#i have been watching the suits series high | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pseudowho · 1 month

Text

Kingsman!AU: Galahad/Nanami Kento

You become the latest Kingsman...and the man who sponsored you is so much more than the gentleman he presents himself as.

Warnings: Best if you've seen the Kingsman films! 18+, MDNI, soft!Dom Nanami, SecretAgent!AU

A little series of smutty drabbles...also planned, Higuruma, perhaps others, for now.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the strangest job interview you had ever had.

Handcuffed, in an East London Police interview room, after assaulting five (...six? Seven?) police officers at an anti-government protest, you were scruffy but unharmed. The blood on your hands was not your own. There was a high flush on your cheeks, ripped clothes casting an indifferent, messy disdain to the situation you found yourself in.

There was a knock at the door, three brisk taps. You did not answer-- a pause. Three further raps at the door.

"...come in?" You asked. The door opened a crack. No further advancement.

"...may I?" A voice, velvet smooth and low, asking your permission.

"I...dont see why it would be my choice," you offered, stretching your hands against the cold metal of your handcuffs.

The door opened slowly, filled by a broad, tall man, blond and outstandingly handsome, with neither a hair nor thread out of place in his Savile Row suit. Over his arm rested a neatly folded overcoat, and a glossy-handled men's umbrella. His hat never graced his head indoors, and was, as such, clasped in his hand. He raised one fine eyebrow at you, his expression unreadable.

"It would be ill-mannered of me to consider it anyone's choice other than yours," he offered coolly, sitting opposite you, "considering you are the only occupant of the room." A moment of silence, again, as you regarded each other.

"Are you...my lawyer?" The man's nostrils flared slightly in suppressed mirth.

"Good heavens, no. No, I have come with a job opportunity." You blinked, certain you had heard wrong, while he continued, "I saw your performance, on my way to work, and I must say I was rather impressed. Seven officers, in under a minute. All incapacitated. Outstanding. And you're untrained, too. And, you did so well at University-- first class honours, correct?"

"Who the hell are you?" You spat, bristling under the man's casual knowledge of your life. The station's assistant looked awkwardly between the two of you as he dropped off two chipped police-issue teacups and saucers of anemic-looking tea. The blond man took the cup and saucer so gracefully, considering the enormity of his hands.

"Ah...quite right. I haven't introduced myself. Nanami Kento-- it's a pleasure to meet you."

You faltered again under his icy regard. Nanami took a sip of his tea. He paused, looking down at it with a hint of despair, before placing it down and delicately clearing his throat.

"...delicious," he lied.

"Are you...MI5?" A brief smile from Nanami, in response. He reached for something in his pocket.

"No," he responded, clipped, "we are not. But, we are in service to King and Country, and we are the sort of agency who punch up, instead of down. And...we find ourselves one member short."

Nanami slipped a thick, embossed coin over the desk to you; a circle, with a sideways "K". Nanami stood up, abruptly, inclining his head to you.

"All charges against you have been dropped. Your interview will commence, at..." Nanami looked at his watch, "...five o'clock this afternoon, should you wish to accept. If you press that coin for five seconds, my associate should send you the details."

You sat, stunned into silence, with the coin in your hands. Nanami Kento looked to you with twinkling eyes, at the door. You felt the twist of fate in your belly, and the pull as Nanami Kento walked it away with him.

"Good day to you. The pleasure was all mine."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

It had taken you over an hour to walk from Whitechapel to the Savile Row address. As bedraggled as you were, you passed through the bustling gentry and street performers of Covent Garden, skirting past the Savoy...before reaching the hushed, golden backlit glow of an exquisite Tailors shop. Letters were embossed upon the windowpane, glimmering gold on a backdrop of finery.

Kingsman.

A tinkling bell; an incongruous stranger, entering an unfamiliar domain. A familiar stranger, strong and smiling, upon the couch. Your breath hitched before you spoke.

"...you're here." Nanami folded his newspaper, standing up, before welcoming you to a changing room, that was not a changing room.

"You're late," he whispered against your ear, as the ground under London sank beneath your feet.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"...that's mad." You stood in front of a glass window, somewhere far beneath Surrey, gazing in wonderment upon an aircraft hangar full of billions of pounds worth of mercenary equipment. Nanami chuckled beside you. You missed the almost fond sideways glance he passed you.

"I thought the same," he hummed, "when I was brought here, for the first time. I thought someone was playing some tremendous joke, for all the world but me." You were silent, dry-mouthed and swallowing.

"Tell me something..." you insisted, your palm pressed flat against the glass.

"...anything," Nanami reassured, soft and sincere.

"If I pass this-- this test," you whispered, turning to him, "will I get to work with you?"

Nanami smiled, leaning upon the handle of his umbrella, one leg crossed upon the tip of his toes behind the other.

"I'm counting on it."

Another man, tall and lithe, with inky black hair and a hooked nose, arrived with a clipboard. He offered you both a lopsided smile-- "Galahad-- good to see you, my friend"-- white sleeves rolled up against a tailored waistcoat--

-- a rich, Scottish brogue--

"...are you ready to begin?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Not only had you passed these months and months of bizarre, deadly tests...you had excelled.

Nanami had remained, always, at arms' length...a distant advisor. An odd, gentle promise. He could not offer any tangible advice, and you could see him itching to, at points.

It was down to the final two; you, and some Cambridge yuppy who could trace his family lineage back to the Battle of Hastings.

You stepped through the dormitories, late at night before the final test, your German Shepherd bounding ahead to sit diligently at the foot of your bed.

You felt a strong arm loop around your waist, and a hand over your mouth. A familiar cologne that made your stomach clench. You stood, pressed against his clipped, firm body, tucked into a camera's blindspot.

"Listen to me," he hissed in your ear, "Do you trust me?"

You nodded, not hesitating for a moment. Nanami's belly flipped to feel your hot little breaths around his hand.

"Good...shoot the fucking dog." You squeaked, trying to turn to him. He pinned you flush against the wall. His chest rumbled against your back.

"Trust me. Shoot the dog."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You shot first, without a moment of hesitation. Your opponent returned to Cambridge. You became a Kingsman. Both dogs survived the trial.

The hamper that Galahad, your new partner, sent to your home, was nothing short of the finest luxury.

"To my Very Best Bet", read the lovingly annotated card. You brushed it against your lips, wishing it was his fingers instead.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The wallet was a supple brown leather, smooth and warm. You knew it belonged to Galahad, from the faint smoky cologne that lingered upon its skin. Merlin gave you Galahad's address. You missed the knowing smile Merlin also gave you.

Your stomach flipped in your belly, all the way through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. You passed beneath trees hundreds of years older than the establishment for which you now worked, treading upon the footsteps of Kings and Queens.

The first fresh flakes of snow kissed upon your lips, by the time you turned to the towering white grandeur of Kensington, very much not where you were from. You were freezing, your little hands clenched in your pockets, but hot with anticipation.

Reaching a fine, tall townhouse, all Georgian architectural triumph, you pushed through the black metal gate, rising up white stone steps. You hesitated only briefly before tapping the door, heavy, and gilded forest green.

"--just a minute-- please excuse me--...oh. Hello."

Galahad stood at the door, as...relaxed as you had ever seen him. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, and his waistcoat hung similarly open, with tie tails trailing down his chest. With his sleeves rolled up, and a pinstriped apron tied round his waist, you swore you almost saw him blush.

"...to what do I owe the pleasure?" He breathed out, finally. The apples of your cheeks, pink with the cold, dimpled under your smile. You reached out to Galahad, his wallet clasped in your hand.

"You forgot something," you offered. His hand reached out immediately, a goodness, thank you, you shouldn't have upon his lips, before your cold little fingers grasped under his own.

"You are miles from home," he rumbled, chastising, "and you are freezing cold." You tipped on your heels on the doorstep, placating him with a finger to your lips, and a glint in your eye. You moved to go down the steps, but your fingers remained clasped in his.

"Where are my manners? You should come in...of course."

"Galahad, don't feel oblig--"

"Kento, please," he ushered you inside, a hand ghosting over the small of your back, "if we're going to share dinner, we should not pretend to be strangers."

Kento's house bore all the opulent gloss of its noble history, with fine black and white checkered tile flooring, and twisting dark oak bannisters carrying the high staircase away from you. A receiving room beside you, bigger than your whole home, bloomed beneath the sultry flicker of a fire, the only source of light in the room. The kitchen lights spilled inwards, a herby bourginon aroma drawing you in.

You slipped your coat off your shoulders, and blushed, as Kento stood behind you to receive it. His heart pounded under the effort of containing his thrill to have you in his home. The thought of being alone with him, like this, had occupied your mind at night, for so many months.

"Sit, please," Kento insisted, heading to his drinks cabinet. Two slim, hazel eyes darted to you in question; "...can I tempt you?"

You settled on the sofa, antique, and likely much older than you; "Ah...wine?" Kento smiled, heading over to you with a bottle in his grasp, and two slim-necked glasses between his fingers.

You shared the bottle-- dinner was forgotten, cooking slowly on the back burner. You felt yourself becoming supple, warmed by the fire, the wine and the company. Within just a few hours, you and Kento laughed together, both liquor-dishevelled, hands brushing forearms on the back of the sofa. His calloused fingertips were electric against the inside of your wrist.

"You really were, you know," Kento hummed, placing down his unfinished glass of wine, "my best bet. The best gamble I...I ever made." You didn't know how you had ended up drawn so closely to him. Your legs tangled in his, head radiating from his thighs into yours. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you gently, insistently, closer to him.

"I don't normally do this," Kento bargained with himself, whispering against you, his tongue swiping out to dampen your plush lips, "it isn't very-- I really shouldn't, I-- dinner first, at least--" You couldn't help but drown under him, silent in the pools of his dilated pupils as he pressed you to lay back on the sofa, climbing over you, and trapping you beneath him.

"...can I tell you a secret?" Kento murmured against your neck, melting you under his lips and tongue. His hand moved down to undo the buttons of your silk blouse. You nodded, feeling him shiver as you did the same to his shirt.

"...I left my wallet behind on purpose," he rumbled, predatory. The tension snapped. His lips crashed to yours, with Kento groaning into your mouth, tongue trembling against yours. Ripping at the buttons of your blouse, his gentlemanly self-restraint was all but abandoned.

Stripping you, freeing your breasts with bitten-back growls and murmurs, Kento rolled you onto the Persian rug in front of the fire, crowding over you and taking one breast between his lips, licking your nipple into his mouth as his enormous hand pawed at the other.

"--beautiful...beautiful, you know that? Always thought...if you hadn't made it in...I'd have brought you home anyway..."

"Ken--Kento, I--" You broke off into breathy, high moans as Kento's hand slipped down, clutching at your pussy beneath your skirt. His hand scraped the lace edges of your stockings, his breaths frantic and panting with hurry.

"Say my name...again," he panted, strong fingers cupping your sex, moving to massage you, desperate need radiating through his hand. Kento pressed hard enough to massage your clit through the lips of your pussy, you mewled, squirming under him as he growled, "Again. Say my name."

"Kento," you squeaked. Your voice seemed to make Kento frantic, and he pulled off your skirt, your stockings, your underwear, until you were suddenly, blissfully bare beneath him. He knelt, still fully clothed in front of the firelight. His barrelled chest rose and fell, a high blush across his sharp cheekbones.

"This isn't...how a gentleman behaves," you gasped, one arm draped over your eyes. You heard Kento chuckle, cracking his knuckles above your prone, trembling curves. You heard the wolfish grin in his voice.

"Oh yes it fucking is."

One of his hands draped between your breasts, running down your chest and belly, to graze fingertips over your mound. His eyes flicked up to yours again, dark, hungry and questioning. You floated, somewhere both above and beneath him.

"Anything...anything you want," you keened, "whatever you want." Something tightened in Kento's jaw. His fingers trailed lower, grazing your plush lips again, dipping beneath to stroke up and down the slick length between your entrance and clit.

"...what a dangerous thing to say, to a man like me...I don't get treats like you often." Kento pressed two fingers slowly into your clenching heat, eyes rolling back with a fractured moan, gripping you to him by the hip. His cock strained against his trousers, and he moved lazily to unzip himself, shaking with self-restraint. He could not bear the way you twisted and squirmed, to feel his thick fingers fucking into you.

"...good girl...how does it feel? As good as your own? Did you touch yourself, like this, when you dreamt about me?" You could only nod in response, moaning and reaching down to clutch his wrist. His fingers curled upwards towards your soft sensitive spot, buried into you up to his knuckles, and swirling his fingertips over the spongy patch. You sobbed into his touch and he folded over you, shushing, pressing kisses to your temples.

"It's alright, darling...I felt it too...I'll show you. How I touched myself...thinking about you." Kento shuddered against your neck, his fingers still working magic into your belly. His cock flopped heavy into his hand, thick, long, and Kento felt so touch-starved as he closed his eyes, raising his thumb to stroke around your clit, imagining it was his weeping cockhead.

He shushed you again, chasing you up the rug as your pleasure built, heat surging through your thighs and belly. Kento couldn't help but fuck into his own fist, lubricated by his pre-cum, overheating with the need to sink himself inside you, and paint you white with his seed. He cracked his neck from side to side. Doubling down, his fingers picked up speed, pressing your clit until you writhed, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.

"That's it...that's it...let it happen," Kento whispered into your neck, still fucking into his fist against your belly as you climaxed, hands tangled in his mussed hair, burning under the weight of him. His fingers fucked you through the haze of pleasure, nose stroking into your hair, whispering his praises against your ears; "...so proud of you...such a good job...so proud of you, my little gamble..."

Your thighs threatened to flop to the sides, soft and lazy after your orgasm. Kento nestled himself between them, cockhead stroking between your folds, and you whimpered to feel your sensitive clit nudged. Folded over you, Kento met your eyes. A slightly guilty smile ghosted over his face, his voice shaking, seemingly coming back to himself. He resolved to restrain himself;

"I, uh...usually have better manners. This was unprofessional of me. Ungentlemanly, even. I...I insist we...leave this here, and do this properly. Now, we sh-- haaaaah, fuck-- shit-- you--"

Interrupting Kento, you had waited for his cockhead to stroke down to your entrance before fucking him inside you, rolling your hips up to trap his cock inside your walls. You wailed around the stretch, Kento's cock huge and pulsing inside you, and Kento lost his mind.

Grasping your hips with vicious strength, he cursed, rutting into you with abandon. You felt his fat, blunt cockhead jabbing against your cervix immediately, and Kento leaned into it, tilting your hips to fuck you deeper, overtaken by a primal need.

"...little minx...I offer you--ahhhh fuck-- dinner, and you...you offer me...your cunt...just like you, shit--"

You giggled, breathless against Kento's feral attentions, and the sound shot straight down Kento's spine. Your laughs caught in your throat when he held his hips flush to yours, barely pulling out, bullying into your pussy with no restraint.

You felt the steam of sweat beneath Kento's shirt, felt how badly he needed this, and revelled in the way he fell apart above you, his cock milked by your wet, velvet heat. Kento leaned back just enough to see where his cock disappeared into you.

The sight had him reeling, and he came with a bark, spitting and swearing against his total lack of self-control. You felt his cock twitch and bound inside you, spattering your walls with thick stripes of cum. Kento crumpled onto his elbows, face twisted in euphoric agony to see you bite your lip at him, rolling your hips to milk him of every last drop of cum.

Gasping for just a few moments, before rolling his shoulders with soft cracks again, Kento pulled out of you, flipping you over so your face pressed down into the rug. You squealed to feel your hands drawn behind your back, and the soft shhhhff shhhfff shhhhhffff of his tie being pulled free of his collar.

Face down, and arse up, Kento dipped his fingers into your cum-dripping, twitching hole.

"That's how a boy does it," Kento growled, beginning to thread his tie around your wrists, "now lets show you how a Kingsman does it."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Getting to wax lyrically about my beloved London was a treat.

Up next: Higuruma Hiromi/Merlin

589 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 12 days

Text

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fifteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.4K

Warnings: Smut, p in v

Series Masterlist

A guy had never asked her to move in with him before. She hadn't spent much time imagining how it would go, but she had some sort of idea.

A guy getting down onto one knee and presenting her with a key. A guy asking her after a good bit of sex. Asking over dinner, asking as they just watched a movie. Simple things like that.

She didn't imagine it like this. Didn't imagine standing by the front door of her apartment, her boyfriend looking through the peephole with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. He held her against his chest as his other hand reached for his gun.

They were silent, waiting. All the time that Lando looked through the peephole she knew that the stalker was still there, was still watching them.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She gripped his white shirt, the shirt that he wore beneath his suit, and cried.

But then Lando let go of his gun and wrapped his other arm around her. "Baby," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "It's okay. He's gone."

"He followed me from the shop, Lan," she whispered, head against his chest.

He kept his nose against the top of her head and breathed in. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, his own eyes falling closed. It was his fault. His fault that she was getting followed home. If he'd just left her alone that night at his club, she'd be safe.

"Move in with me," he said suddenly. "My house is safe. I've got a new security system set up. It's, uhm..." He squeezed her as he searched for the words.

She wiped her tears away from her cheeks. "Impenetrable?" She suggested as she looked up at that.

Lando scrunched his nose up as he looked down at her. "Yeah, that," he said and kissed her.

He stayed by the door while she packed a bag. His eyes were on the window, gun at the ready, or he was looking through the peephole.

Emerging from the bedroom, she walked over with her bag on her shoulder. "Is that everything you need?" He asked as he took the bag from her.

She looked around her apartment, lip pulled between her teeth. Breathing deep, she nodded. "I can move out of here when I'm not being stalked," she mumbled and took his hand.

Lando held her hand. He had his gun out as he led her down the halls. The entire time they were walking down the hall, she squeezed his hand tight. But Lando didn't much care. He squeezed her back the entire way to her car.

Throwing her bag into the back, Lando drove. The car was silent, and she looked around everywhere like a startled deer. "I've got you," he said quietly, hand coming to settle on her thigh. She clamped her legs together but it wasn't sexual. No, it was just to keep him there. The way his thumb moved was so soothing, but it did little to calm her.

She hardly recognised the area Lando was driving through. She may have lived there for her entire life, but she didn't know this area in the slightest. And then they came to the grand manor house, surrounded by high gates.

They drove up to the gates and Lando pulled his hand from between her thighs. He punched the number into the keypad and the gate swung open. Lando drove through.

God, he didn't think he'd be back here so soon. As he drove towards the house, towards the garage, he couldn't stop himself from wishing for just five more minutes in the save haven of her apartment. But it wasn't a safe haven anymore, was it?

Lando parked in the garage. Her car amongst his expensive and beautiful collection looked ridiculous, but she didn't notice it as Lando grabbed her bag from the back of the car, took her hand, and led her to the house.

The house. It was beautiful, but she couldn't take that in, either. Every little noise had her jumpy. With his arm around her, Lando took her straight through to his bedroom.

Lando's bedroom was not the bedroom of a man. It was the same bedroom that he'd had since he was a teenager, with posters of actresses and race cars all over his bedroom. It was so cute and somehow comforting. It was cute. It was Lando.

"Sorry," he said and pulled at the bottom of one of his race car posters, pulling it away from the wall. "I meant to take these down but everything got a bit..."

She grabbed one of his pillows and squeezed it against her chest. "Leave it," she mumbled as she touched his duvet. It needed a wash, not desperately, but she knew that the smell was going to comforting.

Lando stepped away from his posters. He sat beside her, pulled the pillow away from her chest and took her trembling hands. "You're okay, baby," he said, thumb moving over the back of her hand. "You're safe here. 'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

She looked to the shut door and back at Lando. And then she was on him, pushing him down onto his back as she climbed on top of him, straddling him. "Help me take my mind off of it?" She asked as she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor.

Lando's hands grabbed her hips and squeezed. "Are you sure, baby?" He asked as her hips slowly began moving.

Instead of answering, she leaned forward, hands on his chest as she kissed him. Lando kissed her back. He moved his hands from her hips, cradling her against him.

But then his hands travelled down. Down over her shoulders, down to her bra strap. He fiddled with it until it gave and let his hands travel further, down her back and into her trousers. His hands settled over her ass as she opened the buttons on his white shirt.

The minute she got her hands against her skin, she dragged her nails down his chest. A groan left his lips and she pulled away from him, sitting up straight. Lando sat up with her and she pushed his suit jacket and shirt from his shoulders.

"Wanna mark you up," she whispered as she leaned forward again, pressing her lips against his neck.

She had the leader of the Norris family beneath her as she sucked dark purple marks all over his neck and shoulders. Moans and gasps and whines left his lips as she worked him, hips moving.

Even as her hips moved, Lando popped the button on her trousers and pushed his hand beneath the fabric. "Fuck!" She gasped as he felt through her folds. But her lips quickly returned to the purple bruise on his shoulder.

"I got you, baby," he whispered and pushed her trousers down with her underwear. "Need you bad."

She pulled away from his shoulder and sat back, admiring her work. "You look so pretty," she whispered and ran her nails down his chest again.

It didn't take long before Lando was naked beneath her. She held him still as she sank down onto him. A sigh left her lips and she threw her head back, eyes shutting. "Fuuuuuck, I love you," she whispered and looked down at him.

"I love you," he replied and look her hands in his own.

Lando held her hands in his own as she rode him. It was was slow and sweet, every movement sending sparks up their spines. They didn't speak outside of their 'I love you's', moans and whines filling the bedroom.

Lando's bedroom.

No, their bedroom.

Lando touch her, his hand on her clit as he tried to ensure that she came before he did. She pitched forward, whines high pitched as Lando pushed her over the edge.

He came not long after her. As soon as she had finished she stilled, energy drained. But Lando held her, moved her body on top of her as he spilled inside of her.

He didn't pull out right away, kept her held against his chest, cock still inside of her. "'m gonna protect you," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. She looked up, slowly blinked and moved her lips towards her own.

Permanent taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool

@rewmuslupin

@prettiest-at-the-party

@hellowgoodbye

@minseok-smaus

@formulaal

@darleneslane

@hiireadstuff

@urfavnoirette

@goldenharrysworld

@andydrysdalerogers

@raikkxz

@llando4norris

@evlkking

@lilymurphy03

@hollie911

@customsbyjcg-blog

@honethatty12

@nikfigueiredo

@not-nyasa

Series Taglist (CLOSED): @millinorrizz

@cinnamongirlontv

@sainzluvrr

@aquangxl

@drunkinthemiddleoftheday

@queenofmanydreams

@somepeoplemaybe

@shobaes

@thatsusbitch

@ibanstro

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hotbuns13

@dinodumbass

@bellezaycafe

@maddie-naps

@dontleaveitsmyfault3

@jule239

@noneofyourfbusinessworld

@annispamz

@thehufflepuffavenger1

@eviethetheatrefreak

@lovejunz

@nervous-bee

@lifelessfan

@phantomxoxo

@ladymarvel27

471 notes · View notes

spider-stark · 2 months

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place.

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange.

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown.

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter.

Or, at least, none that mattered.

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do.

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play.

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift.

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether.

And Peter never even asked why.

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?”

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.”

And how true that must have been.

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too.

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night?

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.”

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?!

“Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?”

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.”

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter.

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.”

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.”

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter.

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.”

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used.

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar.

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite.

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now.

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?”

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.”

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too.

“Did he?”

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.”

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's.

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him.

“Well did he have anything useful?”

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter.

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups.

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0.

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration.

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear.

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?”

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation.

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.”

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite.

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?”

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.”

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?”

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch.

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?”

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him.

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.”

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.”

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.”

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth.

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.”

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?”

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?”

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.”

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now!

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-”

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!”

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.”

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded.

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere.

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down…

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.”

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell.

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered.

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night?

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.”

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips.

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world.

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all.

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone.

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting.

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway.

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!”

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!”

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else.

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?”

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?”

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.”

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse.

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully.

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter.

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!”

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.”

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?”

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task.

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway.

“Mj happened.”

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.”

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.”

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease.

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth.

You sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.”

His brow snapped up. “What changed?”

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours.

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth.

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?”

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance.

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.”

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-”

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.”

“I’m not pretending-”

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.”

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.”

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest.

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.”

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?”

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

746 notes · View notes

obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

Text

The Werewolf’s Bitch

Yandere Male Werewolf x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, breeding, knotting, inhuman genitals, reader eaten out, drool, piss marking, watersports, scent marking, lycanthropy, reader bitten by werewolf at end, smut, kidnapping, reader briefly stalked, general yandere behavior, yandere bully, bullied reader) Word Count: 4.4k (Sorry that this is being reposted, I needed to edit the story and tumblr would not let me until I just deleted the whole thing, anyway, I worked extremely hard of this so I could hurry up and do more commissions, I am panicking because the window for cool season planting is nearly upon us. I normally would NOT rush to post a fic in the same day that I already posted one. I know the watersports is not everyone’s thing, but it has been a while since I wrote a fic with that kink and when I asked reader’s whether or not I should I got only positive responses, so I hope some people like this)

You were a librarian, you had always had a penchant for books, an obsession really, and you loved reading many different kinds. Right now you were reading The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud, it was a fantasy series. It didn’t matter whether or not you liked the fantasy genre, your friend who was not super into reading kept recommending the series to you so you had to give it a shot. You were enjoying the light breeze and gentle sunshine towards the back of the park, in a lightly wooded area where the park gradually shifted into a forest. Leisurely, you continued to read until the sun just began to set. Little did you know someone was watching you from the trees. Axle hadn’t seen you in years, though it wasn’t uncommon for his thoughts to drift to you. He had a serious crush on you in high school, but so worried about his image he had not wanted to date the nerd so he bullied you instead. Relentlessly. He often thought what if he had been sweeter on you and more up front about his feelings, he’d probably have his arms wrapped around you and his cock buried deep inside you. Axle still would have picked on you, of course, it was how he showed affection and dominance, but it wouldn’t have been nearly cruel and relentless as it had been. And he would have been really sweet to you at times too, since he was sure little nerdy bookworms liked that kinda shit. His life wasn’t all bad though, he had been “afflicted” with lycanthropy. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the legends and folklore made it seem, for most people. Most were not feral and could freely change forms whenever they wished, from human, to wolf, and to the bulky hybrid form that most people thought of when they heard the word “werewolf.” There were exceptions though, some people did go feral in their wolf forms and change unwillingly during full moons. An encounter with one such creature was what had passed on the magical gift to him. Now his life was free, he lurked the woods for prey, hunted and then cooked what he had caught in a large cave he had claimed as his den. The lifestyle suited him, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, but it was a lonely existence and he wished he had a mate. Axle had been walking around, contemplating what he could do to get some friends or maybe even a lover when suddenly his nose, now hypersensitive even in his human form, picked up a familiar scent. One that he had not smelled in years but nevertheless one that he would be able to place anywhere. He had stolen whiffs of you while having you in headlocks and pushing you into lockers, had deeply inhaled the aroma of your underwear after sneaking into the locker room and stealing them whenever he was sure he wouldn’t get caught. So when he caught your wonderful smell in the breeze he bolted towards it. Just to watch, he thought to himself. And he did just watch, for a while. His eyes drank in your sight as the golden afternoon sun illuminated you so perfectly. Still such a fucking bookworm, reading all the way out here. The more he looked at you the tighter his pants got, would it really be such a bad thing if he just took you away? He could steal all the books you could want if that made you happy. You’d look so cute reading by the fire before he impaled you on his dick. It wasn’t like you could get away from him, even without his new found abilities he was faster and stronger than you could ever hope to be, but now that he was supernaturally imbued there was no chance you could ever get away from him. If you screamed it was okay, there were no witnesses around for the abduction and when he was fucking you back in his den there would be no one around for miles. He readjusted his cock in his torn jeans, fully erect at the thought. He talked himself into it. It wasn’t that hard, this may be his chance to have the future with you he had missed out on previously. You started to get up to leave, placing the book you had been reading into your backpack with the rest of your books that you planned to get through. Suddenly someone rushed out from the trees and snatched your backpack before you could put it on, running with it deeper into the forest. All you could see was their back as they ran off. Axle made sure not to run too fast because he knew you would chase him without thinking to get your precious books. “Please stop! Please! There’s nothing in there other than books! Please!” You screamed and chased the figure deep into the forest, until a chill ran through you as you looked around. You no longer recognized where you were and it was getting ever darker. Axle could have just used force to bring you this far, but he was enjoying playing with you like he used to. Just as you began to turn around and give up on the figure before you he turned around and was on you in an instant.

You recognized him immediately as you saw his face before he put his arm around your neck and licked up your neck creepily. You’d never forget who those mischievous eyes, cruel smirk, snake bite piercings and spiky punk style blond hair that was shaved at the sides belonged to.

“A-Axle!? What the heck!? Let go! Wh-what do you want with me,” your voice was filled with fear and your eyes began to water, threatening to cry. “Well, you were in my neighborhood and I thought we could catch up~” You kept struggling in his grip, but you were winded from the chase earlier. What he said made no sense, there were no nearby homes, but you were a bit too busy to really contemplate his words. You punch and kicked at him but he just laughed like he had just heard the most hilarious joke, it would have been very insulting if being in a dark forest being manhandled by your old bully wasn’t so terrifying. Axle moved his arm around your neck then ruffled your hair, something about the gesture made you think he wasn’t out to just kill you. But then he gripped your arm tighter and started dragging you deeper into the woods. Your writhing and struggles to free yourself from his iron grasp did nothing to slow him down in the least. There was still a long way to go though, and instead of dragging you and hurting your much more delicate arms he hoisted you into his arms and slung you over his shoulder before starting to run at a speed not normal for a human. This also had the added benefit of scaring you and making you cry those adorable tears of yours. You kicked and screamed the whole time he held you, but the only thing you managed to accomplish was a severely sore throat and further exhaustion. In only a few short minutes Axle covered quite a distance with you. Not tired or out of breath at all despite the speed he ran at or the fact that he was carrying an entire adult on his shoulders. When he arrived at the cave he sat you down on a large bundle of stolen pillows, coats, blankets, and other soft materials. “W-where are we? Wh-why did you bring me here,” you asked almost unintelligibly through the hoarseness of your voice and the fear causing you to stammer. The fear you felt actually tugged a tiny bit at Axle’s heart, he just wanted to teasingly scare you, not make you all terrified. Poor little wimp. His little wimp, he thought, feeling a bit fluttery. Axle sat down beside you and roughly pulled you into his lap before caressing your arm and holding you close, in a manner he thought may be comforting. “What are you d-d-doing!? I don’t like this!” You were, understandably, immensely uncomfortable. Your former bully had his hands all over you. Did he think this was a hilarious prank? And why did he live in a cave? Was he a serial killer that lived in the woods in search of victims?? With each question your heartbeat increased. Axle could hear your heartbeat. Still so sweet and fearful, just like you always had been~ But he didn’t want you to only associate him with fear and have a heart attack every time he held you. “Shhh, babe, shhh. It’s alright. I promise I won’t hurt you okay? I’ll keep you nice and safe~” Apparently he was not tactful enough to realize that licking and sucking at your oh so sensitive neck, was not very soothing to you. When you thrashed more and not less he got the memo and just held you close instead. There would be time for other stuff later. Right now holding you was enough, drinking in your scent like it was booze, and it was almost more intoxicating. He laid down on his side and pulled a very confused and scared you close to him once more, his arms hugging you tightly as if clinging to a life preserver. While Axle had never slept better than that night with you in his arms you stayed up until sheer exhaustion forced you into a troubled sleep. And when he woke he was so happy, he had half been worried everything had been a dream but no, you were really in his arms like you should have been for all these years. Axle wanted you to be awake so he determined that the most prudent way to wake you up was to pinch your ass. Much to his satisfaction, you woke up easily with a startled yelp, almost jolting off of the bedding. You were confused for a moment as your brain scrambled to remember where the fuck you were and why the fuck you were there instead of at home in your comfortable and familiar bed. And what had just assaulted your butt? Then the memories of the night before smacked into you like a brick wall. Axle. He had kidnapped you and spooned you all night for some unknown reason. Probably some sick prank, if he was just going to beat you up and murder you he would have done that already right? Not say all that stuff trying to comfort you before sleeping by you. Axle pulled you close and once again drew his tongue slowly up your cheek, like it was some sort of odd kiss, it creeped you out but you didn’t say anything opting instead to flinch away at his touch. “Oh come on, don’t be such a pussy, I haven’t hurt you,” he said smirking, obviously enjoying the bit of fear he caused from such a small action. “A-are you ever going to tell me why the hell you made me come here?” “What? I haven’t made you cum yet! Hahaha, I will later though.” You rolled your eyes at his juvenile joke but he just stared at you with a hungry look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m serious! Wh-why am I here, this is insane and illegal! I-I’m leaving!” You started to walk towards the path that led to the cave entrance, but Axle growled in such an animal-like and primal way while stepping forward to block your path that it frightened you into remaining still. “You’re not leaving okay, nerd? You want to know why you’re here? Well it’s so I can fuck you silly and have someone to spend time with. I’m your boyfriend and you’re my property. So sit down, read your little books by the fire, and get settled because I am going to go get us some food and when I come back we are going to eat then we are going to go at it like rabbits.” You stared at him with eyes wide, now more paralyzed than ever with fear and utter bewilderment. He couldn’t be serious could he? You didn’t want that at all, this is the piece of shit that made your entire middle and high school years an absolute horror to get through. During your stunned silence he walked up to you and kissed you quickly on the lips before rushing out of the cave to search for some food. Was he stupid on top of absolutely bat shit crazy? Did he really think you were just going to stay here to be raped by him? Did he actually believe that you would be totally okay with being abducted by your former bully and you would be so enamored with him that not only would you let him put his dick anywhere you but you would also let him be your boyfriend?? Obviously that was not going to fucking happen in any way, shape, form, or fashion. You gave him a few minutes to get far away and then you gathered your bag of reading materials and headed out of the cave that Axle called home. It was too easy, luckily you remembered the general direction back to the park and began on your merry way, running as fast as your feet could carry you. Axle, though, was not really stupid. He may have been a bit of an impulsive hothead and a brute, but he was not without some intelligence. He figured you would almost certainly try to escape while he was out and about and he kept his hunt somewhat near the cave, and down wind from it. Once you left the shelter the wind quickly carried your scent right to his powerful nose. He could smell you so clearly and immediately made a beeline for your precise location. You had thought things were going well, you had put significant distance between you and the cave and were sure he would not be able to catch up to you. But you heard some rustling through the grass and a snap of twigs. You turned around and saw him coming right for you with unholy speed, Axle. Somehow he managed to close the distance between the two of you much faster than should have been possible before lunging and tackling you to the forest floor. This time you didn’t even bother struggling once he had a hold of you. Once more he slung you over his shoulder, smirking this time as you went limp, that was good. At the very least you were learning you could not fight him. Now you only had to learn you couldn’t run either. He wasn’t worried, you were a nerd after all, you would learn quickly. Before you knew it you were back in the cave, he placed you carefully on the rocky floor. You looked at him curiously wondering what he was going to do to you. He responded only with a shit eating grin. He began trying to take off your pants and clothes, and you struggled as much as you could. Which disappointed him, he thought you would have realized that he could always over power you, he had always been able to. Axle let out another beastly growl and that seemed to get the message across, this was happening. As he undid his belt you began to fear the worst, you were sitting naked below him as he was about to whip out his dick, what else could you expect to happen? You began to cry and plead for him not to rape you. He used his belt to tie up your arms before he pulled his pants down slightly. You stared at him as he stood before you with his prick aimed directly at you. Before you could figure out what he was doing he unleashed a hot stream piss all over your naked body. The smell was pungent and you gagged a bit as some of the fluid found its way into your mouth, he must have been holding it for a while because he completely drenched you. Axle had a devilish grin. “This should help remind you of your place. You are my little bitch got it? The scent will make it much easier to smell you and keep anyone else away. And I doubt you will try to scurry off without clothes.” Your abductor laughed maniacally as he emptied your books out on the table and took the bag. He placed all your clothing in it before slinging it around his back. “Be a good little weakling and wait here. Not that you have a choice,” he said as he departed. Axle made a mental note to scent mark you like that regularly, you covered in his scent made him almost lose control and breed you right then and there. But you both needed food, you were a fragile little thing he desperately wanted to take good care of and keep healthy and you would both need your energy for the all night fuck fest he had planned. Back on the floor of the cavern you were defeated, your face wet with tears and piss. You reeked of him and the fluid was becoming dry and sticky in places. This wasn’t fair, what had you done to deserve this. You never bothered anyone, you were a sweet person who just wanted to be lost in their books. You lay on that floor, stiff, stinking, and sticky for what felt like hours until Axle returned, but in reality he had only been gone around fifty or so minutes. He sauntered in with a hand that held a bundle of dead rabbits, and another hand full of foraged vegetables, fruits, and nuts. You wondered how he had caught anything. He did not seem to have any weapons or traps around. “Ah, there’s my good little bitch, I see you stayed in place for me.” Axle took his haul of food into another room of the cavern, presumably a larder or kitchen of some sort, before coming back and tending to you. He undid the belt binding your arms and was about to clean you up, but something about you stopped him. He paused and took a moment to just stare at you, so obedient, so drenched in his scent, so good for him. A perfect little mate. And a perfect mate needed to be bred and marked in the most permanent manner possible. Forgetting his plans to feed the both of you and then go at it later that night sniffed at you and let out a low growl. He needed to mate his bitch. Now. You were limp as a rag doll as he picked you up and put you in the pile of bedding material, despite the gross “scent marking” that he had applied to you not even being rinsed off yet. You felt Axle’s warm tongue carefully licking at your crotch, occasionally he broke away to kiss your soft thighs. His strong hands roamed every inch of your flesh that they could reach. He was like an animal as he began lapping at your entrance, stretching you out and getting you ready for mating. When his tongue slid into you it finally elicited a response and broke you out of your catatonic state. You tried to push him away to no avail, though he did take a moment to look up at all the commotion. As you looked at him you realized he almost seemed a bit larger than he was earlier, and had he always had that stubble, you could have swore that he had been clean shaven. Not that you had been in the best emotional state to make such careful observations. But then you saw a change made before your very eyes, and there was no denying it. His previously brown eyes had turned a fierce glowing yellow and as drool pooled and dripped at the corners of his mouth his teeth grew longer and sharper. Now you were really scared, more terrified than you had been since your kidnapping, what was this beast? Meanwhile Axle was running almost entirely on instinct, he had a vague sense of self but his impulses were simply too strong for him to ignore. The more you struggled the more he felt the unbearable need to prove himself to you. You were denying him as his mate so he had to show you how strong and capable he was, he had to be the mightiest he could be so you would be happy with him and have no doubts who the strongest man for you was. No doubt who owned you. He continued to transform into a full blown werewolf right before your very eyes. His clothing tore away as they were ripped apart by the muscles bulging out beneath, thick blonde fur covered every inch of his body, claws grew from his nails, you could see glimpses of a tail swinging strongly behind him and his ears grew longer. His erect cock became canine like in nature and his musky nuts sung below, full of potent seed to fill you with. You screamed in terror and tried to kick him away but the beast that was formerly Axle would not allow itself to be denied. Had to mate you. Had to prove himself as a good partner. Had to show you he was powerful, could keep you safe. You tried to kick him away but this only cemented in his mind the absolute need to subdue you and yew his. During his shift into his strongest form you had managed to scoot away from him, he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you back towards him, you tried to grab at anything you could to stop him, futilely throwing pillows and blankets at him in a last ditch hail Mary attempt to get away, but it was as hopeless as all your other attempts. When he had you under him he forced you into a mating press and shoved his hard cock to the hilt inside of your drool slickened hole. Once he was deep inside he let loose another wave of piss. Had to mark your insides as his property. Had to. Needed to make sure no one else thought about using his property. His mate. His. After Axle had once again marked you with his urine he began slowly thrusting in and out of you. But he quickly got tired of the pace, werewolves were not exactly known for restraint, especially when so deeply under the spell of their instincts. You yelped as he painfully shoved himself in and out of your quickly sore hole. Precum, drool, and piss leaked out of you and down his shaft and balls as he bred you, his huge nut sack slapping your ass with every thrust. Luckily you had been so well lubed by all of his fluids or else you would have been in extreme pain. You were ashamed to admit it but your body was betraying you and the railing you were receiving from this barely human monster was beginning to feel amazing. His knot was slowly swelling within you, creating delicious friction as it rubbed against your inner walls. But interrupting any climax you were making your way towards was Axle as he nuzzled your neck with his wet nose before aggressive licking and nipping at it. But he did not stop there, he had to mark you, make you his mate, claim you in every way, you’d look even more beautiful wearing his claim. So without hesitation or forethought for the consequences of turning you into a werewolf, he bit down at the nape of your neck. Hard. You cried out in a startled shock as he licked away the blood from your fresh wound. He had to comfort his mate. Had to. He didn’t stop licking until your tears lessened and you seemed relatively calm. The entire time he was biting you though he was still fucking you at a moderate pace, and he finally came to the beautiful sound of your overstimulated cries and whimpers. You were so good for him. Perfect fragile little bitch made to be filled up full of his seed and protected by him. You felt a growing pressure inside of you as his knot reached full size, binding the two of you together, and his cock throbbed deep within you as it shot rope after rope of warm semen. You had not gotten your climax yet though, and he couldn’t accept that, you had taken his so so well, you had been such a good mate, the perfect breeding bitch, you even took his mark and everything. Even if it wasn’t by choice. You deserved to feel pleasure. So Axle rocked his hard knot back and forth inside you, as much as he could move it with it at the size that it was, and slowly coaxed an orgasm from your hot mess of a body. He stopped when he felt it and heard you moan and whimper loudly, your voice full of pleasure. After achieving his goal of pumping his wimpy bookworm full he finally regained clarity of mind and his instincts lost their grip on his actions. He realized what he had done and was a bit embarrassed he had lost control like that. He had planned to very slowly ease you into the truth about being a werewolf. Still, he couldn’t argue with the results, you passed out under him from all the sensations he had brought to you, and him on top of you with his cock tight and snug within your hot depths. He was not in the least worried about you being a werewolf, it would only make you more dependent on him, you did not know the first thing about being one. And if you ever did escape he could always overpower you. He was stronger than you when you were both humans and he would remain stronger than you in any form. You would always be Axle’s bitch.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere werewolf #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #werewolf boyfriend #male werewolf x gender neutral reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #werewolf x reader #My OCs #My OC Axle #yandere boyfriend #yandere bully #gender neutral reader

5K notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch.I

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), flirty banter, fighting, jk has a bit of a temper, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Okay I have been having such baby fever for last few years no joke. I wanna be mom or aunty but my sister won’t have kids yet! So i write this lame series to cope even though it's lowkey sad? lmao. Enjoy!! 🥰

༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

You’re not exactly sure when it happened but one minute you’re crouched over, sketching in your journal and the next, a child with big brown eyes comes up beside you to watch over your shoulder. He’s a cute little fella, you note. Can't be more than four years old. His hair is ink-black and on the longer side. He’s got on a pair of black and white checkered pants, navy blue sweatshirt, and a toy snug under one arm. At first glance, you struggle to make out the toy but it looks like an elephant.

“Hi…” His hand reaches for you. It tugs the edge of your dress sleeve before reaching down to latch onto a few fingers. You smile up at the child, warmth immediately beaming through your heart.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say. “What’s your name?” You wait for the boy to answer but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles down next to you on the grass and points to your drawing. His delicate eyebrows knit together in an inquisitive manner. “What is this?” he asks.

You look down at your drawing, examining it from various angles. It's unfinished but you're working on a sketch of the pond nearby. You've managed to capture the sun-kissed water but the sky needs more work. Being the weekend, you couldn't give up the rare opportunity to indulge in your favorite hobby. “It’s the pond with all the colorful leaves,” you reply.

Blank face, the child thinks before speaking again. “Who taught you?”

Now that's an interesting question. Drawing had always been in your blood since a child. You fell in love with the ability to let your imagination run wild on paper whether it be on the back of your homework or even cardboard. To you, drawing was freedom and discovery. It allowed you to express emotion, memories, abstract thoughts, and to recreate the real world. You typically preferred sketching with drawing pencils but occasionally dabbled with watercolors. You had a gift for it–a natural gift.

By the time high school rolled around, you tended to hole up in the art room, sketching for as long as you could. Your art teacher suggested you go to school for it come senior year which gave you enough push to bring it up to your parents. Determined, you spoke to your parents about it but it was null–art could only be a hobby, it couldn’t support your future. They suggested you go to school for economics or finance instead. You nearly hurled at the idea but you eventually agreed, knowing they’d never pay for you to go to art school. Drawing, as you found out, had to be on the side.

"I had a teacher once in school," you say. "But I mostly learned myself."

The child tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “You?”, he says.

You nod your head in affirmation.

“No way! Even I have art teacher.”

You chuckle lightly and move to stand up from the grass, needing to stretch due to your crouched position. He follows suit, still clinging to your hand. “Where you going, Eomma?”

Eomma...That's a name you don't get called often. You're not used to being seen as the mom type. In fact, when you tied the knot with Jungkook, the two of you agreed that having a family was a grey area. You both liked kids, sure, but being parents? That was a subject neither of you seriously considered. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” you coo. “I’m not your Eomma. But, let’s find her together, okay?”

The child shakes his head, refusing to budge. "Mm no," he says, clinging to your leg. "Wanna stay with you." Your heart skips a beat. Children don't typically take to you like this. It causes something inside of you to want to lunge down and pick up the child in a tight embrace. But you nip that thought in the bud when you catch sight of a woman roughly your age jogging toward you. She looks like the child’s mother.

“Si-woo!” She gives a wave. "Si-woo come here!"

“Eomma!” The child’s cheeks rise into a big grin as he watches his mom approach nearer. He lets go of your leg but his hand remains locked in your own. You end up squeezing Si-woo’s tiny hand but then, like a bitter aftertaste, you remember– he doesn’t belong to you. You loosen your grip and allow him to run back to his mom.

“It was nice meeting you Si-woo!” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone but you do your best to brush it off. You only knew Si-woo for a short while and now he’s back with his real mom. You should be happy but when Si-woo’s mom lifts her son, she gives you a scowl. She doesn’t even come up to say anything to you but turns around and carries her son back to their picnic area. You frown realizing you were merely a stranger who little kids are told not to talk to.

You sigh and glance at your unfinished drawing. Suddenly, you don’t feel like drawing anymore. You pack up your belongings in your bag and head to your car, the event replaying in your mind.

You can’t blame Si-woo’s mom for being a little rigid, you think. You’d share a similar reaction with your own kids if you had any–if you had any. You repeat the phrase unexpectedly. Were you warming up to the idea? Your marriage did recently surpass the two-year mark, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having…no, you mentally stop yourself. Yes, Si-woo was cute but it likely wouldn't happen. You toss your bag of art supplies in the back seat and drive home.

“Jungkook! You here?” You step into your shared apartment and drop your bag on the kitchen counter. The smell of burnt wax mixed with vanilla bean hits you as soon as you walk into the living room. “Jungkook you better be home or these candles are going in the trash!” You really didn’t mind the candles but your husband had a nasty habit of keeping them lit even when you were both out of the house. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was accidental but it was too much of a fire hazard to ignore.

“Kook!” you holler again, but no reply. These damn candles. You snuff them out one by one before venturing into the bedroom. Thankfully none were lit in there. You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting it pile around your feet. It's a beautiful dress but you were dying to get into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey honey,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. You let out a yelp before making eye contact. You've always been easily startled. “How was the park?”

Mentally, you bite your lip. This man was getting sexier every day, especially with that gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. You toss a t-shirt over your head. “Absolutely wonderful. Been a while since I’ve been able to really focus and draw. I loved every second." Should you mention the child? You pause, briefly contemplating the thought. Why not? "A really cute kid came up to watch me draw too…’til his mother took him away.” You don't notice but you nearly spat the last part.

Jungkook lets out a small snort, amused by your sudden irritation. There were many things he knew you could put up with, a resilient woman you were. But whoever this kid’s mother was must have gotten under your skin in the most unusual way. “It’s great you had a good time but you sound borderline offended about whoever this kid’s mother is.”

“It’s nothing really.” You shrug. “The kid came up to me and grabbed my hand. We had a nice talk but then his mom showed up. She didn’t even say hi to me. She just picked up her son and scowled at me like I took him or something. Believe me, I get it. But I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t think about it too much __. She was probably just worried about getting her son back. I’m sure she did mean anything.”

“I guess. But do I really look that harmful?” You face your husband, hands perfectly poised on your hips.

Jungkook strides over to you and strokes down your arms until your hands relax to your sides. He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Yes.”

Surprised, your mouth falls open. How dare he?! You give a pout, one that Jungkook finds especially irresistible. “Then you can keep your hands and lips off me for the rest of the night, Mr. Jeon.” You wiggle out of his grasp.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past four years Ms. y/l/n. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? Just had to marry your hot professor, you naughty girl.” Jungkook grabs you again, pressing himself against your torso. You squeal at the contact. Married for two years and you’re still a blushing mess, get it together __!

“I wasn’t the one who was grabbing my student’s ass after class halfway through the first semester,” you quip, gripping his biceps. “I’m innocent.”

“Oh honey, nonono. You don’t get to play the role of a shy little angel who got eaten by her big bad wolf of a professor day one of university. You were already a master's student when we met. You knew what you were getting into when you started wearing tight little skirts to my class.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon I had leggings underneath and I wore sweaters. If you’re accusing me of seducing you through my wardrobe then you have a very odd way of getting turned on.”

“Honey, how long have you known me? Sure tits and ass are cool and I won’t say no if you wanna show me.” You give a light shove on his shoulder at that, Jungkook chuckles. “But I have a doctorate in economics. Nothing catches my interest more than a studious individual like yourself studying all the angles of supply and demand. Plus, I liked your sweaters. Made me curious what you were hiding.”

“Oh stop it!” You end up giggling at your husband’s beyond-cheesy explanations. “How am I supposed to know my economics professor was ogling my teddy bear sweater for fuck sake?”

Jungkook throws his head back, feigning frustration. “It wasn’t a teddy bear sweatshirt. It was a bunny and it was very cute!”

“Whatever. Point is, I’m not the one to blame. I was a good student getting her master’s like her parents wanted until she found out her professor was sculpted from the gods themselves. Your shirts were barely fitting you. I swore they were going to bust one of those class periods.” You imagine the horrified look your peers would give. Not you though, you'd probably start drawing him. Shameless, really.

“As I recall that shirt-busting happened many times by your claws. I had to replace a dozen shirts in a month from how many you destroyed.” A pair of manly hands sensually trace down your sides. Jungkook leans forward, lips near your ear. “Seems like you had a lot of pent-up energy.” He nips your ear before peppering small kisses down your neck.

“You have no idea.“ You close your eyes, a moan escaping from you. "Professor–"

Jungkook grunts, suddenly suckling on the sensitive skin. “Mmm you haven’t called me that in a while. Kinda missed it”, he says, backing you up against the dresser. You were about to hop on top when your ass hit the edge but a rude, obnoxious ringing pulled Jungkook off you.

“Hey man!” Your husband answers the phone, a little too joyous in your opinion. You knew exactly who it was on the phone–Park Jimin. You bite your cheek, doing your best to keep down a sour face.

“Yeah let me ask __. Hold on.” Jungkook looks at you. “Honey, Jimin wants us to go out to dinner with the guys. You wanna go or stay in?”

Maybe, you think. You love Jimin but his dinners are usually quite elaborate. He always makes reservations to the fanciest restaurants in Seoul, and he required everyone to be dressed to the hills. It was fun now and then but did you have the energy for that tonight? Eh. What the hell. “Sure. What time?”

Jungkook passes on your inquiry before looking at you again. “6 p.m.” You nod in consent and walk to your closet, rummaging through your clothes for something Jimin-worthy. “Alright man, we’ll see you there. Yeah got it, k bye.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and watches you pull out dress shirts, pants, blazers, literally all your work clothes. “Found anything?” he pipes up.

You pull out a dark green dress, above knee-length, and gorgeously hemmed. “I’m pretty sure I wore this last time but–“

“Next," Jungkook interrupts. "Jimin will notice and you know how he gets when people wear the same outfit twice in a row.” your husband fiddles with through his own dresser drawers, yanking out an oversized t-shirt. You groan knowing all too well how tight Jimin ran this operation. One time Namjoon came in the same maroon dress shirt as before causing Jimin to have an absolute fit. He even made the man go home and change. Dinner was late that night.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You rummage through your closet again hoping to find something tucked in the back. There’s bound to be something. “Damnit, I thought I had more than this,” you grunt, finding nothing.

“Do we need to go on a last-minute shopping trip?” Jungkook throws on a pair of cargo pants.

You groan internally. Shopping isn't your favorite activity. It always took so long, and nothing was to your liking. You prefer online shopping but with only three hours until dinner and apparently nothing in your wardrobe, you suppose it's inescapable.

“Come on, honey.” Jungkook combs through his hair with a few fingers and grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “This is for Jimin."

"Alright, let me put some jeans on.” Jimin, you bougie little punk.

You view yourself in the dressing room mirror, a plum-colored dress adorning your body. This is the tenth dress you've tried on and to be honest, you feel pretty good in it. Nothing feels itchy, too snug, or out of place. The dress was a simple, strapless sheath dress and it fit you like a glove.

"__." Jungkook taps on the door. "You're not gonna like what I have to say but it's inevitable…there's been a change of plans."

"Okay," you reply with strain. "What is it?" You unlock the door to find your husband glancing down at his phone. It's a text from Jimin, you notice.

"Sorry for this but we're not going out for dinner tonight. Seokjin's daughter isn't feeling well so they're going to stay home. Yoongi also hasn't been able to get much time with his kids and wife lately so he's not coming either." Jungkook continues reading Jimin's text aloud. "I don't think we should go out without the whole party so I'm thinking about canceling our reservations."

Damn.

"You look beautiful," he says, catching your half-disappointed expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal," you sigh. "We'll eat in." From Jungkook's point of view, you were upset about wasting an hour and a half on shopping. He knew you'd much rather be back with your drawing pencils or watching a drama. He felt bad. The real reason, the one you think best to keep to yourself, however, is that hearing Jimin's text reminded you of Si-woo again. Further, it reminded you that nearly everyone in your friend group had at least one kid except you and Jungkook. Normally it didn't affect you though, so why did it today? Had the little kid from earlier really stuck with you that much?

"__? Everything alright?," Jungkook says. "I know we had plans and we've been shopping for a while but if you like the dress you should still get it. Jimin will have his dinner again and there will be other times you'll need it."

It takes you a moment but you reply, forcing a fake smile the best you can. "Oh yeah, yeah I'm good. I dazed off for a second there. I'll–I'll put the dress back actually."

Seeing through your facade, Jungkook lightly grips your arms. "If there's something you're not telling me I'd like to know, please?"

His endearing facial expression both soothes you and creates coils of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You want to tell him what's up. You also want to pop the question that you've both been sweeping under the rug for the last two years. But how? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you're just in a mood today.

"Have–" You start but the rest of the words don't come out.

Jungkook waits for you to finish the sentence. "Have you thought of any ideas for dinner?" You stutter out. "'Cause I was thinking it’d be easier to order takeout tonight."

Eyes narrowing, your husband stares into your eyes. He's searching for any hint that you're bluffing–shifty eyes and such. You think he's caught onto you until his shoulders relax and eyebrows soften. "I was thinking the same thing. But also, I'm buying you this dress even if you don't. It's gorgeous on you and I know you want it. Now take it off and let's go find something to eat."

You manage to chuckle a "thank you" and slip back into the stall to change into your normal clothes. You feel a slight pang of guilt in your gut for not coming clean to him but you weren't sure if you were ready to tell him the truth no more than he'd be ready to hear it.

“Seriously honey.” Jungkook’s voice carries over the stall. “Are you really alright? Do you need anything?” You swallow hard at his persistence.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply. “Maybe a little hungry.” One day at a time __, you think.

You end up placing a dinner order at a local favorite nearby. You and Jungkook take it back to the apartment, curl up on the couch, and put a movie on. You nearly fall asleep after the first forty minutes because the plot is so utterly dry and quite frankly, boring. Jungkook seems to be enjoying it though so the movie plays the entire way through.

Still hardly paying attention, your mind drifts off to other affairs. You think about your upcoming work week, what to get for your best friend's birthday in the following few weeks, and the cute dog you saw yesterday, and of course, you loop back to the same lingering topic–your brief afternoon with Si-woo. Part of you wanted to take him home but Jungkook would have a fit, as well as you know...Si-woo's mother. You snort at how interested you've become in entertaining thoughts about children and taking care of them. As you've covered before, you aren't the mom type.

Si-woo and his mother looked very similar though. They shared the same hair color, eyes, and face shape. You wonder what his father looked. Did he have long hair too? Did he share the same lips? Before you can stop yourself from going further you wonder how identical your own child might be to you and Jungkook. Would your child love the arts like you or the social sciences like your husband? You suppose it could be a blend since you technically have a master's in economics yourself. You'd much rather be owning and operating an art museum or being a studio art professor but that's beside the point. Your child would be free to venture down their own path. That is if you have any.

You shift your eyes to Jungkook who's concentrating heavily on the movie. He's a wonderful husband, you sigh, full of love. No doubt he'd make a great father but did he want to? Jungkook never really mentioned it before and neither did you. When you first start dating you had a brief talk about children and building a family but you were still in school then and Jungkook was swamped with his teaching responsibilities. Children weren't something that either of you felt like you could handle at the time. After you'd gotten married there was an opportunity to discuss it again but you were both quite comfortable with it being just the two of you. Today is the first day you've shown any serious aversion to your comfortable lifestyle–you want a baby.

Once the credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Yes there is."

"I don't think so."

Patience running thin, the tone in your husband's voice gets firmer. He's not angry but it's clear his temper is rising. You and Jungkook haven't had a spat in a while and you really don't want to start now. "I can see that there's something on your mind. It's the same one you had from the dressing room and I'm pretty sure it isn't about food this time."

"I don't know what you want me to say," you mumble tiredly. You sit up straight. "My face is my face."

"Honey, I know there's something going on that you're not telling me. Is this about that kid's mother from earlier? Because I'm certain it wasn't personal."

"No, it's not about that at all. It's just been a long week and I'm exhausted," you lie, yawning as if on queue. Jungkook grips the couch arm in agitation. He isn't sure what's going on but he isn't letting you go to bed without getting to the bottom of it.

"You're not having second thoughts about our marriage are you?" He throws the idea out there, hoping its obvious inaccuracy will push you to tell him the truth. You grimace at the guess.

"That's ridiculous!" You sneer. "How could you think that?"

"Well maybe because you're not telling me anything else?" Jungkook tosses his hands up. "I mean who knows, it could be anything. Was it the movie? Shopping? Are you horny? What the fuck is it?!" You jump at his sudden outburst.

"No it's none of those–"

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!" You throw him a nasty look.

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You feel your body starting to shake, eyes tearing up. You friggin' hate fighting and you hate being so unsure about telling him the truth–that you want a family. You're scared of his response most. What if he says no?

Realizing your nervous state, Jungkook takes a deep breath and softens his tone. He hates seeing you cry and he hates it even more when he's the one causing it. "I'm sorry honey." He steps towards you but you flinch away. You're not ready to be touched yet.

"I–I want...I want to be a mom. I want a baby." You wait for your husband's reaction and when it comes you instantly start bawling.

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" Jungkook feels everything inside of him panicking. There's a reason he teaches economics to college students and not high schoolers or below. He doesn't do children, he isn't cut out for it. He'll babysit of his hyung's kids from time to time but at the end of the day, they aren't coming back home with him. Jungkook was sure his wife felt the same way but now? Now she's tearing up in front of him, scared to tell him she wants a child–one that will be his.

Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you." You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.” You leave the bathroom, leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts.

A/N: Lmk what you think, tysm for stopping by 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

2K notes · View notes

gurugirl · 6 months

Text

The Amateur | Special Preview

sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn

New Patreon exclusive short series preview! Part 1 out now on Patreon!

Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.

Preview Word Count: 1.7k

Her costume was lost or had never been ordered. She wasn’t sure. So, instead of having her first dance routine that night, she was booked to serve cocktails for a private party. Not how she envisioned her dance career progressing, but a job was a job. She needed the money. She needed to eat.

She was given a basic outfit to serve cocktails in. There were four cocktail waitresses. The little outfit was a bit showy for such a job, but she wouldn’t stick her nose up at it.

She curled her hair and pinned the front back and applied makeup. She adjusted her little outfit and tugged at the hem of the skirt. It barely covered her bottom. The tall heels were a touch too small for her feet but she took deep breaths and kept calm. The private party was in a large room (not the main room) with a small bar, some tables, and a stage.

She stood toward the entrance and watched the room get set up.

When the guests who’d booked the private party arrived, Y/n took her spot as directed and saw a group of ten men with nice suits and big attitudes walk in.

She immediately walked up to the table assigned to her and smiled brightly, “Welcome! Can I get you started off with a drink gentlemen?”

There were three tables for the guests and four cocktail waitresses spread amongst them.

Two beers, a whiskey neat.

Back and forth.

A round of shots for the group.

Water. Don’t forget the lemon.

No ice for the one with the grey suit and pink tie.

Her feet were killing her. She leaned against the bar and slid her shoes off for a moment of relief. The fucking things were an inch too high and a half inch too small, and she was struggling. She took a breather and watched over the table she was working. They had just gotten fresh refills and more water so they would be good for a bit.

The dancers on stage were having fun. Y/n could tell they were fill-ins. Not main stage worthy. Like Y/n, amateurs most likely.

Bethany put her hand on the bar next to Y/n, “Can you take my table their drinks? I need to go to the bathroom,” she told Y/n the order and ran off.

The bartender quickly got the order ready and Y/n reluctantly slid the borrowed heels back onto her feet. Somehow, the short rest for her feet only made putting the tight shoes back on worse. Her gait was affected. Her heels were blistered, and her toes were smushed in. She tried to maintain a natural stride on her way to the table but the only way she could stand to walk was to go very slowly.

“IPA?” She lifted the pint up and a man raised his hand as she placed the glass in front of him.

She handed off the drinks one by one and the last was a bourbon on the rocks. The only man who’d not yet been served was looking at her with anticipation of receiving his drink. She moved toward him and her attempt to not step fully down onto her heel had caused her to lose her balance and she dumped the whiskey onto the man’s nice suit.

She gasped and so did the man. Kicking her heels off she ran to the bar to grab towels and then back to the table.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, sir! This is my fault. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…” She got to her knees and placed the towel over the top of his thigh and looked up at his face with worry and noted his surprised smile.

She used her other hand to wipe the table as she blotted the towel over his thigh. She had not expected a smile from him.

“Don’t worry. Happens to us all. I don’t need you to pay for the dry cleaning either,” he said as he took the towel from her.

His voice was calm and deep. He sounded British. She stood up and stared down at the man and realized how kind he looked. His smile was genuine and the dimples poking into his cheeks were boyish and cute. He had crystal green eyes and broad shoulders. He was handsome. She was thankful that he was kind.

“I’m really so sorry, sir. I feel so bad. I’ll get another one for you and make sure to put all your drinks on the house,” she knelt down to pick up her heels and as she turned to go back to the bar the man gently grabbed her wrist, “Another bourbon is fine. You don’t need to comp any of my drinks, though. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

She looked down to where he had her wrist. He had rings along his long fingers. His hand was big. She looked back up to his face with a smile, “Are you sure?”

The man with curly brown hair smiled and nodded, “I’m sure.”

The rest of the night was far less exciting. When Bethany returned Y/n went back to her original spot. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the other table to the man who’d been so kind to her, even after she ruined his suit. He was attractive and it was clear to Y/n that Bethany also thought so. She gave extra attention to him. Anyone would.

When the guests had left and Y/n could put on her sneakers, the room got cleared and everyone went their separate ways. The club didn’t serve food, which Y/n had kind of hoped it would. She was hungry. She’d barely eaten anything all day long. Her day started off early trying to perfect the routine but then after hours of practice, she learned she wouldn’t be on stage because her costume was nowhere to be found.

Running back and forth in tight heels to serve liquor was just as tiresome as dancing on a stage. And being hungry on top of it all was brutal. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the club and to her car parked at the side of the building where all the employees parked.

“There you are!” The voice of a familiar-sounding man startled her.

Y/n jumped and lifted her head to find the British guy with the bourbon-stained suit approaching her. Her eyes widened. As nice as he seemed in the club, she was hesitant to give him her full trust at 1 am in a dark parking lot with no one else around.

The man stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry. I know you probably didn’t expect to see me, but I noticed you walking out and thought I’d just come and, I don’t know… maybe say hi,” he suddenly seemed more timid. Perhaps he realized how scary it could be as a woman to be approached by a man in this way.

Y/n gripped her keys tight and looked around. His soft smile put her at ease a little, “Yeah. I figured you guys all left already. I was just leaving for the night. Everything okay?”

Even in her alert state, she still wanted to make sure the man was all right. She was probably too nice for her own good.

His husky laugh sounded like relief in Y/n’s ears and it made her smile, “Everything’s fine. I was hanging back. I have a friend who works here. Just happened to see you leaving is all.”

Dimples.

Bright eyes.

Dark curls.

Tattoos, that she hadn’t noticed until now with his sleeves bunched up to his elbows.

He was attractive and his demeanor slowly put her at ease. She loosened the grip on the keys in her hand and finally smiled at him genuinely.

“Oh. Who do you know?”

“The owner. Richard. Short guy,”

“Bald,” Y/n spoke with a smile and Harry grinned back at her and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for years. Always lets me get in for a quick last-minute private party if I need. A lot of my colleagues enjoy the atmosphere.”

Y/n nodded and kept her eyes on the man. They both fell silent.

“Uh,” he lifted his hand up in a waving gesture and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Harry.”

Y/n’s smile widened, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and stayed in his spot on the other side of her little car. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting too close.

“So, guess you’re headed home, huh?” Harry looked at her little silver car and back to her.

Y/n nodded, “Yep,” she didn’t know what home meant but she would consider her car her home at the moment.

Harry looked down at his feet and back toward the car, “I uh, are you new here? I mean, I only ask because I’ve never seen you around.”

Y/n nodded, “First day. Was supposed to be in the main room on stage but my costume was never ordered or it was lost, or I don’t know… So they had me serving cocktails. I just need the money so I’ll do almost anything at this point,” she laughed and her shoulders relaxed a little more.

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned, “Understandable.”

The silence grew loud again and Y/n shifted on her feet. Suddenly the sound of her stomach gurgling in hunger filled in the space in between them and she laughed it off, “Wow. I should uh, go get something to eat.”

Harry kept the small frown on his face, “Well, there are plenty of places open. Vegas baby. Right?” He chuckled lightly, “I guess I should leave you alone, huh? So you can find a spot to grab a meal,” Harry spoke as he backed away from her car, and slowly headed toward the main parking area.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for being so kind to me on my first day,” she slid the key into her door to unlock it and kept her eyes on the man.

He nodded and put his hands into his pockets, “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. I’m around often.”

A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo

439 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months

Text

Gold Dust

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Public use of an app based sex toy, smut. Word count: ~1.8k

Summary: Aemond's office Christmas party is the last thing either of them want to attend, however, he comes up with an idea to make it fun for both of them.

Author's note: Can be read as an addition of this series, but also works as a standalone. Day seven of the Smuffmas prompts - "sharing a drink and toys". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Aemond edit in first picture is by @kyloremus.

It’s been six blissful months since her and Aemond moved in together. Having decided his own lofty high rise flat no longer felt like home - in truth, it never had - he’d offered a swap with Mysaria, and she’d leapt at the offer.

Aemond’s flat was paid for outright, so there’d be no expenses incurred on her part, beyond standard bills and utilities. She suited the space, adding a touch of glamour to the modern matte black and chrome surroundings. Her jaw had dropped when he’d handed her the deeds, his grandfather’s law firm already having handled the necessary paperwork and transfer of ownership. Aemond didn’t want rent, he simply wanted to live with the woman he loved. The simple act of Mysaria giving them a space to be by themselves was payment enough in his mind.

The security of the smaller, more homely feeling flat which she now shared with him had been trickier to negotiate. The landlord had snubbed Aemond’s initial offer to buy it from him, insisting he’d make more in rental payments from it than he would if he sold it. Some moderate pressure applied by the legal team of Otto Hightower, and an offer well above its current market value had soon seen to that, so now they were homeowners of a place that was theirs.

Mysaria’s old room had been turned into a home office, a space where either her or Aemond could work from home if and when they wanted to, aside from that they had made no further changes. The cosy little space was where they had shared their fondest memories, and every aspect of their relationship was woven into it.

She shrugs off her coat, hanging it up by the front door, and sighs in relief as the warmth of the central heating prickles her skin. She stoops to ruffle Vhagar behind the ears, a reward for the elderly doberman having reluctantly left her bed to greet her, before walking through to the living room. The blankets on the sofa are exactly as she’d left them the previous evening, and she eagerly retreats back into her nest, snatching up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“Good day?” Aemond asks, propping himself against the door frame as he emerges from the home office, the faintest smirk of amusement playing upon his lips as he looks at her.

She regards him with a warm smile, her features softening instantly despite how tired and irritated she feels. “Horrid, thanks for asking. Do we have any wine left?”

“There’ll be wine at the party, I expect,” he says, moving to sit next to her and brushing a chaste kiss against her temple.

“What?”

He narrows his eye at her, drawing back to look at her carefully. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

She groans as realisation dawns upon her. “Shit, your office Christmas party. Do we really have to go?”

He sighs, nodding and interlocks his fingers with hers. “Ordinarily, I’d give it a miss, you know I loathe parties, but my grandfather has called in more than a few favours for me this year. I owe him this.”

An hour later, and she steps out of the bedroom, hair and make-up finished and a slinky silk dress hugging her curves.

“Beautful,” Aemond breathes quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

She smiles bashfully, feeling her skin heat up beneath the weight of his compliment as he pulls away, and watches with curiosity as he moves past her to rummage around on the top shelf of their wardrobe.

“What are you doing?”

“Your outfit’s missing something,” he tells her, pulling down the Lovehoney box, a glint in his eye as he turns to her.

“Aemond, no!”

The app controlled egg vibrator had been a drunken purchase on her behalf, that she’d regretted the moment it had arrived. Upon discovering it, Aemond’s reaction had been much more enthusiastic, kneeling between her spread legs and watching in fascination as she’d whimpered and writhed as he’d played with the settings using the app on his phone.

It had been fun at the time, but she’d considered it impractical and tucked it away, hoping he’d forgotten about it. It’s clear now that he hasn’t.

“Oh come now, darling, it’ll make the evening much more fun for both of us. Consider it an early Christmas gift to me.”

It doesn’t take much persuading, and soon she is sitting in the back of a black cab next to him, her coat pulled tight around her against the chilly December air, made colder still by a distinct lack of knickers, which Aemond had insisted she leave behind.

She is acutely aware of the feeling of the egg enveloped snugly inside of her, its presence, though discreet, making her feel as though she brandishes a scarlet letter that their taxi driver must be aware of.

“No!” She mouths desperately at Aemond as he pulls his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the app.

He flashes her the briefest of grins, tapping once on the screen. A mild singular buzz reverberates through her, causing her to clasp a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal. Aemond eyes her carefully, poking at the inside of his cheek with his tongue before pocketing his phone once more.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

They step into the office, already bustling with people, chatter and light classical music fill the opulent space which is decked out in rich, mahogany furnishings and forest green upholstery, ever the indication that the Hightowers come from old money.

“There they are!” Aegon greets them loudly with a grin, arms spread and half drunk flutes of champagne clutched by the stem between each of his fingers. His shoulder length blonde hair is tousled, and his white shirt is open by three buttons.

“How long have you been here?” She asks, taking in his bedraggled appearance.

“‘Bout twenty minutes,” he slurs around a mouthful of vol-au-vent.

Otto steps up behind him, placing a ring clad hand upon his shoulder. “I tell you where you might like it, Aegon, on the terrace; outside.”

She watches with amusement as the older man leads him away.

“I’d better give him a hand,” Aemond mutters quietly, the warmth of his palm leaving her lower back as he moves to follow. He nods towards his older sister. “Good to see you, Hel.”

She smiles warmly at Hel leaning in as the two peck each other’s cheeks. “How are you doing?” She asks fondly.

“Starving!” Helaena complains, pulling her sheer turquoise wrap tighter around herself and waving away a tray of canapés that’s being offered around by a member of serving staff. “Not a single vegan option here, everything’s either got salmon in it or is slathered in cream cheese.”

“You could always sneak off to grab something?” She offers sympathetically.

“Aeg said there’s a kebab shop over the road. I might see if he’ll grab me a falafel wrap later. Anyway,” she continues, snatching up two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and handing one to her. “How are you?!”

“Yeah, really good!” She grins. “Aemond mentioned we might fly to New York for New Year’s, go and see Daeron. I’ve not met him yet and I– oh!”

She bows her head, biting back the quiet moan that tries to escape her, as the egg inside her vibrates incessantly. Her head snaps up, making eye contact with Aemond, who stands in a corner with his phone out, a sly smile upon his face.

Bastard.

“You alright?” Helaena asks, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Mhm…just...champagne bubbles…they go right up my nose!” She feigns a laugh, embarrassment making her skin feel hot.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, she does her rounds of the office, speaking to colleagues and family members alike, though every interaction is thwarted by sudden and persistent vibrations between her legs.

After an hour of polite chit chat with Alicent, Criston, Otto and several other party guests, she leans back against the wall next to Aemond’s office door, needing a breather from socialising, but also feeling lightheaded from the intermittent throbbing in her core.

The door swings slowly open and Aemond steps out, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand.

“Having fun?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm,” she narrows her eyes, “you clearly are. What’s that you’ve got?”

“Laphroaig,” he tells her, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Thirty six year old The Wall Peat, to be precise. Grandfather would never offer this around to the guests. Lucky for me I know he keeps it stashed in his bottom desk drawer.”

“Lucky indeed,” she purrs up at him.

He grabs her hand, pulling her into his office and closes the door behind them, before backing her up against the desk, until she perches on the edge.

“Let me see,” he whispers, pushing her dress up above her hips.

His free hand applies gentle pressure to her knee, spreading her legs, and she watches the bob of his throat as he swallows thickly, taking in the sight of the arousal that coats her centre.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly. “The idea of you walking around making innocent small talk while you’re soaked is driving me mad.”

She giggles, clenching around the egg that’s nestled within her as she sees his gaze darken. Aemond pulls out his phone again, changing the setting to a constant vibrate, before setting it down on the desk behind her.

Mewling helplessly, shockwaves of pleasure ripple through her as Aemond’s thumb swipes against her sodden folds, spreading her open to watch intently.

He takes a sip from his glass, and she gasps as he grabs her forcefully by the hair at the back of her head, crushing her lips against his and letting the whisky pass from his mouth to hers. She moans quietly, the intensity of the burn of the liquid that slips down her throat and the throbbing ache between her legs making her feel dizzy.

She is devastatingly close, can feel the pressure building to boiling point, and she whines, pressing her face into the crook of Aemond’s neck, fingertips rumpling the fabric of his black button down shirt as she grasps his biceps for purchase. “Fuck, Aemond, I–”

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, let go,” he coos.

She bites down on the juncture of his neck to muffle her pleasured cry, earning her a startled grunt from Aemond. Her body spasms around the toy, climaxing with a force that makes her toes curl inside of her high heels, before going limp against his chest.

He settles his glass down and strokes her hair before pulling back. His long, dexterous fingers wrap around the cord of egg, and despite how gentle he is as he tugs it free, she still hisses with overstimulation as it leaves her body. The sudden feeling of emptiness is alien to her after having spent most of the evening with it inside of her.

“Can…can we go home now?” She asks tiredly, as he wraps the toy in tissue and deposits it on the desk.

“Hmmm, not just yet,” Aemond tells her, taking her hand and guiding it to palm over the erection that strains against the confines of his suit trousers. “I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

469 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 7 months

Text

Pit Babe - it's time for a Trash Watch!

I had to. Well, no I didn't, but COME ON. It's like Thailand is negging me. Let's burn rubber, shall we? Burn rubbers...?

The things I had been told going in about this show:

it's about car racing (this bores me)

it stars Pavel (my BL ult bias, he is my icon for a reason)

it started as an omegaverse y-novel but the A/B/O aspects would be stripped from the BL series

it's high heat

(There some chatter about whether point 3 was a mistranslation of something the author said, but don't bother me with trifles.)

Here's a definition of omegaverse:

Omegaverse, also known as A/B/O (alpha/beta/omega), is a subgenre of speculative erotic fiction, and originally a subgenre of erotic slash fan fiction. Its premise is that a dominance hierarchy exists in humans, which are divided into dominant "alphas", neutral "betas", and submissive "omegas".[1] This hierarchy determines how people interact with one another in romantic, erotic and sexual contexts.[2] (Wikipedia)

In my experience and opinion, omegaverse archetypes and tropes are often used to strip out female characters (and The Feminine) and as a tool to excuse extreme hyper-masculine behaviors without a critical feminist lens (leading to lazy characterization). Just as heat is an excuse to get nkd quickly, A/O/B is often an excuse for taboo and dubious consent actions and behaviors. Do I get why writers/readers enjoy it? Yes I do. Do I personally like it? Not particularly. (Although there are always exceptions.)

Putting all that aside, the above represents my foundational knowledge before Pit Babe started.

Oh and that the familiar BL faces appearing in this show were follows:

Pavel Naret (aka Pavel Phoom) from 2 Moons 2 & Coffee Melody - Pavel is a fluent English speaker, a bit of a drama monger, and a motorcycle rider/car-dude, this role suits him

Nut Supanut from Oxygen & Something in My Room - has an amazing voice, his somewhat wooden acting has improved steadily since Oxygen

Pon Thanapon - one of Star Hunter's stable first seen in the Gen Y series (where he stole the appeal of an intended pair), also v good in Make a Wish, I wish he'd get a lead role as he has a likable screen presence

Pop Pataraphol from La Cuisine - he's playing the Alpha rival and I'm not convinced he's suited to this role

Michael Kiettisak from Love Sick, Oxygen, Call it What You Want, Till the World Ends - playing the comic relief this time rather than his usual tortured stoic... huh

All the rest are either fresh faces or older experienced actors. Interesting mix. They must have some money behind this.

And now, get out your marshmallows! The dumpster is on fire! Let's start the roast.

Episode 1 - Platypus, Pickles, Pavel, & other Smoking Hot Problems

This first segment told with a 4 day retrospect, because I decided to do a trash watch only after @aliceisathome said I should.

My initial reaction:

the sheer audacity of Thailand being like "PitBabe is not omegaverse" and then serving "Alpha" to us on a platter in the first sex scene is

how dare

but also

what the actual fuck is going on? what world are we living in where a/b/o is LIVE ACTION ON OUR SCREENS?

we getting heat, knotting & mpreg next?

apparently this is my reality now

I'm not sure what weird quantum time stream I've jumped into but someone was all,

yes the whole world is hella screwed, but also...

Thailand has decided live action mm fanfic is gonna win it the culture wars

and I'm beginning to think they may be right

BL is now the platypus of the film industry

4 days later:

Considering how much chatter this caused there's a part of me that wondered if it was all intentional and a marketing ploy (to say it wasn't omegaverse when obviously it is). In which case... brilliant Machiavellian tactics, production.

But Thai studios are rarely this calculated in their promo. So I think it's all accidental. But it certainly caused a raucous few days on Tumblr.

On a completely different note, Babe's house looks like it started life as a particularly inventive Olive Garden. Or is that just me?

More random thoughts:

Pavel has had work done, why honey? You were the definition of perfect.

The smell thing is great, I love stuff to do with scent and necks. If omegaverse brings this to the table, fine. But...

Being all Alpha perfect butch manly man = I do not like Babe at all, I kinda want him to be brought down a peg. (Woo... pegging!) I never like narratives that glorify the captain of the football team (side eyes Cdrama CEO romances and Love O2O), Babe better have depth and damage (forget the pegging) of some kind or his behavior will get old FAST, faster than he drives (also, forget the pegging idea)

Nut is ideal in the Beta role. I mean, that's Way's character right? We all can see that. If it's not intentional, it's a miscast. I love how soft he is as as screen presence. He's great in this part.

None of the other characters are sticking out to me yet, but I'm prepared to love the side dishes in this, please make them swoon worthy!

I'm glad they didn't hold the Charlie = trickster reveal off, I like knowing he is a double agent up front.

Finally, with respect to an adequate trash watch, I'm in a pickle.

How am I going to drink for this show when there is so much else airing on Frigay? I can't keep track, if I'm drunk.

I need a strategy for this trash fire if the puns and snark are to spout forth! (HA Fourth!)

Controlled burn?

Anygay, see you all next week.

Episode 2 - Side Dish Addiction + Second Lead Syndrome are both infecting me at once

[FYI I gotta have my backup computer to watch this so that's why Imma sometimes be delayed getting the trash out to the curb.]

3 minutes! 3 minutes in and I needed to pause and wax snarkful. (Ouch, bet that hurts. Is waxing snark similar to a Brazilian but for BL? Is that why they all so hairless in The Sign?... I digress, where was I?)

Okay so the subber said Daddy but I don't think that word means what they think it means. Because Way said simply nong paa.

Usually they'll use the English word Daddy (pronounced Dah-deee) for, ya know, Actual Daddies (tm).

Wait wait:

Calling Daddy Actual

(My dumb sci-fi loving arse will see myself out the back before I start drawing Battlestar Galactica = Pit Babe connections. TOO FAR ABL. Too far.)

Look, I like the tension in this show. It's good to set up an unlikeable Alpha dog and then immediately turn him into an underdog, makes him a bit more likable. I still don't like Babe, but now at least I'm on his side.

Charlie = cute but v sus. Fortunately for him, Babe = cute but v thick.

Everyone calls Charlie Babe's dek. Yes sounds a bit like what you think but also means kid/child and SHOULD be translated as boy in this show. Why doesn't the subber get that? They a sub...ber after all. (I'll see myself out.)

Honestly, the script writers might know what they are doing with abo but our eng sub translator sadly does NOT. I'm so glad this is coming now in my BL watching life. When my ear and knowledge of Thai is so much better than it once was. Others much be SO CONFUSED.

Snicker. They just fucking with us, but it's fun to watch the mpeg speculation abound.

File this one under: Thailand's trouble with ESL plurals and also "you should have Pavel helping with these subs" sweethearts.

Production knows entirely what it's doing with this show and its omegaverse shizz (even if the subber doesn't) and I am very much enjoying the online carnage that results.

This dumpster fire continues off screen into the blogosphere and I continue to roast things over it.

Meanwhile, hi Pon! You so adorable! When you gonna lead out a BL for us?

Is Idol Factory stealing all of Star Hunter's talent? Are they the Red Racers of the BL world? These are the questions I ask myself as I watch this.

Is that AGE GAP I smell before me?

Is the 20 yr old college kid meant for the pit boss? Cause you all know I am a slut for age gaps.

Moment of a/b/o: Jeff's fear of touch/heightened personal space would be a plot marker for "baby doesn't want Alphas close cause he smells like an omega" but of course this show it not omegaverse. Not omegaverse at all.

nuh-uh

Linguistic corner!

Lung (sounds a bit like loo) is uncle(ish) it means basically a male relation older than phi. So Alan is the oldest in the crew.

Alan calls Jeff nu (which the subber translated as boy I would have gone with cutie or little one). Nu is a diminutive affectionate term that's technically gender neutral but is most often used by/on cute girls/women. Jeff did NOT like it. Then Alan sort of dodges through pronouns/particles settling on phi for I, ger for you, and ja for a particle. This is interesting because ger & ja kinda lower his age and status into a casual sphere. Not more intimate more equal to jeff... fascinating.

I love the new "Korean" red racer, he drinks my brand of soy milk. He is now my baby snake in the grass.

Get it? Snake.

He and Babe should end up together.

The fight wasn't bad, do both actors have kickbox training in their backgrounds?

Who am I kidding, I care only about Uncle Alan and Nu Jeff now. All others are irrelevant to me.

Also...

WHERE IS A BOY FOR WAY?!!! Or a Daddy. I do not care. (Methinks nether does he.)

I am now captain of the Way Appreciation Society. Let's all find a way... to get him some dick.

Also the BTS stingers are tons of fun. Looks like the set was a blast.

Finally, and I mean this kindly. Why isn't Noh Phouluang in this? He should have been cast as Winner. Bah. I'm biased.

But one should be with Noh.

Episode 3 - Side Dishes Delux

Gayest bridge n Thailand has made its obligatory appearance.

How much do I love uncle & nu? They are SO damn cute. Also nu flustered is the best kind of nu.

I could not care less about Babe and Charlie. Except I do love the smell thing.

Way will break my heart by getting his broken. He is right tho.

Tra la la. I feel like this is a bit like KP 2.0.

Charlie is a such a princess (and ace manipulator). Good thing Babe clearly likes being buttered up.

Babe's backstory was more interesting than I expected, I didn't think we would go so far into the paranormal side of a/b/o. I like it and I hope they lean into it quite a bit more. Make it part of the plot.

Unlike the kissing thing which seems to have been gotten over rather quickly.

I gotta say I'm enjoying the corporate sponsorship jockeying and tension more than I thought I would. I'm curious as to who Jef and Charlie are working for and what their motivation is. The plot itself is keeping me intrigued and that is rare for me with BL.

So no trash talk this ep, I was largely absorbed and entertained. I didn't event need booze. Shocking behavior on my part.

#giveWayaboy2023

Episode 4 - I (who never ship) am shipping the impossible

Here’s the thing. I just want this to be a better story than it is. Right now it’s kind of like a soap opera. I don’t hate lakorn, I really don't. To Sir With Love is a glorious chewing of the diamanté scenery (completed with death glitter). But...

If this is gonna be a soap opera it needs to lean into the messy side more than the tailored high concept side. Support characters and evil needs more screen time.

Instead, right now, I don’t know where I am with this show because it doesn't know where it wants to be. I’m kind of dangling in the middle of a dirty situation. It’s uncomfortable for me, and the show feels uncomfortable for the performers.

Also... I have questions.

Yes, of course I want to know what Charlie & Jeff are up to. Why can Jeff see the future?

But more importantly I NEED to know why Babe has a flying saucer bed?

That kind of lighting makes nobody look good, especially not at that angle. It’s very traumatic and I’m not wild about the shag rug either. I have concerns about Babe's taste. I guess is what I am saying.

On a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT note:

There’s absolutely no chemistry to justify this, but I have decided that I am going to personally advocate for, and ship, Way and the interloping not-really-Korean. They are both sort of own-moral-code types. I have tiny crush on Kim, and Nut is the prettiest, and Way is Best Boy so there it is, I would like them to hook up, please & thank you.

#giveWay2Kim2023

Arrow guy is cute, too. Will we get to see him bone?

Is he going to be another one of the adopted alpha super-kid pets?

What the hell, throw Arrow Boy a bone! All hot boys in BLs deserve bones.

Plot thickens.

Hah.

Thickens.

(I am an immature idiot.)

Episode 5 - wait wait way-t, can arrow boy have Way?

Look, BLabies, I didn’t get any screen caps this episode because frankly there wasn’t anything worth capturing.

I guess Charlie really does love Babe? Very dramatic if idiotic saving from the burning car. But Babe has gone to the broken Alpha place of extremely unlikeablability (frankly he was almost there at the start). If I were Charles B Spectacled I would be OUT by now.

Is that?

NO.

Don't get the plastic bowl.

No white towel sponge bath. Please kill this trope.

I mean, it's not as bad as singing, but that's because NOTHING is as bad as singing in a Thai BL.

AND the main boys are back together.

I don’t find their relationship or Babe’s lack of senses a particularly interesting aspect of the plot.

Unless, of course, Babe is pregnant and that's why he lost his Alpha sniffer.

BUT I do love the sides.

Jeff = the introvert precog who can’t/wont do people and Alan = the extrovert people person who WANTS but doesn’t understand him.

Were Jeff and Charlie ALSO raised by Evil Daddy MacEvilPants?

I liked the way Arrow CEO & Way looked at each other. Way, hon, give up on Babe (he sucks) and get thyself a billionaire bf with great aim and BDE.

On a completely different note, the best thing about this show is the blooper reel. That thing with the green smoothie going down his pants was hilarious!

In conclusion, this was a green smoothie down the pants episode. I was entertained, and it’s probably gonna be good for the plot in retrospect, but it was kind of squishy and unpleasant at the time.

Episode 6 - Are they actually listening to us now? Is Tumblr bugged?

This was a fun ep full of like actual racing and shizz.

Whatever.

Charlie is on the team now. All the teams, apparently.

Can we talk about Jeff and Alan?

The apology scene! Did you hear that Alan dropped to chan/ger? Eeeee!!! So cute. (He equalized their relationship in a soft way.)

Get it with that language play hottie. Next up: lengua play.

Please & thank you.

Meanwhile, as all of the Internet knows, they went fully in for omegaverse - no bars.

I have to say, one of the greatest typos (or whatever) in existence is enigma instead of omega.

That's where I personally would rank in the omegaverse.

Hello, my gender is... enigma.

Apparently it's a/b/o and sometimes e! Also sometimes switch-ee

Oh I'm very proud of myself with that one.

Funfunfun

Charlie. Babes. When a man asks to be thrown up against the wall. You throw him against that wall.

OMG is that arrow boy looking at Way in the bar?

3 seconds later.

Noooo.

Wait come back.

Noooooo.

That’s what I actually want to watch!

OMG. Who said nu was the first step to teelak?

I flipping love Alan.

Ah the boyfriend ep. Thank you, but I still don't trust Charlie.

Poor Way.

But nice crying jag, and I don’t say that often in Thai BL.

Now let him go, Way.

A boy with his arrows is waiting.

(source)

Note for the future: tumblr has a bug that stops allowing edits after a certain time/number, thus my full trash often occur in 2 segments as a result. Click on the "abl trash watches bl" tag for the full thing if you're reading this and later episodes are missing.

#pit babe the series #pit babe #thai bl #abl trash watches bl #Pavel Naret Promphaopun #pavel phoom #trash watch #2023 bl #currently airing bl #watch along #Nut Supanut #Pon Thanapon #พิษเบ๊บ

473 notes · View notes

bellatriestowritesometimes · 4 months

Text

To Know

aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: You attend your best friend's wedding where you see Hotch for the first time in four years since you were shot on your wedding day by Peter Lewis, forcing him to go into witness protection and leave you.

Part 2

AN/explanation:

Listen it’s been a minute since I’ve written anything and by minute I mean 4 years so bear with me!! There’s probably spelling and punctuation errors but I wrote this in the middle of the night so cut me some slack.

OK so a bit of an explanation on this.. so you know how everyone has their imaginary scenarios they make up before bed or wherever (and if you don’t you’re weird!) well this is mine!! OK not really but ever since I watched CM which was probably about 5/6 years ago now, Hotch was on my mind 24/7 and I have this plot in my head with YEARS worth of scenarios thought out with original characters and everything!! This is just a small snippet of the whole plot I have had thought out for Hotch and Alex (that is what I have named her in my head, but have obviously written it as a Y/N to make it more enjoyable I guess? Idk what people prefer!!). I could probably write a book on this crap but I’ll just start with this part. I am in the process of writing a part two to this so if anyone’s interested I’ll try to get it out before the weekend’s over as this is the only free time I have currently! Now if I ever was going to make this into a series (that’s a very big if) this would be a chapter towards the end of this plot that I have created. Anyways enough rambling…

I am an angst over any other kind of genre girly so that’s all this will be :D this seemed better in my head and it ALWAYS does but I just wanted to get it out of my system.

Hope u enjoy xx

Warnings: smut (a little not too much), cheating.

Word count: 3.9k

It was your best friend’s wedding and you couldn’t have been happier. Henry was your rock and pretty much the only family you ever had. He had been with you through everything, all the highs and lows, so he deserved today to be absolutely perfect.

You were helping Luca with his tie and giving him a final check over before he went out to marry your best friend. Luca knew how important you were to Henry and how important Henry was to you. The three of you were practically a throuple. OK maybe not a throuple but anyone who was important to Henry became important to you. They had been together for almost 5 years but knew each other for even longer.

“He’s here you know...” Luca said “Henry invited everyone from the BAU..”

You raised an eyebrow at Luca whilst finishing up with his tie.

“I know,” you replied simply.

Henry was the one who got you a job at the BAU. He knew almost everyone and if he didn’t, he knew someone who did. He had helped out with several cases and knew everyone at the BAU well, so of course they all got an invite to his wedding which was in London. Henry knew your history with Hotch and that meant so did Luca.

“He has them all staying at the Ritz you know, booked a suite out for everyone,’’ Luca rambled.

“I know,” you repeated and rolled your eyes.

Of course he has you thought to yourself, money was never an issue for him. Not that it was for you either but you were slightly more modest than him.

Luca could sense that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you so he decided to change the topic.

“You think we’re doing the right thing?” He asked referring to him and Henry.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed “he needs you Luca, I don’t even want to imagine what he would be like without you. It’s not something I’m prepared to take on” you let out a laugh. “You two have practically been married for the last 5 years, now it’s just time to make it official!” You gave his arms a squeeze.

“I’ll see you out there, no backing out now,” you gave him a wink and Luca gave you a nod with a smile.

You took that as your cue to leave and made your way towards the alter and towards Henry. As you made your way up to the front you saw all of the guests take their seats. You spotted JJ, Will and her boys a few rows from the front, who were staying at your place for the next few days. Emily, Spencer and Garcia were seated a few rows behind them and you spotted Morgan and Savannah seated on the other side of the room. You were trying to find Rossi and Krystall until your eyes landed on someone else. There he was sitting right next to Rossi with a brunette next to him which you assumed was Beth.

“How is he?” Henry’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Huh?” Was the only thing that came out of your mouth as you slowly dragged your eyes away from the man that left you on pretty much your death bed and then divorced you.

“Luca – how is he? He’s not making a run for it is he?” Henry laughed but behind the laugh he needed the reassurance. He hadn’t been the perfect fiancé and has put Luca through the wringer at times, but there’s no one else for Henry other than Luca and vice versa.

“Stop being stupid!” You swatted him gently, “Of course not! I stopped him just before he got to the fire exit,” you replied playfully.

“Ha ha very funny,” Henry replied dryly, “And how are you? …You know with him being here.. You did say it was okay for me to invite him but I can send him home if you want. Just tell me and I’ll have him escorted out by security-”

“Please stop, it’s fine. Honestly I mean it. We’ve both moved on. I’m with Avery now and he’s with Beth,” you answered. “Besides today is not about me or my woes, it’s about you!”

The wedding ceremony was beautiful and it was now time for the reception. You made your way round to all the tables saying hello to the people you recognised until you reached the table you dreaded the most. Thankfully your husband Avery caught up with you to let you know that it was time to make your way to your seat as it was almost time for your speech.

You gave Rossi a smile in the distance before walking back to your seat, avoiding contact with Hotch for now who was sat right next to him.

After the speeches were done and the drinks began floating around the room, everyone felt a lot more relaxed. You were listening to the conversation Emily and Avery were having about a book they both had read, until you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Hi you must be Y/N! I’m Beth, Aaron has told me so much about you!” Beth exclaimed as you turned around to face her.

“Yes hi! It’s lovely to meet you, I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce myself earlier,” you gave her a smile.

It was a genuine smile, she seemed nice and in any other situation you could even be friends. She is not to blame for what had happened between you and Hotch, however you did wonder what kind of things he has told her about you.

“It’s okay don’t worry about it! I understand how stressful weddings are,” she continued and for a second you thought if she had married Hotch without anyone telling you. Your eyes flicked towards her left hand that was wrapped around a champagne flute. No sign of a ring. You cursed yourself for still caring enough to check.

“That’s a beautiful ring” she said bringing you out of your trance.

You followed her gaze which was now on your own left hand. You hadn’t realised that you were twisting your own wedding ring with your thumb, reminiscing about how it felt when you had the ring on that Hotch gave you. It was a lot smaller than the one you have now. It had an oval diamond in the centre with three green sapphire leaves holding the diamond in place on each side. It was a delicate ring and you loved everything about it. Everything but the dreaded memories that came along with it. The ring was now replaced with a big teardrop diamond from Harry Winston and it was beautiful. It sparkled even in the dark and felt almost heavy on your finger. You had to admit that Avery had great taste, the two of you had now been married for almost 2 years.

“Thank you..” you smiled and let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding.

“Uhm this is Avery my husband-” you cleared your throat, almost forgetting to introduce him to her.

They shared a few polite words until Beth excused herself. You assumed she had gone to find Hotch as she disappeared into the crowd.

“She seems nice,” Avery said and gave you a small smile. He knew what had happened with you and Hotch and he wasn’t his biggest fan but he was never the one to bad mouth him.

“Yeah she does…” you replied quietly whilst your mind drifted off elsewhere. Emily sensed that you were uncomfortable and resumed her conversation with Avery in an attempt to take his attention off you.

It was several hours into the reception and you had stepped outside with Luca and lit a cigarette for you both to share.

You had noticed Beth was in the distance on the phone but Hotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Today has been beautiful,” you hummed as you took a pull of the cigarette and passed it to Luca.

“It really has been, thank you for helping Henry with the planning,” he expressed.

You both conversed about the wedding and your favourite parts until someone had interrupted you.

“Oh sorry,” your eyes followed his voice, “I thought Beth was out here,” he explained as he looked between you and Luca.

“She is,” you pointed with the cigarette between your fingers “she’s just gone into the gazeebo over there to take a call I think,” you replied.

“Thank you,” he looked into your eyes longer than he should have before he began walking her way.

“Is this the first time you’ve spoken to him tonight?” Luca asked whilst following your gaze that was still on Hotch.

“Yup.”

“There’s an explanation. I am sure he has an explanation,” Luca tried standing up for the man he barely knew.

You didn’t respond and instead focused your gaze on something else.

“You know… and I really shouldn’t be saying this but... I think Henry might’ve had something to do with it,” Luca continued.

“What makes you say that? Has he told you something?” You questioned focusing your attention back on Luca.

“Nope. He doesn’t tell me anything when it’s to do with work and I thank him for it. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he did. He would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant putting your newly husband into witness protection…”

You thought about it for a minute or so and yes maybe Henry was the one who suggested going into witness protection but that still doesn’t explain the radio silence from Hotch even after Peter Lewis was caught.

“I want you to have what me and Henry have,” Luca brought you out of your thoughts once again.

“I have that. With Avery, he makes me happy,” you replied not knowing if it’s the full truth. Avery does make you happy and you love him but you’re not sure if it compares to what you and Hotch had and it seems like Luca doesn’t either.

“Let’s get back in there shall we? I’m sure Henry is looking for you!” You perked up, trying to change a conversation that was becoming too heavy for your liking.

Since you were one of the few people who didn’t drink at the wedding, you decided to give Emily, Spencer, and Garcia a lift back to the hotel whilst Avery, JJ, Will, and the boys got an Uber home back to your place.

The car ride back to the hotel turned into an episode of carpool karaoke with Emily blasting any and every song that came on the radio.

Once you pulled up to the hotel you helped Emily out of the car and then let Spencer take over. You were about to shut the passenger door when you noticed a phone on the seat Emily was sat in.

“You left your phone Beyonce!” You called out to Emily as she was finishing her 3rd run of single ladies from the start.

You caught up with her and placed the phone in her hand, she took one look at it and blurted out that it’s Beth’s and that she had found it by some gazebo outside.

You pressed the lock button on the side and the phone lit up revealing a picture of Hotch and Beth set as the lock screen.

“What room is she in do you know?” You asked Emily but she just shrugged her shoulders and carried on signing. Spencer and Penelope both gave you a shrug signalling that they didn’t know either.

“Right I will just leave it with reception. The three of you get some sleep ok, we have brunch tomorrow!” You shouted even though the three of them were already inside the hotel queuing up for the elevator.

You pressed the lock button once again making the phone light up just to stare at the lock screen once more. With a sigh you then began to make your way into the hotel and walked towards reception.

“Hello Miss can I help you with anything?” The lady asked.

“Uh yes actually, I’m trying to return a lost phone to a friend of mine but I don’t remember the room number. Could you please let me know? It should be a suite under the name Hotchner, they’re here for a wedding,” you smiled hoping she’d give you the information you needed.

She typed away on her keyboard for a few seconds before replying to your question.

“I have an Aaron Hotchner on the system along with a Beth Clemmons sharing suite 107?”

“Yes that’s the one! Thank you so much!” You thanked the lady and made your way to the elevator. Emily and the others were long gone, probably passed out in their beds by now you hoped.

You tapped softly on the door waiting for someone to open it and hoping that it wasn’t Beth. You weren’t even sure what you were doing, what you were going to say, what if Beth’s awake, what would happen then?

You had no excuse and no business to be knocking on his hotel door. Well aside from the fact that he left you on your wedding night right after you got shot, had someone serve you with divorce papers as soon as you came out of your coma and you still haven’t had an explanation even though it’s been close to 4 years.

After a few moments the door was gently pulled open and there he stood. Still in his shirt and trousers from the wedding. He looked taken back seeing you stand there in the hallway. Although you were the only one on his mind tonight, you still had caught him off guard.

“Hi…” Was all that he managed to say.

“Hi…” you breathed out. “..Beth left her phone at the wedding reception,” you said holding it up as proof.

You looked behind him and could see 3 mini whisky bottles that were now empty, lined up on the coffee table. On the left you could see two large double doors that were shut behind the sofa. You had assumed that’s where Beth was sleeping as there was no sign of her anywhere else.

“Oh… Well thank you for bringing it here, you didn’t have to go out of your way...”

“It’s okay I was dropping Emily and the others off anyway,” you replied whilst handing him the phone.

As he took the phone from you he moved slightly to the side, almost inviting you in before actually saying it.

“Would you like to come in?” he paused for a moment, “…please come in” he pleaded. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you the whole night I just didn’t want to disturb you. Beth’s asleep so you don’t have to worry about her or we could take a walk somewhere,” he went on; desperation clear in his voice.

Instead of replying you walked past him making your way into his room, a completely different side of you taking over.

You made your away towards the sofa, never sitting down just standing in front of it. You turned to face Hotch who closed the door and walked towards you, stopping just a few inches away. You could tell he had been drinking. You had obviously seen him drink at the wedding but he left several hours ago yet here he was emptying the mini fridge in his hotel suite.

You eyed the bottles on the coffee table.

“Rough night?’ You asked but it sounded more like a statement. When you looked back at him his mouth was slightly open, almost as if he was thinking of what to say but no words were coming out.

You tilted your head to the side as you took in his features. He looked different. Good but different. After all these years had passed, you never knew when you would be able to get a good look at him again, and god how much you’d missed his handsome face. The last memory you had of it was when you collapsed in his arms after being shot during your first dance as Mr and Mrs. You don’t remember much after that, just faint shouting in the distance as your vision went blurry until you eventually passed out in his arms.

“I- um I don’t know what to say Y/N… I don’t even know where to begin,” he expressed. Concern, pain and regret all clear in his voice.

Before he could continue you lifted your hand up in an attempt to stop him from saying anything else. That’s not what you came here for.

“I am so sorry,” he breathed out but you took a step closer to him and placed one of your fingers on his lips to silence him.

“Shh,” you whispered whilst you ran your other hand slowly down his chest stopping at the belt of his trousers. You could feel his pulse quicken as he took in what you were doing.

Never breaking eye contact you began to gently move your hand lower until you reached his crotch. You then began to palm him with a bit more force, feeling him harden underneath your touch. A slight smirk played on your lips as you realised how much of an affect you still had on him, how much his body still responded to you. You believed that you were the only one that could get him this flustered, to get him to cheat on his girlfriend, to get him this hot and bothered over practically nothing.

“Take off your trousers...” you hissed.

The concern and regret was now replaced with confusion and curiosity but he did as he was told and began to undo his belt. You watched him carefully as he dropped his trousers to the floor stopping at his boxers.

“You can leave those on, this won’t take long,” you instructed coldly and pushed him onto the sofa. As he sat down he reached over to switch a small table lamp off, leaving a soft glow on your silhouette that was coming from a floor lamp on the other side of the room.

You lifted your dress and rolled it up stopping at your waist whilst you straddled Hotch. The familiar feeling of his dick beneath you was enough to send you over the edge.

You lifted yourself up slightly using your knees and grabbed him through his boxers, silently thanking him for wearing a pair with the slit. He watched your every move and took in a sharp breath when your hand made contact with him and took another when you gently lowered yourself onto his dick.

You began rocking your hips, savouring every single second. You started to pick the pace up and you felt Hotch move in to kiss you to which you gently pushed his head back with your hand, not wanting any other intimacy other than the feeling of him inside you and maybe you inside of him.

You took two of your fingers and placed them on his lips again, this time using them to part his mouth. You gently slipped them inside and he welcomed it. You decided to push them in deeper. Not deep enough to hurt him but deep enough to your liking. Your fingers felt cold against his tongue.

At that point you knew you were close and so was he, your fingers in his mouth helped him to stifle his moans, whilst you watched him intently. After a few moments you felt him twitch beneath you as he threw his head back when he came and you shortly followed.

You removed your fingers from his mouth and gently stood up lowering your dress back down giving the man you still loved one last look before turning around to leave. Just before you got the door you stopped and turned around, he was now up grabbing his trousers off the floor.

“You left me… I was in a coma Hotch and when I came out of it you weren’t there. You left me Aaron.”

Without giving him a second to respond you left and closed the door behind you.

As you stepped into the elevator a thousand thoughts were racing in your head. You began to question yourself on why you had come here in the first place, but you knew exactly why. You wanted to see if you still had that control over him, you wanted to see if you could still have him, if he still belonged to you. And he did. You thought about how your relationship had evolved from being just co-workers to friends from friends to lovers and from lovers to strangers. That’s what it felt like being in that room with him. Just two strangers having sex. That was probably the first time the two of you had sex instead of making love. There was a difference between the two and you knew which one you preferred.

Deep down you knew why he had to leave and most importantly leave without you, but it still didn’t make it any less painful. You had thought back to what Lucas said earlier when you were outside, that Henry might’ve had something to do with it... But the truth is whether he did or didn’t it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He needed to leave, to hide and go into witness protection. Not only for his and Jacks safety but for yours too. It all made sense. Peter Lewis couldn’t hold you over him anymore if you had no connection to him so he left. He left without you and then had you served with divorce papers.

The elevator doors opened and snapped you back to reality. You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts. You didn’t want to go back there, you had tried your hardest to move past that part of your life and dwelling about the details and the what if’s is something you didn’t want to do anymore. You had wasted enough time doing that and you’ve moved on since then and so has Hotch. But sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, those thoughts creep back in and they have a way of suffocating you.

“Did you manage to return your friends phone?” The lady behind the reception desk asked with a smile.

“Yes I did, thank you so much for your help again!” You replied and returned the smile.

You made your way to the parking lot and got into your car and made your way home… To your husband…. Who you had just cheated on with your ex-husband. You pulled out of the parking lot and let the memories from earlier fill your mind. You had glanced briefly at your watch and the time told you that is was quarter past three. You groaned at the thought of having to be up before 11 am later that day for a brunch that Henry and Luca had organised with a smaller amount of guests, which included the BAU team.

You had wondered if he’ll be there with Beth or if he won’t show.

To be continued....

Part 2

#ycriminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x y/n #bau x reader

254 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 1 year

Text

Like I Can (Part 2)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, language, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 5.7K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 3

(Here you go, lovely people! The wait is over! Enjoy❣️)

When you had first told Rooster that you were moving to San Diego, it had felt like the first time in a long time in that things in his life were finally going his way. He was excelling in his career, he was mending his relationship with Maverick, and he finally had the opportunity to start putting some roots down.

He knew how lucky he was.

He had been thrilled to know that you would both be living in the same place for the first time since you were teens. Sure he might have gone a little overboard helping you find a place near him and showing you the hard-learned secrets of navigating the SoCal highway system, but he wanted you to be as happy here as he was.

You were the only person left in the world, outside of Maverick, who had known him the longest. You mattered to him.

It was clear that you thought it had been his doing for how quickly his friends had included you as part of the group, but he knew it was all you. They’d all been so surprised when his nice, sweet friend was the one who kept playing the raunchiest hands during Cards Against Humanity. You’d pretty much swept every round that night. He was pretty sure more than a few of them would trade him for you in a heartbeat.

While they liked you, they loved a competition. He should have seen it coming the second Phoenix volunteered to set you up on a date, because what one person does the rest will undoubtedly follow suit.

And that’s how Rooster found himself watching you on your first of the dates from inside the Hard Deck, the chaos of it all drawing more than one set of eyes to where you were on the outdoor patio.

When he’d arrived at the Hard Deck earlier that evening, he was surprised to see you there already seated next to Bob with his other friends chatting away nearby. He didn’t remember you saying you were planning to stop by.

You looked a bit more dressed up than how he usually saw you, wearing a fluttery looking sundress and your hair piled up on the top of your head. After making a quick stop to get a beer, he’d made his way over to you.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, kid.” Up close now, he could see some of the soft strands that had escaped your top knot and were framing your face.

He was briefly reminded of the time you got bangs in high school. While he’d thought they had look nice on you, you on the other hand had immediately regretted them, pinning them back until they’d grown out.

“Hey you,” you’d greeted him with an easygoing smile on your face, “I got here a little too early, but thankfully Bob was already here. He’s been keeping me company as I wait.”

“Huh? For what?” he’d asked a bit dumbly, his gaze bouncing between you and Bob.

Shit, did he forget someone’s birthday?

“She’s meeting my friend Casey from the animal shelter tonight,” Bob chimed in, speaking around a mouthful of sunflower seeds, “For the bet we all made the other night.”

“Oh,” he’d felt his eyebrows pull together, glancing back to you, “I didn’t know you were actually going to go through with that.”

He had never understood why you had such bad luck when it came to dating. He assumed you probably got a lot of attention in your day-to-day life, so your stories of dates gone wrong always left him baffled. Anyone could see that you were funny, intelligent, and had the best smile. If you’d been a stranger, he probably would have approached you out in a coffee shop somewhere if he’d seen you drinking one of those extra foamy cappuccinos you liked.

But you weren’t a stranger you were his longest time friend, his most important friend.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you’d asked quizzically, tilting your head at him. “Outside of how competitive you all are, your friends were nice enough to go out of their way for me by setting this all up. Plus, it seems like it could be a lot of fun.”

That was the thing though, he didn’t think you should have to be jumping through so many hoops to find a decent guy to date.

He’d met the guy you had dated before moving here a few times over FaceTime. He would usually try to engage him in some small talk always asking him about how many G’s he’d pulled that day before leaving for beers with the guys or some pick-up basketball game. It seemed to him like you guys had led pretty separate lives, but you liked him so the guy was fine in his books. However, when you had told him that you were moving out here alone, he couldn’t say he was too surprised. That guy was probably kicking himself now, because California looked good on you.

“Speaking of,” you’d reached out taking right forearm pulling it closer to you, he had let you turn and adjust it until you could read the time displayed by the dials on his watch. “I should probably head outside to wait for him there. You said we’d probably need to grab a spot on the patio, right Bob?” you’d asked turning away from him to confirm with the WSO.

“He said he was still looking for a dog sitter, but if he couldn’t find one he’d be bringing them with him,” Bob replied as he scanned the text on his phone, “That’s probably a good idea, just in case.”

He’d known this whole thing was going to be a bad idea, grasping the back of your stool he briskly turned you back towards him to give you a pointed look.

You’d just shook your head at him blithely and rolled your eyes, “It’ll be fine.” The expression on your face told him not to press the matter, even though he knew that would take a lot of willpower on his side.

Sighing in resignation, he had helped brace your forearm as you slid off the tall stool. You’d patted his chest a couple of times before making your way outside, the hem of your dress dancing around your thighs.

He had drunk that first beer a bit faster than normal, trying to focus on the conversation Coyote was attempting to have with him. Then he was waylaid at the bar for a while when he had gone up to get a second, spending some time catching up with Mav who had shown up and was sitting at the counter watching his fiancée as she ruled over her bar.

When he got back and looked out the window to check on you, he was expecting to see you out there talking with Bob’s friend and maybe a dog or two sitting at your feet, instead the scene before his eyes had him storming over to Bob who was already watching the madness unfold.

“What did he bring the whole damn shelter with him? There’s like 7 of them out there!”

“I had no clue he had that many,” Bob admits sheepishly.

“He’s your friend, isn’t he? Shouldn’t that have come up in a conversation before this?” He liked Bob, but you were getting assailed by a few too many energetic dogs for his comfort. He can tell the guy is trying to wrangle them under control, and you’re generously laughing along while they vie for your attention, scratching as many ears as possible.

“They seem to really like her. See how they keep licking her? Did you know that’s an instinctive behavior learned from when they’re puppies? It’s how they bond with others.” His attempt to bring some humor falling flat in Rooster’s ears.

“Not helpful, Bob,” he grunts into his beer his eyes glued on you.

Hangman struts up to them no doubt curious about what has the two of them staring so intently out the large window and lets out a low whistle, “Damn, that’s a lot of dogs.”

The sound naturally draws the attention of his other friends, and they are quick to drop everything to come gather around the window and observe the circus that is your first blind date.

The guy is standing trying to unravel the many leashes he is clutching onto, handing you a couple to hold on to as he works to disentangle the knot that’s formed. Your beer a casualty of the chaos when what looks like a Border Collie mix jumps up on the table.

“Oh shit,” he mutters when he sees you sneeze.

“What’s up, Rooster?” Natasha asked, glancing at him briefly before turning her eyes back to the flurry of fur outside.

“She’s allergic.”

This is what he had been worried about when Bob mentioned your date might be bringing his dogs. He knew your pet dander allergy wasn’t usually too bad with a couple of animals, but being around this many couldn’t be good for you.

Now that you were settled in San Diego, you had told him you had been thinking about getting a pet. It was something that you were never able to have as a kid for the same very reason you were out there fighting back another sneeze. You were adamant about adopting one, but finding hypoallergenic pet in a shelter was harder than it was getting a missile to hit its target.

When he sees you bring the back of your hand up to wipe under one of your eyes, he abandons his mostly untouched beer on the windowsill and marches towards the exit in a few long strides. Fingers already raised to his lips before he’s even made it outside. The sharp whistle he lets out the second his shoe hits the wooden planks of the patio surprising the tangle of dogs surrounding you into momentary stillness.

“Time to wrap it up, kid,” he hollers, jerking his head back towards the door.

Even haloed by the golden light from the setting sun, he can see how watery and red-rimmed your eyes have gotten.

He sees you saying something to your date, handing him back the leashes as you step gingerly around the dogs towards him, making sure to avoid stepping on any of the happily wagging tails.

You’ve got your shoulders pulled back tightly as you walk towards him, determination in every step you take. The force of your glare would be intimidating to anyone else, but he’s developed an immunity to it after so many years of having it directed at him.

Although he doubts you can even actually see his face right now with how puffy your eyes have gotten.

“Are you kidding me right now? What the fuck, Rooster?” you fume at him.

Oh, yeah, you’re pissed. He’ll deal with that later. Standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, steeling himself in anticipation for whatever comes next.

“C’mon, I bet Penny has something for that,” he says gesturing to your face, “And then I’m taking you home.”

He can tell you’re getting ready to give him a piece of your mind. Probably a very loud and vividly descriptive piece of your mind, but can’t be bothered to regret a thing. He knows he is in the right to intervene on your behalf.

He’s looking out for you, like a good friend should.

And you’re just standing there shaking your head at him, instead of listening to him when you know he’s right.

You’ve always been so frustratingly hardhead, so he pulls out the one thing he knows you can’t resist, “I’ll even stop for milkshakes.”

You look up at him skeptically with narrowed eyes before asking, “And I can drink it in the Bronco?”

That makes him chuckle, of course you’re negotiating with him. “Yeah, yeah. Now c’mon, time to call it.”

Rooster sees the moment the fight goes out of you as you turn back to Cashew, or whatever this guy’s name is. He looks a little like the crunchy granola type, if you ask him.

He grabs your hand pulling you with him back inside, not wanting to let you change your mind while the promise of a milkshake is still at the height of its power.

You tug back making him pause at the entry as you call back to Bob’s friend, “Thank you for coming, Casey. It was nice to meet you, but I think I’m going to head out. Good luck with your fundraiser for the shelter, I’ll make sure to spread the word.”

That makes him smile to himself as he tows you with him, here you are clearly suffering with your allergies and still going out of your way for this person you’ve just met. You’ve always been too nice for your own good. Hell, you’ll probably get the whole team to donate to the fundraiser before he can even get you out the door.

Once back inside he pays the tab for both of you, while you swallow down the antihistamines Penny was able to find in the med kit she keeps behind the counter. The team is surrounding you asking questions about the date.

“I’ll tell you, but that information will cost you. You can Venmo the shelter your donation to their fundraiser and I’ll be happy to answer any questions once you send me documented proof of payment,” you say with a smug smile on your face.

He huffs a laugh while signing the receipt that Penny hands him as the cellphones are whipped out of various pockets.

Such a little hustler.

In school, you were usually the one to sell the most candy bars and wrapping paper during fundraisers. And he was always an easy target, you usually got at least $30 out of him every time. He was never one to say no to a good cause, or to you most of the time.

Bob apologizes profusely to you as he hands you a couple napkins when you start sniffling while gathering up your things. He watches as you just wave him off, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and tell him not to worry about it.

Huh.

Shaking out the thoughts of you with the soft-spoken WSO from his mind, he starts to guide you out the door to his car with a hand on your back. His other hand involuntarily tightening into a fist as Fanboy calls out promising to do better than Bob when you’re both almost out the door.

He can hear your phone already blowing up with the nosy questions from his squad before he’s even buckled got you in.

And on the drive back to your place he lets you drink your chocolate cherry chip shake in the passenger seat of the Bronco, just as he promised he would.

You weren’t too proud to admit that first blind date was a bit of a mess.

While your eyes had been puffy for a couple days afterwards, you had also managed to get $700 in donations for the shelter from the Dagger Squad with all the questions you had answered for them while bleary-eyed.

And it was Rooster who had ended up sending in the largest donation, which had surprised you since he wasn’t even participating in the bet. He had sent you a screenshot of his $200 contribution along with a text that simply said: “For the animals, thanks for not spilling your milkshake in my car like you did when you were 15.”

You’d sent him back a heart promptly followed by the middle finger emoji.

Thankfully the second date the next week was less eventful.

Fanboy had set you up with one of his friends from the escape room group he was in. When you’d admitted that you had never done one before he’d talked you through all his tips and strategies for how to beat it when you eventually tried one out. His enthusiasm could have been charming had it not come across as entirely mansplain-y.

Why yes, you did know what a topographical map was and how to read it, thank you very much.

You’d felt like some kind of oversized bobblehead since all you had been doing that evening was nodding along as an attempt to stay engaged with the conversation.

Rooster had stopped by when your date had left for the restroom. He was glistening a bit from the sweat he had worked up from the performance at the piano he had just given. It was a newer song for him, but he had still swept the rest of the bar up with his infectious energy.

“I can tell you’re bored out of your mind, kid. How about I show you how to do that four-in-one shot? Once you pick it up you might finally be some competition at the pool table,” he’d said grabbing your beer and swallowing down a few large mouthfuls.

From your spot at the high-top table, you could see more than a few hungry gazes in the crowded bar tracking him. Probably trying to figure out the nature of your relationship with him.

When you shooed him away, he’d pulled down his sunglasses to give you a knowing look before taking your beer with him as he strutted away with a casual: “See you soon, kid.”

He knew you too well.

You weren’t bored per se, but you also weren’t having the greatest time.

When your date got back, it didn’t take long for the conversation to fizzle out, the long pauses feeling awkward rather than companionable. You’d both agreed that it probably wasn’t a great fit and left it at that. You’d even had Penny put his beers on your tab as a gesture of goodwill.

Plus, you had been trying to get Rooster to teach you that trick for ages, and you didn’t want to miss your moment now that he was offering.

True to his word, he spent the rest of the evening teaching you his trick. You warred between watching him intently determined to nail the shot, and avoiding looking at him too closely. The tight jeans he was wearing bringing up some less than strictly friendly thoughts as he bent over the table to line up his shots.

You were still terrible, but you also hadn’t had so much fun in a long time as you traded shit-talk back and forth with him. Cackling at the confusion on his face when he went to grab his beer only to find it empty. It was only fair, after all, he had taken yours.

It’s been a few days since then, and you are back at the Hard Deck for date number three.

From your time hanging out with the Dagger Squad, you’d learned that Coyote was a bit of a classic car aficionado. He had set you up with his friend, Will, who he had met at one of the vintage car conventions he had gone to in the area.

Will was already twenty minutes late when Hangman and Phoenix made their way up to the bar. The two keeping you company for a bit while they waited for Jimmy to get their next rounds, letting you know that Jake had already called dibs on setting up your next date.

“Get ready for a good time, Darlin’,” he boasted.

“I keep telling you my guy is perfect. I already know they’re going to have some instant chemistry. I don’t know why you’re even bothering, I have got it on lock,” Natasha had retorted back.

He’d sent you a cocky salute before they’d both made their way back to the rest of the group in the corner of the bar.

When your date eventually arrived, you guys went through the typical small talk motions, trading the same tired questions that feel more like a casual interview than an actual conversation.

Since you already knew he had an interest in classic cars you had casually mentioned Penny’s ’73 Porsche to him as something to talk about other than the weather or what you did for work, and that’s how you found yourself sitting on your own waiting for him to return from where he was outside snapping away pictures of the sleek looking car.

You’re picking at the label on your bottle of Blue Moon to kill time, when you feel Rooster slide up next to you, the smell of his woodsy cologne giving him away before the print of his Hawaiian shirt does out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey kid, you hungry? I could eat. What do you say to hitting up that taco place we like?”

You gesture to the coat draped on the back of the stool next to you, “I’m kind of on a date right now, Rooster.”

“You sure about that? Kinda looks like you’re just sittin’ here alone to me.” Mimicking you he also signals to the empty stool next to you.

His words landing like a sucker punch.

“I mean, he hasn’t been out there for that long. It’s a sexy car, I get it.”

And you did.

However, it has also been like ten minutes now since he left you, and having Rooster point it out like that made you feel more than a bit self-conscious.

Especially when you look over and catch the rest of the team watching you guys with curious stares from across the bar.

You knew having the dates here for their bet would put you directly in the spotlight, everyone wanting to see how things were going and how their friend stacked up against the competition. First dates were awkward enough without that kind of extra pressure and extra eyes.

Now you were on the third one and things weren’t looking as promising as you had hoped when you first started. It would be humiliating if by the end of this they all thought that you were the problem. And it wasn’t like you weren’t trying, but being on display like this makes you feel like you’re wading through waist-deep mud while everyone watches you struggle from solid ground.

When it came to dating, Rooster always had a much easier time of it compared to you. With those sunkissed curls and that toned body, it was rare if he didn’t get passed at least three napkins with phone numbers scribbled on them during nights out.

Even in high school you were always the one fielding questions from all the girls who were interested in him. Is he seeing anyone? Can you give him my number? He was naturally charismatic, of course people were drawn to him.

But you? You were just Bradshaw’s younger, tag-along friend. And then in college, it had always felt like you were the one who had to keep making all the first moves only to be left wondering why you had even bothered in the first place.

You never had a great poker face, and it’s clear you’re wearing your emotions on your face because when you turn back to Rooster his face immediately softens.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he promises gently, as he reaches out to tug lightly on the end of the braid you had woven your hair in for the evening. “I just don’t get why you’re putting up with this guy ditching you like this. Especially when we could be getting tacos instead.”

Shaking your head ‘no’ to both the invitation and the insecurities that were trying to creep in, “I’m sure he’ll be coming back in any minute now.”

You weren’t excusing his behavior, but you did also want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It could still get better, he could still surprise you.

“And guess what? Apparently Will drives a Bronco too. He pointed his out earlier when he brought it up, but I can’t see it from where I’m sitting. I bet you guys could talk about that if we decide to see each other again.”

Rooster stands up to get a better look out the window that faces the parking lot, “Well, that certainly is interesting, kid.”

There’s a weird tone to his comment, but it isn’t one you are able to investigate further as Will returns back inside making his way to you.

You expect Rooster to go back to the rest of the squad, instead he makes himself comfortable on your other side.

“That’s not a bad looking car, the Fuchs wheels are a nice touch, but I’ve seen better,” Will ignorantly gloats as he sits back down, pulling up photos of another car on his phone to show you. “It definitely doesn’t have anything on the 1975 Porsche 930 Turbo, with its single turbo flat-six and the flared rear wings. Now that beauty was made for speed.”

Mortified you glance to Penny hoping she didn’t hear any of that, but the stiffness of her spine tells you everything you need to know.

This obnoxious motherfu-

“Wow, that’s really something. Do you mind if I take a look, man?” Rooster asks pointing to Will’s phone before you can say anything in response.

“Yeah, bro. Go for it,” he says as hands his phone over, “Spotted that one at the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance last year.”

You watch as Rooster swipes half-heartedly through a couple of the pictures before catching Penny’s eye.

“Uh-huh, neat. Hey, Penny?” he calls to her, as he sets the phone down on the bartop. “That’s your 911 S out there, right?”

“Sure is, Rooster.” She confirms playing along as she rests an elbow on the polished surface in front of him, a knowing smirk already gracing her features.

“Well then,” a conspiring grin takes over his face as he nods his head towards wood sign strung up between the taps, “I do believe we’ve had not one, but two violations this evening.”

Penny sends a wink his way as she wastes no time ringing the bell loudly and for longer than usual, undoubtedly for the slight at her car’s expense. The action causing the raucous crowd to erupt in cheers.

Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cellphone on my bar you buy a round.

Will is still trying to figure out what’s going on as Rooster leans across you pushing the phone slowly across the counter back to your date with two fingers.

His face suddenly very close to yours. You can see the warm brown starbursts that surround the pupils of his eyes.

“Let’s go get those tacos, kid. Drinks are on him tonight.”

You watch as he slides off of the stool, pulling out his keys from the back pocket of his light wash jeans.

He makes it a few steps towards the door before turning back to you, “I’ll meet you at the Bronco. It’s the only one out there so you can’t miss it.” Giving Will a sharp, pointed look as he passes.

Slipping on his aviators and swinging the fob around his index finger as he struts out of the bar.

Not too long later you’re sitting on the beach with the warm California breeze on your skin, laughing as Rooster tells you about the time during training when half his squad ended up cleaning their gear naked. The Al Pastor tacos you ordered tasting extra delicious for whatever reason.

Try as he might, Rooster could not stop watching you on your date with the guy Hangman had set you up with.

And if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t trying at all. In fact, he was probably outright glaring and he didn’t give a damn.

It was too loud in the bar to hear your laugh from where he sat, but he could certainly see you grinning at something this guy was saying to you.

Did you go shopping for this? The top you were wearing didn’t look familiar to him, he liked the way the straps were tied into pretty bows on your sun-freckled shoulders. Did you mean to look like some kind of a present waiting to be unwrapped?

It was clear to him that you were taking this whole thing more seriously than he ever thought you would.

“Jesus, Rooster. What gives?”

“Huh, what?” he asked distractedly, his eyes remaining on you. He was barely paying attention to what was going on around him let along the game of pool he was supposedly playing with Hangman and Bob.

“Your leg, man. You’re about to set off the San Andres with all that shaking your leg is doing,” Jake says slapping him hard on the side of his thigh as he passes by to line up his next shot at the pool table.

“Actually, San Diego sits on the Rose Canyon fault,” Bob corrects.

“What is this, Jeopardy? That ain’t the point. What I’m trying to figure out is what’s got ol’ Rooster’s feathers in a ruffle over here.” His eyes calculating and his grin sharp.

Rooster hadn’t realized his leg was even bouncing up and down from where it was balanced on the foot rest of the high-top stool he was perched on.

What he did notice is that your date had gotten you a Michelob Ultra.

You hated light beer.

Who did this guy think he was just ordering you something without actually asking you what you wanted? Because there was no way in hell that you ordered that on your own. God, were these the type of men you were forced to put up with here in San Diego? He hadn’t even pulled out your chair for you, for fuck’s sake.

He could tell you were being polite by resting a hand on the base of the bottle, lifting it up like you were about to take a sip before remembering what was in your hand, and setting it back down again.

He might as well have ordered you a water, at least you would have actually enjoyed that.

The guy is massive and covered in questionable looking tattoos, in both quality and taste. Just like his choice of beer.

“Hangman, how do you know this guy again? What’s his name?” he asked, finally pulling his eyes away from you and your date.

“He’s a gym buddy, does those body building competitions,” Jake told him, probably for the second time that night based on the annoyance in his voice. “Really helped me to grow my pecs.”

Why was he flexing instead of answering the goddamned question?

“And his name?” he presses again, pushing his cue into Bob’s other hand officially done with the game. He pulls out his phone and sets to opening up a new tab on his browser getting ready to run a web search on the guy.

“Elijah, why?”

“Elijah what? What’s his last name?” Rooster wasn’t sure what was so hard about this. For how much Hangman bragged about being the fastest pilot, he was really struggling to keep up.

“How am I supposed to know? We’re not that close, man. We share trainin’ tips, not life stories,” he lets slip.

That would not work for him.

Downing the rest of his beer, tuning out the rest of whatever Seresin was saying to him as he stalks off to the bar.

He’s just being a good friend he tells himself, since it was obvious Hangman hadn’t done enough due diligence when it came to you.

Once there he orders another beer from Penny before rounding the bartop to where you sit with your back turned to him. He reaches out and plucks the room temperature Michelob Ultra out from your hand.

“Hey! What the-” he heard you start before turning to see him, “Rooster?” Your eyebrows pulled up in confusion.

“You’re welcome, kid,” he states concisely as he wraps your hand around the fresh, cold Blue Moon he had gotten for you instead.

His fingers brushing the end of the long tail of the bow that danced along your arm as he pulls away, heading back to his vantage point by the pool table.

The pressure in his chest lessening now that you at least had a beverage you actually liked in your hands.

“What the fuck, man? That stunt better not have screwed with my chances of winning, they were clearly hitting it off. Did Phoenix put you up to this?” Jake complained, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Not bothering to reply, Rooster just waves him off as he watches you lift the bottle to your mouth, taking a sip for the first time that evening. A small smile on your face as you savor the flavor on your tongue.

Good. That’s good.

He’s very pleased when he sees Elijah head out the door less than 10 minutes later. And downright smug when you settle yourself next to him with your Blue Moon in hand.

“Well?” Hangman presses, leaning on the cue stick in his hands, “How’d it go?”

“It was going pretty well until he decided it was more important to lecture me about calorie content and muscle protein synthesis instead of just letting me enjoy my beer,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “So I told him we were probably on two different levels, and we decided to wrap it up for the night. I definitely heard him mutter something about needing a second pump session on his way out though. I hope he meant at the gym.” You scrunch your nose at that.

“Atta girl,” he smiles down at you as he bumps his shoulder against yours, watching as you blushed a little under the praise.

“You all might as well just give me the winnings now, there’s no way any of you idiots are going to beat me. I hope you’re ready to have your feet swept out from under you, my guy is going to be your dream man,” Nat declares, her tone self-congratulatory.

And just like that, he wasn’t feeling so smug anymore.

Read Part 3 here!

I am so blown away by the response Part 1 got! Thank you all so much for reading and all your kind comments! I appreciate every single one of you!

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge! Please go check out the fics on the playlist! There’s some great things already posted!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) and Emily (@roosterforme) for your all caps energy and for letting me spam you with ideas!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @winterrebel04 @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @anony1080 @cornishkat @green-intervention @torres-espana @uzumegui @2guysonascooter @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @candid-confetti @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @ebonyhogan24 @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @deeahhmaa @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @calsjack

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradley x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #like i can tgm #love is in the air tgm

2K notes · View notes

milliesfishes · 2 months

Text

Pray You Catch Me (Part 3)

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, panic attack, manipulation, angst, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. (Chapter 3) author’s note: this is the longest one yet. I hope it's good <3 thanks for all the love and support. If I'm planning this correctly, there'll be one more chapter in this series, so lookout for that, I'll keep you updated. Let me know which song(s) off Lemonade you want for the last chapter. I've gotten suggestions for Jolene or Daughter too, might play around with that. Love and thanks <3

Whoever said a house divided against itself cannot stand was wrong. It can, but it’s not an easy house to live in. It’s only when someone sets fire to the house that it falls.

As you avoided him the next couple of weeks, you half hoped he missed you, but decided not to give it too much thought. He didn’t deserve that. The silent treatment, although childish, weaned results in your previous experience.

The day he was supposed to meet her came and went, and you were restless for all of your waking hours. Part of you wanted to confront him, the other, more stubborn part said to leave it. You’d made your statement. If he wanted you back then he’d have to make the first move.

It was peaceful existing outside his constant gaze. Having the whole bed to yourself was nice too. You didn’t have to curate what you wore to sleep, didn’t have to constantly make sure your expressions were pleasing to him.

Although you kind of missed his warm body next to yours. His hands reaching out in the night, making you feel wanted…

No. He didn’t want you. He wanted everything. He thought he could have everything. But as long as you were distant, he couldn’t.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how to continue from here. What does one do after they confront their husband about his cheating? It wasn’t like your mother had warned you about this. So you stayed quiet and stayed away.

As long as you were able to, at least.

There was a gala tonight, a big one, and even though you weren’t exactly on speaking terms, you knew it’d be bad for your image if you didn’t go together. It’d be the same as all these parties were, drinks and chatting mindlessly, pictures taken of you and Coriolanus together looking like the beautiful couple you pretended to be.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun with it.

So when you descended the stairs that night in a deep burgundy dress so red it was almost black, you held back a smirk at the look on your husband’s face. He was in his red suit, that red suit, the one you’d debated stuffing a pair of your panties into the pocket of, but decided against.

The dress was silk, falling off your shoulders with a high slit up the side that wasn’t visible until you walked. Your hair was curly, in its natural state, a way you hadn’t dared wear in front of him before. It was messy, but pretty, and you felt more yourself than you had in ages.

Coriolanus’ face was even, but his eyes betrayed him. They widened slightly, and that little mark of hunger flickered in his irises, just as you’d hoped. His eyes traveled from your legs to your waist, and landed on your hair. “I requested that you wear white.”

You stopped at the second to last step on the staircase. “Your request has been submitted.”

He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. You knew his possessive side was taking over, seeing you in the color he loved so much. Gracefully, you reached the bottom, and you both walked silently to the waiting car outside.

The ride was quiet, and you kept your eyes out the window, watching the trees and buildings pass you by. Your posture was perfect, your face void of any emotion. You were calm, but he didn’t know that, and it was delicious.

Coriolanus watched you shamelessly, but you did not once turn your head to look at him.

Once you arrived at the event at someone’s mansion, Coriolanus stepped out of the car, giving you a hand to help you out, and you took it, your hand sliding up to the crook of his arm. You made sure your face was set in a gracious smile. The president and his perfect wife. Your dress would certainly make headlines. You’d never worn anything this bold before, usually sticking to soft, light colors.

There were photographers everywhere, and you made sure to look up at Coriolanus lovingly, your stupid, foolish heart melting when you found he was looking at you the same way. It’s not real, you had to remind yourself. It. Isn’t. Real.

But oh…he was so handsome. And the way he held your hand in the cradle of his arm, made sure you didn’t trip over your dress as you went up the stairs…you hated yourself for the feelings coursing through you. He cheated on you.

As you entered the party, you struggled to put your emotions back in their box. Coriolanus wound his arm around your waist, signaling that you should stay close to him, but you ignored it, taking a glass of champagne and moving toward where some of the other wives had gathered.

Your husband caught you around the waist again, his fingers digging into your side. “Right by me, dove.” Coriolanus’ expression was firm, and his eyes bored a hole into you.

Tilting your head as your eyebrows raised, you took a sip of your drink. “I want to say hello. Be a good First Lady.”

“You can do that by keeping by my side,” he said coldly. His voice lowered so only you could hear. “I don’t care what you think you know, we have an image to maintain.”

“I don’t need you to tell me about image,” you said in a sharp whisper. “That's all we are.”

With that, you jerked yourself away, and this time you were too fast to stop him.

Talking with the other wives went exactly how you thought. Mindless gossip, compliments on your dress, tentative tactics on their part to try and figure out what went on behind the walls of the president’s mansion. You’d always enjoyed playing with them, giving them just enough ‘information’, but still keeping the secrecy that kept them interested. That was your job- to be interesting. To be an extension of Coriolanus, but better. Charming, beautiful, sweet.

Eventually, you tired of them, and returned to him, another champagne glass in hand. You would’ve had to eventually, and you wanted it to be on your own terms. He was speaking with a senator and his dark haired wife. As you approached them, he twined his arm back around your waist, greeting you with a dutiful kiss to your hairline, his eyes still on the senator as he rambled about district funding.

You smiled at his wife, knowing you’d have to engage in conversation with her while the men did. She smiled back, studying you, her careful eyes catching on your neck, on the burn mark that hadn’t fully healed yet. Your hair had been covering it up so far, but apparently on your walk over, it’d moved aside.

The dark haired woman frowned, and she looked at you, curiosity thinly veiled by feigned concern. “Whatever happened to your neck? It looks painful.”

The conversation between the two men halted, and they both looked at you. You allowed an innocent expression to take over your face, and you moved your hair modestly so the mark was covered again. “Oh…Coriolanus got a bit carried away is all,” you said, looking up at him with a sweet smile, your hand on the back of his shoulder. “Right, dearest?”

His mouth was firmly set as he looked down at you, eyes were hard. He’d had about enough of your behavior, and you could see it. But instead of yelling at you or gripping your waist tighter, he smirked.

Then he took your glass away. “That’s enough for you I think.” The senator laughed, and your husband drank the little champagne that was left.

You just watched him, your smile fading a bit. In a single motion, he’d taken the power back, made you look like a fool. Your cheeks flushed a bit, and you forced a smile onto your face, succumbing to his grip.

The next hour was a parade of pointless small talk and stillness on your part. This felt unfamiliar- you were usually sweet and chatty with all those you greeted, charming even the frostiest of figures.

This trait had always been a part of you, ever since you’d been inducted into Capitol society. Quickly, you’d learned you liked it when people liked you, and over the years, your charm had developed naturally. You suspected it was what drew him to you initially. The two of you had met at one of these types of parties after all.

When you and Coriolanus debuted your engagement, society had been no less than thrilled. Their beautiful effervescent debutante paired with the handsome up and coming politician. And when he’d become president within your first year of marriage, well, it was a supernova. The tabloids had dubbed you “Panem’s Princess” because of it.

You thought of that girl as you smiled listlessly at passerby, nodding along with whatever Coriolanus was saying, mourning the innocence you’d lost. That girl felt like a character in a book now, relatable, but far beyond your grasp. She’d been so hopeful, and he’d torn it all down.

Coriolanus squeezed your side briefly, and you smiled a little brighter, nodding at the man he was talking to like you’d been paying attention, hoping your demeanor wasn’t too noticeable.

Oh, who were you kidding? The papers would have a field day with this. They followed your every move at public events. Looking down at where Coriolanus’ hand was situated, slightly over your tummy, you could hear the headlines. FIRST LADY EXPECTED TO EXPECT! PANEM’S PRINCESS PREGNANT?

Not that it really mattered, you supposed. The rumors would die down. Your marriage wouldn’t.

Your husband excused himself with a whisper and a squeeze to your waist, and you didn’t watch him leave, not really caring in the moment where he went. Immediately, you were accosted by another wife, admonishing compliments on your dress.

“I’ve never seen you match with President Snow,” she said, smiling brightly. “Trying something new?”

You nodded, smiling back warmly. Panem’s Princess. “To be honest, it was a complete accident. But I wasn’t about to change.”

She laughed. “The two of you are so sweet. The entire country’s jealous of your relationship.”

Smile fading a bit, you excused yourself, apologizing to her as you did. The innocent comment opened the box of feelings you’d tried to kick aside. Pretending was agony. How was it going to get easier, acting like he loved you?

You stumbled into the hallway, darting just around a nearby corner for a moment of privacy, your back against the wall, the coolness of it breathing a little life into you. Breathing ragged, you rested your head against the wall, trying to regain your calm but it proved difficult.

If he’d truly never cared about you, this must have come easily. Jealousy overwhelmed you at the thought. As your mind wandered to the future, you were overwhelmed by the idea of thousands more of these events. Was it going to be this agonizing every time? This would be unbearable.

Thinking of before, you tried to come to a conclusion. Maybe you could be done avoiding him now. Surely he’d learned his lesson. You could move past this, learn to forgive him. Maybe, just maybe, if you allowed yourself to care about him again, it would be easier. It could be like before.

You’d decided to talk to him when you got home, when you heard voices around the corner, by where the door to the party was. It was Coriolanus, you realized. Curious, you listened closer, moving a little bit to the side to have a better vantage. That was him all right. Authoritative, but soft enough that you couldn’t really hear what he was saying. And then someone else started talking. A woman.

Immediately, you moved around the corner to see them, keeping yourself in the shadows. If he looked up, he’d see you, but his eyes were focused on the woman in front of him. The dark haired woman.

It was the senator’s wife. Them being alone together wasn’t enough to suspect anything. But the way he was looking at her.

Your eyes widened as you realized it. It’s her.

Coriolanus tilted her chin up as he said something quietly. His face was hardened, and he nodded once at her response. Then she went back into the party, leaving him alone. You forgot you were in a spot where he’d see you, frozen in place. Then he looked up, his sharp blue eyes piercing you.

The two of you were locked there, staring at each other for what felt like forever. Then, without even realizing it, you moved toward him, anger making you faster.

Your hand moved of its own volition, yanking his collar so his face was close to yours. “What the fuck was that?”

He made no move to stop you. “Calm down, dove-”

The pet name only angered you further, and you pulled harder. “You were four feet from the door. Discretion isn’t your strong point, is it?”

Coriolanus pulled your hand off his collar, gripping it and suffocating your fingers. “You don’t know what you saw.”

“Save it,” you hissed, trying to pull your hand away. “Save it for her. She’s still under your spell.”

Your hand was freed, and you went back into the party, fury numbing you, objectives unclear. In a haze, you glided to her husband, greeting him sweetly. He excused himself from whom he was previously speaking immediately as you worked your charm on him, smiling brightly and laughing.

Then you touched his arm, moving just slightly closer. Enough for him to notice, enough for him to notice, but not enough for a nosy reporter to sell it into a story.

The senator looked pleased, and he gave you a tentative smile, opening his mouth to say something-

An arm claimed your waist for the millionth time tonight, and you were pulled into your husband’s chest, his other hand on the back of your neck, forcing your face to rest against his shoulder, hiding you from the world. The cool of his wedding ring was pressed against your skin

“Apologies, Senator,” Coriolanus said smoothly. “It seems my wife didn’t slow down on the champagne.”

You heard a faint chuckle, and then Coriolanus dropped his lips to the top of your head, hand smoothing over your curls. Since you hardly ever wore your hair like this, you knew he’d been dying to touch it all night.

The senator must have left, because he leaned down and whispered, “We’re leaving. Now.”

The walk back to the car was a blur as he pulled you through the crowd, and you kept up as gracefully as you could, hurrying down the stairs and nearly tripping over your dress. The second the door was shut, he turned to you, his face furious. “The next man you touch dies.”

You slapped him, an instant response. His face was unmoving, his glare stronger now. The anger simmered in both of you.

“Try not to hurt yourself,” you spat, your other hand balling into a fist, nails digging into your palm.

His hands were around your wrists in a flash. “You are mine. After everything I’ve given you, everything-”

“What about what I’ve given you?” you retorted, your hair falling forward over your shoulders as you looked up at him. “You really think you could’ve done anything without my image? I’m Panem’s Princess. Without me you’re just a man who got lucky.”

“Don’t you go there,” he said coolly, gripping your wrists tighter. But you could tell your words had gotten to him, hit him right in the ego.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You leaned closer to him. “You know as well as I do that you’re well liked. But I’m adored. You’re too caught up in your own image to realize I’m helping you more than you ever did me.”

The car stopped in front of the mansion, and you got out, pulling your wrists away, kicking off your shoes and picking them up, walking up the stairs, not caring if he followed but knowing he would.

As the door shut behind the both of you, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back to face him. “Tonight had better be an anomaly. You show up in this dress, flirt with someone beneath me and think you can get away with it?”

“I could say the exact same thing to you,” you scoffed, almost laughing. “Everyone thinks you’re something to be afraid of, but all I see is a little boy who thinks he can have it all.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset by any of this,” he said frustratedly, and you scoffed again, looking away in disbelief. “You knew the terms of this marriage. It’s not like I hurt you.”

You were silent, staring at him, waiting for him to figure it out. It took him one minute, and it was one minute longer than you’d have liked. His face fell slightly as he realized, his eyes widening slightly. “You…you…”

There were hot tears in your eyes, and you cursed yourself for it. Stupid, stupid feelings. Stupid, beautiful man.

“I thought…you cared about me,” you said, your voice only breaking a little, holding strong. “Not loved. Cared. And I was wrong. So wrong.”

Coriolanus shook his head and released your wrists, stepping toward you a little. “I do care about you…”

You shook your head, looking up at him, a single cursed tear falling down your cheek. “I don’t know if you care about anyone. Not me, not her, nobody. You’re the king of everything…” you spread your arms out wide for a second, letting them fall to your sides. “But being at the top isn’t what you thought it’d be.”

He kept quiet for once.

Closing your eyes, you brought a hand to your brow, trying to breathe steadily. All the emotion and panic from the night was encircling you, backing you into a tighter and tighter spot.

Seeing him with her…his hand on her chin…how many times has he seen her since…I don’t want him…I want him…he cheated…

Your legs grew weak, and you dropped your shoes, collapsing to your knees, chest heaving and ears ringing. Your nails dug into your palms, trying to capture the tension there, but failing. He was on the ground next to you in an instant, hand on your back. You shook your head, trying to push him away. “Don’t…please don’t…”

Coriolanus ignored you, hand rubbing your back, trying to soothe you through it. He said your name softly, and you shook your head again. “Please go…”

You were trying to stay angry, trying to keep yourself the confident, intimidating woman he’d seen all night…but it’d all broken you down. Despite it all, despite the cheating and lying, you cared. You cared too much. It was worthless to pretend, too exhausting to have any kind of facade. And so you fell…fell back into his arms where you’d begun.

He held you close to his chest, his hand pressing your head to him, your ear right over his heart. The steady beating of it calmed you, and you clung to him, gasping for air. Coriolanus dug his nose into your hair, taking in deep breaths that encouraged you to do the same. His thumb rubbed the space between your ear and your hair, his other arm secured protectively around you.

Gradually your breathing became regular again, but you still held tight to him. He was all you had right now.

“Stay with me tonight love,” he murmured, staying perfectly still as you rested against him. “You never have to again. But…”

“I hate you,” you breathed shakily.

“I know, love,” he nudged his nose against your head. “I know. Stay with me.”

“If you ever do this again I’ll leave you,” you vowed softly, meaning it. “I’ll leave you…and you’ll never find me…”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he muttered, and you felt his ring against your skin again. “Stay with me tonight love.”

Love. You were too exhausted to argue, and you just slumped against him, letting him hold you close.

Half of your brain screamed at you to pull yourself away, to stand firm, to divide the house between you even further, make it crumble. But the softer part felt how gently he held you, how he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hoisting you into his arms as he stood up, carrying you up the stairs.

He cheated, he cheated, hecheatedhecheatedhecheated.

His bed was so familiar, and you’d missed it. Missed his scent surrounding you, his arms around you as you drifted off.

He cheated.

Does he regret it?

Does it matter?

Lovelovelovelove.

A house set on fire cannot stand.

Next part

#coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #married to young president snow #president snow x reader #young president snow #milliesfishes snow #milliesfishes #Spotify

142 notes · View notes

keeksandgigz · 4 months

Text

i don't want you like a best friend- day 2 of keeks's lover house series

Day 2 of my Lover House series♡

♡Best Friend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader♡

best friends to lovers, painful pining, idiots in love, queer!eddie mentioned, smut, you've heard the song

Read Day 1 here!

"Carve your name into my bedpost/ 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend"

You thought Eddie had no clue of the feelings you harbored for him.

Since high school you've been pining for your best friend. Every car ride, every smoke session in his room, every concert you've gone together. Every single time you helped him haul equipment on and off his van. You've been in love with him for the past six years.

However, when he asks you to be his plus one at Steve's wedding it doesn't shock you. You were his date to proms, homecomings and various events-- there was no Eddie without you and vice versa.

This time seems different, though, as the end of the night was fast approaching. You sit at one of the tables, fumbling with the buckle of your shoes, trying yo get rid of the painful sting at the back of your heel.

Eddie follows you back from the dance floor to the table. Having shed the jacket of his suit and his tie, he's left with the top three buttons undone, and his frizzy hair tied up in a low bun as his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead.

He looks so effortlessly beautiful you can't help but try to hold back from jumping his bones. An activity you've gotten way too good at-- holding back.

He kneels on the floor, seeing you struggle with the buckle as he takes your ankle in his hand.

"Lemme do it" he says over the loud music "are your feet hurting?" the touch of his hands on the skin of your ankle makes you shiver. You nod.

"You lemme know when you wanna head back to the hotel room, I'll come with" he smiles, leaving a sweet caress on the arch of your foot. You're used to this.

The touching, the caresses. It's just how he is. Touchy.

When his hand seems to linger too much on your leg when you watch movies together at your apartment, or when you seem to be too tucked into his chest when walking down the street, his arm around your shoulders.

It drives you up a wall, he seems to always get too close. Unconscious to the idea that maybe, just maybe...

"You know what, Ed? I'm going up, I'll go say goodnight to Steve and go" you smile at him, pitter pattering your way across the dance floor, where Steve and his bride are still in the happy throes of love as he spins her around and they laugh in unison.

Eddie watches you, hips swaying with every step you take. That dress has been driving him insane all night. Dark green, tight around your hips. Multiple times in the span of the night he's had to subtly conceal his boner from the way you were dancing on him. The cocktails at the open bar getting into your system.

And there you are again, turning his brain to mush, seeing how your dress hugs you so perfectly. So he follows you like a little puppy dog, hoping to get to see more of you. Hoping you'll ask for his help in undoing your zipper as you get ready for bed.

"Tonight was fun" you sigh, walking towards your room "I think we're next, Ed" you elbow him, eyebrows raising suggestively.

"Do I have a girlfriend or boyfriend I don't know about?" he snickers, running an arm around your shoulders- God, you're so soft.

"Well, no. But you better get working on it, we're not getting any younger" you smile at him "I won't start looking 'til you do, loverboy" you laugh, still in a tipsy stupor.

You take out your key and open the door to your room.

"Need me to stay with you?" he gives you one of his pretty boy smiles. The ones that make your stomach flutter with confused butterflies.

"You don't have to, but you're welcome in if you want to. I'll just change in the bathroom" he follows you in as you rummage through your suitcase to find your toiletries.

"Don't change yet. That dress cost you a fortune, don't you want to enjoy it?" he just can't get enough of you in the dress, the green velvet hugging your body like it was made for you. Like you came out of his wildest dreams.

An awkward laugh escapes you "'kay, so what should I do then?" you lean on the dresser, crossing your arms. Your tits push up at the motion. He feels himself stir in his slacks as he pats down the spot next to him on the bed.

You sit down, body turned towards him. "What is it?" your heart thrums within your chest. The touchiness isn't unusual, but the tension that fills the room seems different. Almost like an invisible electricity.

"What if I didn't have to look?" his hand moves closer to yours, fingertips barely touching. You take a ragged breath in.

"I'm not sure what you're saying, Eddie" your hand scooches closer to his. He feels the softness of your fingers. He wonders if you're this soft everywhere.

"I don't have to look for someone to be with. No one's going to be you" you feel like your breath has been knocked out of your lungs "and I know you feel the same, so can we please stop it with the act and kiss already" you feel dizzy, hands shaking on top of his, fingers lightly entwined.

He feels the trembling in your hand as he envelops it with his. Your face feels hot.

"How'd you-" you begin, his free hand goes to your cheek, cupping. His thumb stroking the skin, moving the hair that falls on your face away from it.

"You've never been a master of subtlety, sweetheart" he smiles, his lips so close to yours you can smell the tequila shots on his breath. Breath that you're currently out of. The hand on your cheek makes a minimal movement, your lips meeting on impact.

And it's like a dam has been broken. Years of pining, waiting, jealousy, end here. Eddie's tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at your bottom lip, as a moan slips out of you. A moan you've been holding in along with all the breath you had.

You get more bold with each swipe of his tongue, opening your mouth up for him to give him more access. Your hands reach up to the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly making your way down each eyelet, revealing his milky skin smattered with black ink.

"I've been wanting to get that dress of of you since you got in the car this morning" he nips at your bottom lip, moving down to leave open mouthed kiss down the column of your neck.

A breathless moan falling from your lips as he reaches for the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders.

He reaches under the slit of your dress, you gasp at his actions, still trying to convince yourself that this is real. That what is happening is not just another stupid dream.

Caressing the side of your thigh, he bunches up the velvet of her dress around your hips, your hands trapped in Eddie’s hair as you let breathless gasps escape you.

“You like me touching you?” he asks, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, it’s getting all so much already, with a whine you lean your forehead on his shoulder.

“Hey, no, look at me” he grabs your face gingerly, letting your eyes meet "I've been waiting to see you like this. I need to see you" and in the shushed whispers it's like you're not even in a hotel room anymore.

He's created your own universe, where the perfection of your bodies, hands, fingers, breaths intertwined, they're everything that matters for a brief moment in time.

Eddie reaches behind your back, feeling around for the zipper of your dress. You hold a breath in, briefly overtaken by a strange feeling. He's never seen you like this.

"It's okay, it's just me" it's almost like he senses your unease in the air, placing a chaste kiss to your shoulder, like a soothing balm for your heart. The zipper begins to go down, its buzzing fills the room, a ticking clock for what's about to happen.

"I can't believe we waited this long" he says with bated breath, as you get the dress of of you "you're so gorgeous" he mumbles against the skin of your wrist placing an open mouthed kiss there.

Your heart thrums, you want to answer him, you want to say that you've loved him since high school, you've played the waiting game and the reward was right in front of you. Instead you just whimper as Eddie lays you down, reaching a hand in between your legs. You stop him immediately.

"I need you right now. I'm ready" you urge feverishly, you feel hot, a burning need to get close to him. Feeling like you might die if you don't feel him sink into you right this instant.

He smiles. Understanding, maybe a little cocky as he chuckles and leans back, undoing the belt of his slacks, finally letting his cock spring free, after a whole day of suffocating confinement.

Your mouth hangs open, murmuring your name against the skin of your abdomen, your chest, placing a kiss on each of your breasts, then mouthing at your neck.

"Ready?" he looks at you for any trace of hesitation, a pinch in your eyebrows that says this is a mistake, but there's only relief, almost like you'd been waiting too long for this. Years of pining could have easily ended much earlier, Eddie's been waiting as much as you have. Too much of a pussy to do anything about it, thinking he was way out of your league.

He tosses those thoughts aside, he has you now, ready and waiting under him. Nodding eagerly to let himself inside you, without wasting a moment.

And when he does, your eyebrows pinch together, but there's relief in your eyes, as you both begin to rock back and forth on the soft mattress. Small whimpers escaping you, grabbing at Eddie's neck for support.

"I've been wanting you like this since our senior prom, Eddie" you mumble, and he feels like an idiot, because he's never connected the dots. His heart hurts for the time you lost, but you lightly take his hand into yours- a silent "you have me now."

With every thrust, he sees your eyes roll back in bliss, letting out the sweetest noises he's ever heard. And he knows it, then, that he wants to keep you forever.

He mumbles your name again, and every time he does, you tighten around him. The world seems to stop for a moment as he chants it like a prayer. Kneeling at the neglected altar of your body, silently begging for forgiveness in his prayer.

But everyone of his wrongdoings seems to be washed away with every moan and whine, your pitch getting higher with every thrust. Eddie speeds up, feeling himself getting closer with a twang of embarrassment. It should have lasted longer.

"'I'm close" you whisper, gripping onto his shoulders, his back, anywhere your hands can grip him, not wanting to let him go. He keeps his pace, noticing a small sliver of tears at your waterline.

When you come undone with a silent scream, biting at his shoulder to not make noise, he follows you soon, spilling himself inside of you with a low groan.

His forehead comes into contact with yours, breathing against you, letting the rise and fall of his chest match yours. Regulating himself before detaching himself from you.

His hand keeps holding on to yours, as you drink in the moment, not wanting to let it escape from your fingertips.

He turns towards you with a smile "So I guess we're next then?"

Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is so incredibly appreciated!

Day 3 is 1989! Fill out the form Here

tagging some people: @strangerstilinski, @taintedcigs, @melodymunson, @reidsbtch, @eddies-house, @eddiesxangel, @lavendermunson, @xxhellfirebunnyxx

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #best friend!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #keeks's lover house series

281 notes · View notes

pedroscurls · 3 months

Text

second chances | pt. 2

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: Marcus gets ready to go back to work after his last few days off. He finds that you and him run on a similar schedule and slowly develop a routine. Word count: 3k A/N: This story is all fluff and eventually smut, fyi. I just want to see that smile back on Marcus Pike's face after Lisbon literally just ditches him�� (lol i'm still bitter) Warning: None. SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

Marcus spends the rest of his days off at home, only stepping out to get food. He finds that he prefers his solitude and since meeting you, he realizes that Lisbon hasn’t crossed his mind since. He isn’t sure what that means exactly, but he continues to tell himself that nothing could ever happen between the two of you. He hasn’t seen you since he helped you move your bed into your apartment and he doesn’t see you when he does step out of his apartment, but he has heard you throughout the day when he opens the door to his patio to let some fresh air into his apartment.

He assumes that your sliding door must be open too because he hears the music playing softly in the background. It’s loud enough that he can hear it and he wonders if you’re beginning to unpack. Since meeting you, Marcus feels a little more hopeful about his new life in DC.

When Monday rolls around, Marcus is already dressed and ready to head out the door by six in the morning. He’s got a travel mug filled with coffee and a bag slung over his shoulder. He hopes that he gets to see you today, even if it’s only in passing. Finally grabbing his keys, Marcus steps out of his apartment and locks it behind him. He turns on his heel and instantly smiles when he sees you locking the door to your apartment. His eyes rake over your frame, taking in what you’re wearing. You’re dressed in a white sweater with rainbow-colored horizontal stripes on it and it’s tucked into a pair of dark slacks. Your hair is pulled back into two loose braids and you have an overly-sized bag draped over your shoulder. You’re also wearing high top white converse and it puts a smile on Marcus’s face. You definitely look like a Kindergarten teacher. And it’s cute. You’re cute.

“Morning,” Marcus calls out softly.

You look up at him and immediately grin. You couldn’t stop thinking about Marcus since meeting him. The first time you met him, it wasn’t that he was wearing a lack of clothing that you noticed, but rather his big, brown eyes that were staring back at you. And when he smiled and a dimple appeared on his right side of his cheek, you found yourself captivated. You just couldn’t believe that you tripped over your feet and that he had been watching. It was embarrassing and it was something that you always found yourself doing whenever someone that good looking was paying attention to you.

You had hoped to see him again after he initially helped you move your large bed into your apartment, but was disappointed that you kept missing him. You had enough to distract you though, plenty of boxes to unpack, but you couldn’t help that your mind kept drifting to Marcus. Even when you opened your sliding door to your patio, you always looked over to the left to see if you would catch him standing outside too.

But as Monday approaches, your mind is focused solely on your first day at the new school. You’re excited to start working again, so when you step out of your apartment and lock your front door at six in the morning, you’re surprised to hear his voice. You look at him from top to bottom and smile to yourself; he’s wearing a dark gray suit with a lighter gray button down shirt paired with a red tie with white dots.

“Good morning, Marcus.” You both begin making your way to the elevator and you reach out to press the down button. As you and Marcus stand at the elevator doors, waiting for them to arrive and open, it’s Marcus that’s the first one to speak.

“Been hearing your music,” he chuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you blush. “I’ll keep it down–”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts with a smile. “I like it. It’s soothing. Better than hearing cars honking.”

You nod and adjust the handle of your bag. “How were your days off?”

“Peaceful,” he says. “Though, I think I ate a bit too much take out.”

You laugh quietly and before you could stop yourself, you ask, “Well, I make a really good pesto pasta and I was planning on making some tonight after I get home from work. Would you like to come over?”

Marcus clears his throat. It’s as if life is throwing this fully on his lap. He’s trying to tell himself no no no, that something like this can’t happen again. He doesn’t want to open himself up to the possibility of getting hurt again, but the way you’re looking at him with your big, hopeful and excited eyes has him rethinking that maybe this could be good for him. That maybe you could be good for him.

“Oh, that would be–” Marcus bites his lower lip. “I don’t know when I’ll be back home. I usually have late nights.”

“That’s okay,” you say softly. “I’ll pack you a plate anyway.”

The elevator doors open and Marcus extends a hand out for you to step inside first. You smile over at him and walk inside the elevator, pressing the button for the parking garage. Once he steps inside and the doors close, Marcus looks down at you.

“That’d be real nice, thank you.”

“Well, you did help me move my big ass bed into my apartment, so it’s the least I could do.”

Marcus laughs. “You really need a bed that big for someone as tiny as you?” he teases.

“Tiny?” you pout playfully, but a quiet giggle leaves your lips. “I like having space.”

“You move around a lot in your sleep?”

You blush again. “Well, sure, but also for other reasons…”

Marcus’s eyes widen and he realizes what you’re insinuating and it’s now his turn to blush. “Makes total sense. I’d want that much space too.”

You bite your lower lip and look up at him. You’re so attracted to him and you’re trying to tell yourself that there is no way someone like him would be single and yet, here you are telling him that your bed is so big because you like having the space for sex. How embarrassing, you think to yourself. You’re so deep in thought and regret that you don’t hear Marcus speak.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh nervously. “What was that?”

“It’s okay. I just asked if it’s your first day today. At the school.”

“Oh!” You nod, grateful that he changed the subject. “Yeah, it is. I’m excited.”

Then, the elevator doors open and Marcus is the first to step outside. You follow and look up at him, not wanting the conversation to end.

“Well, I hope you have a great first day then,” Marcus says with a smile big enough that his dimple appears again.

It makes you smile in return. “Thank you, Marcus.”

“And I like the outfit. It’s cute.” Marcus winks and then walks in the opposite direction to where his car was parked.

You bite your lower lip and watch him walk away before he disappears around the corner. You’re sure that you’re so pink in the cheeks because of your interaction with Marcus and while you’re excited for your first day at school, you’re also excited for when you could see him next.

—

You’re exhausted by the time you get home, but the tiredness doesn’t even compare to the excitement you feel when you realize that there’s a possibility you could be seeing Marcus again. Your first day at work was busy, but it was always such a joy to be able to teach young kids and kindergartners always kept you on your toes. Having worked at a public school for most of your career, teaching kindergarten students at a private school was a little different. The class size was much smaller and you were able to establish your own curriculum and get as creative as you wanted.

You change into a pair of light gray lounge shorts, a white tank-top, and a black oversized cardigan. You pour yourself a glass of white wine, turn on some music, and then step out on your patio, leaning against the railing as you look out at your view. The sun is beginning to set and there’s a slight chilly breeze that makes you wrap your cardigan tighter around your frame. You only stay outside for a few more minutes before you head back inside to begin making dinner, setting aside a plate for Marcus.

The boxes are still scattered around your apartment, but you had moved it around to make it easier to walk around. You’re already on your second glass of white wine when you finish cooking, but as you’re about to put enough food for Marcus on the plate, there’s a knock at your door. It’s a little after six in the afternoon, so when you open it to see Marcus on the other side, you feel your heart flutter and the butterflies in your tummy begin to swarm around again.

“Marcus, hi.”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Does that invite for dinner still stand?”

“Of course,” you bite the inside of your cheek and nod. “As long as you don’t mind the mess, come on in. I just finished cooking.”

Marcus steps inside and smiles to himself. Even if your apartment isn’t yet complete and you haven’t yet fully unpacked, it feels a lot more cozy and homey than his own and you had only moved in just a few days ago. When you shut the door, Marcus turns around to face you and he takes note of what you’re wearing. Your shorts expose enough of your legs and the tanktop you’re wearing sits just above your waistband and he can see just a tiny sliver of skin.

“Smells delicious,” he points out, clearing his throat. Marcus has to look elsewhere before you catch him ogling.

“Thank you,” you smile. “Want a glass of wine?”

“That’d be great,” he replies. Marcus removes his blazer and drapes it over the back of one of your chairs at your kitchen island counter. He folds the sleeves of his button down shirt to his elbows and watches as you pour two glasses of wine and then sets food onto two plates.

“I’m surprised you’re home early,” you say. “I thought you said you usually have late nights.”

Marcus shrugs. “Guess I was eager to try this pesto pasta.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes hopeful.

“And I wanted to hear how your first day went.”

You blush and set the glass of wine and plate of food in front of him. He takes a seat where his blazer was draped and you lean against the counter instead. “That’s very sweet, Marcus.”

“Just trying to be a good neighbor,” he chuckles. “But if I’m overstepping any boundaries–”

“Not at all,” you interrupt all too quickly. “With me being new to the area, it’s nice to have someone like you around.”

“Yeah?” Marcus smiles.

“Yeah, now let’s eat. I’m starving and my day was exhausting.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks. Marcus takes a few bites of the food and grins at the taste, looking over in your direction. He watches you eat quietly to yourself and he notices the way your body is slightly swaying to the soft music in the background. Your happiness and joy is infectious and he finds himself smiling more and more around you.

“This is really good,” he says your name and smiles when you look up at him.

“I’m glad you think so. And I’m also glad you were able to leave work earlier than usual.” You set your fork down and then take a sip of your wine. “What do you do, by the way?”

“FBI,” he says casually.

“Wait, what?”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a special agent for the FBI. My department deals with stolen arts and antiques.”

“Now that sounds like a fun job.”

He shrugs. “Hence the long hours and late nights.”

“That would make sense.” You then move to sit next to him, turning in your seat to face him and Marcus turns his body to face you as well.

“Enough about me,” Marcus chuckles. “How was your first day?”

You grab your glass of wine and let out a contented sigh. Your arm is resting against the counter as you look up at him. “I know I said it was exhausting, but it was so fun,” you smile. “The kids are great and I’m just so excited to be able to make my own curriculum and have all the creative freedom. Public schools usually just give you their curriculum and tell you to teach it without giving you much wiggle room to make it your own. So, this is a nice change of pace.” You look into his eyes and bite your lower lip. He’s staring at you and you realize that you’re talking a bit too much. “Sorry, I just– I love teaching.”

“Sounds like it,” he smiles. “But I like hearing you talk. It’s nice.”

You blush again and look down at your lap. You can still feel Marcus’s eyes on you, but it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. Instead, it does the opposite. You like the fact that he’s looking at you and he’s doing it in a way that makes you feel… seen. And it has been a while since you had a connection with anyone from the opposite sex – you were always so focused on work and didn’t have much time to date. Besides, most of the men you have been with weren’t all that great anyway.

“So, tell me more…” Marcus says.

“About teaching?”

Marcus nods. “Sure. Or anything really.”

“Oh, we’d be here all night,” you laugh, finishing your second glass of wine. “And I’m sure you have an early morning tomorrow, like I do.”

Marcus chuckles. “You’re right. We shouldn’t get too crazy on a school night,” he winks.

You laugh quietly and set your glass down on the counter. “So, Special Agent Marcus…”

“Pike,” he finishes. “Marcus Pike.”

“Oh, my favorite roast.”

Marcus arches a brow and lets out a chuckle. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know, Pike Place? Medium roast?”

Marcus shakes his head.

“Coffee, it’s coffee.” You laugh quietly. “It’s the only roast I’ll drink, really.”

“Good to know,” Marcus says. He makes a mental note to buy a roast of Pike Place the next time he’s at the store.

“So, Special Agent Marcus Pike,” you repeat. “Sounds so… Official.”

Marcus chuckles and he leans back against the chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m glad you think so.”

“And here I am… Just a teacher,” you tease.

“Just a teacher?” Marcus smiles. “I wouldn’t be in the FBI if I didn’t have great teachers. I’m sure you’re a good one too.”

You blush. “I try to be.”

Marcus smiles and stands from the chair, grabbing both empty plates and bringing it to your sink.

“Marcus,” you say, following him towards the sink. “Just leave it. I’ll handle it.”

“You cooked,” he replies, looking down at you. “At least let me help clean up.”

“Are you sure you’re real?” you laugh quietly.

“What?” Marcus smiles.

“You’re just so… Nice.” You bite your lower lip and look up at him. You want to say so much more: Cute, handsome, sweet, thoughtful… but you stop yourself from saying what you truly want to say.

“Like I said,” Marcus says. “Just trying to be a good neighbor.”

“Well, you sure are going above and beyond,” you point out. “You’re setting the bar pretty high for future neighbors,” you tease.

“Maybe I just like you,” he winks. “Now, let me clean up these dishes and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Marcus turns back around and begins cleaning your dishes. You bite your lower lip and walk towards the leftovers, stealing a glance over in your direction to see him standing in front of your sink. His shirt is stretched over his broad back and you want nothing more than to just wrap your arms around him.

You grab a clean plate and pour half of the leftovers onto it. Wrapping it in foil, you then set it aside. Marcus turns around and dries his hand with a paper towel, pointing at the plate on your counter.

“Is that for me?” he asks.

You nod. “Figured you could take this for lunch tomorrow.”

Marcus smiles to himself. “You’re sweet, thank you.” He walks back to his blazer and drapes it over his arm as he reaches for the plate. “So, are you heading out again tomorrow at six?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Great. That’s usually the time I leave too. Would you like some company on the elevator ride down to the parking garage? You know, in case something happens, at least you have an FBI special agent with you,” he teases with a smile.

You smile to yourself and before you can think about it, you reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. You feel his muscle flex underneath your fingertips and immediately drop your hand back to your side. “I think that sounds like a plan. I’d hate to be stuck in an elevator all by myself,” you smile.

“Looking forward to tomorrow morning then,” Marcus smiles. “Thank you again for dinner.”

“Thanks for coming over, Special Agent Marcus Pike,” you wink. You both walk towards your front door and you open it for him. He steps out and looks down at you, smiling big enough that his dimple reappears.

“Good night,” he says softly.

“Good night, Marcus.”

—

Since that night, you and Marcus had developed a routine every morning. Both of you would be out of the door by six in the morning and accompany each other on the elevator ride down to the parking garage. It was something you both looked forward to every morning and it was the perfect way to start the day.

Sometimes, Marcus would forget coffee and you’d be right there to hand him a cup. And other times when you’d forget your coffee, Marcus prided himself in giving you a travel mug with your favorite roast: Pike Place.

—

prev. - next.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x reader #story: second chances

171 notes · View notes

kinopio-writes · 3 months

Text

Ask: A one-shot with Vox and a Fem!Reader who is an Overlord that deemed a less high position but kept being her chaotic neutral self nonetheless. She and the Vees were playing a game and she won in the worst way possible. (tried to remember all the things @matrixbearer2024 told me so, uh, sorry if this wasn’t what you meant)

A/N: I accidentally posted this completely unfinished and deleted it as soon as possible so I lost the request. Vox is one of the harder characters to write because most of the time he’s on screen, he’s shitting on Alastor. Hopefully he gets more developed in season 2. I used his controlled and controlling characteristics a lot here.

Um, this turned out neither platonic nor romantic. I was focused on establishing their dynamic here, so this might turn into a series. Enjoy! I liked how the story turned out to be (although the pacing might be rough).

Words: 1,569 (edited)

Warnings: Valentino (he’s not acting like how he does around Angel, mostly because Vel’s your friend and you’re not a worker in his studio)

———

Vox x Fem Overlord!Reader who had taken the backseat

The doors to his office slid open, allowing the bright light from the other room to pour into his TV-adorned space. The light blocked him from seeing the other side of the screens, and the suit-clad demon sitting on his swivel chair jerked back from whatever he was paying close attention to, bringing him back to reality.

“Um, Sir?” A nasally voice piped up from the light.

His boss quietly groaned in irritation, not bothering to turn around to look at him. “What is it?”

“We have a problem.” Of course, there was. Ever since that old prick suddenly came back, things have been not going well for him. Well, it was mostly because he let that piece of shit get to him. “We’ve been receiving numerous complaints about our new voyeur scopes.”

Vox merely waved a dismissive hand, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. “That happens all the time. If the protests persist, get someone to start on a new draft.”

His assistant left right after, and as Vox heard the doors close, he let out a heavy sigh, deciding to change the setting of his screens to watch over his district.

“Let’s see what the fuss is all about, shall we?”

•••

You had smashed another one of the flying drones.

You’d been doing that for quite a while, settling that as your first order in business after letting someone take over your district for you, granting you more freedom. There wasn’t much thought in the decision. You had just grown tired of being a leader and gaining more power. You liked being laid-back, but it wasn’t as if you’d settle on the retirement (after)life. Now that would be just plain boring.

VoxTek Enterprises was a brand you were familiar with. Not as a customer, but as a friend to someone who was close to the man behind the title: Vox.

You didn’t have anything against the guy—Vox was a charming fellow when you first met him. When he approached you, you were happy to disclose any questions he had, although you noticed that his left eye started to swirl as you spoke. It went back to normal quickly, however, so you went back to your usual talking pace. He ended the conversation briefly after that, and you were approached by more overlords during that event. (heavily edited this paragraph)

Now, you were hanging out with two of the three Vees. Velvette immediately invited you to chat about your new position after she heard while Valentino was lying on the other couch beside yours, on his phone.

She pried for an answer as to why you’d done what you did. When you gave her the direct answer of simply getting tired of it, she changed the topic to new fashion trends. You agreed to be her temporary model for her newest drafts, and Val piped in if you wanted a photo shoot for a magazine for an entirely different cause. Vel swatted his head away, rejecting his offer for you.

When the chatter had slowed down to silence, you explored around the spacious room as the others scrolled through their phone. You managed to find a video game that was unsurprisingly made by VoxTek. It was quite an old product, but it looked interesting enough, so you called out to the other overlords in the room if they wanted to play. They agreed.

•••

Vox’s eye twitched, snarling as he watched you get all buddy-buddy with Valentino and Velvette. And playing his game, no less? The fucking disrespect!

Initially, Vox liked you the moment he laid his eyes on you. That was one of the reasons why he made conversation with you, even if he had non-amicable intentions. You also had been gaining more power at the time and the other stronger overlords noticed, including him. He speculated on your potential to grow more influential and wanted to be acquainted with you for future use. However, you were instantly on his watchlist when he realized he couldn’t hypnotize you.

During the conversation you two had, he managed to get you to tell him how you got into your position, which didn’t even need much prying. You didn’t like business and politics, you hated forethought, and you didn’t even know there was such a thing as a hierarchy in Hell—you thought everyone just did their thing and be their worst, which was just fucking stupid.

You were reckless, an oversharer, unprofessional, passive, and unpredictable. In other words, you were an uncontrollable freak who had too much power. He didn’t understand how you were still alive.

Vox felt threatened when you made friends with Velvette before she even joined the Vees. He knew he couldn’t convince her to stop being in contact with you, so every time you two hung out, he would watch you two closely from his monitors. So far, he managed to keep you as far away from him as possible.

Until now. You were literally in the same building he was in. You were closer to him than you’ve been in years.

Velvette’s voicemail echoed throughout his office. She wasn’t answering any of his calls.

He cursed out loud. What a pain. It seemed he had to deal with you himself.

•••

“Val! What the fuck are you doing in last place?”

You three were playing Mario Kart (Wii), or at least, the rip-off version of it. It was still pretty decent, though. You all decided that doing all thirty-two races would be a fun way to pass the time until the Vees had to do their separate things.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? The buttons don’t do shit!”

“Use the rocket (Bullet Bill), shithead! Press the arrow key!”

“What the fuck is an arrow key—! Oh, there we go. I’m in second place! Ha! Eat shit, Princess Bitch!”

“Valentino! You blind ass, you’re blocking the screen!”

“I’m winning!”

“Taking my first place, you fucking won’t!”

You ignored their bickering and used two out of your three red shells to hit Rosalina and Toadette, a shit-eating grin on your face as you won first place.

A series of shouts and yells followed right after.

“Wait, what the fuck!”

“Who did that!”

“I did.” The two Vees turned their heads from the screen to see you comfortably lying upside down on the couch, legs hanging on the headrest.

Velvette’s shoulders relaxed. Valentino, on the other hand, flipped…the table. The TV was disconnected from its wires.

“What the—Valentino!” Velvette watched him stomp his way out of the room. “Valentino, where are you going? You better not be thinking about—…”

Velvette’s words fell silent as they both got farther from the room.

You placed the remote on the couch and finally sat upright, examining the space around you as chaos erupted from downstairs. It didn’t seem like they were coming back soon.

Hmm. Now you had the room all to yourself.

•••

You were busy rearranging the snacks and mixing their places into different cupboards when the double doors burst off their hinges and harshly hit the wall. You snapped your head to the entrance to catch a glimpse of a TV head before the doors closed back on themselves.

You snorted, going back to messing with Valentino’s stuff.

A moment of silence passed, and you stopped snooping around to check if Vox was still there, leaning down as you opened one of the two doors slightly. You saw his hands form into fists in front of you, and you immediately stood back to your height with a grin.

“The man himself!” You took a step away and opened both doors entirely, lifting your arms as a gesture of welcome even though he owned the place, and that irked him. “You know, Val and Vel and I played a game. You should’ve joined—”

“I know.”

“Oh, then the two are downstairs causing chaos.” You skipped over to the couch and sat on the headrest, falling back on the seat as you kicked your legs. “Usually that would be my thing, but—”

“I know.”

“And sorry for breaking those drones of yours. It was just—” you curled in yourself as you grabbed at your hands, “—in front of me, y’know—?”

“I know.”

“Wow, you know a lot.” He didn’t know if you meant that sarcastically or not. And that alone pissed him off further. “I’m assuming you also know that I stopped being an overlord?” You heard static in his direction.

“You…stopped being an overlord? No one just…stops being one.”

“Ooh, worded that wrong, huh?” You lifted your upper half to see the TV head still standing in the same spot. “I’m still technically one, I suppose, but I’m more, like, second in command? I’m just letting someone take over for me. The overlord life was too restricting, y’know?”

No, he didn’t know.

“Anyway, good talk.” You raised your legs and pushed them forward to stand up, making your way over to him. “I think I had an appointment with the guy who’s taking over. Thank Vel and Val for letting me hang out here. Actually, maybe go apologize to Val for me; I rearranged his cupboards.”

You patted his shoulder as you walked past. “See you soon, Vox!”

The man in question had his mouth slightly parted, his eyes still glued inside the room.

Shit. He was going to see you a lot often now, wasn’t he?

Fuck his life.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #kinopiowrites

157 notes · View notes