take it easy for the rest of the day. he also said that he would make sure your meals are delivered to your room and that he'll come back later.

when the three males leave, you are left alone with the maid. her doe eyes looking at you with concern as she keeps a watchful eye on you. that's when her name finally comes to you.

"yunjin..." you say trailing off as you remember that she was with you in the carriage. you remember watching as the bandits grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the carriage because she tried to protect you.

"yes, ma'am? do you need anything?" she asks, voice hopeful and waiting to help you. you remember she began working for you when hongjoong – san's advisor, had found out that you had no one helping you. you know he only assigned yunjin because he took pity on you like everyone else here.

however, yunjin followed you around and listened to every order you gave her. at first you were worried that she would be like yeri, only using you to see the emperor. as if you see him on the daily. but then you learned that yunjin was a devoted servant to you.

"is it... really august?" you asked her, still not able to wrap your head around everything.

"yes, princess."

what if... oh god, what if you did actually die that night? does this mean you are given a second chance? a second chance to survive and to make sure that you and yunjin and the other servants don't die.

but how were you going to do this?

and then you hear loud cheers and noises coming from outside and you have to force your body to crawl out of bed and over to the window. then you see him.

san walking through the gates and into the courtyard, a small army of followers around him. following him around like he was some god. then it clicked inside your brain.

if you were going to survive then you would have to gain his favor. deep down you know san was probably the one behind the "bandit" attack. so getting on his good side would get him to call off the bandit attack.

you were going to win over your ruthless husband.

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

Text

a break in the narrative

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Mature (there are some suggestive themes but nothing explicit) Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Descriptions of a man's nude upper body, smoking, overuse of italics as per usual Author's Notes: I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the support that has poured forth from people who have read and liked this little series. I'm so truly pleased that everyone has enjoyed it and I am so excited to continue this story. Thank you all very much! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

You learn John’s routine, at least as far as it overlaps with yours, fairly quickly.

He showers first thing in the morning, when normally you are still in bed trying to convince yourself out of it. In the limbo of fading sleep, it is a Herculean effort not to imagine it, not to picture steaming hot water flowing across broad shoulders, between and along full, plush pectorals, dripping along chiseled arms and down that narrow waist to…

You shake your head hard, and then wince when the action sends your toothbrush stabbing into the inside of your cheek. You are drowsily and unwillingly awake. The flow of water on the other side of the wall shuts off. You pretend, as you move on through your own routine, that you’re not thinking of long, strong legs, or anything else that lives below his abdomen.

It’s harder to hear the further away you get from your shared wall, but with a little time you’ve learned how to pick out the sounds of him working in his kitchen. There might be the thunk—never a harsh clang—of a pan on his stove, or the soft clicks of his fridge opening and closing. He doesn’t cook for very long, and washes his dishes in the sink rather than the washer.

You find that little detail endearing. From what little you know of him, it just seems appropriate.

There’s usually some quiet after that, and you’re pretty sure it’s because he’s eating. You picture him standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, plate balanced in one big hand. He hasn’t struck you yet as someone who would sit down alone to eat.

And he’s always alone. You have not heard anyone else in his flat. Not once.

You wonder at that as your own breakfast heats up. Does he have friends? Family?

A partner?

Your microwave beeps. You scowl at yourself. That’s none of your business. You don’t even know the man.

After he eats, you usually hear him step outside. You’ve peeked through your window, once, and have found him smoking a cigar, standing casually on his front doorstep. He’d been looking out into the street, his gaze moving evenly and methodically across the surrounding neighborhood, calm and attentive to the morning.

SAS. You’d known immediately what he was doing. An unexpected sense of safety had flooded you immediately, and continues to resonate in the here and now as you hear his door open and close.

Today, though, that safety is threaded with a little anxiety. You have to leave early, and it will be the first time you’ve faced him since that morning you’d spent trying to talk to him while ogling his bare chest.

He hadn’t been shirtless when you’d discovered his smoking habit. He probably is not now, either. You cannot decide if it’s a pity or a relief.

You check your hair a little nervously in the mirror hanging by your front door. Breakfast sits warm in a deep jacket pocket, a couple of English muffins wrapped in their plastic and bundled into a tea towel. Lunch is in your work bag, which sits ready and patiently waiting by your feet.

You’re just delaying. Your hair is fine. You breathe a little shakily, pick up your bag, scold yourself for a simpering idiot, and leave your flat.

“Morning, John,” you say as you step out, smiling, trying your best to sound casual.

His gaze comes to you immediately, and your knees feel very weak when those gorgeous blue eyes warm with a smile.

Goodness. Does he smile at everyone like that?

“Mornin’, love,” he replies, and you resolutely ignore how much love—which half your coworkers call you, too, stupid—makes your heart flutter. “Early start?”

“Yeah,” you say, locking your door, feeling your face already heating with a blush. “And a full day, too.”

He turns his head and exhales a puff of bluish smoke. “Wish I could say the same.”

You wrap both hands around the strap of your bag, lean against your door. You can’t help but surreptitiously look him up and down. House slippers, large. Long legs, hugged by worker’s denim, loose at the ankle and snug at the thigh and hip. A tight gray t-shirt providing an easy reminder of what you’d seen in all its glory only a few days ago. And—

“Mutton chops,” you say.

His brows raise. “Sorry?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “That wasn’t meant to be out loud!”

John gives a laugh that sounds like it isn’t often used. The beard you’d first met him wearing is now trimmed neatly into two even swoops of dark auburn that make his smile look even fuller than before. “I suppose you haven’t seen ‘em, have you?”

You’ve often heard the buzz of his razor going as you’ve dragged yourself out of bed. At that point, of course, his shower is done.

Does he shave shirtless, with a towel around his waist?

You blink hard and shake that traitorous thought out of your head. “Sorry, I—don’t get me wrong, I mean, it suits you!”

The bristles of his mustache sound against the palm of his hand as he rubs his face. “You think so?”

Those gorgeous blue eyes are on you again, soft and appreciative, the same as they had been the morning you’d first met him. It makes your entire body feel a little warmer than it should.

“Anyway,” you say fretfully, scratching at the strap of your work bag, “I wanted to say, I imagine it’s hard to be home sometimes, isn’t it? With nothing to do, I mean.”

He gives a huff, but this time it’s a laugh that’s only trying to be amused. He looks out into the street. “Shouldn’t be, really.”

Most days, you hear him pacing. You think you’re able now to puzzle out his moods according to the tempo he beats against the hardwood floor. Slow, even, steps seem to be days that are better—those are days you don’t have to knock on the wall after he’s turned the TV up. When he blasts some sort of audio, it’s always following a stretch of agitated, arrhythmic circuits that travel the whole length of his flat.

You’ve noticed, though, that when you knock, and after he’s turned it down, the pacing does not resume.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone starts dinging furiously. You huff, dig it out, look at the screen—and roll your eyes.

“And I’ve kept you again, haven’t I?” John says ruefully.

“No!” you exclaim, clearing the notifications and looking up at him. “No, it’s just my coworker losing his bloody mind.” You suck on your cheek. “I should probably get going, though, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking up an ash tray and stubbing out his cigar. The rueful quirk of his brow does not leave his face, and the smile he gives seems perfunctory. “Get there safe, will you?”

“Sure, John,” you reply. You want to say something back, tell him something that will make his day easier, but you don’t know what would help, or even be welcome. So you just say, “Thanks.”

You’ve only walked a little ways away when you look back at him, and see him standing with his hand on his open door, about to go inside.

As if he’s felt you gaze on him, he turns and looks at you. You stop in your tracks.

How are his eyes still so blue even this far away?

You lift one hand up. Wave a little hesitantly.

He waves back, easy and casual as you please.

You duck your head, and hurry away.

Your heart jumps to your throat the next morning as you hear him step outside.

You do not need to leave early today, but you’re at your mirror anyway, tidying up your bed head and frowning at yourself.

This is a terrible idea. You have no business doing what you’re about to do. You’re only opening yourself up to disappointment. He’s no one to you, why are you even thinking of doing this? So what if he’d been fucking disappointed when you’d had to leave? You’re just neighbors. It’s been what, a week since he’d come home? If he’s getting attached, it’s no responsibility of yours to deal with.

And really, had he even been disappointed? It’s not like you know him. Maybe that’s just his face. Maybe it’s just your overactive imagination.

Part of you knows you’re making excuses. You aren’t prone to that kind of stupidity. You’ve heard him pacing. You remember shouldn’t be, really.

You know what it’s like to be lonely.

So you get one big mug of coffee in hand, open your front door, and step outside.

John, as expected, is standing there with a lit cigar between his fingers. “Morning, love,” he says, brows lifted. Of course, he hasn’t expected to see you today.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling.

It’s a little colder today, and he’s in a fleece-lined jacket and dark beanie. This surprises you.

“I didn’t think you could get cold, John,” you say, indicating the gear with your mug. “Unless I really was dreaming the first time we met.”

You want to cringe at yourself immediately. Stupid. You have no intention to flirt. You're just being a good neighbor.

The mutton chops spread in a smile. “Bit different when there’s no heat at your back, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” you reply. You bite the inside of your cheek. You hope you sound casual. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you this morning?”

The expression he gives is one that is going to live with you for a long, long time. He blinks at you, slowly, and fixes you with a gaze that goes from surprised to pleased. As it was before, it’s an expression that tells you that you have done something more meaningful than you can know.

“Be happy to have you,” he says, his tenor low and soft.

So, you leave your doorstep to stand with him at his own. He steps to the side, giving you space, and though there is a polite distance between you, something is humming in the empty air.

He surprises you by offering his cigar. Your brows shoot up, and you look from it up to him.

“Maduro,” he says. “Don’t worry—wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t good.”

“Oh,” you say, “thank you, but I don’t smoke.”

He shrugs and takes a drag. “Just came outside to stand with me, then?”

You sip your coffee. It’s the same question you’ve been agonizing over all morning. “Maybe I’m tired of my own company.”

He huffs at that. “Think I know how that feels.”

Silence falls between you, and it is surprisingly comfortable. You think it’s because the two of you are used to not actually speaking to each other—your days occur in parallel, intersecting only with knuckles on the wall. Conversation has not been necessary to be the kind of neighbors you are.

So why are you doing this? Why are you out here, if you’re not even going to speak to him? You’ve been content with the degrees of separation that have characterized your acquaintance with John Price.

Haven’t you?

You peek at him through your lashes. He is every bit as handsome in profile as he is straight on. The mutton chops make his face look fuller, incongruously younger, despite the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Do you like to read?” you find yourself asking.

He turns back to you, brows raised. Somehow the cool morning has seeped into his eyes, sky blue tinted almost periwinkle, sharp and intense and yet still undeniably warm. “Read?”

You have to avert your gaze. Look at the pavement, a sign on the street. “I have plenty of books I wouldn’t mind loaning, is all. It would be something to do.”

His gaze is still on you. You can feel its weight, like hands on your arms, around your wrists. You bring the rim of your mug to your lips and pretend that nothing inside of you is thrumming with the awareness of it.

“Like what?” he asks.

You sip, insisting to yourself that it’s only the heat of your drink warming your ears. “Different things. A retrospective on the Battle of Actium, a Da Vinci biography, an Iranian professor’s memoirs. Those are nonfiction, but I have plenty of novels, too. Space operas. Westerns.” Romances, too, but you aren’t going to mention those.

“Sounds like you’ve got a big bookshelf,” says John, and you think he’s smiling at you.

“And too many books,” you agree. “Which you’re welcome to, if you like.”

You hear him exhale, see pale smoke bloom in front of you both. The scent is earthy and sweet, and a part of you regrets not taking his earlier offer.

The same part of you wonders if it’s what he tastes like.

You’re saved from having the throttle yourself for the thought when John replies, “Think I’ll read ‘em all.”

You blink, and look at him incredulously. “All of them?”

He grins. “You’ve offered a bored soldier on leave something to do, love. There’s a few men I know who’d propose on the spot for that.”

You go completely blank for a single heartbeat. Your brows are trying to make it into your hair. All of the blood in your body rushes to your face, and finally you sputter in protest, “That’s—I—really, now!”

John only adds fuel to that embarrassed flame when he laughs at your expression. It’s a good laugh, a real one, that comes from deep in his chest.

“That’s ridiculous, John, you’ve having me on!” you grouse, covering your mouth with your mug.

“You don’t know too many military men, then,” he chuckles. “They’d fall all over themselves for a pretty girl like you.”

You think your whole body might be hot enough to start steaming. You look at him petulantly. “It’s not nice to tease.”

He smiles and takes a drag. Paints the air translucent blue with his breath. “Haven’t been.”

It’s too much—you can’t string any sensible thoughts together to bring this conversation back under control. This is not how you’d expected the morning to go, is not what you would ever admit to having hoped for.

“I’ll just get those books, then,” you mutter, trying to ignore the smile he wears as you leave his doorstep.

You have a moment to breathe back inside your flat. You realize, as you search along one shelf, that your heart is pounding in your chest, and the scent of his cigar has trapped itself in your lungs. This not good. You should not be this easy.

John is just a bored soldier on leave. He said it himself. You have no business getting worked up over some flirting that likely, to him, means nothing.

If he was even flirting at all, you remind yourself to consider. He’d certainly been amused at your reaction. You don’t think he’d been making fun, but certainly he could’ve just been pushing your buttons.

Haven’t been rings low and purring in your ears.

You return with the three books you’d mentioned, and John takes them all into the crook of his elbow. The stack is dwarfed in his arm.

“Which one should I start with?” he asks, ashtray and cigar stub balanced in his other hand.

You give a surprised laugh. “Why should I care?”

He tilts his head, pins you with amused eyes. “‘M relyin’ on your expertise, I’m afraid. Been a while since I’ve read anything other than reports. Might not be smart enough for the real deal, anymore.”

SAS. “I doubt that.”

He shrugs, and looks at you expectantly.

“Da Vinci, then?” you suggest.

“He did that painting, didn’t he?” John asks. “Louvre. The woman. Uh…”

“Mona Lisa?” you supply, laughing and scandalized. “You have to be teasing now!”

“Well, maybe I’ll be smart enough to talk to you after I finish the book,” John says, accommodating with self-deprecation. “Da Vinci it is.”

You can’t help yourself. “Should I assign you comprehension questions, too? Name three things you remember and such?”

John smiles. “Be something else to do, anyway.”

Oh, this is dangerous. Every good sense in your head is pounding on the inside of your skull, warning you in one unified voice. Bored soldier, pretty girl, knocking on walls, books lent and borrowed. The story writes itself in your head, saccharine and heady—followed swiftly by ugly, mundane, inevitable denouement.

You are familiar now with the narrative of disappointment. You do not want John to wear its mantle.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you say lightly, taking a swallow of your coffee as casually as you can. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Sure,” says John. He looks at you too fondly to stomach. “Appreciated the company.”

“Anytime,” your dumb, traitorous, too-honest mouth gives away.

The next morning begins as the rest do. John’s shower wakes you up. You resolutely don’t think about hot water and hotter skin as you drag yourself out from beneath the covers.

You brush your teeth. His water shuts off. A pan thunks in his kitchen while your first cup of coffee brews.

Silence. You drink. He eats.

You make your second cup. He steps out for his cigar.

A decision hangs on the knob of your front door.

This routine has been comfortable. Safe in its predictability. Measurable in its contributions to your daily life. The previous morning does not have to be anything other than an interesting deviation, a graze up against something more exciting and infinitely more fraught. You can keep the memory of John’s smile, John’s laughter, John’s kind blue eyes sweet and harmless in its ephemerality.

You can ignore the disappointment that stretches hairline cracks across that facade.

Your mug is warm in your hands as you stand in your living room, still and unmoving. From the quiet, the sound of a book falling over on your shelf, lost now of the support of its fellows, captures your attention.

You realize he is going to have to return your books at some point, and relief suddenly floods you. The decision is already made, isn’t it?

He smiles at you when you step out into the morning chill, bundled like you were the first morning into two coats. “There she is! Was hoping you’d join me again.”

Does it show on your face? The warmth that blooms inside of you at that sentiment so openly expressed?

The corner of his eyes crinkle as you stand there, transfixed and unable to hide your pleasure at his words.

“Morning, John,” you finally say. “Finish Da Vinci yet?”

As before, he steps aside, makes room for you on his doorstep. As before, you take the space next to him.

He takes a drag, eyes still on you and creased with amusement. “Not quite,” he says, exhaling. “Always was a poor student. Might take some time.”

You sip from your mug to hide your smile. “At least it’s something to do.”

The smoke from his cigar lingers in the air, mingling with the steam of your coffee.

Bonus notes: the books I referenced here are The War That Made the Roman Empire by Barry Strauss, Leonardo Da Vinci by Walter Isaacson, and Reading Lolita in Tehran and Things I’ve Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi. I wholeheartedly recommend every single one.

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