#i really hope they keep the white accents
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Sweet Like Grenadine
Daniel Ricciardo x Reader
Masterlist
Summary: You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.
Word Count: 5.6k
a/n: thought of this concept and couldn’t get Danny out of my head. He’s soooo guy you flirt with at a wedding and will probably never see again coded
Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content (heavy makeout? idrk how to tag this stuff), one (1) shitty boyfriend
The table in front of you is draped with a heavy white tablecloth. At the center is a large bouquet of flowers, the number 19 stuck haphazardly in the middle of it. Not last, but certainly low on the list. You can’t blame them- you barely know the bride and groom.
You’re only here because your boyfriend is a groomsman. A plus one. You love weddings, so of course you’d agreed, but you hadn’t really considered how lonely an event like this could be. The only person you really know has been busy all day. You can’t complain, won’t complain, you know that’s why he’s here, but…
You’re sitting at a table full of strangers. It’s not exactly fun. There’s still hours left of this. Dinner hasn’t even been served, there’s still speeches and cake and dancing and honestly, you’re already exhausted. You need a drink, but the bar isn’t open yet. You need to take off your heels, but you’re pretty sure that would be frowned upon. You need to talk to your boyfriend.
He’s busy, though. He told you as much when you found him between the ceremony and the reception. There’s a pang in your chest still at the way he brushed you off, the way he told you he didn’t have time to chat. You get it, you really do. You’re not going to get upset about it.
The seat to your left has been empty since you sat down, but someone collapses into it, letting out a heavy sigh. You turn to look, hoping for some sort of familiar face or at least a friendly one, and you’re met with-
“Hi. ‘M Daniel,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake yours.
The thing is, Daniel is a familiar face, but not for any of the reasons you’d hoped for. You know Daniel because your boyfriend is obsessed with Formula 1. You try to keep up so you can take part in his conversations, but it’s never really been your thing. But you know enough to know Daniel Ricciardo.
“Yeah, I… I know,” you say, before you slap your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I’m sorry. That’s weird. S’just- my boyfriend’s a huge fan-“
You swear his face drops slightly, but he plasters that grin right back on before he says, “and you’re not a fan?”
“I’m not not a fan,” you say. “He’s just the bigger fan. Of the two of us.”
Daniel nods. You finally shake his hand. He never stops looking at you, never stops smiling. You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you, his accented version making you smile.
“Well, is he here? I’d love to meet the bigger of the two fans,” he says. “We talking, like, box fan, industrial blower, air boat fan? How big?”
You laugh, his hand squeezing yours as you lean over the table. He’s laughing, too, then, before he lets go of your hand. You want to crawl out of your skin, want to run and hide in the bathroom, because you’re definitely making a fool of yourself, but-
“Oh, he’s busy,” you say, waving your hand in the air dismissively. “He’s one of the groomsmen, got a lot on his plate. I don’t wanna bug him. He’s the one with the sunglasses on,” you say, pointing at him at the head table.
Daniel looks where you point and quirks his brow. “Guy like that has a girl like you and you’re the one worried about bugging him?”
You stare at him with wide eyes. He collapses into a fit of laughter again, and you follow suit. You don’t know what else to do. Then he nudges your knee with his, under the table, and juts his chin towards the bar.
“D’you want a drink?” He asks.
“The bar isn’t open yet,” you say.
“So?”
“So, how are you going to get a drink?”
He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you just watch and learn. What’re you having?”
You shrug. “A soda, I guess. I’m the designated driver for at least three of the groomsmen.”
Daniel sighs heavily. “You poor thing. You keep making me feel worse and worse for you. Alright, I’ll get you something.”
He strides his way up to the bar, which has a very obvious “Closed” sign on the countertop. There’s a single bartender behind it, and he’s cleaning glasses. You watch with entertainment as Daniel leans on the counter, exuding confidence and charm. The bartender shakes his head. Daniel counters. The man behind the bar shrugs and nods. Then he steps through a door for just a moment. When he returns, he has two drinks in his hands- one that’s obviously a beer, and one that’s bright pink. Daniel smiles, thanks the man, and walks the cups back to you.
He sets it down in front of you with a flourish before he takes a seat.
“I told you, I’m DD,” you remind him.
He nods, taking a sip of his beer before he says, “Shirley Temple.”
“Oh my god,” you say, a grin washing over your face. You pick up the cup and take a sip, sighing at the sweet taste of ginger ale and grenadine. “How did you know?”
“Everyone loves a good Shirley,” he says, elbowing you lightly. “And you can’t drink just plain soda at a wedding.”
They announce dinner shortly after that, and the waiters start bringing plates out. You’re starving, having been up early to help with last minute wedding things at your boyfriend’s request. You hadn’t had time to eat lunch. You chat with Daniel through the meal. The two of you talk about the food, about the wedding, about the decor. There are other people at the table, but they’re all incredibly boring in comparison. Daniel, on the other hand, could hold your attention forever, probably.
You sneak glances at your boyfriend, surrounded by his friends at the head table. He’d promised to sneak away as soon as he got a chance. He hasn’t even looked your way. You're trying to ignore the hurt deep in your chest. Daniel is sneaking glances at you sneaking glances at the bridal party. You’re trying to ignore that, too.
“How long have you two been dating?” Daniel asks.
“About 6 months,” you say with a smile.
It feels forced. Frankly, the last thing you want to talk about right now is your boyfriend. They’re clearing the last plates. He’s at his table, three beers in by your count, not a care in the world. He promised. Daniel opens his mouth, likely to ask another question about your boyfriend, but you speak first.
“So wait, are you here for the bride or the groom?” You ask.
“The bride,” Daniel says , a soft smile on his face. “An old family friend. I’m representing the Ricciardos.”
You smile. “That’s sweet.”
Before he can say anything in response, someone is tapping on a microphone. It’s time for the speeches. You know your boyfriend isn’t making one, which is good. He’s not exactly the best public speaker, especially when he’s been drinking. You and Daniel settle in to listen.
He sneaks away between the maid of honor and the best man, patting the back of your hand and whispering about being right back. He returns a few moments later, another beer and a Shirley Temple in his hands. You smile gratefully at him, and he waves you off. Then the next speech is starting, and you’re rolling your eyes at the way the best man talks about marriage like it’s some awful idea.
“He knows this is a wedding, yeah?” Daniel asks out of the side of his mouth, leaning towards you.
You shrug. “That one started drinking at 9am. I’m not sure he even knows what year it is right now.”
Daniel starts laughing, then. Luckily, the rest of the crowd does too- apparently, the best man has just made an extremely funny joke. Daniel is only looking at you, though, and you can’t help but laugh just because of the look on his face.
When the first dances are over and the music starts, you sink low into your seat. Your boyfriend has still not made an appearance. He definitely knows where you’re sitting, he had told you so earlier. You’re sure he’s busy, but you’d looked away for too long, talking to Daniel, and now he’s disappeared from the head table. You scan the crowd, hoping to see his face. All the while, you can feel Daniel watching you.
“We could go dance,” he suggests.
You sink lower in your seat. “I don’t really like dancing.”
That’s a lie. You love dancing, especially at weddings. You love the cheesy songs they always play, you love the atmosphere, you love watching the bride and groom have fun and getting to be a part of it. But you know how it would look if you went out on the dance floor with Daniel, and your boyfriend definitely won’t be joining you. As frustrated as you may be with your him, you don’t want to cause drama at someone else’s best day of their lives.
“I think I might try and find him,” you say, picking up your drink.
Daniel nods. “Want me to come with you?”
You look around at the rest of the table and find it empty. You shake your head and lean towards him, close enough that you almost knock your foreheads. Nobody’s watching the two of you or trying to listen anyways, but it’s more fun this way.
“He promised he’d find me before dinner,” you whisper conspiratorially. “That obviously didn’t happen. So I’m not bringing you to him as a reward for bad behavior.”
Daniel sits back in his chair and smiles at you, one brow raised. “Atta girl!”
You stand up from your chair and hope he can’t tell that your face has grown hot from that comment alone.
Even if you can’t find your boyfriend, it’s probably best that you get some space from Daniel. Through the last hour or so of your conversation, you’ve been catching yourself leaning towards him and then reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend. It’s just that he’s being so nice, and that you’re feeling so down about the whole thing. He’s comforting, which is fine. But it can’t be more than that.
You find your boyfriend at one of the bars, leaning on the counter and talking loudly with one of the other groomsmen. He’s drunk already- he should really slow down if he wants to last the night. You walk over to him, forcing a soft smile onto your face. You can’t confront him now, not in front of his friend and all the people waiting for drinks.
“Hey, babe,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly as you walk up.
He turns. You wait for him to smile at you, but it never comes. Your stomach sinks.
“Hey,” he says, nonchalantly. “D’you need something?”
Your palms feel clammy. “Oh, no, I’m good! Just… wanted to say hi. S’been a bit.”
He nods. “Yeah. I told you I’d be busy tonight.”
His friend just stands there and listens. Your skin feels hot, and your eyes begin to sting.
“I know,” you say. “I’m not trying to bug you, I just- I was just walking by. Just. Yeah. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.”
“I’ll come find you in a bit, baby,” he promises.
You don’t bother believing him this time.
Daniel doesn’t comment on your red eyes or the tear tracks on your cheeks when you return to the table. He just squeezes your arm and disappears for a moment, then comes back with yet another Shirley Temple. You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so you just take a sip of the drink instead.
“You don’t have to sit here with me,” you say to Daniel. “I’m definitely pulling down the mood.”
“Are you joking?” He says. “You’re the best thing at this party.”
You laugh, then, because the statement is so ridiculous that you can’t help it. He sounds so serious, and when you turn to look at him there’s no hint of teasing on his face. He just elbows your arm lightly again.
“Come on, we don’t have to dance but we’re not sitting here all night,” he says. “Let’s go wander.”
He stands from the table and tugs at your chair. You give in and stand up too, taking your drink from the table. You follow him as he weaves through the throngs of people. You like wandering. Wandering is a perfectly sensible thing to do with the guy you just met. At the wedding your boyfriend is a groomsman at. What else are you supposed to do, anyways?
He leads you past the dance floor, which you try not to look at forlornly. There are large glass doors at the back of the hall. He swings one open, holding it for you, waving you through with a flourish of his hand. Outside, it’s lit up with string lights. There’s a wide rolling lawn of grass, with fire pits and chairs spread out everywhere. There are lawn games, too- beanbags and horseshoes and a giant version of Jenga.
You can burn a lot of time out here. You barely even notice when Daniel slips his hand around your wrist to gently pull you with him. You should feel guilty about it. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside. But that same boyfriend has also been ignoring you all night. Daniel is just being friendly. You follow him to one of the fire pits with a smile on your face.
You and Daniel are nearly two hours into wandering when someone calls your name. You look up from where you’ve been staring at the beanbag board, trying to line up your throw just right. You’d been on the verge of winning for the first time. For an Australian, Daniel is surprisingly good at American lawn games. Frustratingly good, even.
It’s your boyfriend, calling you from the doorway of the reception hall. You sigh and drop the beanbag onto the ground near your feet. Two of the other groomsmen are hanging off of him, looking worse for the wear. One of them has something down the front of his shirt- you pray it’s not vomit.
“I think that’s my cue,” you say, nodding towards the building.
“You could always put them in a cab and hope they figure it out on their own.” Daniel says. You give him a skeptical look. “Kidding, kidding.”
“It’s tempting,” you admit.
Daniel bends over and picks up your heels from where they lay in the grass. You’d kicked them off as soon as you stepped into the soft grass outside. You slip the shoes back on and wince. Then you stick your hand out to him, palm open.
“Well, it was lovely to meet you,” you say, as he shakes your hand once more. “Thanks for not leaving me all alone.”
Daniel laughs. “I will be your ‘I-know-nobody-at-this-event-‘ partner anytime you want, sweetheart. Just give me a call. I’ll be there.”
You know what he’s trying to do. The opportunity is right there in front of you. He’s telling you to give him a call- this is where you ask for his number. But you have a boyfriend. You can justify hanging out with him, especially considering you had nothing else to do, but asking for his number feels a step too far.
You smile softly and drop his hand. “Goodnight, Daniel.”
You turn and make your way towards your boyfriend. He’s already complaining before you’re even within ten feet of him, about how he’s tired and he looked everywhere for you and how could you disappear like that? You apologize, just to quiet him down. You usher the three men inside before you turn to look at Daniel one more time.
He’s standing there, watching you, a sad smile on his face.
“Who was that guy?” Your boyfriend asks later, from the passenger seat of the car.
You look at him, at his eyes. The light is gone- he’s blacked out, there’s no way he’ll remember this tomorrow.
“Daniel Ricciardo,” you say.
It’s a testament to how drunk he is that he doesn’t even react.
You get all three guys into bed, including your boyfriend. You lay down next to him, as much as you don’t want to. There’s not really anywhere else to sleep in the little hotel room, and you’re not sleeping on the floor. When you close your eyes, you can’t fall asleep, plagued by thoughts of if you’d made the right choice, unable to erase Daniel’s sad smile from your memory.
…..
You love weddings. You remind yourself of that over and over again as you pin a dress in place for the hundredth time that day. Your best friend Natalie is a bridesmaid, it’s her sister who’s getting married, and you’re here to help in any way you can. So far, that’s included safety pinning, making a run for alcohol, checking on the floral delivery, checking to make sure the groomsmen are where they’re supposed to be, and comforting a bridesmaid who was crying in the bathroom. Her boyfriend had broken up with her the night before.
“Men are shit,” you’d told her in commiseration.
By the time the ceremony rolls around, you’re relieved to have a chance to sit down. You check on the bridesmaids one last time and head into the church. The pews are packed with people, so you find a spot near the back and sit down. You sigh in relief.
The music starts playing, and you finally take a chance to look around. The pews are decorated with flowers, there’s bright light streaming through the large windows. The groom waits up front, eyes already watering. You love weddings. You say it like a mantra in your head.
As the procession starts, you scan the crowd. You know more people at this wedding, having been friends with the family for a while. You’ll at least have some company at your table. You spot a couple friends from high school, a cousin you’ve met a few times, some mutual friends who you’ll definitely have to catch up with later. And then, in the third row on the groom’s side, you see dark curly hair that looks terrifyingly familiar.
It can’t be him. That would be absolutely insane. There’s absolutely no way Daniel Ricciardo is attending a second wedding in the US, for a couple who are no more famous than the previous wedding you’d seen him at. It would make absolutely no sense. And yet, you can’t stop staring at the back of this man’s head, the slope of his shoulders beneath his dark suit. You remember that wedding, months ago, resting your hand on his shoulder for balance as you took off your heels. He’d joked about having to cut you off, holding your Shirley Temple in his hand.
When the bridal procession begins playing, everyone stands. You keep your eyes on him. He turns, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s Daniel. It’s impossible, it’s irrational, but it is him. You’d recognize him anywhere.
You force yourself to look away, to turn towards the bride. She looks beautiful, perfect, the picture of elegance. The flowers in her hands, the ones you’d checked on that morning, are perfect too. You breathe a sigh of relief. She really should’ve hired a wedding coordinator. Maybe you should be a wedding coordinator.
When you go to sit back down, you sneak a glance at Daniel. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, eyes wide. You meet his gaze and your cheeks feel hot. That wide, bright grin breaks out across his face. You grin right back.
When the ceremony is over, and they’re officially Mr and Mrs, the whole wedding disperses out onto the lawn of the church. There are shuttles to take you to the reception, but everyone seems content to mingle outside in the fresh air. You’re one of the first ones out, but you’re quickly swept up in the crowd. You search for Daniel in every face that passes. You find Natalie first, though.
“Nat,” you say frantically. “Does your sister know Daniel Ricciardo?”
Her brow furrowed for a second. “What?”
“Danny Ricciardo,” you repeat, keeping your voice low. “The F1 driver. He’s here.”
“Oh,” Natalie says, brows raising. “Yeah, he’s like, friends with her fiancé- oh, her husband! Shit, I forgot that you watch that stuff- or, you… did? I can probably try and introduce you-“
“No, we- we’ve met.” You admit. She’s the first person you’re telling about this. “At that wedding like 6 months ago.”
She tilts her head at you. Her eyes go wide. She says your name in a bewildered tone.
“Are you telling me that the mystery wedding man, who you definitely should’ve dumped your boyfriend for, was fucking Danny Ricciardo?”
“Keep it down!” You shush her.
“Oh my god,” she says, a conspiratorial smirk crossing over her face. “And he’s here.”
Someone calls your name. You know that voice- it’s haunted you since you left that wedding. You turn over your shoulder as Natalie grabs your wrist and lets out a squeak.
“Danny,” you breathe, like a sigh of relief. “Hi.”
He strides up to you, handsome as ever, grinning so widely it looks like it hurts. “This is fucking insane.”
An elderly aunt glares at him. He makes an apologetic face before turning back to you and shrugging. He steps into your space, so close you can smell his cologne. He’s staring down at you through his lashes. The look in his eyes is so soft and warm that you think you’re melting.
“The bride is my best friend’s sister,” you explain, gesturing at Natalie. “This is Natalie.”
“I’m friends with the groom,” he says, reaches his hand out and shakes Natalie’s hand. “I’m Danny, nice to meet you.”
She nods, and suddenly you’re very afraid. Natalie doesn’t have much of a filter, especially in high pressure situations. Especially when she’s been forced to be prim and proper all morning.
“You must really like American weddings,” she says, and you wince. “I hear this is your second one in 6 months.”
Daniel smirks, raises his eyebrows at you. “Huh. Wonder what else you’ve heard about me.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but you shove her shoulder. “Nat, aren’t you supposed to be taking family pictures?”
She’s so busy staring at Daniel she almost doesn’t hear you. Then her eyes go wide. She swears loudly, earning a glare from the same aunt. Then she drops your wrist and takes off through the crowd.
You turn towards Daniel. “Sorry about her.”
He shakes his head. “No need. She seems sweet.”
You smile. “She is.”
“Makes sense, since she’s friends with you,” he says. “The sweetest of them all.”
You laugh, shove at his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”
Behind him, people are starting to get on the shuttles. He’s leaning towards you, eyes still lit up.
“I honestly can’t believe this,” he says.
“Neither can I,” you admit. “It’s.. it’s really good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you,” he echoes. “Feels like a sign, doesn’t it?”
You open your mouth to agree, to tell him what you’ve been thinking the past 6 months, but Natalie is calling your name. You and Daniel both turn to look at her, and the look on her face tells you she’s so sorry. You sigh and shrug.
“I have to go,” you tell him. “That bridal party is a mess.”
“Worse than the last one?” He asks.
“No,” you say. “And I don’t have to drive any of them home, so that’s a bonus. But I think I’ll be billing them for wedding coordinator expenses after this. Or at the very least, drinking enough at the open bar to make up for it.”
Daniel laughs. “Atta girl. Should I save you a seat on the shuttle?”
You let out a puff of air. “I’m riding over with the bridal party.”
His face falls in disappointment. “Okay. Find me when you get there, yeah? I’ll have a Shirley Temple waiting for you.”
You nod. “Make it a Dirty Shirley, would you?”
He nods eagerly and squeezes your arm.
You don’t actually make it into the reception until nearly an hour later. There’s an emergency with a groomsman’s tux, and the girl who was broken up with the night before is crying again. Nothing that can’t be fixed with safety pins and tequila, but it still takes time. You check your name on the seating chart, sigh at the sight of the name next to yours, the seat that will stay empty. You find Daniel’s seat, too, a few tables over from yours. You head there first.
Daniel is sitting, a beer in hand and a very watery Shirley Temple on the table in front of him. He’s chatting with the man sitting next to him, who looks a bit starstruck. He perks up when he sees you, reaching for your drink. You take it happily and have a sip, tasting ginger ale, grenadine, and vodka, too.
“The ice is a bit melted,” he says with a sigh. “But good news! Ian here has offered to switch seats with you.”
Ian is looking between you and Daniel, eyes wide. You’re sure he did offer, likely after Daniel had told him the whole crazy story, or at least enough to convince him. You watched him charm bartenders at the last wedding- he has a way with words. Ian starts to stand up.
“That’s really not necessary.” You say, and Daniel’s face falls. “There’s an empty seat at my table.”
He lifts his brows, grinning again. His brown eyes stare deep into your own. He stands up without waiting another moment, handing you your drink and holding his own.
“Ian, nice meeting you,” he says. “I’ll still get you those paddock passes,” he promises, and you bite back a laugh. “See ya ‘round, mate.”
He follows you to your table. There’s a setting with your name on a little card, and the empty setting next to it with another name on it. You grab that card and crumple it in your hand, shoving it into your purse. He quirks a brow but sits down anyways as you greet the others at your table- cousins of the bride and friends who you’ve met a few times.
“So. How’ve things been?” You ask, and he launches into a story that has you listening with every bone in your body.
Somehow, the two of you make it all the way through dinner and speeches and the first dance before the subject of your boyfriend even comes up. You wonder if he’s been waiting to broach it. You’ve been waiting for the right moment.
He nods towards the dance floor. “You have to promise me you’ll dance to at least one song tonight.”
You blink and shrug. “Easy. I love dancing.”
He stares at you. There’s the beginnings of another wide grin on his face.
“That is not what you said last time.”
“I lied,” you admit. “Because my boyfriend hated dancing.”
Daniel nods. “Hated. Past tense?”
“He’s not dead,” you deadpan, making him laugh. “But he’s also not my boyfriend anymore.”
Daniel’s foot nudges against yours under the table. “No?”
“No,” you say with a shrug.
Daniel nods. “Pretty girl like you, you must’ve moved on pretty quick,” he says.
His tone is light, teasing. He’s testing the waters. You shake your head and pretend you don’t see the way his shoulders sag in relief.
“I’ve sworn off dating,” you tell him. Your tone is teasing, too. “After he left me on my own at a wedding, I decided men are shit.”
You’re taunting him now. The conversation has gone from feeling each other out, from digging for information, to circling each other like sharks in the water. Your heart is beating steady in your chest. His eyes are locked on yours.
“You poor thing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Let me prove you wrong?”
The tension crackles in the air. His knee nudges against yours and you swear you’re going to combust. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and reach for his suit jacket. You run your finger down the lapel, then back up, adjusting his collar.
“I swore off men,” you repeat, leaning forwards, keeping your voice low. “But this feels like a sign, doesn’t it? Like the universe sent me back to you.”
He nods. He reaches up, captures your wrist in his hand and holds it against his chest.
“So maybe you should go get me another drink,” you suggest. “And I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
You lean even closer, then, close enough to press your lips to his cheek. Then you stand up and walk away towards where people are beginning to gather, to where the music is loudest. You don’t turn back to see if he’s watching. You already know he is.
…..
You have a fleeting thought, later, that maybe you should’ve switched to a drink with less sugar in it at some point in the night. The grenadine feels like it’s stuck to your tongue. Danny doesn’t seem to mind the taste, though.
He’s got you up against the wall in a back hallway of the reception venue. You back is pressed to the cool surface, your arms around his neck, his hands on your hips. His lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you deeply, like he’ll never get enough. You’re feeling the same.
His knee slots between your legs, and you’re a goner. His hand slips from your hip and cups your ass, hauling you closer with ease, tilting your hips away from the wall and into his. You break away for air, gasping for it, and he moves his lips to your neck. It feels heavenly, trapped between him and the wall, his hands all over you, his lips trailing lower and lower. He reaches up and brushes the thin strap of your dress off one of your shoulders. You shove your hands under his suit jacket and press them against his toned abdomen through his shirt. He lets out a groan, the noise vibrating against your neck. You throw your head back and laugh between gasps.
You wonder if he’d have his way with you right there. You wonder if you’d let him.
There are footsteps, then, clicking their way down the hall. You scramble to push him away as someone rounds the corner, but you know it’s painfully obvious. You turn your head, already feeling mortified, and come face to face with Natalie.
“Oh, thank god,” both you and your best friend say at the same time.
Daniel pulls away and looks between the two of you. You can’t look at him for more than a few seconds. His lips are red and puffy, his eyes half lidded. You distantly wonder if there’s beard burn on your face, if your lips are just as red. Then you start to wonder how his scruff might feel on other parts of you.
“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Natalie says, laughing. “I heard noises, I thought…”
“I’m fine,” you tell her, and she nods in agreement.
“I’ll say,” she teases.
“Nat!” You hiss.
“You’d better take good care of her, Ricciardo,” he says, and your face grows hot all over again. “I don’t care how famous you are, I’ll fuck you up anyways.”
“Nat!” You hiss again.
“I will,” Danny promises, squeezing your hip and nodding. “I’m on a mission. Trying to prove not all men are shit.”
“Good luck,” Natalie says drily. But when she walks away, she’s smiling.
He turns back to you, and this time he places both his hands on the wall on either side of your head. You look up at him, licking your lips. You still taste the Shirley Temple, and you can taste him, too, now. He groans softly and closes his eyes. It’s nice to know you’re having an effect on him, too, nice to know you’re not the only one feeling worked up. You reach up and tug on the lapels of his jacket. You brush your lips against his jaw.
“We should have one more drink,” you tell him, humming happily. “And then you should take me to your hotel.”
He swallows. You press a kiss to the center of his throat.
“I’ve never heard a better plan in my whole life.” He says.
…..
At every wedding you go to afterwards, you order the same drink. Well, really, Danny orders them for you. You’ve thought a couple times about asking for wine or seltzer or even beer. You think it might break his heart, though. It’s a tradition now, and the pink sugary concoction will always taste like that very first night. Like bare feet in the grass, the thud of beanbags against wooden boards. Like Daniel’s laugh in the middle of the best man’s speech. Like you, alone at a table, and Daniel collapsing into the seat next to you, his hand extended to shake yours.
The same hand that’s wrapped up with yours now, resting on his knee. You never want to let go. You’re pretty sure he’d be okay with that.
Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams
#daniel riccardo x reader#Danny Ricciardo x reader#Daniel Ricciardo x you#Danny Ricciardo x you#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#honeywrites#formula 1 fanfic
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closer ; coriolanus snow
pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader
words ; 3.4k
about ; you and coriolanus have never exactly gotten along, and all of that boils over at a party you're hosting. based off of this request.
warning(s) ; smut, fingering, p in v sex, not edited, mentions of choking someone out (lol)
authors note ; please feel free to request fics or headcanons or blurbs! i hope u enjoy :) kinda got carried away with this one.
Coriolanus was, for lack of a better word, obsessive.
He was obsessive in the things that he did, the people he saw, the way he dressed, he was obsessive to the point that anyone who had even a glance as to what he was thinking would think that he was insane. It was no way to live, but the spiny, tingly feeling that rose up his spine when he felt the obsession for yet another thing growing was enough to keep him tethered in his ways. He’s a reserved, meticulous man who never let himself be seen as anything other than such, no one had ever seen him make one mistake, not since he was a young child. He was erratic, cold and calculated all at the same time. He didn’t like when things didn’t go his way, and he certainly didn’t like when he felt that someone was trying to best him.
And that’s what you seemed to do, try to best him. All the time, you would walk into a room and all eyes would turn to you instead of him. You always had a way with your words, speaking to the hearts of people and reminding them that you were the Academy’s darling. It made him sick to his stomach, the knot twisting into a more convoluted mess within his gut until he wanted to throw up what little he had to eat that day. He had never felt this way about someone before, whatever it was, and he didn’t like it, not one bit. With you, he felt as if he had no control. With you, people didn’t fall under his spell.
The party bustled all around, the lavish hall that it was situated in being filled with the noises of mentors and peers alike, all in celebration for the next Hunger Games. It was at your house, which pained Coriolanus, but made sense. You were always looking to help out, and it seemed to be the perfect opportunity for the Dean to ask if you and your family would host this gathering. You considered it done the moment it was asked of you, all you had to do was ask your parents for the money and for the time and you organized the whole thing. It was going perfectly. Many people came up to you, chiding about how wonderful the party was, how they hoped that they would get some of the appetizing leftovers from the snack table. You gave smiles, your laughter filling up the space that Coriolanus could hear, wanting nothing more than to smack you silly, to prove that you were not better than him.
It was stupid, really, considering you had done nothing to prove that you were trying to humiliate him. It was all twisted in his mind. And he was determined to make things right, whatever that meant.
He made his way to you, dressed in a pressed white dress shirt and black slacks, accenting his long legs, his usually curled hair pressed back only a bit in a styled fashion. He was handsome, there was no denying it. Your eyes met his blue ones, almost being enveloped in the sea of them as he made his way further.
“Well then, if it isn’t the Academy’s darling,” Coriolanus said, his tone nothing but authoritative, as if he was trying to make you feel uncomfortable. You were used to his slight jabs, the way that he always seemed to want to push your buttons. You paid it no mind, not letting him have the satisfaction. “How much of daddy’s money did you have to spend to pull this off?”
You rolled your eyes, pearled white teeth biting your tongue as you chose your words carefully. “Coriolanus, do tell me, is it your mission in life to be a thorn in my side?” A playful jab, something that you could easily spin out as being a tease if the wrong person was to hear. After all, you wouldn’t want your reputation to tank over one encounter. That was the thing about the Academy, always somewhere there was someone watching, listening. You were never alone.
Thorns. They reminded him of his Grandma’am’s roses, how the things would get caught in your skin if you weren’t careful enough. There had been many times where he had cut himself on the barbs, the tip digging into the thin layer of his hand and drawing blood when he had gone to cut one for his outfit. He thought to himself how he wanted to be a thorn in your side, how he wanted to poke and prod at you until he drew blood, to see your perfect image falter under his touch. He chuckled at your words, the crease lines of his smile oh so evident as you looked at his stupid, perfect face. He leaned in, the smell of roses enveloping the two of you, his face almost disastrously close to your own.
“Do you want me to be?”
You scoffed. “Being crass now?”
Of course, of course you dealt your hand in the same way that you always did. He would put himself out there, trying to get a rouse out of you, and you wouldn’t bite at the bait. You would simply leave him there, to play with himself, and it was so infuriating. For once, just once, he wished that he would see that perfectness in your stature falter. He wanted to see you ruined, whether or not he was the person to do it. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he had to be the one to ruin you. You were his, whether you knew it or not.
You walked away from him, spinning on your perfect heels and making your way to a door, opening it and closing. It was the bathroom, one of many in your house but the one that was most accessible to the party. You needed a moment alone, to freshen up, to get Coriolanus out of your mind. This was your party, he wasn’t just going to ruin it like this by using all of his stupid words. Your hand went to your forehead, pushing some of the strands that had fallen from your perfectly styled hair back to their place, leaning in and scanning your face in the mirror for any other mistakes on your clear skin. Just as you were about to turn and make your way out, you watched as the door opened and closed just as quickly, Coriolanus standing there with his back to the door. You heard the familiar click of the lock, and the way that he looked at you made you shiver. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him, moving to grab the handle but was quickly swatted away by his hand. You looked up at him, the height difference palpable, despite the heels you had on. He was so much bigger than you, he could easily overpower any move that you tried to make. “Let me through, Snow, this isn’t funny.”
“No.”
Your eyes squinted. “No?”
“You know, for someone who spends hours in front of the mirror, you’re not fooling anyone,” Coriolanus said. He took a step forward, which didn’t really make such a difference in the long run. This was a big bathroom, if you really wanted you could've had a party in here with a sizable guest list. Still, you took a step backwards, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.
“What’s your problem, Coriolanus?”
“You’re my problem,” He breathed out. “Always pretending to be so damn perfect.”
You laughed. “Well, not everyone can embrace mediocrity as effortlessly as you do.” A low blow, something you knew would get under his skin and rile him up. And it seemed to do just that, because you could see his jaw clench, perfect facade that he had seemed to falter. You had caught him off guard, he hadn’t expected you to bite back with such a fiery attitude. But maybe you had just had enough of all his button pushing, of all his mindless teasing and hating on you for what seemed like no reason. You wanted to make him uncomfortable, make him know how much you loathed him. So you continued, “Jealous much? Can’t handle the fact that I outshine you without even trying?”
Coriolanus was walking towards you before you even had a chance to move out of the way, his large body caging you in between himself and the marble counter. His hand went to your jaw, the contact of his fingertip on your skin making you heat up, a small fire burning in your chest. His grip was so hard that you were sure that it would leave a bruise. Your eyes widened, pupils blown out from the contact. You hadn’t expected for him to do this, you hated how much you liked it. How you wondered if he was this rough when he was doing other things.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly liking the way that your doe eyes widened and looked at him, like you were a deer caught in the headlights. But his mouth opened, “You don’t know anything about me.”
Which was, for the record, very true. You didn’t know anything about Coriolanus Snow because he seemed so keen on keeping things a secret. You didn’t know about his home life, the only thing you knew about him was what he was showing to you now, that he had a dark side that was starting to leak out of the cracks of his perfected persona. You gave a smile, a vile, venomous one that was meant to catch him off guard. “Yeah? So tell me, Coriolanus Snow, what don’t I know? Please, enlighten me.”
He wished that you would just shut the fuck up. He wanted to put his hand around your throat and choke you until you lost consciousness, so that he could feel like he would be rid of all the sickening thoughts about you for just one moment. He thought about leaving right now, leaving while he still had some dignity left. But Coriolanus was not one to back down from a challenge, and he certainly wasn’t one to lose the upper hand. He was in control, he had to keep his control. There was no way in hell that he would let you think differently.
The way he kissed you was bruising, like he was trying to make a mark on you forever. His teeth grazed against your lips, biting and nipping enough to almost draw blood. Coriolanus was all consuming, His one hand staying on your jaw while the other one came to wrap around your throat, disregarding his earlier thoughts and instead only squeezing a little bit, pulling you closer to him. His hips pushed into your own, you could feel his bulge through his trousers, a smirk fell on your face before he was quick to wipe it off by pushing you so much into the counter that you jumped on top of it, opening your legs and allowing him to slot in between them.
Your hands came and wrapped in his hair, pulling on the locks of goldenness that you had only fantasized before in your dreams. They were soft, just like you imagined, and the way that you pulled on them had him groaning into your mouth, his lips leaving yours to kiss harshly against your jawline, down your neck, and onto the part of your collarbone that was exposed from your dress shirt. Teeth pressing against the soft skin that connected your jaw to your neck. You sighed out, hands moving down to his torso and surrendering into his touch as if saying do anything to me, anything you’d like.
And he did, because the second he heard that sigh come from your pretty pink lips he was determined to explore every part that he could of your body. He paid extra attention to your neck, sucking just under your chin, earning a soft moan on your part at the feeling. Your hips pressed against his and each of you breathed out, liking that feeling more than anything in the world. You hated how pliant you were in his hands, something you never thought would happen in a million years with Coriolanus Snow. And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, instead pulling his head closer to your body and allowing for one of his hands to slip under your dress shirt, palm pressing against your left breast. He liked you like this, so perfectly obedient and compliant. He was going to enjoy ruining you.
His hands pushed your pants down along with your panties, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You felt insecure, instinctually closing your legs away from him. He tutted, shaking his head and taking both of his hands to spread your legs open in front of him. He stood there looking at the curve of your hips and the apex of your thighs, eyes landing on your wet center. you looked down at him while he did nothing, only staring at you. You were completely vulnerable, insides screaming for him to just touch you. He seemed to want to take his time, from the way that his hand came and rested on the inside of your thigh while his eyes looked at your face gauging for a reaction.
“What do you want, an instruction book?” You asked him, the brattiness and defiance in your tone that should’ve made him angry instead made him chuckle. His hand continued to reach further until his thumb pressed against your clit, making you groan at the feeling, your legs wrapping around his clothed waist. He was still completely clothed while you were completely pantsless. The bastard. He slid a singular finger into you, knowing that it would be enough to satisfy you for now, but it wasn’t enough.
“Coriola-”
A knock on the door made you both stop what you were doing. A voice was heard on the other end, it was your friend, wondering if you were okay since you had been in there for a while. “Y-yes! It’s fine,” You lied. “I’m just not feeling very well, I’ll be out soon!” You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to Coriolanus, who was looking down at you with a smirk. His finger was still buried in you, your pussy squeezing around his finger, wishing that he would move it. He seemed to understand what you wanted, his finger beginning to pump in and out, his thumb still pressed against your clit. The feeling was searing, something you weren’t even sure could just be described by words.
His finger curled up in a come here motion and you almost screamed, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had such an effect over you. He could see through your bullshit quite clearly, pushing another two fingers into you and not moving. Coriolanus had three fingers in you that he wasn’t moving, watching you squirm against his hand to create some kind of pleasure. but with his other hand he held your hips down, keeping you from moving at all.
“I want to hear you beg for it.”
“For fucks sake, Coriolanus,” you said, eyes opening to look at him.
His chest pressed against your own as he leaned in, “Beg. or I’ll leave you to finger fuck yourself.”
For a moment you thought that you weren’t going to do it, mostly because of your pride and ego. the pleasure that awaited you took over though and you opened your mouth to say, “please, Coriolanus. Fuck me with your fingers. Stretch me out. I need you.” your cheeks burned in embarrassment at your words, knowing that he would never let you live that down.
“Good girl.”
He spared not a moment more, fingers setting at an unbelievably fast pace as they pumped in and out of you. His thumb massaged figure eights on your clit and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. Your head arched back, feeling him hit your g spot every single time his fingers fucked into you. Soon enough you were cumming, opening your eyes and seeing blurry vision. He kept pumping his fingers, mouth finding home on your neck to give you more marks, perfect petals like a perfect rose. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to hide all of them.
You took a minute to catch your breath and for that moment he wasn’t touching you at all made you miss his touch more than you were willing to admit. You heard the sound of pants unzipping and soon enough Coriolanus was in between your legs, this time his cock in his hands as he pumped lazily. He was big, you thought to yourself. Of course he was, considering all he had done with you so far, he was just preparing for you to be almost speared open by his cock. Incoherent words spilled from your lips, all different forms of begging for him to just push it in, and he finally gave you the satisfaction, the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance. Coriolanus pushed all the way in, inch by agonizingly slow inch, his own eyes falling shut at the feeling of your warmth around him.
Once he bottomed out, he pulled out, pushing back in. You hissed at the feeling, not all the way used to the feeling of him stretching you out but loving it anyways. He buried himself into you like he owned you and you loved it. His hands came to your hips and thrusted in and out with such force that your whole body moved with every single rut into you. He shed no mercy, hitting that one spot every single time mercilessly.
Your hands fumbled to touch him, anywhere you possibly could. Eventually you made your way to his back, fingernails digging into his skin enough to probably draw blood from underneath the white button up that he was wearing. You scratched up and down, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust from underneath your shirt, your mouth opened slack. The heat in the room was almost unbearable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
He grabbed your thigh and hoisted it up, moaning at the new angle that he hit within you. Your eyes teared up with the pleasure that coursed through you, once again about to hit that brink once again. You were already pretty sensitive from the previous orgasm. His name sounded so pornographic coming from you that he tried his best to remember how it sounded. It was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. You looked so fucking good taking him like this. He felt as if he had everything he ever wanted in the palm of his hands. And he was making you feel good, better than anyone ever had before.
This drove his pride, thrusting animal like into you to take you to that peak again. He wanted to make you cum again. And you did, after about three thrusts from him, each one pulling out all the way and pushing in with force. his hand slipped down to rub your clit in figure eights and you came with a yell of his name into his shoulder, biting down on the fabric to try and muffle some of it so that passersby wouldn’t hear what was going on inside the bathroom. Not even two thrusts after, he was cumming, a low groan eliciting from his lips while his body stalled slightly on top of you. Each of your skins were drenched with sweat that you two almost stuck to each other. He pulled your face to meet his own and gave you a quick peck, and continued this all the way down your neck then stopping to bury his face into the crook of your neck, composing himself.
He didn’t pull out, not right away, thinking that he had gotten all that he wanted.
And there was no way that he could let you go now.
taglist ;
@obaewankenobis ; @slyhersophia ; @narcissistic-siren ; lmk if you want to be added.
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#tbosas#the hunger games#tom blyth
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Alastor x Fallen Angel! Reader
Accidentally getting 'married' to Alastor
Part 2
You fucked up.
You don't know what you did but you know you fucked up somewhere. One moment you were in heaven doing something, the next you see a red sky in front of you. The feeling of air rush behind you as you finally realize that you were falling, the smell of something burning and rotten eggs surrounding you as you fall deeper and deeper to your demise. Or what you thought was your demise, what you instead fell onto was a roof that momentarily broke your fall, before face planting to the ground. That wasn't graceful of you.
Groaning in pain you try to sit up before a sharp burning sensation spreads through your back, at where your wings was supposed to be. The sound of dripping enters your ears and your vision is blurry when you try to open your eyes, you can only see blobs of colours and the most prominent one was red as well as... Gold. Pupils dilating, your eyes finally take in the view in front of you. White feathers fall around you as golden blood seeps into your white clothes, the pain, you realise came from your wings, getting ripped apart and burning off when you fell. You try to decipher where you're currently at, from what you see, you seem to be in an alleyway, behind you is a dumpster covered in your blood and feathers, following the trail of blood you see the roof you hit when you were falling.
You hypothesize where you're supposed to be, with how adamant Heaven is in teaching angels not to do any sins nor question the higher ups, its kind of impossible not to know what will happen to those who defy heaven as well as where they will go. A pentagram encompassing the whole red sky, the scent of sulfur, blood, and brimstone flooding your senses, with this in mind you now know where you are.
"I'm in hell..."
"Yes you are, my good fellow!"
Startled, you scream and cover your head in hopes of protecting it.
"Well that's quite rude! You're not supposed to scream bloody murder when someones trying to be friendly you know?," his voice was odd, staticy, akin to an old radio.
You sheepishly drop your hands down to your lap and look up at the man in front of you. He's quite the tall demon, dressed in red... well actually everything about him is red, save for the black accents in his outfit and ends of his hair. Speaking of hair you keep glancing up at the tufts of hair attached to his head, and if you look closely, the antlers hidden behind his fluffy bangs. Is he supposed to be a deer? That's actually really cute.
"Erm... Sorry, just I was just surprised someone popping out from nowhere," you reply, hands fidgeting with one of your broken feathers.
Eyeing the golden blood and the broken wings behind you, the demon grins, showing off his sharp yellowed teeth. Nevermind that's TERRIFYING.
"Now what's an angel doing in hell? Not to mention a bleeding one! How tempting," he licks his teeth, already thinking about how delicious your angel meat would be.
Something tells me that this demon is NOT here to help. Now think! Make something up so you wont get killed by this red deer thing!
"I'm your spouse assigned by heaven!," you blurt out, not even thinking properly due to the fear of death.
Both of you froze as you stare at each other, one with horror, and one with disgust.
"And why do you think I would believe that?," sneering, he starts to creep closer and closer.
"Because... That's the reason why I fell! How can I meet my husband if I'm in heaven and you're in hell? I was so eager to meet you that I turned myself into a fallen angel just to be with you!," you smile widely, desperately trying to convince him.
He raises an eyebrow at that, mulling over whether you're telling the truth or not. Even if you are lying it'll be good to have a fallen angel on his side, and it'll be quite hilarious seeing the expressions of the hotel staff reacting to you being his spouse.
"If I am your fated one, what's my name? Surely heaven must have given you my name at least?"
Oh Gabriel's trumpet he got you there. "Alastor...?," unsure, you gave out a random name. If you're wrong, hopefully he kills you quickly.
...
"Hm. Perhaps you truly are who you say you are. Forgive me for being quite rude earlier, it's unbecoming from your husband to be." Holy cow you are lucky. You breathe out, the nerves simmering.
"Come on then let's get you cleaned up! What kind of husband will I be if I don't provide for you my dear?," he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere. His shadow cleaning up all the blood and feathers in the alley.
Now that's out of the way... What the fuck did I do to become a fallen angel???
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#maybeeeee soon to be yandere alastor?
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Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)
pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader
genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff
description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.
warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF
quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)
wordcount: 10.0k
a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx
Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.
You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back?
You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone.
You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else.
You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job.
Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.
You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.
Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.
Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes.
What do normal people do when they feel this bad?
Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you.
Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope.
There’s never anyone at the door.
_____________________________
This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.
The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street.
The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone.
Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch.
Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.
“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.
“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.
“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.
“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.
“Morning.”
“M-”
Wait a minute.
Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him.
The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs.
He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs.
“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.”
You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”
“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”
Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk.
You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work.
A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work.
This is not new.
Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone.
Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead.
You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.
You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive.
“Hey, Y/n?”
You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.
“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.”
Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..”
He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are?
“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!”
“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?”
“Uh-”
Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.
“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor.
“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?”
“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.”
“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.
You feel like shit.
_____________________________
Why is no one else cursed?
You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike.
No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets.
The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie.
Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.
And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits.
You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.
It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.
It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone.
When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.
“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself.
“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.”
He leaves.
When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.
It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead.
_____________________________
The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you.
“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.
“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.
“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.
“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.
“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.
“Morning, Wonwoo.”
And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done.
The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead.
“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that.
“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not.
“My favorite woman in accounting!”
“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back.
“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today.
“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”
Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!
“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this.
“That’s great-”
“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!”
Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.
“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”
You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers.
However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin.
“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.”
“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes.
“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-”
While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.
Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks.
It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight.
Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again.
Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself.
“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.”
Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”
“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.”
A pause.
“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand.
“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self.
The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you.
This would be torture.
_____________________________
It is not torture.
The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage.
You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic.
You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room.
Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.
“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you.
“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.”
You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-”
You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.
“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.”
Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life.
Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office.
Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats.
“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly.
You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.”
There’s a pause.
Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb.
“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.
“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.”
Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-”
“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.
It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you.
“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling.
He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing.
The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder.
“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.”
You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier.
“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down.
Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning.
Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.
Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you.
“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you?
“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?”
You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe.
Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms.
Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair.
“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”
“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.”
You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer.
Eventually, he lets you go.
You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve.
“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again.
“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Of course.”
When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real.
_____________________________
You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even.
This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it.
The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing.
You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?
Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together.
You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.
Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares.
“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again.
He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs.
Your eyebrows furrow.
“Wha-”
“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?”
“Cured?”
“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.”
“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.
“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”
To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert.
“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?
“We can just hug if you-”
You feel bold.
Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him.
Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile.
What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?
“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut.
Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world.
“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.”
His hands run up and down your sides.
“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.
“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”
“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close.
“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it.
Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans.
“Wonwoo,” you pip.
“Mhm?”
“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.”
Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him.
Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here.
“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.”
The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position.
“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly.
“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.
“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst.
“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone.
“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.”
He does take care of you.
Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual.
You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you.
You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you.
And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart.
There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart.
_____________________________
“We’re almost done.”
“Mhm.”
“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”
Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm.
“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin.
“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..”
A pause. He tilts his head.
“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy.
“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.”
A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.
“We’re not done.”
“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels.
“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips.
There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer.
He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers.
“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?”
At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning.
Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy.
“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish.
“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.”
The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.
There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more.
Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?”
He breathes out unsteadily.
“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-”
He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them.
“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely.
You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?”
He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!”
You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.
“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.”
He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly.
“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?”
Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips.
“Please.”
That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.
The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting.
“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.
“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.”
Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.
“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”
You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.”
“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.
“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.”
Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?”
You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs.
“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.
Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table.
His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.
He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep.
“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.”
He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you.
“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”
“W-What?”
“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers.
“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!”
“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.”
“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.
“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”
“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.”
At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.
“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again.
“God, I think I might fall in love with you.”
That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his.
“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek.
He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.
You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly.
“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”
“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.
“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.”
His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure.
“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting.
“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?”
The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips.
“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you.
“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy.
“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?”
“We don’t have to-”
“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks.
“It’s just if you were too tired..-”
“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods.
“Okay. C’mere then.”
You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down.
His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.
You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly.
“Come ride me, baby.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin.
The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.
“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation.
“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile.
“Can I put it in?” you ask.
“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?”
You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat.
His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest.
“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them.
“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce.
Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability.
“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”
You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum.
Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock.
“You’re so pretty, baby.”
“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”
“Pretty girl.”
“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”
Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold.
“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”
You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet.
And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses.
His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love.
You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him.
You catch your breaths.
“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum.
After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you.
“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused.
“Am getting your dick out of me?”
His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling.
“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?”
He tilts his head teasingly.
“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”
#jeon wonwoo x reader#smut#wonwoo smut#jeon wonwoo smut#svt smut#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#svt angst#wonwoo angst#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x you
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Kitty, Kitty | Neteyam
Pairing: neteyam x human!reader
Notes: hes basically a cat :3C
w/c: 646
w/n: im on a major writers block so i hope you guys enjoy this one T v T
“Y/N! Wake up!” Spider bangs against your door. You hear a loud shush, followed by the screeching of your old metal door.
“Y/N, the Sully kids are here and they want to see you,” Norm says quietly as he rubs your little back. You slowly open your eyes, nodding tiredly. You follow the older man out of bed, rubbing your eyes as the two of you walk down the hallway into the main area of the lab.
Spider is already fooling around with Lo’ak and Kiri, but there’s another na’vi present.
All of the ‘kids’ are a bunch of years older than you but they insist on hanging out with you so you don’t feel lonely. Plus it’s boring just hanging out with the adults in the lab.
“Hello Y/N.” Kiri greets, swooping you into her arms. You giggle lightly, wrapping your arms around her neck. You hang with Kiri the most. She has a calming aura and is the only one who can properly speak English for you.
“Who’s that?” You ask, pointing over her shoulder. She turns around, “Oh, that’s my older brother, Neteyam.” The na’vi sounds out for you slowly. You nod, eyeing the boy curiously. He’s a lot taller than his other siblings, a little quiet and shy looking, but friendly looking nonetheless.
“Do you want to say hi? It’s his first time here so he's a little shy.” You nod again. You wiggle out of Kiri’s arms and she lets you down. You pitter-patter towards the tall boy. If you thought Kiri and Lo’ak were tall, he must be like a titan. You stop a few feet away from him, just staring. He looks down and meets your gaze, tilting his head in curiosity as well. He crouches down so he’s somewhat your height. Kiri had warned him to be gentle with you, you were a little smaller and fragile compared to Spider, who was rough-housing with Lo’ak every second possible. So he keeps his hands to himself. Neteyam wasn’t very enthusiastic about coming to the lab, it was never interesting to him, but Jake had insisted that he goes with his siblings today.
“Hello,” he sounds out, his accent heavy.
“Hi,” Your hands are already running over parts of his arm, fingers connecting the little white dots that scatter his body. “Neteyam.” You spoke slowly, looking up at him for some confirmation that you said it right.
He nods, a small smile crawling up over his lips. His knowledge in English words is limited, so your conversation doesn’t go beyond this point. The large na’vi boy eventually sits on the ground, letting you climb onto his lap.
“You’re really nice,” You smiled, “How old are you?” Neteyam stays silent for a while, just looking at you.
“I’m eleven.”
“Hi eleven!” You joked, but the na’vi boy merely looked at you. “Oh, you don’t know jokes?” He remained quiet. You remembered Kiri’s words and decided to not try and pry words out of the eldest Sully.
“Well I’m eight years old turning nine,” your hands touch his ears curiously, the organ twitched at contact. “You’re like a cat!” You exclaimed, he still did not know what you were talking about.
After a while, Kiri approaches you and Neteyam, ears bombarded with you talking Neteyam’s ears off about something called ‘cats’. You remained in Neteyam’s lap, your small fingers fiddling with the na’vi’s braids and ears. Unbeknownst to him, he had started nuzzling into your touch.
“Tsmukan, we have to go now.” Neteyam nodded and nudged you off his lap.
The Sully siblings take their leave, leaving you and Spider to play.
“That kitty girl. . . what is her name?” Neteyam asks his sister, trailing behind Lo’ak who was already speeding through the trees.
“Kitty? That’s Y/N.”
Neteyam nodded, trying to figure out this fluttery feeling in his stomach.
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The Things That Find You
Laughing Jack x Male Reader
Genre: Smut
Summary: Reader finds an antique Jack-In-The-Box at a yard sale, unaware that by purchasing it they would also be taking home an unwanted guest.
Content/Warnings: Dubcon elements, horror elements, LJ being a stalker creep (so some non con voyeurism), LJ is just fucking weird in this one, clown fucking shenanigans, big stripey clown dick and also long stripey clown tongue, comically large clown penis, LJ eats ass, LJ is massive so big size difference, tummy bulge, that dick should NOT be able to fit in you but it’s my story i can bend the laws of anatomy however i wish, LJ is very mean in this one and doesn’t really care if he hurts you, some degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is kind of a slut boy (same), there’s a lot of build up but please it’s worth it i prommy (but also feel free to skip to the porn that’s totally fair)
Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!
Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out
Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)
Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!
A/N: Jack is british just fyi so if you’re like me and you read with accents there you go!
The antique jack-in-the-box was certainly an odd find at a garage sale, but there was no denying that it caught your eye the moment you saw it. It was incredibly ornate, clearly hand painted in all black and white and decorated with balloons and candy, not to mention it was preserved wonderfully for a piece that had, presumably, been stored in an attic for who knows how long. You could run your fingers over the edges and feel every detail of the tediously carved borders. You carefully turned the wooden box over in your hands, looking over the large, carefully painted words on the front:
“Laughing Jack In The Box!”, surrounded by all sorts of patterns and shapes.
Your face immediately lit up. Everything about this box screamed one of a kind. You could already see it sitting on your collectors shelf, safe behind the glass for you to keep and observe. You absolutely had to have it.
“Excuse me miss?” You called, looking around for the old woman who was running the garage sale. She got up from her lawn chair and made her way over about as fast as you’d expect from one as antique as some of the items currently being sold.
“Could you tell me about this jack-in-the-box?” You asked, trying to hide your elation.
“Oh, this old thing…” She began, looking at you over her comically oversized glasses. “It belonged to my great, great grandfather, Isaac, and was handmade by his father. It was given to me as a young girl, and I was keeping it in the hopes I could pass it on to my own children.”
You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the comment, but it seems the woman had no qualms about selling it.
“Well, it may please you to know that I’m an antique collector,” You explained in an effort to reassure her. “This is a beautiful piece. If you’ll sell it to me, I can promise you it’ll be safe on my shelf.”
“Oh, I have no worries about that. No one would pick this old thing up unless they knew what they were buying. So, what’s your offer young man?”
You thought for a few moments, weighing the box in your hands. You didn’t want to completely rip her off, but a one of a kind antique like this could go for thousands in the right place, and you weren’t looking to break the bank for this thing. Besides, who else would possibly buy it if you didn’t?
You pulled your wallet out and flipped through it, debating with yourself.
“How about…a clean fifty?”
And with that, a deal was made. Before you knew it you were proudly walking back to your car with the box tucked under your arm. You placed it carefully in the front passenger seat where you could watch over it, glancing back one last time to the now empty place on the table where the box once sat before driving away.
Immediately upon getting home you rushed to your room and swung open your shelf, eyes scanning over every row as you tried to find the best place for your newest treasure. It took a bit of rearranging to keep the shelf organized to your liking, but eventually you were able to place the box neatly right in the middle. You carefully closed the glass door and took a few steps back to admire your work. It was absolute perfection, and you couldn’t stop yourself from happily clapping your hands together. You deserved to applaud yourself a bit, after all.
You flopped down on your bed and grabbed your phone, eager to share your find with anyone who would listen, giddy with excitement. You really couldn’t believe how lucky you were! No one else would ever lay hands on a jack-in-the-box like this one, and now it was all yours.
As the hours of the afternoon dissolved into the night, you found yourself peeking into your room just about every time you walked past. You smiled wide whenever you saw the pristine box sitting on your shelf. It was especially beautiful when the sun hit it just right and made it shine. Your chest was still swelling with pride even as you climbed into bed for the night, able to peacefully fall asleep knowing that you’d filled another spot on your shelf today.
Unbeknownst to you, you had just given up the privilege of peaceful sleep.
That night you had one of the worst, most vivid nightmares you could remember.
You were standing in your room late at night, and everything seemed deathly silent, as if all the birds and insects that would normally be chirping outside had up and died off. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked around in confusion. You tried to turn on your lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. Trying the light switch yielded the same distressing result. You moved to open the door, but the moment you reached out for the knob it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. When you turned back, your bedroom window was gone too. Both of your escape routes had dissolved into thin air without so much as a sound.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your eyes slowly wandered to the jack-in-the-box. It was the only object left on your now open collectors shelf, but it seemed to take up so much more space than before. It had captured your gaze in an iron grip, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t look away. A terrible feeling began to bubble in the pit of your stomach, becoming heavier and heavier until you felt as though you may collapse from the weight, but nothing was happening. Something about the box itself felt so…malicious, so threatening, but it was simply sitting dormant on your shelf.
What were you so scared of?
That was the question replaying in your mind when you woke with a start, nearly falling out of your bed in your disoriented state. You shot straight up as you fought to catch your breath, taking a look around just to make sure your window and door were still there. Fortunately, they were. It really was just a nightmare.
A wave of relief washed over you as you slowly laid back down. You took an extra minute to catch your breath, silently scolding yourself for being so easily scared. You turned your head to look out the window, now noticing the very first little shreds of the dawn coming up over the horizon.
However, you noticed something else as well. Something that set off just a bit of unease in you.
The glass door of your shelf was open.
Not wide open, or broken, just slightly cracked as if it hadn’t been closed all the way and was now just barely ajar. You could’ve sworn you shut it all the way, you could even remember hearing the little click.
But we all make mistakes, don’t we?
That seemed enough of an explanation to calm you as you slipped out of bed to close the shelf once more. This time you double checked, just to be sure. When you were satisfied you went back to bed, finding sleep rather easily and this time without incident.
When you awoke some hours later you couldn’t help but question which parts of the night were a dream and which were reality. The memories of when you had woken up the first time were hazy, not to mention you were still shaken up from the nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind, though, when you found your shelf securely closed and seemingly untouched. That was really all that mattered.
It seems you had the green light to go about your day as usual.
First thing’s first: you need to change out of your nightclothes. The stained band tee and baggy sweats would not cut it for running errands. You decided on something that would be comfortable for the day, but still made you feel confident and happy with yourself.
As you undressed you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself in the mirror, standing there in just your boxer briefs. You ran a hand over your sides, turning around halfway as you admired your own figure. It was a silly habit to have, really, but what was it hurting? After all, you were one handsome man. You deserved to be seen.
You weren’t the only one who thought this, and you certainly weren’t the only one who enjoyed admiring you.
Completely hidden out of your view, just how he liked, two achromatic pinwheel eyes spun manically behind the shadows of the jack-in-the-box. He only had to lift the box just slightly, so little that you would never notice, and even if you did you would likely brush it off as your imagination. Jack was skilled like that, able to slowly lure his victims into madness in such a way that they wouldn’t notice until it was too late.
You, though, had caught his attention in a slightly different manner.
You had piqued his interest the moment you picked up his box, handling it with a curious yet careful manner. For generations he had been packed away in dusty attics and grimy basements and long forgotten storage units, completely disgraced by the family line that was supposed to cherish him. But you had plucked him from that miserable cycle, dusted him off, and placed him carefully on your shelf in a secure little spot where you could see each other every day.
This was certainly unusual behavior.
That ache of contempt that he felt for nearly everyone else somehow had yet to creep in. On some level, Jack was just as curious about you has you had been about him, and now he was safe behind the glass to keep and observe you as he saw fit. Human bodies in particular had always been an odd interest of his seeing as they looked so different from his own. Seeing you flaunt yours so proudly with no one else around was honestly a bit amusing.
He watched silently as you slipped on your day clothes, turning around a couple more times in the mirror and adjusting your outfit a bit before finally deciding you were happy. He didn’t slip back down into his box until he heard your car pulling out of the driveway.
He sat there with himself for some few hours while you were gone. He had lost any sense of time at this point, used to spending his days alone in his box. Although, this time, there was one reoccurring theme that all his thoughts seemed to circle back to:
You.
What made exactly you so interesting, hm? He could venture a vague guess, but something was just…different. His affinity for humans had long since waned to nothing nearly two centuries ago, and yet a small part of it was beginning to stir in him once more.
It seemed this would require further observation, which was certainly no issue to him.
You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware that you were currently sharing your humble abode. There were a few times when the events of the earlier night managed to worm its way back into your mind, but you always managed to push it away. You were simply being silly, that was all. It was a random occurrence with absolutely no significance.
Yeah, sure, that made enough sense.
By the time you were unlocking your front door, you had been lucky enough to truly forget about your nightmare. It seemed that you had finally calmed yourself and managed to stay grounded.
At least you had until you stepped through the door.
The second you had both feet in the doorway, the nightmare came rushing back in vivid flashes. It felt like your grocery bags were filled with cement, your limbs suddenly going weak. Your entire body had gone stiff, paralyzed with an indescribable sense of anxiety, the feeling that something was terribly, deeply wrong in your home.
You swept through the whole house and found not a single thing out of place, though every time you turned a corner you were sure you’d see something you didn’t want to.
No smashed in windows, no kicked in doors, nothing taken or broken, no other sign of an intruder. Nothing that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.
Then why was your stomach churning with the same heavy dread you’d felt in the nightmare?
You wracked your brain as you tried to figure out what could possibly be making you feel so uneasy in your own home, but nothing came to mind. Even as you put away your groceries you were mumbling and muttering to yourself, attempting to fetch any semblance of an explanation.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Jack was more than happy to watch you spin yourself into a tizzy over his little tricks. He giggled to himself when you paced back and forth where he could see you outside the doorway of your room, proud to see he hadn’t lost his mischievous touch.
You felt absolutely exhausted by the time you were trudging your way to your room, the subtle thrum of an oncoming headache already threatening to floor you for the rest of the day. You were so drained, in fact, that you had to do a double take to realize that your collector’s shelf had been completely opened.
Not just creaked open like last time, completely opened. If it had been pushed any farther, the hinges would’ve snapped.
You stared in disbelief, mouth hanging half open. You couldn’t even will yourself to move. It felt someone had just lit a match to the pile of questions that had been accumulating in the back of your mind. As if on autopilot, you walked over numbly and shut the glass door of the shelf. This time, you triple checked that it was shut.
Of course, this time you weren’t satisfied with that.
The first thing you did once you had thrown on sweats and laid down was go to order a lock for the shelf online. You even paid extra to make sure it would be delivered the next day. After all, the last thing you needed was one of your prized possessions falling out and breaking.
Yes, that was the very normal, rational reason why you needed a lock.
You sighed with exhaustion as you struggled to get comfortable in your bed, figuring maybe a nap would help you recharge a bit. By some miracle you actually managed to fall asleep, and by another you slept peacefully for a full hour uninterrupted.
Damn, you needed that. You actually felt better when you woke up, stretching and cracking your back a few times before getting up.
Suddenly your fearful reaction earlier seemed so silly! Why were you so upset anyways? Because of a bad dream and a dingy old shelf? How stupid. Really, you were lucky you lived alone. If anyone had seen you like that they’d think you were crazy, irrational, completely out of your—
The shelf is open again.
The fucking shelf is open again, and the box has moved an entire shelf down on its own.
The box has moved on its own.
You were suddenly feeling light headed.
You sat back down on your bed, your head already beginning to ache once more. You were dizzy, confused, struggling to find your bearings in reality. You held your head in your hands as you tried to take a breather. Part of you hoped that if you simply looked away then back up, maybe the problem would fix itself.
No such luck.
You groaned with frustration, practically stomping over to your shelf. You moved the box back to its original place in a quick and jumpy manner, as if it was burning hot and it would hurt to hold onto it for too long. This time you quadruple checked that it had been closed properly, and even threw a blanket over the shelf to cover it.
It wasn’t a fix, but it could at least give you some semblance of security.
“Stupid broken thing…” You muttered to yourself, speed walking out of your room to head to the kitchen where hopefully a snack could distract you.
Jack was giddy with excitement, unable to stop himself from snickering with smug self-satisfaction. It had been so long since he had someone to play with, and you were so fun to scare it almost felt too easy.
He would have to play his next cards perfectly, though, if he wanted to keep this up.
He didn’t mess with you at all the rest of the day, even when he really, really wanted to. You peaked into your room every time you walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the shelf was exactly as you’d left it every time.
Maybe, you thought for the umpteenth time, you really were just being irrational. You didn’t even have another nightmare that night, and when you awoke the shelf was still closed with the blanket untouched on top of it.
When the lock came in that day you wondered for a bit if you really needed it, but ultimately decided it was better to be over-prepared than under. You could finally remove the blanket cover on the shelf, feeling much better now that you could properly shut and lock it. You stored the key away in the drawer of your nightstand where you knew it would be safe.
For you, it seemed like everything was finally back to normal again.
For Jack, this was the perfect opportunity to increase his antics tenfold. He was becoming more and more impatient, wanting to badly to properly greet you, and with each scare he only felt himself grow stronger. He was feeding on your anguish, allowing it to fuel him until eventually he would be ready to come out and play.
For the next few weeks, Jack made you sure you found absolutely no peace. He was relentless and cruel, even by his standards. He broke your stupid little lock, and the two others you ordered after that. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d made you shut the glass door to the shelf again. Whenever you tried to cover him with the blanket, he let you know he was particularly upset with you by not only swinging the shelf door wide open, but moving his box right to your bedside table. That way, he got to see your terror up close when you jolted awake, nearly tripping over yourself to get away when you saw the box a mere couple of feet from your face. He made the house creak and jump every time you got a moment of quiet. Hell, he was petty enough to mess with the thermostat when you were out, meaning you got to return home to a freezing cold or blistering heat that was surely running up your bill. Speaking of running up your bills, it wasn’t unusual for Jack to leave the water running either.
The thing that got to you the most, though, was the incessant nightmares.
God, they never stopped.
They were almost all the same:
You’d be trapped somewhere familiar, like your room or a store you’d been at that day. You’d be completely alone and no lights would work, and when you tried to leave all the doors and windows would disappear. And every time, every goddamn time, that jack-in-the-box would be sitting there to greet you when you turned around. That was by far the worst part. Just looking at it would make you weak and nauseous, but you always woke up just before you’d collapse. Whenever you awoke from your nightmares you tried to take comfort in the sunrise beginning to slowly come up over the horizon, but deep down you knew the daylight could no longer save you.
Each day you woke up more exhausted than the last, too tired to go anywhere but not able to stand being in your house with whatever entity was making your life hell.
On the contrary, Jack was merely becoming more and more energetic every day. He hadn’t felt this eager in a long, long time. He was even feeling a bit bold, working up the courage once or twice to open the shelf while you were in the room. That scared you the most, making you jump with fear and scramble out of the room as fast as you could.
He knew you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. You could leave for the day, sure, but sooner or later you’d have to come back home. The stars must’ve aligned for him to find you, the perfect little plaything that could never really escape and gave him endless entertainment. You were certainly a funny one.
Although, there were times he enjoyed simply watching you just as much as tormenting you.
Countless times he’d find himself occupied with quietly observing you as if you were a completely foreign creature. He’d peak out of his box to watch you toss and turn at night, to watch you dress in the morning, and he even got to see you walk back from your showers a few times. You looked so soft, even from this far away, with so many places for him to grab and squeeze and wrap his massive claws around.
It was shameful, really. Or it should’ve been at least. Jack didn’t know the meaning of the word. All he knew was that the urge to reach out and grab you in his claws was growing stronger, and fast. His already minimal patience was beginning to thin, and he knew that soon it would run out completely. Watching you from afar wouldn’t be enough.
But that was okay.
He was finally ready to properly greet you, and he knew exactly how he’d do it.
That night you experienced one of the usual terrors, but this time you couldn’t recognize the room. It looked to be the bedroom of a victorian mansion with tall wooden walls decorated with dusty paintings that seemed to go up forever, closing you in on all sides. A child’s toys were scattered around the room, and the blankets on the bed had been tussled and pushed around. It was clear someone had been living here, but who? And why were you in a room you had never seen before?
And why, God—
Why was that jack-in-the-box still sitting on the shelf? And why was the crank turning on its own, playing the quiet, foreboding tune of “Pop Goes The Weasel?”
The feeling of dread that filled you was nothing new, but what you didn’t expect was to see the box slowly open as the crank continued to turn.
The movement wasn’t sudden, but it was absolutely shocking, so much so that you fell back onto your hands. You tried to scoot backwards, to somehow get away, but you couldn’t move. All you could do was watch as the lid of the box clicked into its open place, and a dark shape began to emerge.
It took a moment for you to figure out what you were looking at. The shape had sharp edges and moved slowly, in a controlled manner. It wrapped around the edge of the box and tapped against it.
It was a hand.
A massive hand with pitch black claws, each nearly as large as your palm, much too big to belong to something that should’ve been able to fit in that box.
A second clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the opposite side of the box. They looked to be pulling up the rest of the body.
You watched, mouth agape in silent horror as the claws were followed by long striped sleeves, then a head and face covered by long black hair that fell past broad shoulders, until eventually the entire body had dragged itself out of the box. The creature sat there limply with its limbs bent unnaturally as if its own body was too heavy for it to move. There was one thing about it, though, that made your blood run cold:
Above a sharp toothed smile that was stretched impossibly wide were two achromatic pinwheel eyes, spinning manically behind a curtain of dark hair. They pierced your soul with their stare, almost seeming to glow in the dark.
There was a split second where you knew you were about to wake up, but the sight before you when you forced your eyes open was so similar to your nightmare that you weren’t sure it had worked.
That…thing from your dream was hovering over you.
Its visage was completely clear to you now, hair falling around its face and on either side of your head as it peered down at you. A single glance towards its body showed it was even bigger up close, easily twice your size. It resembled some sort of clown, in line with the theme of the jack-in-the-box, but nothing about it seemed comforting or humorous.
Your first instinct was to thrash, but you couldn’t move. The clown had pinned your arms down with its massive claws, not even flinching when you tried to fight it off. It took no effort to hold you down.
Its razor-toothed mouth began to crack open, and for a second you expected it to lunge forward and end it all with one fatal snap of its jaws.
But that didn’t happen.
No, instead…
It laughed.
The laugh itself didn’t even sound malicious or evil. In any other context it could easily be mistaken as an innocent giggle, a sound you might make when you saw something particularly cute.
That was what you were to Jack:
Cute.
But not in the way you’d think.
You were cute in the way a helpless, injured animal is cute.
Cute in the way that something you could hold in the palm of your hand is cute.
Cute in the way that something you knew you had complete control over is cute.
Cute in a pathetic, pitiful way that Jack loved.
He had waited so long to have his fun with you, he was trembling with excitement.
“Oooh, there you are!” Jack spoke in a lighthearted tone, drawing out his words in a playful manner. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to sound like, but it definitely wasn’t that. You couldn’t decide if his oddly happy demeanor and sing-song tone with the cartoonish lilt of his accent was more or less frightening than the classic demonic voice of a supernatural killer.
Suddenly something uncomfortably wet slid from your shoulder to your cheek, and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you realized it was his tongue.
It was impossibly long and had the same striped pattern as his sleeves, moving in a much too articulated manner, as if it was another limb. You watched with wide eyes at it slowly retracted back into his mouth with a sickening wet sound. You could imagine it coiled up in there like a snake; after all, that was the only feasible way it should’ve been able to fit back in his mouth.
“You taste even better than I imagined…” The clown continued, taking no notice of (or at least not caring about) your discomfort. “You’ve been teasing ol’ Jack, haven’t you?”
“J…Jack?” You echoed in a whisper. You could hardly hear your own meek voice.
He only chuckled in response, taking great delight in hearing you say his name.
One of his hands released your arm, though you didn’t dare move either way. It slowly slid its way under your oversized nightshirt, pushing it above your chest and exposing your entire midriff. Both of his hands ran along your sides slowly, two claw-tipped thumbs barely scraping over your skin. Just a bit more pressure could’ve drawn blood, and it wouldn’t even take much effort on Jack’s part.
You tried not to move, to not even breathe, terrified that one wrong move would get you torn to shreds. You could imagine one razor sharp talon digging into your chest and dragging to your stomach, slicing you open in a mess of gore and intestines and oh, God—
You winced when Jack’s tongue unfurled once more, this time running from your navel all the way to your chest. It left a cold trail of saliva that made you shiver. You had to turn your head away, unable to look at Jack any longer, only to yelp in pain when you felt the sharp sting of a bite.
When you looked down again you were greeted with Jack’s smug grin.
“Pay attention to me and I won’t have to do that again.” He ordered, unblinking stare piercing through you. The tone of the demand was almost whiny, like he would throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way.
“Wh…What the hell do you want?” You choked out.
Jack didn’t answer. It would be more fun to watch you figure it out on your own.
He adjusted you in his hold, allowing him to sit up as he moved to grasp your thighs. It was then you realized you’d neglected to put on any actual pants before bed, your lower half clad only in your boxer briefs which were doing very little to keep you modest, especially as Jack lifted your clothed bulge closer to his eager mouth.
“W-Wait—!”
But your plea came a moment too late, and any other attempt at words died in your throat when you felt Jack’s tongue run over your cock through your boxers.
“Shit—! Jesus Christ…” You huffed, “What the fuck…are you doing…?”
You dug your teeth into your bottom lip and watched helplessly as Jack’s tongue ran over you once more, making you tense as you felt your cock twitch. Damn, that felt good…
You really shouldn’t have been enjoying this. Especially not this much. You expected to be much more disgusted, and yet you weren’t. In fact, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was eager to take much more.
But what choice did you have, really?
Jack certainly had no intention of stopping, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere. Besides, for all you knew you’d wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a shameful wet dream.
You tried to relax a bit in his grip, which proved difficult when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive.
Before you could blink Jack had suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making quick work of your boxers with one swipe of his claws. The sound of ripping fabric caught you off guard, and everything happened so fast you weren’t sure what had happened until you felt Jack’s tongue run over the bare back of your thighs.
“Oh my God—!” You cried out, barely managing to muffle yourself with a pillow. You held it tight against your face, and even had to bite down on it in an attempt to stop yourself from screaming when Jack slipped his tongue inside of you.
It felt even longer than it looked, squirming inside of you and leaving absolutely no spot untouched. Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly go any deeper, he somehow did, filling you with his tongue until you couldn’t fit anymore. A shame, really; he had lots more to offer, but he couldn’t expect much from such a little human.
His hands were easily large enough to grasp your waist and hold you against his mouth. You had no way of knowing, but Jack was more than aware of his own strength, even taking care to make sure he didn’t pierce you with his nails. You’d be much for fun alive, after all. Although, this didn’t mean he didn’t have a bit of fun scaring you, occasionally giving a rough squeeze just to feel you flinch. He was thoroughly invested in tasting every inch of you, but that didn’t mean he’d stop toying with you at every opportunity.
Despite his hold on you, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing desperately in his hands. You weren’t trying to fight him, but the sensation of his tongue wriggling around so deep inside of you was certainly an odd one. Your cock was already throbbing between your legs and dripping precum onto your sheets. There was a nagging urge to reach down and give your needy member some much needed attention, but you couldn’t force yourself to release your painful grip on your blanket. It was the only thing providing you any sort of purchase.
Jack was making quite the show of eating you out as well, moaning and slurping in a rather dramatic manner. He certainly wasn’t afraid of being noisy, though he made sure to stay quiet enough to listen to your encouraging noises. You sounded so desperate and needy, he just couldn’t get enough. You became especially loud when he began to slowly move his tongue in and out. He could even feel you squeeze around it, and it made his cock ache as he imagined what it would feel like to finally be inside of you.
You shuddered when Jack finally retracted his tongue, his saliva completely soaking your hole and beginning to run down your legs, leaving you now feeling thoroughly stretched but unpleasantly empty. He only let you rest as long as it took for him to close and wipe his mouth before he was manhandling you once more, this time flipping you into your previous position on your back. It happened so fast that just the impact of your head on the pillow made you dizzy.
When you looked up again Jack had leaned back a bit, looking down at his hands as he unbuckled his suspenders and soon after his pants. You followed his gaze just in time to see his own massive length spring free from his trousers.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It was bigger than anything you’d ever even imagined, and suddenly you felt embarrassingly inadequate. It too was striped, and shaped in such a way that you could easily tell it was a cock but definitely not a human one. He laid it over your stomach and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size. It was thick and heavy too, throbbing eagerly against your skin.
“W-Woah, wait, no way—“ You stuttered, attempting to crawl backwards and away from Jack. “That’s fucking giant, holy shit…You can’t— T-That won’t—“
“Shhhhh!” Jack interrupted as he roughly pulled you back to him, “Calm down, you whiny little thing. You’ll be fine.”
You only whimpered in reply, watching with bated breath as he spread your legs wide to make room for his cock. He groaned with delight when his leaking tip brushed against your waiting hole.
“A-At least be careful…!” You pleaded in a last-ditch effort to earn yourself some mercy.
“I make no promises.” Jack replied shortly, as if he was annoyed with your request. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be so careless, but surely you were being dramatic. Humans were meant to stretch, right? Surely you weren’t that fragile.
The noise that struggled out of your mouth when he forced himself into you was downright inhuman, followed by a string of curses and other equally nasty exclamations of the sort that could’ve barred you from getting you into heaven all on their own. Not that you were going either way at this point.
When Jack had finally filled you as much as he could, only about two thirds of his cock had managed to disappear inside of you. That was still rather impressive, all things considered, and it’s not like he could complain. Your tight hole squeezed around him in all the right places.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You repeated under your breath as you tried to adjust to Jack’s size, a borderline impossible task.
“Foul mouthed one, aren’t you?” He scolded, grabbing your chin roughly. “Behave, or I’ll have to wash your mouth out.”
He seemed to find that hilarious, laughing to himself as if he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life.
“You…fuckin’ freak…” You spat back at him half-heartedly. It was hard to sound angry when you were trying to catch your breath after being filled to your limit. Jack feigned a gasp of disbelief at your lackluster insult.
“Naughty, naughty thing you are! Someone simply must teach you to behave!”
He squeezed you in his grip, testing his hold one last time before he began to pull back. You thought he’d stop halfway or at least start slow, but you were left speechless as he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip still nestled inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for what was sure to be a brutal impact.
“Brutal” was an understatement.
Shit, it felt like he fucking impaled you. You choked on what would’ve been a shriek when he pushed into you again, nails digging into his shoulder so hard it would’ve drawn blood if he had any. You felt unbearably full as his cock bullied its way back inside of you until it was laying heavy in your stomach.
Jack let out a shuddering moan that dissolved into a breathy laugh as he watched you struggle to keep it together. Your mouth hanging open in a silent scream and eyes going wide with panic was exactly what he wanted to see.
“Aww, did that hurt?” He asked, and honestly the condescending tone stung a bit. You only glared in reply.
He pulled back again, slamming into you with even more force than the first time. You could feel the bed swaying beneath you from the sheer strength. You could only hope he didn’t wind up breaking it after he broke you.
Jack was never one to take things slow, and as soon as he had gotten the hang of his thrusts he set a brutal pace. Each movement made your head spin with the impact. You really weren’t built to take something so massive, you shouldn’t have been able to, but you were taking it despite your body’s protests. You didn’t want to look down, unable to even stand the thought of seeing his gigantic cock disappear inside of you.
Desperate, animalistic noises spilled through your gritted teeth and out of your mouth. Each thrust hit deeper than the last and there were times you swore he was literally rearranging your guts. Of course you would eventually adjust to Jack’s size and strength, but that didn’t shake the fear that this encounter could land you in the hospital. This fear would fade as he continued though, the overwhelming fullness and ache soon melting into a pleasure like you’d never felt before. You grasped at anything you could, whether it be your sheets or Jack’s sleeves or hair, hopelessly clawing at anything you could get your shaky hands on.
Jack’s tongue laid limp out of his mouth as he panted, shamelessly rutting into you like a toy. You were nothing but a rag doll in his clutches for him to hold and use to his black heart’s content, and then some. While you couldn’t bring yourself to look down, he was more than happy to watch his cock thrust in and out of you. The wet squelching sounds made by each little movement were like music to his ears.
He knew he must’ve been hitting deep when he noticed the bulge he was making in your stomach.
Oh, you simply had to see this!
He grabbed your hair roughly and forced you to look down.
“Ahah! Do you see that? Do you?” He asked eagerly. He took your choked noise as a ‘yes.’
“You’re so small, ahah…I wonder how deep I can go before you break in two!”
He tugged on your hair once more, this time pulling it back to expose your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he dragged his tongue slowly up your neck before pulling you into a messy kiss. It only took one second of your surprise to allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, and it quickly found its way down your throat. You were caught off guard and nearly choked, which only made Jack laugh against your lips. You could feel every little twitch or jerk it made as it explored your throat with no regard for your comfort.
Jack didn’t pull away until he could tell you were struggling for air, retracting his tongue incredibly quickly. You were coughing and heaving to catch your breath, which he apparently found very amusing. It seemed to send him into a giggling fit every time he scared you half to death.
Suddenly Jack came to an abrupt stop. You looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on something else. You felt yourself being jostled around as he shifted his position, sitting up on his knees and lifting you from the bed with one hand still around your waist and the other under your back. You were entirely supported by his hands now.
What the hell is he thinking?!
You felt him retracting once more, but this time he wasn’t moving his hips. He was moving you.
He showed no signs of struggle or even the slightest strain as he began to thrust into you again, your weight practically nothing to him. He was using you like a goddamn fleshlight, nothing more than a sleeve for his cock.
And honestly…It wasn’t so bad.
That seemed to be your breaking point, any sense of dignity you had before completely going out the window as you gave into him fully. If he was going to use you like a toy, you could at least put in the effort to be a good one.
“F-Fuck! Ah—! Jack, m-more…!” You begged, and for a moment a look of surprise flashed across his face. The last thing he was expecting was to hear you pleading for him so shamelessly, but it was a welcome surprise. His signature grin returned quickly, stretching from one pointed ear to the other.
“Oh, more he says?!” He replied, “More, more! What happened to ‘wait, Jack!’ and ‘you can’t, Jack!’, huh? Sudden change of heart?”
He was mocking your voice, degrading you so blatantly that he expected you to recoil at his nasty words, but instead you tightened around him.
Oh…you liked that.
He was more than happy to keep going.
“What is it then, hm? Or have you already gone too stupid to answer me? Aha, you really do love this!”
You nodded quickly in response, managing to push out a slurred reply that sounded vaguely like an agreement.
“Fine then,” he conceded, “I can give you more…”
And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any faster or shove in any deeper or make you cry out for him even more.
He fucked you like his current life and the next depended on it, each thrust slamming the headboard into the wall so hard it left a mark. Your legs trembled as you began to get lost in the pleasure. It all felt like a blur, a wonderful blur only broken up by the realization that you were much closer to your orgasm than you realized.
“Jack, J-Jack—! I’m close, I…I’m…” You couldn’t even choke out a single sentence of warning. Jack was more than aware of what you were trying to tell him, but he was content to let you pathetically struggle for words.
“Go on, why don’t you? If you need it so bad I won’t stop you.”
His attempt at an impartial tone was greatly hindered by his obvious excitement, a result of how close he was to his own peak and how much he desired to see you cum. He wanted so badly to see you make a mess for him, to feel you spasm around him and know that he was the one who brought you to that.
“Oh, please—!” You whined, “Please, please, please…”
You had no idea what you were begging for. You didn’t have to, though, because it seems like your pleas worked anyways. Every muscle in your body tensed on instinct, your back arching up into Jack and one last high pitched cry managing to leave your throat as you came. The force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, more intense and prolonged than any other you’d had, helpfully hastened by Jack’s increasingly erratic thrusts.
“Ahah, you squeezed so tight!” He gushed, “You feel so, so good…”
Faster, faster, faster, he had to go faster. He was so close, so close. He had to fill you, he had to. He had to see his cum dripping out of you and to know that he’d filled you with all he had and you had to be filled.
He went silent for a split second, and you knew what you were in for when his hips stuttered before going still, but you weren’t ready for the sheer amount of cum he pumped into you. He held you on his cock until he was completely done, continuing to make small ruts with his hips until he’d ridden out his orgasm to the end. There simply wasn’t room for it all inside of you, but even as it flowed out of you and down your legs and onto your sheets he continued to spill into you. You’d gone limp in his hands by the time he was done.
You barely processed the feeling of being laid back down on your bed, but you definitely winced when Jack pulled out of you. Damn, you were already sore. Not to mention your forehead was drenched with a thick layer of sweat and your thighs were soaked with a multitude of bodily fluids that you were trying not to think about right now.
You managed to crack an eye open when you heard Jack snickering.
“Tired already? A shame. I had fun.” He said casually, as if the both of you had just returned from an outing and he hadn’t practically jumped you in your own home. Your only answer was an exhausted sigh.
Jack cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. Were you really so worn out already? He wasn’t tired at all! Then again, “tired” wasn’t really something he felt…
Humans are so strange.
He laid down beside you and draped an arm over you. When he leaned in you expected him to lick you again, but instead he brought you into a kiss. An actual kiss, the first real gesture of affection he’d given you, even if it was rather brief. He pulled away to nestle his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his laughter against your skin.
“You’re a funny one, do you know that? I hope I get to play with you a lot more…”
Oh, fuck.
He wasn’t leaving, was he?
#creepypasta#creepypasta smut#creepypasta x reader#male reader#laughing jack#laughing jack x reader#laughing jack smut#clown fucker#creepypasta x male reader#laughing jack x male reader#laughing jack x you#creepypasta x reader smut#laughing jack x reader smut#tw dubcon#tw dubious consent
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hi, can you do a one-shot for klaus, where he has a crush on y/n, and they have a one-night stand, and Klaus is sad because he thinks he won't see her again, but then he gets the news that y/n n is pregnant with his daughter (reader gets pregnant, no hayley, y/n is Hope's biological mother) and klaus takes the news well, because it's someone he loves and takes the pregnancy as an opportunity to make t /n love him.
Making her love me
Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x fem! reader
Word count: 7,4k (way too long, sorry not sorry)
Warning(s): smut mention, panic attack (a little), swearing, and typical TVD violence.
Nonsense from me: I'm so excited to post it since it's my first request/ask or whatever I should call it. I hope it's basically what you asked for, Gallus Anonymous! <3
Klaus Mikaelson loved Y/N Y/S.
The original hybrid was hopelessly in love with her since the first time he met her on his family's ball. He will always remember that day.
She looked like an angel. Well, maybe more like a devil (judging by the fact that part of her hair was arranged in two small buns imitating horns), but still, she was the most beautiful girl at the party (and maybe in the whole world).
When he saw her, dancing in her black-golden dress with one of Salvatore's brothers, he knew that this girl would be his at the end of the day. Even if he has to fight with these bloody, young vampires.
Unfortunately, Y/N didn't have the same feeling when she first saw him. As a proud member of a Mystic Falls group (who returned to the town after a school exchange), she was obligated to hate the Mikaelsons.
But she must admit to herself that the man with the British accent was incredibly hot.
Damon, noticing Klaus's sudden interest in his friend, decided to use this to his advantage and pushed Y/N into the arms of their nemesis. Klaus was delighted. Y/N disgusted.
The original hybrid stuck to her for the rest of the evening, forgetting all about Caroline. Y/N has since become Klaus Mikaelson's official distraction. And she wasn't happy about it at all.
Her friends would use the Siphon Witch whenever they needed to keep Klaus occupied or to ease his bloodlust after doing something stupid (like stealing white oak stakes right under his nose and 12 obedient hybrids. Great plan, Damon!).
Y/N would have to wisely bump into Mikaelson and spend some time with him until the Mystic Falls heroes fix the shit they made. At least the girl was much less stressed compared to her friends, and sometimes she really enjoyed the company of the hybrid.
Once, a man took her to a cafe-studio where little-known Mystic Falls artists would gather. She returned to the Salvator Brothers' estate in navy blue paint, with little constellations painted by Klaus on her face, arms, and neck. Damon barely refrained from making a sarcastic remark.
Fortunately, Stefan saved him from her very likely wrath, because every time someone makes jokes about Y/N's relationship with Klaus, she gets mad and loses control over her magic power. Once, Bonnie had to repair Stefan's motorcycle. The vampire learned his lesson then and tried not to annoy her again. Sometimes, though, he seriously considered letting his older brother cross the line. He wondered if Damon would cry over a damaged car.
With time passing, Klaus had only a stronger crush on her. Everyone knows that. Expect Y/N herself.
At best, she thought the hybrid regarded her as some sort of friend or a distraction between his villainous grand schemes. There could be no feelings between them. Not when she already had a very loving boyfriend whom the original hybrid found out about at a 1920s school party.
She bewitched him completely then. And he was ready to tell her the truth about his real feelings for her and try to make her his, but then he saw this other guy holding her like he wanted to hold her the first time he met her. For Klaus, this man didn't deserve her attention; that human didn't realize how valuable a treasure he was holding in his hands right now. Klaus wanted to go away and let Y/N enjoy dancing with this lesser man. He really does. But when she turned and looked at him with these beautiful, delightful eyes, he couldn't just disappear without exchanging one last word with her.
After all, Klaus was a selfish man.
"You don't mind if I cut into you." Klaus' voice came from behind me, making me shiver.
"Yes. Actually, we do." My boyfriend snarled, recognizing the guy who was "hanging dangerously around me." He had no idea about the supernatural shite we were in and I had no idea how to tell him all of this (or just didn't want to).
Klaus just smiled unfazed, catching his gaze.
"Why don't you go somewhere far away and come back in 20 minutes? You can be useful and bring the beautiful lady something to drink." my boyfriend dutifully obeyed, leaving me with a smug hybrid. "Shall we, love?" he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, swaying to some slow, romantic song without waiting for my response.
"Why do you always have to prove you're the alpha male?"
"I don't have to prove anything, love, I'm the alpha male." he replied, offended. I rolled my eyes, sighing.
"You would've loved the 1920s, Y/N. Girls were reckless, sexy, and fun. They literally used to dance until they dropped." he turned me around, smiling slyly.
"Since they were so reckless and drunk, I suppose it was easier for you to find a lover then."
"You should be nicer to me. I'm leaving town tomorrow." I shifted my gaze to him, shocked by the information he had thrown at me. "I'd invite you to come with me, but we both know that you're not ready to accept my offer. Perhaps one day you'll turn up at my door and let me show you what the world has to offer."
"How many girls fell for it? A magical tour of the world with an all-powerful original who plays with them like toys?"
"You mark my words. Small-town boy, small-town life won't be enough for you." he said, completely ignoring my previous words.
"And how do you know what's enough for me?"
"Because I know you, Y/N. Do you imagine marrying that stupid man with whom you were dancing later? Giving him children, living too short to make your real dreams come true?" I wanted to look away from him, but he gently grabbed my chin, forcing me to confront him and all my fears at the same time. "You want love, trust, passion, excitement, and even a little power, and unlike this fool, I can give you all of this and more. Just say a word."
"But for what price?" I asked, taking a big breath.
I realized we were much closer than was appropriate for a dance, but neither of us cared. His gaze was moving from my eyes to my mouth. I licked my chapped lips unconsciously, stuck in some incomprehensible anticipation. Only for what?
"Kaus. Y/N. I finally found you two. We have a problem. Klaus' mother is back." Stefan interrupted the moment between us.
I swear I could hear a little swear from the hybrid before he took my hand and led me towards Stefan, who was hurrying away.
After that, T/N didn't get a chance to meet Klaus again. Since they were on opposite camps in finding the cure, Y/N tried to avoid the hybrid at all costs. He just wanted to use her. Seduce her with his sweet words to make her do everything he wanted. She had no other explanation.
Klaus, on the other hand, tried to get her out of his head in every way he knew how. He couldn't keep up with adding new canvases for the portraits of his one-sided crush. His siblings were starting to worry about him.
Especially after he found out her boyfriend was going to propose to her. (Damon has never been prouder of being a gossip boy.) This overflowed the hybrid's cup of bitterness.
Kol and Elijah walked around their brother like they were on eggshells. Rebekah, on the other hand, has no such pity. It was her occasion to tease Klaus, like he was doing whenever she fell in love (at least Rebekah didn't want to kill Y/N like SOMEONE).
But nevertheless, she was the one to tell Klaus that Y/N rejected her boyfriend's proposal. The original never loved his sister more. He was happy that Y/N was now single, and he even thought that in the near future he may have a little chance with her since there were no other competitors for her heart.
But even in his wildest dreams, Klaus would not have dared to think that Y/N would knock on his door that same day and greedily bite into his lips as soon as he opened it. And not that she'd start ripping his clothes off and pushing him into his bedroom (which surprised him, given that she knew how to get there without his directions).
He never would have thought that one night would change his life forever.
~•♤♤♤•~
Y/N's POV
I sighed, rolling over to the other side of the bed as the first rays of sunlight somehow hit my eye. I always kept the windows closed. How come I didn't do it this time? Reluctantly, I opened one eyes to look at my treacherous bedroom window, only to found out that I wasn't in my room.
Also, not in my bed.
And not in any clothes.
AND DEFINITELY NOT ALONE.
As soon as I looked at the calm, sleeping, and clearly satisfied (judging by his disheveled hair) Klaus, memories of last night started flooding back to me.
Panicked, I looked around the room for my clothes, trying to ignore the sight of overturned furniture, a broken mirror, and even a dent in the wall. Unsuccessfully. My face has never been so close to the color of my blood.
Once I'd traced my things, I carefully got out of bed and dressed as quietly as I could, closing the vampire's bedroom door behind me. Now all I had to do was get out of the house full of originals unnoticed. Simple, right?
"Y/N, darling! What a pleasure to see you this morning. How do you feel?" Klaus' little brother jumped out of nowhere and threw one arm around my shoulders, making me come inside the house again.
"Hello Kol. Bye Kol." I tried to dodge him, but he sped up to stand in front of me.
"Wait a minute half-witch. You're going to leave my brother like this? After your… noisy night? He'll be devastated. Was he not up to the task? I could teach him a bit if that's a problem for you. You have my word that within a week you won't be able to stop…"
"Kol! For the bloody hell, stop this awkward conversation. I'm sorry for him, usually we keep him in a coffin." Rebekah cut him off and stood next to him, glaring at him furiously.
"Um… no problem, I guess. If you don't mind, I'm gonna go now."
With even redder cheeks, I ran out of the mansion and, at the speed of light, got into my car, driving far away from this town. I needed rest, and I knew only one person who would be willing to take me under their roof without any questions.
"Hi Katherine. Where are you right now?"
~•♤♤♤•~
"Are you sure it's just food poisoning? Won't you die here suddenly? Do you want my blood?" Katherine flooded me with questions as I returned to our table.
It's been 2 months since my "great escape," as Damon liked to call it, from Mystic Falls. At that time, I was traveling with Katherine around the United States, doing what I wanted to do most: seeing the world (starting with small things like staying in all states). After the brunette gave the cure to Elijah (while experiencing her epic love story with him, which ended with her heartbreak over Elena's meddling and Elijah's doubts), she decided to accompany me on my quest.
I had to arrange everything in my head. What I wanted out of life, who I wanted to be, and so on.
That was the main purpose of this trip.
In fact, I helped Katherine heal her broken heart and tried to avoid the topic of Klaus Mikaelson like the plague. With small or big successes depending on the day.
Sometimes Damon, Stefan, or Bonnie would mention how snappy he'd become after my sudden departure or that he was asking them about my whereabouts. The worst was his drunken voicemails he left. They ended after the first month, but they were the biggest test of my perseverance. I had to piece my twisted life together before adding my love problems with the world's (nearly) oldest living vampire to the puzzle.
At least that was the plan until those New Orleans bitches got me.
As soon as we left the bar, some girls accosted us and knocked us out with magic. I woke up in some cold, dank, musty crypt with Katherine by my side. At least I wasn't alone. We both had a better chance of defeating those witches. The new thing in those two months was my sudden ability to do magic without any source of energy. It looked like my abilities were starting to screw up too.
"Are you Y/N Y/S?" one of the witches approached us, staring at me warily.
"One and only. May I know who I am having the pleasure of?"
"Sophie Deveraux."
"Sophie. Some time ago, I knew a girl with this name. She got under my skin too. She is dead now. You can guess what happened to her."
"Yeah. It's definitely her. I couldn't imagine someone more of this psycho's type." she told her friends. The women grabbed us both and led us out of the makeshift cell to drag us to the main hall of the crypt.
"Allright. Can one of us tell why you are holding us here?"
"We need you, sugar, but your friend is just an accessory, so if you want both of you to get out of this somehow, you'll keep quiet." seeing that I had no intention of objecting, the unknown woman smiled victoriously. "Good girl."
I gave her a sweet smile before breaking her neck with a flick of my wrist. There was a sudden commotion around us. Katherine suffered a brain aneurysm after one of the witches raised her hand on her. The brunette screamed once before someone else appeared in the crypt, tearing out the heart of the witch who was attacking her.
Elijah.
Elijah came to save the day.
"I thought you wanted to talk, and both Katherine and Y/N were supposed to be unharmed." he said in his legal tone, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stepped between me and Kath. The woman was as pleased with the presence of the original as I was.
"She started." Sophie pointed at me. Elijah turned to look at me. I shrugged.
"You make me." I answered her with a malicious smile.
"Y/N." the man said warningly. This noble bastard won't tell me what to do.
"Elijah. Nice to see you. Maybe you can tell us why we've been locked in some fucking tomb? Is this some kind of revenge of yours, or did we get caught in the crossfire of Mikaelson's skirmishes purely by chance?"
"I would like to know that too. You wanted to be heard. Speak, before I change my mind." he turned to the witches without changing his defensive position.
I gave Katherine a brief, knowing glance. The woman reluctantly nodded at me. Great. We have personal cannon fodder if things get hotter.
"Marcel Gerard, ruler of the city, forbade the witches of my coven to use any magic. We want your help. Especially your brother's."
"Niklaus? You have to make him go to town first. And as far as I know, she's not in the mood for any outings right now."
"Even if he gets a message from her?"
"Your mother didn't teach you not to point at people?"I growled at her as she did it again. "Besides, I didn't text… You have my phone, don't you?" I asked, realizing it was their only way of contacting the hybrid. The woman tossed me my phone with a sly smirk.
"Read." I scowled but followed her instructions anyway, wondering what it was that would make him stick his nose out of Mystic Falls.
"I need you, Klaus. New Orleans. Witches cemetery. Please help me. Yeah. I can already tell you that he won't come. We're waiting here for no reason."
"And why is that?"
"This news reeks of a damsel in distress from a mile away. I would never write to him like that. I also doubt if he even cares what happens to…" I stopped when I heard someone's scream in the distance. A man mentioned earlier had burst in with blood on his hands and lips.
Well… mistakes happen.
"Great! Now that we're all here, we can start. We need your help." The woman began to explain the whole thing about Marcel and the witches. Everything was clear except for one thing.
"And where exactly is my role in this Machiavellian plan of yours?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"And who said I would agree to it instead of just killing you all and taking Y/N out of here?"
"I can take myself and KATHERINE out, Klaus. I don't need your help."
"Oh, do you?" he took a few steps towards me to stand in front of me. I snorted, returning his dark gaze. There's no way I'll be afraid of him.
"That's how we get to the main topic." Sophie paused, catching our attention again. Klaus stood next to his brother, giving the witch his famous sinister look while he was waiting for her to continue. "You see, I have a special gift for knowing when a woman is pregnant."
"And how exactly is this fact important to us?"
"She's carrying Klaus' child."
I broke the sudden silence in the crypt with a very loud laugh.
"And you're insane or a very, very bad liar."
"I'm telling the truth! You're pregnant with his child." she tried desperately to convince us.
"Vampires can't procreate, ergo, I am not in any false pregnancy."
"Vampires can't. But werewolves can. And Klaus is both."
"That's ridiculous. Klaus, say something! She didn't tell the truth, did she?" I tried to find support from the speechless Klaus. By the way, I think it was the first time I saw him without words.
"Y/N, be quite for a second."
"What? Elijah, are you believing her?" the man responded with nothing, staring at me with a strange look.
Klaus walked over to me. He stopped a few steps in front of me, staring at my belly as if he was hypnotized.
"I can hear it." he whispered, looking at me in disbelief.
"Hear what?"
"The baby's heart."
"What? But... it's impossible." I suddenly felt my heart beating much faster, as I was unable to catch my breath properly.
"It is. Like being a hybrid or a witch without her own magic. And yet we're here. And we gonna have a baby."
"No. That's a lie. I... we... I need fresh air." I avoided the brothers standing in front of me and headed the way Klaus had come from earlier. Unfortunately, one of these witches blocked my way and grabbed my arm tightly.
"You're not going anywhere until we settle the details of our deal." right after she said that, I felt her hand being removed from me. I was pulled against someone's strong chest. The familiar smell of Klaus' perfume brought me a momentary sense of relief.
"Touch her again, and I'll make sure that's the last thing you gonna do before I take your miserable life away from you." Klaus growled, tightening his protective grip on me and scouring the present witches with a hostile glare.
"Calm down, both of you. Neither of you will have any use for her if she faints here. Klaus, take her outside. Elijah and I will take care of everything."
Klaus glanced at Elijah. His brother nodded, encouraging him to leave. The hybrid took my hand gently and led us out onto the streets of New Orleans. We stopped in a square. Klaus sat me down on a bench and knelt in front of me, carefully watching me take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down.
When I was sure my magic wouldn't suddenly blow up the whole city, I opened my eyes tentatively to meet the vampire's concerned gaze. I swallowed, turning my eyes away from him. He was still kneeling in front of me with his hands on my lap.
"Are you better?"
"I think so." I glanced at him nervously, fiddling with the bracelets on my wrist to internally brace myself for asking the original thousand-year-old hybrid about something incredibly... stupid. "Can you... go to the one place with me?"
"Are you sure you want to go back there, love?" I shivered when I heard this familiar nickname. I missed this. Klaus misread my reaction as he shrugged off his leather jacket and covered me with it.
"Thanks. I don't want to go back there. I think, well, I need to be perfectly sure it's true that..." I stopped, unable to say the words aloud. It would have been too real then, and right now I couldn't accept even the slightest possibility.
"That we're going to be parents?"
"Yhm. Will you go with me to the gynecologist? I don't want to do this alone."
"Anything you want, love. I'll check the address." he sat next to me and started searching for the location of the nearest clinic on his phone.
As we sat together in silence, I began to wonder at the absurdity of this situation. And the improbable, rational behavior of the hybrid sitting next to me.
"Klaus?" I asked, yanking him off the phone for a moment.
"Yes?"
"You're not... you know. Crazy about this? Or something like that. I mean... I thought you gonna ask me if it's yours, of course if it even exist, but still. You're so... calm. Like not you."
"Would you rather me to run mad around town and deny our baby?" I chuckled, imagining his lunatic walk through the streets.
"No. To be honest, I would have expected something like that than this, but it's a nice surprise. It's enough that one of us is scared to death. Thank you for keeping a cold head."
"Don't get used to it, love. C'mon. I know where to go."
In less than five minutes, we got to the building and waited in line. There were many other people in the waiting room, but what caught my attention the most was a couple sitting in the corner. Husband and wife. The woman was probably in her third trimester (or had quadruplets. God, please let me have only one if there are any.) The man whispered something tenderly into her belly, and she smiled at him with just as much adoration. Involuntarily, I imagined Klaus and myself in this situation. I glanced at the tense vampire next to me. He was also staring at the couple.
"Y/N Y/S?"
"It's me."
"Are you going alone or do you have any company, dear?"
"My boyfriend is coming with me." I said, taking Klaus' hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an amused smirk on his lips. We started walking hand in hand behind the doctor. The vampire leaned toward me.
"Boyfirend, huh?" he whispered in my ear, clearly pleased with the situation.
"Don't get used to it, love." I repeated his earlier words, trying to imitate his tone of voice. The man chuckled, politely following the doctor with me.
I had to admit that it was funny to watch Klaus in such a... strange situation. His nervous, slightly stressed demeanor gave me courage as I lay there waiting for the ultrasound results. The cold gel tickled slightly, but I gritted my teeth, waiting for the final confirmation of my fate.
"There it is. That's your baby. Congratulations!"
Klaus put his hand on my shoulder and leaned gently toward the small screen. I stared at the tiny speck as if it were enchanted. It really was happening. I will be a mother.
"Do you want to hear your baby's heartbeat?"
"Could you give us first a second alone, doctor?" Klaus spoke as he saw me still staring blankly at the screen.
"Of course. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Oh, my God. It's real. We'll have a baby." I choked out after a few seconds of silence between us.
"You took that information really quickly, love."
I punched him lightly on the shoulder, finally turning my attention to the man standing next to me.
"Stop joking with me. Aren't you scared? I mean, a few hours ago we were on the other side of the country, living our lives, and now we're looking at some stain, which is our baby. Are you that calm, or am I being dramatic?"
"Of course I'm afraid, but I know we're going to figure it out. Maybe if it were someone other than you, I would be paranoid and mad, but it's you. With you by my side? Nothing can go wrong." I burst into tears at his emotional confession. Stupid pregnancy hormones.
"Come here, you idiot." I wrapped my arms around his waist and snuggled into him. "I hope Katherine got our things back."
"Yes. Speaking about her..." he said, moving away from me to look at my face.
"She is staying with me and you're not going to kill her." I said it in a tone that left no room for any objection. It's been 500 years; whatever conflict there was between them should be over by now.
"Absolutely not."
"Yes? So be prepared that if this little one is a girl, she'll be named after aunt Katherine, who couldn't be there for her mom because her dad is acting like he's on his period."
"You know you've been pregnant for a few hours, and you're already using it against me?" he asked resignedly. The grimace on his face was a clear sign of my victory.
"Get used to it. You're stuck with me for a while."
"I think I can work with that. Let's go home. I think uncle Elijah and Katherine will want to see the first photo of the newest member of the Mikaelson family."
~•♤♤♤•~
*Two months leter*
"Good morning, Y/N"
"Morning Elijah." I grunted from my book, never taking my eyes off the text I was reading.
"Have you eaten yet? Want me to make you pancakes?"
"Actually..." I didn't have time to answer, because an extremely happy hybrid came out of the kitchen with a large tray on which was my breakfast.
Elijah looked at his brother in disbelief as he sat comfortably next to me on the couch and began feeding me with a fork while I continued to read my book as if nothing had happened.
"Niklaus. Can you explain?" his brother was shifting his bewildered gaze between us.
"His werewolf hormones tell him to look after me. So when I told him I wasn't having breakfast today because I didn't want to stand in this heat by the stove, he made it his morning's main goal to make me a decent meal. At least Marcel and the witches will get some rest from him today."
"Werewolf hormones?" very amused Kol entered the living room, staring at the hybrid with a malicious smirk.
"Yes, brother. Werewolf hormones." Klaus' cool tone caught my attention away from the book.
"Of course... your werewolf hormones. So that's what they call it now. Just don't flood Y/N with this sudden tenderness, or the girl will get scared and run away from you again." before Klaus could make any move towards his younger brother, I grabbed his hand and moved him so that I could get more comfortable on his chest.
"He is weird." I commented as I took a grape from the bowl and popped it into Klaus' mouth, much to Elijah's astonishment.
"Weird? No. Just a little joker. I have to go now. I'll meet you later, Niklaus. Please, don't start without me."
"Do I want to know what he was talking about?" I asked, giving him a curious look.
"It depends. Will you get angry?"
"If it has to do with that teenage witch, Davina, that your adopted son treats like a daughter? Probably." his silence was an answer enough. I pulled away from him, eyeing him disapprovingly.
"Klaus."
"Yes, love?"
"Promise me you're not going to hurt her."
"And what does it matter? I'm not Elijah, how sure are you that I'll keep my word?" my angry look, however, fortunately made him give up. "Alright. She'll be fine." he sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Thank you. On the way back, you can stop by the store and buy me more chocolate and ice cream."
"As you wish."
He got up from the couch, placed a quick kiss on my already-showing belly, and left the living room, passing Rebekah as she entered. His sister looked at me curiously.
"What?" I asked, fed up with her penetrating gaze.
"Nothing. You two seemd very... compatible with each other. I'm impressed."
"Well, he's the father of my baby. We have to get along. For the baby's sake, it's best if we're friends."
"Surely." she hummed, completely unconvinced.
"Rebekah. What do you mean?"
"I mean that "just friends" wouldn't act that way. My brother never treated anyone with such affection. He's doing everything he can to impress you. For a bloody hell, he even changed his plan to take over the city for you!"
"She is right." Katherine walked past her and threw herself on the couch next to me. "He does everything he can think of to make you fall in love with him. For example, that "almost date" at the best restaurant in New Orleans last week. Or the fact that you've been given unlimited access to his credit cards, safes, stashes of clothes, and God knows what else. Or that weekend out of town so you could relax. Do you think they seriously didn't have a second room with two beds in the hotel?"
"Nik used the one bed trope? He's even more desperate than I previously thought." Rebekah snorted as she poured herself a glass of whiskey.
"Even if what you say is true, which I doubt, I have no intention of changing anything. Klaus and I work well as friends, and for the sake of this child, we will continue to be them so."
"So you don't love him back?" Rebekah questioned, coming to me, so she could stay in front of me. Her evaluative look somehow made me feel guilty.
"It doesn't matter what I want or feel. The most important thing for me is my child and I will do everything to ensure at least a little normality for them. If Klaus and I tried to be together and it didn't work out... At least this child deserves reasonably normal parents."
"What if you were happy together and created a loving family? Wouldn't that be better for everyone?"
"It's not worth the risk, Bekah." I replied, getting up from the couch to escape the inconvenient conversation with the original vampire.
"Risk of what?"
Losing him.
I didn't answer as I left the room. I decided to hide in the library for the rest of the day and try to forget the doubts the blonde had stirred up in me.
But my wild imagination did not give up so easily. I began to consider a possible relationship with Klaus. Despite what I told the girls, I wasn't blind to Klaus'… flirtatious remarks and behavior. I saw every long, stolen glance at me, every quick look at my lips during any conversation, and most of all, the longing shining in his eyes that was so similar to mine and that I somehow managed to hide from him.
I wanted to spend my life with him. But I also knew that I'm not enough to keep him away from his scheming and fighting for power. For the good of this baby, I had to be content with being his formal one-night stand and friend at best. Even if my heart yearned for him every single day.
Thinking about my unattainable future, I didn't even notice when I got to the library. But I certainly saw two people kissing in the room.
Klaus and Camille. At least he cleared up all my doubts.
I was probably the only one who noticed how my heart shattered into a million pieces. At least until Klaus pulled away from her, confused, and spotted me in the doorway.
"Y/N." he whispered, terrified.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt… I'll leave you alone."
"No! Y/N, wait!" he shouted, trying to get to me, but before he got even a step closer, I used my magic to teleport myself to a New Orleans street.
I leaned against the building next to me as the first post-teleport symptoms started to hit me and my head started spinning a bit. I shouldn't have done it while being pregnant, but well… I couldn't stay in the same room with these two any longer.
Once I had recovered, I decided to order myself a hot chocolate and sit with it in the park to collect my thoughts. I had to come up with some clever, eloquent way out of this predicament. And most of all, refrain from crying.
Thinking about this situation, after all, everything happened as I wanted. Klaus had found someone else to adore, so I could stop worrying about the deterioration of my relationship with the Mikaelsons.
We would be friends.
Just as I wished.
The only problems were my stupid broken heart and festering feelings of jealousy.
I wiped a tear running down my cheek with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I shook my head, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Something that stupid couldn't get me off balance. I had to be strong. If not for myself, then at least for this little one.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pants pocket and glanced at the screen to see the photo of Klaus sleeping with me on the couch that I had set as his contact picture.
I remembered that night. It was one of the first month at the Mikaelson Mansion and also my favorite.
"Can't sleep?" Klaus stepped out of the shadows to stand in front of the fireplace, which flames I had been staring at earlier.
"Not even tried."
"May I?" he asked, pointing to the blanket that covered me. I nodded, opening the hem so he could slip into the space next to me. He put his arm around me, moving us into a more comfortable position. One of his hands automatically went to my slightly rounded belly. I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder, and returned to staring at the flames of the fire. "What's bothering you?"
"Remember when Tyler kidnapped me and…"
"Please tell me you're not going to lecture me again about how I shouldn't have attacked Elijah." he interrupted me with a groan of displeasure.
"I'm not, but your brother didn't deserve this. Even if he was talking some shit about you. You knew I would never believe it."
"You wouldn't?"
"Of course not. You always try to protect your family, not always in a good way, I have to admit, but still, I know you would never use your own child for your games. I trust you." he tightened his grip on me and cleared his throat.
"It's good to know you're at least on my side, love."
"Your siblings too. If you'd just let them in, maybe you'd see it too, but that's a topic for another time."
"I know better ways to spend my free time with you, love. One of them brought us to this situation." he smiled slyly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Very funny, but we have to talk about something serious."
"I'm sorry. What are you thinking about?"
"Have you ever thought about whether there is a chance for our child to be… a tribrid?"
"Tribrid?" he asked, confused, stopping to play with my hair.
"You know. You're half vampire, half werewolf; I'm a witch, siphon, but still… Can our baby inherit all of this from us?"
"They might as well only have the gene of a werewolf, a witch, a vampire, or a hybrid. I think all options are possible. Maybe in my mother's grimoire we can find the answer to that question. These books are as old as the world."
"You can include the birth of a miracle baby in your search. I hope we won't summon a demon into the world." I joked, turning slightly to look at his face again.
"I thought you already knew that the demon has been walking around this world for a long time, and you're cuddling with him on the couch. By the way, it's our search."
"Our? You seriously want to just give me access to your mother's precious books? The same ones that have so much knowledge inside them that you won't let any other witch see them whole, or even your siblings?" I was shocked. I would never in my life expect something like this from him, but on the other hand, he has done astonishing things many times before.
"You're different."
"Like how?"
"I trust you."
"You did?" I whispered after a few seconds of silence. Those words were more striking than three others of equal importance he might have said to me. Klaus doesn't trust people that easily, I think he falls in love with them more often…
"You wouldn't be the first to hear about all my plans if I didn't. Besides, you're the mother of my heir..."
"Keep treating your family like a fucking dynasty, and you'll have to buy me a crown and my own castle." I cut him off when I heard that horrible term for our baby.
"Why do you need a castle when you already have your throne, love?"
"You're impossible." I chuckled at this awful attempt at flirting.
"That's why you like me."
"Maybe." I yawned suddenly, unaware of how tired I was. I felt the hybrid's soft, warm lips against my hair before both the blanket cocoon and his grip tightened around me.
"Sleep. I'll stay with you and I will chase away your nightmares."
"How did you know?" I asked, feeling him gently brush away the strands of hair that had fallen over my eyes.
"I know you. Besides, I can hear everything through these thin walls. I would rather hear your screams for other reasons than nightmares."
"Deviant."
"Only yours." I heard as if through a haze before falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.
The next day, Katherine found us sleeping together and took a picture of us. One of my favorites.
Before I could answer the phone, I felt someone snatch it from my hand, and something hit my head at breakneck speed, knocking me out. Stupid witches.
~•♤♤♤•~
~A few hours later~
I was kneeling in front of the crib that Katherine and Rebekah had set up after the whole witches' fiasco. After those damn witches kidnapped me, they cast some strange spell on me and the baby to speed up her (as it turned out) growth and thus her birth.
A few hours ago, I was a human pregnant with a hybrid. Now I was a heretic, the mother of the thyrbid, the most powerful creature on earth.
I guess life with the Mikaelsons was all about sudden, unexpected changes. At least they weren't boring.
Elijah, Kol, Klaus, and Marcel were running around the city, killing the last witches who had allied with Esther. Rebekah and Katherine have been delegated to look after me and the baby until the boys get the hang of the situation. A bit sexist, but I didn't have the energy to argue about it. Not after I so impressively returned to the graveyard and killed half the coven.
After feeding on the blood from the bag, the girls gave me a moment alone with my sleeping daughter. Her first day in this world, and she was already trying to get killed.
"Y/N." Klaus' tired sigh snapped me out of my thoughts. For the first time in hours, I shifted my gaze to something other than my daughter and met a face as tired and bloodstained as mine.
"Hi." he knelt uncertainly beside me, glancing at the baby sleeping in the cradle.
"She is beautiful. So similar to you." he whispered softly, afraid he would wake her up at any moment.
"She has a look of the devil in her eyes. That's all you."
The girl stirred in her sleep, as if hearing us talk about her. Two loving, child-infatuated looks appeared on Klaus' and mine's faces.
"She needs a name. You made a decision?"
"I was thinking about Zoe and Caitlyn. But I think we both know that Katherine Jr. is the best fit for her."
"God no." I chuckled, trying not to wake the baby after seeing his terrified look..
"Got a counterproposal?"
"Hope."
"Hope. That's actually nice. Hope Mikaelson."
"Mikaelson?"
"What? Are you not the father?" I asked teasingly.
"I'm but... I thought you'd want her to have your last name."
"Mikaelson suits her better." I replied with a shrug.
"Well, then I guess it will be Hope Y/N Mikaelson." I smiled at him, resting my head tiredly on his shoulder. We both stared in awe at the new member of the Mikaelson family.
"How did you come to that? Hope?"
"With Elijah's little help. When I found you… dead. Elijah said that I ruined our family's last hope by making out with this bartender, which, by the way, is not exactly true."
"Klaus..."
"No. Let me finish. I've never been so helpless and scared in all my life as I was a few hours ago. Never, not even in the worst, darkest moments of my life, have I been so broken, so despairing, than when I held your dead body. Whatever you think now, whatever you feel, the truth has to be told. I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you, and each day only brings me closer to you. You're the only one who can make me so mad, terrified, or happy. You taught me unconditional love, and even if you don't share my feelings, I want you to know that you completely changed me. It will be my life's purpose to make sure that our daughter and you are safe and satisfied." I stared at him with tears in my eyes, listening to his touching confession.
"I was so mad at you and Camille, but... I can't blame her; falling for you is as easy as breathing. Not when I did it a long time ago."
"You did?"
"Yes. And I don't want to hide it anymore. I can't hide it anymore. As I turned into vampire, everything I feel for you since all this time is more intensive. My desires, my love, and my longing - I feel them so much that I can't even imagine spending one more hour without your words, touch, or kiss. I don't want to live in a world where we're just friends. So if you promise that this is forever, then I..."
Klaus cut me off, pulling me into a longing, long-expected, passionate kiss. I moaned into his mouth, pulling him as close as possible by the strands of his hair. At one point, I bit his lip until it bled. My new ability was immediately activated. My fangs slid out of my gums by themselves, digging into his lip and sucking more of his delicious, sweet blood. We broke apart when we were completely out of breath. Klaus licked his lips, staring lustfully at my black-veined face and bloody mouth.
"I promise. You're mine. For always and forever, love."
"And you're mine. For always and forever."
"Aw... Congratulations, Nik! It only took you one child to make her yours. I thought it would take you at least three." Kol suddenly appeared in the doorway, interrupting our moment.
Klaus growled at him and threw the baby monitor at his brother. Kol dodged at the last second and tossed the device back at him, sticking out his tongue before he ran as fast as his legs could take him. I giggled, drawing the hybrid into a tender kiss.
Yeah, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson x y/n#klaus x reader#elijah mikaelson#katerina petrova#katherine pierce#kol mikaelson#rebekah mikaelson#camille o'connell#damon salvatore#klaus oneshot#klaus mikaleson imagine#klaus x y/n#klaus x oc#klaus mikaelson x oc#hope mikaelson#i hope it's good#one night stand#kissing#pregnancy#pregnant#love confessions#courting#love interest#romance#kasagia
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a Monaco Grand Prix - t.holland
masterlist
pairing: Tom holland x mercedes intern!fem!reader
warnings: some flirting + possible minor errors
a/n: inspired by the Monaco gp today! combining my love for Tom and formula 1 into this! if you like formula 1, you can find my sports masterlist on @thatsdemko 🥰
“you can’t just be nice and give him a tour?” your boss, Toto Wolff, gives you a glare that’s almost killer. one that you know will bite you in the ass, if you don’t just take the opportunity to show the famous celebrity around the paddock.
you know it’s part of your job. if you want your placement to be permanent, you’ll have to do whatever the boss says, and that being showing a famous prick around the Monaco paddock.
you nod, “I’ll do it.” you swallow the nervous jitters, as you turn out of the Mercedes hospitality to the one and only Tom holland making his way through media, other formula 1 interns, and press.
he’s headed to you with his security guards. a bright pearly white smile on his face as climbs the steps, hand extended, “ah you must be y/n! I was told you’d show me around.” his British accent brings warmth to your ears as it visibly spreads to your cheeks taking his hand in yours.
you’ve completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this in the first place. after having met the Tom holland, you’d do anything your boss asks you to do.
“right this way, Mr. Holland, let me show you our new and improved cars for this weekends race.”
—
each spot you took him to came with a variety questions and expression, god he was cute, was all you could think about. he was attentive and listened to your tidbits and nerdy jokes, he could tell you really loved your job and took formula 1 as serious as it was.
“and this is the Red Bull garage, legally I’m not allowed in there or else I’ll be reported for spying. but go on in, I’m sure Christian Horner would love to see you.” you gesture for the actor to step inside the garage and join the couple of other famous people you could see from where you stood.
as badly as he wanted to step in and have the cameras pointed on him, he didn’t mind keeping a lower profile and decline the offer to do so, “if you can’t go in then I definitely shouldn’t.” he laughs pulling out his phone to show you his Lewis Hamilton lockscreen, “I’d be murdered in there.”
“that makes two of us.” you giggle, pulling out your phone to show him the picture of you and Lewis on your first day. he’s a bit jealous as a claims, but you’re sure he’s had more opportunities to meet him than you have. considering you rarely see the drivers— except for Mick Schumacher.
“ah I’m hoping to get a picture with him like that too!” he carefully taps his finger against your screen to get another look at the picture; two of you smiling from ear to ear in Bahrain.
“I don’t have the privileges to get you to meet him, but considering your fame status? I’m sure by the end of this weekend you’ll see him more times than me.” you gesture for him to follow and he keeps up as you pass the McLaren, where Oscar piastri and lando norris are doing final placements.
“what if I want to see you more by the end of this weekend?” he asks, the words slipping off his tongue before he can filter them out. his hand flies over his lips; security guard chuckling at his intrusive thoughts winning. flirty words were easy for Tom, but he didn’t expect to find himself using a line on you this early on the tour.
you can feel the red hue quickly spread to your cheeks, it’s more noticeable than the last time he got your attention that way. he moved into your field of vision turning to face you, rather than the cars, “I mean I could always use a tour guide around Monaco?” he shrugs, hand finding the nape of his neck as he nervously plays with the hairs there.
“ask me when I’m off the clock, then legally I can answer.”
—
you thought he would’ve forgotten by now. it was hours after you gave him his own private tour of the paddock, and somehow? he was still there.
most people— fans, media, press, and other members of formula 1— had vacated the paddock following an early rise tomorrow for the big race, but not Tom. he’d stuck out waiting around, taking pictures with the few fans left, and even getting his picture with the infamous Lewis Hamilton.
“I see you finally got your picture.” you say as you make your way down those same hospitality steps to close the gap of where he stood off to the side.
“yeah, but I didn’t get that guaranteed tour of Monaco yet?”
“will I get paid by the end of the tour?” you raise an eyebrow watching his words stumble out of his mouth, words not even forming sentences you tripped him hard, “I’m joking, Tom, but I get off of work tomorrow late, so your tour will have to wait.”
he nods eager, but still slow enough to not show much of his excitement, “I can wait until then. I’ll find you here tomorrow evening?”
“deal, and I don’t take checks as a form of payment.”
#tom holland#tom holland x oc#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x fem#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fluff#tom holland imagine#tom holland imagines#mercedes amg f1#tom holland fiction#tom holland x reader#tom holland fics#tom holland one shot#tom holland blurb#tom holland drabble#f1 fic#formula 1 fic#tom holland fanfic#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you
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Hey ria could we possibly get something with winter soldier bucky where hes still at hydra and one of the new people that hydra had taken is a little and she’s scared and Bucky comforts her and becomes her cg, if not that okay💝
Soldats princess
Content - age regression, cg!winter soldier, swearing, violence, kidnapping (its hydra), comfort, needles, angst, fluff, lots of Russian, sort toys, not proofread, don’t like don’t read.
Summary - after being kidnapped by hydra the winter soldier saves you from fighting.
Authors note - that was a terribly written summary but I can’t think of any other way to describe it, I really enjoyed writing this should I make it an au? Reblogs are greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy <3
Translations = derzhi yeye na meste = keep her still, ty, vstavay pora trenirovat'sya = you, get up it’s time to train, soldat, ty v poryadke = soldier, are you okay?, soldat = soldier, otpusti devushku, ona budet bespolezna dlya vas = let the girl go, she will be useless to you, kakaya u tebya oderzhimost' soldat = what is your obsession soldier, ona moya = she is mine, tvoy bezopasnyy malen'kiy golubka = your safe little dove, golubka = dove.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” You screamed at the top of your lungs at the agents strapping you down to the medical bed.
You couldn’t remember much about how you got here. You were sitting on your sofa with a glass of wine before falling asleep and then you woke up in a white van.
You would give anything to be back in your small apartment right now.
“derzhi yeye na meste” you heard one of the agents shout out, you did everything you could but you couldn’t avoid the inevitable when you felt the large needle go into your neck.
The next thing you knew you were out.
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
Bucky was woken up to the sound of screaming and swearing coming from the medical room, he didn’t recognise the voice it must be new.
Many cryptic thoughts ran through his head for the next minutes before he was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of silence.
Silence was what distracted him now, there was always screaming but never silence.
A few minutes later he saw one of the female agents walking over to the cell that was opposite him with a girl in her arms, she was beautiful.
He watched her roughly throw you onto the creaky mattress and walk out locking the large bars behind her.
At least he wouldn’t be looking at an empty cell now.
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
“ty, vstavay pora trenirovat'sya” the colonel addressed you while the other soldiers were on the floor training “fuck off” you said spitefully glowering at the cruel man looking down at you.
A few minutes later you were escorted out of the room with a large cut across your arm.
Settling down in your cell later that night you were examining your poorly wrapped and treated arm feeling the tears flow down your face since the first time you got there.
You just wanted to be home, you wanted your family and your friends back.
The worst thing was you were beginning to understand the insults they would throw at you, not because anybody told you just because you would get them every spare moment of the day.
You didn’t know how much more you could take.
Scooting up against the peeling wall you pulled your bedsheets up to your chest trying to resemble on of your old soft toys only making you cry harder at the loss.
You were so lost in your sorrow that you didn’t see the strong man standing at the bars of your cell.
“soldat, ty v poryadke?” A mysterious voice called out only making you more frustrated “why doesn’t anyone speak English, I don’t know what your fucking saying!” You shouted through tears banging your head against the wall.
“I can speak English if you’d prefer it” the man said calmly in an accent that strongly resembled American but had gone under the influence of many years in this dreadful facility.
“I’m sorry for shouting” you whimpered thinking you were in for another punishment, you wanted one of your arms to not hurt at the end of the day.
“It’s alright” he said eyeing you warily, he hadn’t seen someone this vulnerable in many many years.
Your mind was completely broken at the reassurance you hadn’t heard in months and you entered your age regressed mindset unprovoked.
Desperately trying to stop yourself from shaking you looked up at the tall man who was talking to you “please help me I don’t wanna be here anymore” you sobbed.
The soldier didn’t know what was happening, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to take care of you.
“Stay there” he said firmly before walking out to find the colonel. He was sitting at a waterlogged wooden desk working on paperwork, alone.
“Soldat?” He didn’t get a second word in before the soldier pinned him against the wall by his neck “otpusti devushku, ona budet bespolezna dlya vas” “kakaya u tebya oderzhimost' soldat” the colonel asked breathlessly as the metal hand tightened against his throat.
“ona moya” he said lowly eyeing the cowering man in front of him, after a few seconds he signaled to one the guards to open your cell door.
Hearing the patter of your feet he walked over to you and possessively put his arms around you “tvoy bezopasnyy malen'kiy golubka”
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
You were waiting in the cold cell waiting for Bucky to come back from a mission like you so often did except this time you were more vulnerable because you were feeling little.
You always missed the soldier when he was gone but it was extremely enhanced at the moment, you were going through a stage when you were little almost everyday and with him gone you felt very alone and scared.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by the loud sound of the iron bars of the cell were opened an agent roughly throwing the large man in.
“Be gentle” you shouted with a frown at the agent resulting in an eye roll before they locked the cell and walked away “I’m alright little soldier” he said protectively pulling you into his chest.
The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes before be placed you onto your uncomfortable cot bed that was pressed against his “I have something for you” he said reaching into his bulletproof vest.
He pulled out a slightly squashed soft toy out and fluffed it back up before giving it to you. It was a grey rabbit with soft but slightly shaggy fur and it had shiny black eyes.
You had gone so long without a soft toy you almost cried on the spot “thank you” you said brightly stroking the soft fur delicacy making the soldier smile out of the corner of his mouth.
You made him feel like he had a purpose like he was surviving for someone something he hadn’t felt in years.
Sitting up against the peeling wall he pulled you into his side stroking your hair gently as to not hurt you “go to sleep golubka, I’ve got you your safe”
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @folklorefairie @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd @teddybearsgrr @fluffyblanketgecko
#daddy!bucky#daddy!bucky barnes#cg!bucky#daddy!winter soldier#cg!winter soldier#little!reader#bucky barnes x little!reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier x fem!reader#bucky barnes fluff#ria answers#sfw age regression#caregiver#age regression reader#sfw littlespace#agere sfw#little reader#marvel agere
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Protection I
Okay I did the quickest of Google searches to get some of this info, please don't hold it against me. I have no idea what I’m doing as usual.
Hope you enjoy, I'm looking forward to writing more of it.
5.2k words
“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”
She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.
“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently.
Harry was ready.
He ironed a white button-down shirt and paired it with a blue tie. He put on a grey suitcoat over it to match the slacks he picked out along with black dress shoes that he had long since broken in. In fact, he thought he could probably run a marathon in them if necessary.
He looked over his freshly shaven face, rubbing his jaw with a face lotion his sister got him for his birthday last year. He used the mirror to fix a few astray pieces of hair that refused to sit neatly but not perfectly flat on his head. Part of him wished he didn’t volunteer to do this because his stomach was flipping with anxiety. Sure, he was used to this. Used to the nerves and the first day jitters. It was a good job and was hopefully going to be a great way to see the country. While his English accent made him stick out a bit, it also helped him blend a bit into the background; no one would think that Harry was a special agent there to protect a family member of the US cabinet.
Plus, he was doing Niall a huge favor. Niall was the one that got Harry a job with the Diplomatic Security Service in the first place, so he owed it to Niall to at least try. Make his friend look good and not ruin his reputation. One of Niall’s favorite coworkers was the one that trained Harry to be an agent for the DSS, since Niall wasn’t one. But Niall was the one that had heard horror stories of the girl that wreaked havoc on many of the agents put in place to protect her. Going toe to toe with her meant a more...fulfilling job...after a couple months. At least that’s what Niall had heard and shared with Harry.
“I don’t know what her issue is Harry. But you’re all but DSS’s last hope,” he said. Niall didn’t have to take a round against her. He wasn’t an agent in the protection division. He sat behind a desk going over paperwork. Frequently the paperwork assigning and reassigning the girl’s security detail. But he knew Harry needed a job and he was happy to recommend him. He vouched for him, but Niall was certain the agency would have taken someone off the street and thrown them in the ring at this stage in the game.
Harry was on the younger side. Close to her age, so he had been told in the interview. Maybe that would help. He seemed unfazed. It was just a job. She was just a girl. They had to protect her. But through all he heard, it didn’t sound like they really wanted to protect her all that much anymore.
How much trouble could a twenty-four-year-old graduate biochemistry student get up to?
Niall wished him luck as Harry was debriefed once more about his job. Keep an eye on her, run checks on people she interacts with, make sure she doesn’t die. “Her father is Secretary of State,” they reminded Harry.
Harry nodded. “Got it.”
He took the address that was sent to him into his phone’s GPS and followed the directions to the apartment complex in the small, undercover black SUV issued to him. There was bulletproof glass protecting him from the outside world and tinted windows hiding him through the glass. His mum messaged him.
Good luck, honey bun!
He smirked. Harry may have been twenty-nine, but his Mum’s messages made him feel like a little kid. He adored her, all the way across the pond recognizing what time it was so she could make sure to send him a good luck text as she always had; first day of university, first real job, or even just a trip to the dentist (Harry hated the dentist).
The little apartment complex was inconspicuous. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a brick building with several floors—it couldn’t have been more than 8 apartments. A buzzer door and buttons along the side. The code was sent to him to let himself in.
It’s just a girl. He reminded himself.
Harry took the stairs to the top and fourth floor. It gave him time to calm his nerves and plan his approach based on the way he heard the tales from coworkers. Maybe he would try and befriend her? Harry was down to be friends with her if she wanted. Or maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he should just try and out-stubborn her. Harry and Gemma used to have contests about who could hold their breath longest when they were young. Harry wasn’t against passing out in the name of winning.
The final steps to her apartment were silent. The current agent at the door looked at Harry with relief. He saluted him, muttered good luck, and hurried back down. Surprised by the immediate departure, Harry gently knocked on the door. The man didn’t even confirm that Harry was his relief. “DSS,” he said quietly to the door.
It took a moment, but at once the door was out of the way. She was shorter than Harry—which arguably wasn’t hard to do with his six-foot frame. Her hair was pulled back by a clip at the back of her head, some strands falling from it to frame her round face. She had a freckle on her brow line and Harry found it unbelievably cute and surprised himself that it was one of the first things he noticed. The space between her eyebrows was pinched together and Harry wanted to smooth it out because even though she was going to be a pain in his ass, she was adorable. Her eyes scanned him quickly and he hoped despite the stories he had heard that she would at least appreciate his professionalism. Her lips were pressed together—not hard, just...resting against one another. Harry was quick to realize it was the least professional thing he could think of: staring at her mouth.
Mum always re-quoted that the eyes were windows to the soul. It was always the first thing Harry noted when he pursued a girl. He loved the idea of gazing into her eyes and trying to find out more about her just through her irises. Maybe if he looked into hers, he would understand why a short little thing like her could scare an entire division of special agents with varying degrees of combat training or intelligence operations.
Her lips pursed into a mocking smile, and she spoke. “Oh, I get it. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude,” she rolled her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Not even a hello. No introduction. Feisty. Right away.
“I’m sorry?”
“Daddy dearest only sent you here because the last seven agents couldn’t handle the paperwork that I made them do. I escape a lot.”
Harry sighed. “Thought y’were gonna be easy,” it was a fib. He knew she was going to be difficult but maybe if he played the part she wouldn’t be as tough on him.
“Nope,” she said petulantly, like that was going to piss Harry off. He assumed it worked on the others that came before him.
Harry could play the petulant game. He was the younger sibling after all. He nodded. “Got it. Well. M’name is Harry. I won’t bother you. I’ll be here if you’d like t’get t’know me. Or when y’leave,” he pulled the door shut and stood beside it. Hands behind his back, listening to the silence inside the door.
“Is this a joke?” She asked through the wood after a full minute. He didn’t respond. The door opened.
“Going somewhere?” Harry asked without looking at her. He could see her in his peripheral.
“No,” she looked at Harry curiously. “You’re not going to...try?” She wondered.
“Try what?” He asked innocently staring at the wall opposite her door.
She shook her head and sighed. “Uh... I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, uncomfortableness rang in her voice. Harry turned to her, honestly a bit surprised at how readily she apologized. Didn’t seem like something that would be in her repertoire. “Do you want to come in?” She asked. See? Harry thought. She could be perfectly reasonable. “I have seats... you don’t have to stand out here the whole time,” she murmured.
“Thanks, love,” he said politely and followed her through the doorway. He dropped his bag into a seat closest to the door. It just had the department issued computer inside it.
The space was homey. Again, he was surprised by the contrast of the stories he heard versus the sunny outward appearance. He expected rage which he wasn’t sure how that would translate exactly into interior design, but he thought it would be messy. The only hint of a mess was a spot on the coffee table littered with papers and notebooks and a laptop. The grey sofa was also covered with papers and a plain black backpack.
He did not anticipate it being a pretty place. It could rival a florist shop. There were prints of flowers hung on a white mat with black frames at regular spaced intervals. Vinelike garlands decorated with an array of pink flowers of all sorts draped along the slate blue (nearly grey) painted walls near the top of each of the three walls making up the big room—almost like a bordered edge. The fourth wall was the back of the kitchen and contained various appliances leaving no room for flowers, but Harry thought she probably tried when she moved in anyway.
The whole room was open: the sitting room, the dining area, and the kitchen. There were two loveseat sofas, one a modern grey facing the TV. The other perpendicular to the grey one; a solid navy blue that sat in front of three windows. Each window had a sheer grey curtain that matched the sofa, draped with more vines of flowers across all three windows of course. Between the TV and the grey sofa was a grey coffee table and besides the papers and notebooks, there was of course a little vase with pink sunflowers. A large bookshelf was to the left of her TV stand.
In the back corner beside the door was a round dining table and four mismatched dining chairs where Harry had dropped his bag. Another little vase sat in the middle of the table with more pink flowers. The kitchen smelled yummy. Like bacon. That was as much as he could see from the entryway. There was a short little hall but hidden behind a wall he couldn’t see around but assumed a bedroom and a bathroom were around there.
“S’a very nice place,” he murmured.
She was still staring at him as if he just said he liked to eat handfuls of dirt and drink from the river. “Thank you,” she said kindly after a beat of silence. Like she thought maybe it was a trick. “I...I don’t really have any plans tonight. I’ll be studying for an exam I have tomorrow...you could honestly probably leave if you wanted to,”
He thought she sounded genuine but given all the stories, he wasn’t sure. “I’d rather stay put. I can go back in the hall if that would make you more comfortable,” he suggested. “But may I see the rest of the place or would y’rather I wait till later? When you’re less busy?” He asked.
She blinked almost surprised. Harry imagined she wasn’t used to privacy but since he wanted her to like him, he thought respecting her boundaries was going to be the easiest way to do it. Most of her previous details were older. They probably had children of their own around her age or younger and thought treating her like one of their own and bossing her around would be easy. In all the meetings Harry attended and interviews and explanations of the girl before him not once did they seem to note she was an adult.
“Oh...uh...yeah,” she mumbled and gestured for him to walk down the hall. He was right: a bedroom and a bathroom, but he was surprised to find a second bedroom. It didn’t seem like the space was big enough from the outside. She opened all the doors. “This one’s the spare,” she said and showed him the room with nothing but a bed and small three drawer dresser and a chair that looked like it belonged in a college dorm in the corner. There was a door leading to a closet (he assumed). Compared to the main room, it was lackluster given there wasn’t a single flower in the room.
Along the same wall was the bathroom. The room was the same slate grey as the sitting room. The shower curtain was white, with a pattern of pink flowers. The fuzzy bathmat and hand towels matched the pink flowers. A little flowerpot was placed on a shelf hanging above the toilet, but Harry could have predicted at this point that pink flowers would be in the little pot. A chic gold brushed mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet hung over the sink with the same gold brushed faucet fixtures. A linen closet opposite the light switch right as you walked in, no door to it so he could see her well-stocked array of bathroom necessities, extra towels, and cleaning supplies.
“My room,” she shrugged and pushed the door open. Another bookshelf was draped with green vines. Fascinating. She liked to read a lot, it seemed. A long dresser was beneath the window along the back wall. A nightstand with a biochemistry textbook and a copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was closest to the door near the top of her bed. A weird pair of books for late night reading, he thought. Harry would have to pick the non-textbook one up at the bookstore later. Find another way to relate to her. This room was painted a light blue—so light it was almost white. More vines and flowers. Her bed was made neatly. This time slate-blue-almost-grey color again. Once more pink flowers.
“Are y’a botanist?” He asked, turning back for the main room. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time staring at her room and make her uncomfortable.
She smirked, closing the door following behind him. “Just love color and flowers,” she shrugged. “The grey makes it pop,” she explained. “But I wanted a little bluer for my bedroom. Didn’t want it to seem all dreary.” It was the furthest from dreary.
“S’lovely.”
“Well thanks,” she repeated, just as graciously as before.
She sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. “You can make yourself at home, there’s some drinks in the fridge—non-alcoholic of course, since you’re on the job, but I wouldn’t tell anyway,” she murmured and began scribbling on her papers almost instantly.
Harry felt deeply surprised. He pulled his laptop out and checked the emails. The internal messaging system alerted him that Niall had sent a message. How is she?
Fine. He responded.
Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket immediately. It was Niall. “FINE?” He asked in shock.
Harry shrugged. “Yes.”
Niall released a breath through his lips in surprise. “I can’t believe it. Usually she has people begging for reassignment after five minutes.”
Harry looked over at the girl working at the coffee table. He looked back at his laptop. “Don’t know,” he murmured.
“You can tell whoever you’re talking to that I’m not the bitch everyone makes me out to be if you’re fucking nice to me,” she grumbled.
Harry smirked. “I like her,” he said loud enough for her to hear. But she didn’t pause at all. Nor did she stray from her position or what she was doing to notice Harry’s kind comment.
*
She left Harry in the main room. He would stay until midnight when some woman would take over the detail. She didn’t hate the woman. She at least allowed her privacy when she wanted it. But she was surprised how much she liked Harry and they’d hardly interacted beyond an exchange of pleasantries. Him leaving in a couple hours seemed unfair.
Harry already had her phone number and he told her he would send her a message, so she had his in case of an emergency. “Not sure what emergency exists in my bedroom,” she muttered. He smirked and shrugged.
“Protocol, love,” he said. So he was one of those. She thought.
She liked his accent. Honestly, she liked everything about Harry. He was gorgeous. It was shocking. There was a moment where she forgot she was supposed to be agitated by her security detail when he introduced himself. It was almost instinctive that her hand wanted to reach out and play with his brown locks that curved every which way around his head. His eyes were this piercing green that she felt the desire to repaint her room the same emerald color. She nearly had to crane her neck to see all six feet of him. And in a simple suit, he was just...beautiful.
But then he pulled the door shut not taking her shit for even a second. Her brain felt out of sorts as she tried to reconcile the attitude, she wanted to have against the one she felt. Not once did someone just back off her. Maybe having someone closer to her age was the trick. But she didn’t want a security detail. Right?
Harry was so utterly polite, complimenting her place, respecting her boundaries as much as possible given his position. Ugh. He was ruining all the hard work she had put in to be a bitch toward DSS.
Fortunately, her phone vibrated as she closed the door to her bedroom. It was a friend from one of her classes telling her they were having a round of drinks before their final exam in the morning. She didn’t want to go. It was ten o’clock and her brain was exhausted from the marathon studying all afternoon and evening with her only breaks introducing herself to Harry and when she ordered them pizza.
Harry insisted on paying. Another weird notion from him. She never really ordered food for her security details, but she always did offer, and she always paid. Her mother taught her to have manners and be polite, even if she was mad—it would make her more amicable. However, she thought a lot of her previous agents assumed she was trying to poison them when she ordered them food. Harry didn’t talk much to her while they ate. He asked her what she was studying and if she felt confident about the exam.
She worked her ass off to be successful in her classes. She was one of the top students, she knew it. But everyone else saw it as the Secretary of State’s doing, not her own. But yes, she was confident about the exam.
But now it was 10:04 and she wanted to be included. She didn’t want to come off as “Daddy’s little princess” and the goody-two-shoes she was accustomed to being. Biting her lip, she pressed her ear to her door. She couldn’t hear Harry at all. Harry seemed cooler than her other details, she could probably just ask him to take her and hang back as far as humanly possible. He told her he was going to read the files on the people she surrounded herself with while she went to sleep.
He would be back first thing in the morning for a full day of watching her every movement. She quietly changed into an easy, comfy outfit. Jeans, t-shirt, her most comfortable broken-in Keds. She glanced at the mirror on the back of her closet and put on a couple dabs of concealer around her eyes and a few swipes of mascara. It was one round of drinks; she would be back before Harry left his post and she wouldn’t even have to worry about locking up her apartment. She shoved her ID and her credit card into the back of her phone case and then put it in her back pocket.
Carefully, she opened the window pausing around the part that always groaned in the humidity from the outside August air. She quietly pulled the screen in and laid it on her bed. With cat-like soft feet, she got out onto the platform of the fire escape. Closing the window behind her, once more minding the swelled portion. She made her way down the fire escape. The walk to the bar was less than half a mile.
As she turned the corner of the building to walk along the streetlamp-lit roads she was pushed suddenly and almost violently against the building. She nearly lost her footing, but the person kept her upright and was surprisingly gentle with her before she slammed into the bricks. Her lungs inhaled, ready to let out a scream, but a hand was covering her mouth at the same time causing her heart rate to skyrocket. “Seriously?” Harry’s accent cut through her terrified mind.
The terror seeped out of her mind as anger coursed through her. Maybe the close in age thing wasn’t going to be a good plan after all. If this was one of her other agents, they wouldn’t have known she was gone until she had finished her drink and was walking back home. She shoved his hand from her mouth, and she glared at him. Her body was shaking with her fight or flight response and a lot rage. “What?” She snapped and started marching down the road.
“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”
She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.
“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently. The kindness in his tone made her attitude waver again. But she was mad that he caught her. That never happened. She didn’t want to be sneakier. She thought she might actually like Harry. He even said he liked her to whoever he was on the phone with—that made her heart warm despite how she pretended not to hear. If Harry liked her, it would be much harder to maintain the isolated, bitchy attitude she gave all the other security agents.
“What’s there to worry about? Someone shoving me against a building and covering my mouth?” She grumbled.
“I didn’t want t’scare you; I was jus’ trying t’show you that someone could’ve snuck up,” he was keeping his distance from her, but she listened intently for the practically soundless footsteps. The only reason she could hear him was because it rained and made the little scratchy pebbles and dirt crunch under his feet ever so slightly.
“By scaring me,” she stated, still not looking at him.
He sighed. “M’sorry. I thought...” he trailed off. She didn’t make him finish his sentence. She thought too—he knew the stories of her, but he thought he would be different. They walked probably two tenths of a mile in silence. “M’sorry, love,” he repeated. “S’my first day. Didn’t want you t’get hurt.”
She sighed. He did sound remorseful. And she still kind of liked him. Mostly because as tragic as it sounded, he seemed to be more worried about her safety as a female walking dark streets and not a political official’s daughter. “It’s alright,” she mumbled. “I should have just asked,” she agreed a bit begrudgingly. “Just figured it was one drink and I’d be home before you left.”
He didn’t say anything. She stopped in her tracks. She could see the sign for the bar where her friends were down the long street before her. She turned to Harry. He looked relieved.
They gazed at each other a moment. Harry would be a worth adversary, she thought to herself. It was like he heard her thoughts because his next words almost tried to refute the idea. “I don’t like t’do paperwork,” he told her those pretty green eyes focused on her intently. He was serious. His jaw flexed tightly.
She smirked. “No promises.”
*
She spotted Harry at the end of the stairway, leaning against the wall as she exited the building where she had taken her exam. He had to be sweating in the suit slacks and button down—even if the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His left arm had several tattoos lining his arm while the right only had one or two. He wasn’t wearing a tie today nor a suit coat—she wanted to tell him she didn’t really give a shit what he wore, but he seemed the professional type. Being the middle of August, it was hot as could be. He didn’t seem to care, glancing every which way through a pair of black sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes and she suddenly realized she missed seeing the green even though she’d only gotten one good look at them.
Unfortunately, in all her ogling she missed the last two steps sending her straight into someone in front of her and she fell to the ground on the hot sidewalk, scraping her knee like a child. Fortunately, as a biochem major, she had to wear pants whenever setting foot in the lab so the yoga pants she wore—while hot for a summer day—probably saved her just a bit from a worse cut. It did cause a few tears in the fabric and her knee would surely bruise.
Harry started to rush over but the guy she bumped into helped her back to standing. “You okay there?” He asked.
Harry stood back a few feet as the guy helped. “Uh...yeah. Sorry, I missed the last step,” she said with a slight awkward laugh. She brushed the dirt from her hands that were also scraped as well as the length of her forearm since she was allowed to wear short sleeves (especially since it was exam day).
“Oh hey! You’re—” As soon as she realized he recognized her she closed her eyes and sighed.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Sorry,” she hurried off, limping slightly as she realized she really smacked her knee and the way it scraped definitely made it sore to bend. She didn’t want to be recognized. She wanted to be herself and not have this political precursor follow her everywhere.
They were making their way back toward the SUV Harry had parked nearby when he had dropped her off this morning so she wouldn’t be late. Good luck he had called out when she closed the door behind her. “Are y’alright?” Harry’s accent was a few paces behind her. She felt embarrassed so she didn’t turn around. She nodded.
“Yeah. Just a scrape. Want to go home and take a nap in the AC.”
“Can’t argue with y’there,” he chuckled.
She smirked; glad he couldn’t see her. “You don’t have to wear a suit all the time,” she told him. “It’s a thousand degrees out. You’ll die of a heat stroke before you can protect me.”
He seemed to ignore her joke, but she was still a bit genuinely concerned he would overheat. “How was your exam?” He asked.
She turned finally and looked at him. He stopped short, still a few steps behind her. They probably looked odd beneath the shaded trees. Both dressed not for a summer day. Harry looked threatening, surprisingly. He didn’t when she saw him in her apartment or even when he walked her home at eleven last night. He looked like a regular guy even if he was overdressed in a half suit. She noted the gun in its holster on his hip and she wondered how good of a shot he was. Not because she thought he would be bad or because she thought he would ever need to shoot it in her presence but because she was genuinely curious about him. She still had her backpack on of course. Her knee bent slightly with a tear in her pants. Quite the pair.
His glasses were still covering his eyes, hiding probably the most assured way to understand what he was thinking. But despite all she thought about the DSS, Harry was nice. Even if it had only been the inside of 24 hours.
It was shame she was a bitch to her security detail.
“Uh...easy,” she said. “A lot of my friends complain about studying and it sucks, but obviously it was worth it,” she shrugged. “I only struggled with one long response question, and I knew that I would going into it,” she explained.
“S’good, m’happy for you,” a little smile twinged at his lips and he sounded so genuine. It surprised her. Like he was really taking an interest in her.
But then she remembered this was his job and he probably couldn’t give two shits about her or exam. She tilted her head and scanned the man before her as if that negative thought would reveal itself. Of course, it didn’t. The glasses were hiding his true emotions. She would have to figure out Harry later. It was too hot, even in the shade.
Silently she turned on her heel looking at the air-conditioned oasis of that SUV. Harry opened the door for her, something she was not used to before closing her neatly and safely inside. Once Harry opened his door she asked her question. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.
“Coffee?”
“My treat,” she smirked.
“I thought you wanted a nap?”
“Yeah, but I have to work later and if you drink coffee before a nap, the coffee will kick in right when you wake up.”
He tilted his head at her before he pulled into the road. “Didn’t know y’have a job.”
“It’s remote,” she shrugged.
“Oh.”
“So coffee?”
“If that’s what you want, love.”
Harry drove in silence to the closest coffee shop he could find, and she got out of the car quickly before stopping at the driver’s window. “Can I get you anything?” She asked kindly.
“Uh...an iced tea would be nice,” he said curiously.
She was not the bitch everyone made her out to be. “Sure,” she said and rushed inside. Harry kept the window rolled down and could see her perfectly through the window. It took no more than ten minutes, and she was back at the car handing him iced tea through his open window before she got into the car. Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of her. But he was sure that he liked her. She was funny. In her own sort of way. He watched her sip her drink as she settled back into the car.
It would be fun.
Protecting her.
“I could send you a picture if you’d like to stare at me longer,” she blinked in excess at him. Fluttering her pretty eyelashes as her quick witted tone pierced his thoughts.
Right?
--
general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach
Protection tag list: @youcouldstartacult
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Pick a Side
Montague x (fem) reader
-> perhaps diamonds look better than hope
-> warning: slight mention of smut
-> 2k words
Today's mission was a little different. You were being sent to the Grand Glacier Hotel. How grand it truly is you will find out. Montague has been on the UnderGrounds list for a while.
His vault had many items inside that would give clues as to where Peely was.
Only problem was there was no way inside without distracting the boss.
He was quite the mastermind you had to admit. Going from a low life thief to a rich billionaire. Leader of the Society. Heart of diamond, nerves of steel.
He really had his slogan going for him. Owner of a fancy hotel? He knew how to get the bag.
Too bad he had no idea about you. High agent in the UnderGround knew just how to get a rich man's attention.
You pulled up to the hotel on your high class motorcycle. Why get a lambo? It wouldn’t stand up.
Your diamond motorcycle was more classy. Beadies didn’t Montage love diamonds.
Your outfit was detected out in blue and crystals. A classy race suit. With a helmet just as decorated. This was how you always went to missions.
With your motorcycle and wit.
The only reason you even got so high up in the Under Ground was your motorcycle gang. They were tired of the millionaires on the island taking areas that they owned.
You headed up the steps looking through your helmet's glass.
A few guards walked around. They instantly turn to you as you enter the building. Your suit glittering in the light of the hotel lobby. Montague was at the top of the steps. He instantly looked at you.
You noticed his eyes widen at the sight of your outfit. Diamonds sure did catch his attention. Seemed like he had an interest already by the way he walked down putting a hand up in a guard's face to make his way over to you.
His medallion on his neck glistened. You needed to keep him distracted for about an hour. Jonsey and Hope said any longer and you’d need to leave quickly. Meaning the mission failed.
“How lovely to see a new face.” The man's French accent hit your ears. A smug smirk tugged at his lips. He sure as hell had a handsome face. Almost felt like a waste to want to take this man down.
Perhaps you could take him down in a different way. There was an idea for a distraction.
“How lovely it is to see your face.” You offred back as a witty response, slowly sliding off your helmet. Shaking out your hair and letting your helmet rest on your waist. Giving him a quick up and down glance.
He let out a breathy laugh at your response. “Love to see a woman in diamond.” He bit his lip giving you a once over glance. “Love to see a man in diamond.” You took a step closer. He didn’t move. He was beginning to enjoy this. He had flirted with many women before.
He knew what they liked. How to charm and woo them.
“What brings you here?” He titled his head the white tips of his hair parted so perfectly The scar on his eye made him look so much more menacing.
“I need a room for the night. Traveling to Ritzy Rivera tomorrow. It’s a tad bit too far of a drive for now though.” You offered a quick excuse. He nodded his head thinking over it. “Of course. We have plenty of rooms.” He headed over to the check in area. You followed him taking note of his outfit.
“Room 203.” He held out the key to you, your hands brushing as you took it. Or well his gloved hands.
“Do you mind if we chat for a while?” You quipped quickly noting how he began to walk off.
He thought for a second. You had caught his attention greatly. He never saw a woman just pull up to the front on a motorcycle. Specifically dolled out in diamonds.
All the girls he had talked to or been in the presence of drooled or fell over his feet. They never wanted to just talk.
Maybe you were different. He was rich, had a whole business to run and a gift to make things into diamonds. Perhaps you liked him for him, as much as you knew.
You seemed rich enough. Didn’t need his money.
“Sure, we can chat.” He nodded and sat down on one of the chairs in the lounge.
You took a seat in front of him. Eyeing him with your poker face.
“Do you often wear such little clothing when biking in the snowy mountains?” His question almost shocked you. Perhaps you did have little clothing on. Your racing suit was a one piece. With holes at the knees, a gap to show your stomach and some of your back. Cleavage on display as well. Perhaps that’s what he liked.
“Do you like what you see or are you complaining?” You bit your lip and leaned back in the chair. Noticing his eyes go from yours to your exposed chest area.
“The first option.” He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasping together.
“Though I would hate to only like you for your body. Do tell me about yourself.” He leaned back now instead of forward. Eyes going back to yours. Being respectful.
“Right.” A small smile creeped up your face. “I race motorcycles and cars. Got my own motorcycle club. Could say I get quite a lot of money from racing.” You crossed your legs and titled your head a little. “I don’t fall so easily into men like you. So, I'm sorry to burst your bubble if you thought this was going to go somewhere. When I drove that bike up here I didn’t have my legs wide open. Mr.Heart of Diamonds.” A smug smirk came on your face at his reaction.
“Oh no my heart.” He clutched his chest acting to be in pain. “This girl got me, what a shame she won’t like me.” A fake cry came from him now. He stood up quickly. Gaining himself back to his straight face and tough exterior.
“I’ll show you how to spread your legs open for me.” He stood over you. He was quite tall. The earpiece covered by your hair went off.
“Vault successful. Heading out soon.” Hope's voice rang through.
He leaned down, his hands gripping the arm rests of the chair. You looked up at him. Smirks on both your faces.
“One of us is going to have to crack.” His voice was so low you almost couldn’t understand him. The accent wasn’t helping either.
The tension was high as he was merely centimeters from your face. The second you walked into this hotel you knew it would end like this.
Did you mind? No. To be truthful his file photo was pretty handsome.
There was a reason you were so quick to take this mission. You one knew you could distract him but also. You wanted to distract him.
He was a bad man. Your group hated him. But imagine how much he could help your club. You could own half the island with him.
Race on the side and become higher up in the world. The UnderGround was bound to end someday. These guys were too good. It’s not like Hope is going to be able to take down her sister.
Everyone saw how she looked when her sister was mentioned. She could never hit the killing shot. It would have to be here to give the go on it.
This other option had so much more potential for you in the long run.
You had betrayed an agency before. Shadow wasn’t so keen on you.
Midas just had better options for you. Of course you’d be a double agent. Feeding info to both sides never choosing one.
This time you’d choose a side.
“Why don’t you give in then? You seem like you want this.” Your teasing voice hit Montagues ears.
He didn’t even care that you two were in the public lounge now. He chuckled and smashed his lips to yours. “I’d give in any time.” He said between kisses. His lips were cold yet they kissed you with such hunger.
“You’re the most outstanding woman I've met. To act like you don’t care about the richest man on the map kissing you. Such a little bitch.” He fell back on his chair. Pulling you over with him.
You slung your legs over and sat on his lap.
“Maybe I don’t care.” You teased back, lips back on him. His only response was a quiet moan.
His hands gripped your sides, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “I know you care, how could you not, beautiful?” He shook his head. His hair shook slightly.
He pulled you back and let his lips hold yours captive.
He kissed with such eagerness. Were you truly this desirable?
Perhaps he was just very horny.
“Mission is a success. Head out now.” Hope's voice echoed in your ear as Montauges tongue explored your mouth.
You ignored the cue to leave. It will be easy. Just get up and walk out. Leaving the man hard and confused.
Though you didn’t want to leave so soon. Or ever for that matter.
“Let me walk you to your room, please.” His eagerness to see you to your room made your heart skip a beat. For him to be a gentleman even after such a hot make out sesh.
You got off his lap and accepted his offer. He gave a flirty smile and headed up the stairs, leading you to your room.
The sound of the door unlocking then quickly shutting was all you heard as your lips were sealed to Montagues again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, not letting go.
You let him hold you. He was deprived of someone.
He could have all the girls he wanted yet he refused to get too handsy. He would let them please him. Not giving much to them. Not like they cared, they just wanted the money.
You were different.
You made his heart melt.
His nerves flare up.
Your hands running through his hair caused him to be reminded of the boner growing painfully harder in his pants.
“I have known you for only a few hours, yet I want you forever.” His husky words made you think.
You pulled back from him. Looking up at him with a serious face. “Are you serious?” His answer would change your life and reputation forever.
“More serious than I have ever been in my life.” He whispered in your ear. “As long as you aren’t taking me for my money I’d be glad to call you mine.” He kissed your neck as his hot breath tickled your skin.
“I’ll take you for something else if you let me.” You moaned out receiving a chuckle from the man.
“Thought you’d never ask.” He shoved you down on the silky bed. Trench coat being torn off and vest unbuttoned in seconds.
—--
The way he had worshiped you in bed. Grabbed you in all the right places and made sure you were okay with anything; made you want to be his even more.
You were his woman. The reason he was happy to get up in the morning. Sure he had money and a gift to turn anything to diamonds, but you were the best gift in his life.
He had begged you to stay, bring your club here. He would help you out.
He was so soft around you, yet such an ass hole to everyone else.
Even better.
You never went back to the UnderGround. You never even notified them of your leave.
It must have shocked them all the moment your own Pub was established not too far from Grand Glacier.
Not only that but your club had joined you. Hearing the perks and benefits of this new business deal.
Not only did you own a part of the map, have Montague around your finger, and a biker club decked out in so many weapons the UnderGround would regret losing you, you also had power.
All the Millionaires on the map know you now.
They know their boss doesn’t want his girl to be messed with.
It was only a matter of time before the UnderGround was taken out.
After all, you have picked a side now.
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Heloo! :D I saw your request are open so i decided to send one! what would be Sunday's reaction to a Furina!s/o? If that's a tad bit confusing, can you do Sunday's reaction to his s/o performing Sinners Finale (Furina's execution song) and the execution if you're feeling angsty :3 (You dont need to add that part if you dont want to) SORRY FOR MY BAD ENGLISH IM REALLY BAD AT EXPLAINING
can i be 🤸 anon pls :3
-🤸
You bet you can! Sorry 🤸 if it's not as you'd like but I did have a lot of fun writing about it. I kept some elements that I really enjoyed and found some nice music to listen to in the prosess. I had a lot of fun brainstorming in a cafe with some coffee!
Sorry about my posting being all over the place, moving across the country in the next few months will keep one busy! Anyways heads up this will pull at the heart strings,
Without anymore stalling, I present
La Danse du Chagrin
"Long, long ago, on a small planet named La Sec, a tradition old as the aeons persisted. Every 500 years a lottery was to be held. The winner is said to preform a dance so wonderful that the skies themselves weep and bring this dry and starved planet the water it desires"
You've told this story to Sunday as many times as he asked. Every time he seemed more and more enthralled within the sad story.
The very same story you told him when he first found you, one of of his many trips outside of Penacony.
He saw you dancing for the very first time, a style he wasn't familiar with at first. You lived gracefully, going up en point as if it were as easy as breathing.
The two of you met when he went to extend an invitation, to invite you to dance for the dreamscape. You soon became one of the more popular shows to go to when Robin wasn't present.
It was just after one of your shows, you and Sunday were in your dressing room. Him away from the public eye, watching you make yourself perfect before your next performance.
Sunday's always liked that about you, how your always perfect when you dance, as well as when you dress for the day or for the stage.
A bloodhound knocks on the door to the dressing room, prompting Sunday to get up and answer it as you were busy making sure your hair was perfect. Sunday was handed a note, addressed to you. He passed it along, setting it down on your table while he took his seat again.
Carefully you opened it, taking the note in hand and reading it. You bit your lip, keeping as stoic an expression as you could muster.
"Well my dear dove, it seems we have a show to attend in La Sec. I do hope you will come watch me dance, they did personally invite me too"
You said as you stood up, turning to face him. In hand your point shoes. In the other a red tambourine with matching velvet ribbons tied to it. Your dress a silky white with blood red accents.
"By of course my dear, it seems we are to depart?"
You nodded your head and walked side by side with him.
----
Arriving home was just like you expected. Dry, the earth cracked and starved for water. You took Sunday to Palace d'ear. A grand palace with many a room and beautiful gardens made of stones instead of lush greens. Inside tall ceilings with paintings.
Sunday looked at the paintings, filled with beautiful dancers, tales of woe and sorrow. Some of excutions.
The two of you walked on, further and further. You directed Sunday to a stage, and had him sit in the audience, while you went off to speak with an official.
------
It had been about an hour, he noticed a spinning blue sword above the stage, he figured it was just an effect. After all, it is a stage.
He blinked as he looked at you, then, the music started to play.
He watched you dance both your and his favorite solo, La Esmeralda Finale .
Your white dress swirled around you as you danced, your pristine point shoes matching your skin as always. Your hair half up and half down. Sunday always lived watching you dance.
The music ended as you held your final pose. As Sunday stood clap, the blue sword he saw beforehand stopped spinning, and came crashing down with a thunk.
Your dress was stained red, like the bow in your hair.
His eyes, wide in horror. No one had explained the sacrifice to him.
He bolted to the stage when he could, cradling what was left of you as he watched your body turn to little blue droplets and head into the sky.
Your bloodied point shoes, held close to his chest as it started to rain outside.
Oh what a terrible day for rain.
He clutched your beloved shoes close to his heart. He started to sob.
First he was robbed of his sister, now of his beloved? How the world was cruel to him.
He stayed long past the crowd leaving, gathering up your belongings to take them back to his home, your home.
Sunday never went to a ballet again, it wasn't the same.
How he wished he could have watched you keep dancing on for him
#x reader#(y/n)#honkai star rail x reader#sunday x reader#sunday#sunday honkai star rail#sunday hsr#angst#honkai star rail angst
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it’s my birthday today (: can you pls write some breeding kink with ghost please? i really love your work btw, keep up the good work !!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! i hope you had a good day, love 🎀🌷 and i hope you enjoy this as a birthday present !! 🥹💐🩷
simon never thought he'd ever have a breeding kink, till he saw you full of his thick and potent cum, watching as it oozed out your slick, wet hole!!! your walls tighten and clutch around him, whimpering with each unforgiving and rough thrust, his large hands holding your hips skywards against his own, fucking deep into your tight pussy :(
your thighs caked in cum and slick, clit sensitive and needy, his fingers rubbing against your nub, making you mewl and gasp, grinding down against him!!! “attagirlll... what a good girl, sweethear'.” he praises, his northern british accent causing you to arch your back further onto him, babbling as a white ring forms around his veiny shaft!!! “god-baby... this pussy's gonna make me fuckin' cum...” full balls slap against your tight ass, hips bound to have bruises and indents along the skin, cumming deep inside your pussy.
he'd admired your rawness, all sore and sensitive as he ran his fingers along your slit, making you shudder and pant as you came down from your orgasm, dizzy and fucked-out. “fuckin' hell.” simon cursed under his breath, guttural and quiet, pushing his digits inside your cunt, plugging your cunny full of his seed and load...
you better believe that he fucked you multiple times relentlessly afterwards, till you were a raw and bulging mess, gaping and oozing out his semen, covering your stomach, cunt and thighs in his release, leaving you exhausted and whiney :( “dirty baby, all wet and full of my cum, yeah? couldn't help myself, sweethear'...”
#orla speaks#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost headcanon#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#reader x ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley#ghost simon riley
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love in france? (h.h)
good morning/evening! i have been working on this fic for so very long. i'm super glad i finally finished it 🥰 hyunjin at the Versace show was an absolute blessing, and there was no way i wasn't writing something on it!! i hope you guys like it! 💓
feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰
I can't believe I'm here. You think to yourself as you pull up to the large villa. The vehicle you're in comes to a stop as you grab your purse from beside you.
You never thought you'd be invited to an event like this. Especially since the max number of people invited to this show was sixty. You slowly get out of the black vehicle, draping the strap of your purse over your shoulder.
You thank the man who opened your door, smiling softly at him. He bows his head before you continue forward. Camera's are just about everywhere, causing you to grow a bit shy.
A million questions are thrown in your direction as another vehicle pulls up behind you. You glance back to see a tall man climbing out, his brown eyes meeting yours for a split second.
"Woah," you whisper to yourself, never seeing someone as handsome as him. You catch yourself staring for too long, snapping yourself from your daze. You continue walking along the path, following the other guests while placing a hand on your warm cheeks.
You admire the architecture of the villa, running your fingers along the stone walls. You stop in your tracks before checking the time, noting that you've got some time before the show starts.
You pull your phone out from the elegant purse you're wearing, deciding to take some photos. You take a couple of the villa and the view before taking some of yourself.
You quickly look around, noticing everyone chit chatting with other guests. You didn't really want to bring attention to yourself. You take a couple of selfies, inspecting them right after.
"It's cute but I want more of the view," you mention to yourself with a sigh.
"Excuse me, Miss?" An accented voice reaches your ears, causing you to lift your head. The gorgeous man you saw before stood in front of you, and he shyly waves at you. "I could take a photo for you if you want."
"Uh, y-yeah! That'd be great, thank you," you say sweetly, handing the man your phone.
He smiles down at you, taking your phone into his large hands. You pose for the camera, smiling widely as you keep your gaze on him.
"I took about ten," he chuckles while handing your phone back to you. "They look really good."
Your cheeks blush at his compliment, thanking him quietly. You look over the photos he took, in awe at how good they actually look. "You weren't kidding," you gasp, zooming in to look at yourself. "They do look really good."
"I told you," he smiles before holding out a hand. "I'm Hyunjin from Stray Kids."
"Hyunjin," you repeat his name, smiling widely. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. I just recently started modeling for Versace."
"Oh, really?" He asks, tilting his head a bit.
You nod your head, releasing a breathy chuckle. "Yeah! I'm surprised I was invited to this event, to be honest," you scratch the back of your neck, diverting your gaze towards the Mediterranean Sea.
Silence fills the space around you, and your eyes glance towards the seating area. You notice a few people are watching the two of you, making you nervous.
"Would you sit with me?" Hyunjin asks you, motioning towards the tables.
"Yeah," you smile, clasping your hands together.
The two of you walk over to the multiple tables, sitting down at one near the bushes. A waiter comes over and places two glasses of champagne onto the white table.
You take a sip of it as soon as the well-dressed man walks over to another table. You look towards Hyunjin, noticing his dark eyes already looking at you. "I've never seen a model so shy," he comments, fumbling with the golden earring.
"A lot of people say that," you exclaim, chuckling, before repeating yourself. "That's the reason why I’m surprised that I was invited."
Hyunjin shrugs his shoulder, a smile gracing his plump lips. "It shouldn't be reserved for people who've been in the business for long. It should be for anyone," he explains while tapping his fingers. "Clearly, Dua saw that when she invited you."
You're moved by his words, placing a hand on your chest. "Thank you, Hyunjin. That was really sweet of you to say," you mumble, feeling your cheeks blush.
Silence fills the space between the two of you for a bit as more people begin to take their seats. "Excuse me," a voice reaches your ears, causing you to look up. "That's my spot."
"O-Oh, sorry -" you cut yourself off while getting up. You don't remember if there were seating arrangements. Your chest clenches at the thought of sitting at a table with complete strangers, your eyes drifting towards Hyunjin.
You don't say anything else, walking away from the table. You clasp your hands together, attempting to find a table to sit at. A hand rests on your lower back, making you jump.
"Hi, Y/N!" Dua greets you with a friendly smile.
"Oh, hi! Thank you so much for inviting me," you mention to her, shaking her free hand.
She stands with you, moving her arm to link it with yours. "Of course. You're a wonderful model. I just had to invite you, sweetie," she compliments you. "And, I think this line would be absolutely perfect for you."
You grow shy from all the compliments she's giving. "You're so kind," you chuckle, fumbling with your fingers.
"I have to go. I hope you enjoy the show!" She smiles at you before walking away from you.
You release a deep breath and continue looking for an empty table. You manage to find one just before the show starts, lowering yourself into the seat.
You grab your phone, checking your notifications. You purse your lips before putting it back away. Well, this kinda sucks. You think to yourself, wishing you were still sitting with Hyunjin.
Your eyes drift to the table he's sitting at, noticing the two men sitting on either side of him. Hyunjin's eyes meet yours again, both of you smiling at one another.
Hopefully, I'll see him again…
-
You walk back into your hotel a couple of hours after the show. Your feet are screaming for you to take these forbidden heels off. You almost stumble into the elevator, hissing at the slight pain while pressing the button for the seventeenth floor.
Once the doors close, you release a deep breath, leaning back against the metal wall. It doesn't take long for the elevator to get to your floor, the doors opening back up a minute later.
You slip your heels off as soon as you step out, feeling the carpet against your nylon-covered feet. You hook the heels with your index and middle finger before walking towards your room.
You search through your purse, looking for the key to your room. Ding. The elevator goes off again, causing you to glance towards it.
Hyunjin walks out of the elevator, his phone pressing against his ear. You grab the hotel key, clutching the square card in your hands as you debate on saying something to him.
"He's busy," you mutter to yourself, taking a quick glance towards him again. You meet his gaze, and your breath hitches in your throat.
How is anyone allowed to be this pretty?
You smile at him and wave your hand. Hyunjin returns the wave with a smile of his own. He mumbles something into the phone before hanging up.
"Y/N, hey," he greets you, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I've been looking for you."
"You have?" You ask in disbelief, your jaw dropping a smidge.
"Yeah. I'm having dinner brought to my room and was wondering if you'd like to join," he asks you timidly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck.
Oh. Your cheeks blush at his proposition, and you find yourself nodding your head. "Y-Yeah, I'd like that, Hyunjin," you shyly smile.
"Great," he adds, sharing the same smile as you. "Do you want to change first?"
"Yes, please. What room are you in? I'll head over as soon as I'm done," you inform him, swiping your key card before opening your room door.
Hyunjin digs into his pocket before pulling out the card he has, reading you the number from it, "1745. Right down there."
"Okay, 1745," you repeat to yourself, returning your gaze back to Hyunjin. "I'll see you in about fifteen minutes?"
He nods his head, agreeing. "See you in fifteen minutes. Do you want anything in particular? I can have it sent up when I go in."
"I'll just have whatever you're having. I'm not very picky," you tell him with a smile.
You shut the door to your hotel room before releasing a deep sigh. I'm really having dinner with him?! You think to yourself, feeling butterflies swarm in your stomach.
You shimmy out of your dress, changing into a pair of oversized sweats and a sweater. You take in the warmth of the clothes, letting out a content sigh. You slip some socks on before making your way to Hyunjin's hotel room.
Nerves course through your veins as you get closer and closer to his room. You haven't had dinner with anyone you've been attracted to for quite a while, a little worried that you'll be awkward.
1745. You stand in front of his door, staring at the small numbers. "It'll be fine. It'll be fun," you whisper to yourself before knocking on the door.
"Coming," Hyunjin's voice comes through the wooden door, causing you to take a step back. Not even a second later, the door swings open. The dark-haired beauty smiles at you while stepping to the side. "Hey, come in. The food just arrived."
You walk into his hotel room with a smile, tangling your fingers with each other. "Thanks again for inviting me," you tell him shyly, grinning up at him.
Hyunjin gently shuts the door before walking past you, his hand brushing your lower back. You follow him further into the room, noticing the nicely plated food.
"It's no problem. You're really cool, and you're absolutely gorgeous," he flirts, bringing his hand to the back of his neck.
You blush at his words, releasing a shy chuckle. "You think I'm gorgeous?" You ask bashfully, sitting down in one of the arm chairs.
"I do. You're very pretty," Hyunjin mentions with flushed cheeks.
The two of you start to eat in a comfortable silence, the sounds of forks clattering against the plate echoes off the walls. You steal a few glances, admiring him from across the table.
"Hey," you mumble loud enough for him to hear, watching the black-haired beauty lift his head. "Do you think we can keep in contact? If you want to, that is."
Hyunjin wipes his lips with a napkin while nodding his head. "Yeah, I would like to. It's just… You'll have to bear with me. My English isn't perfect," he explains.
"That's okay. I don't mind at all," you tell him with a smile before taking a bite of your steak.
"I have," Hyunjin pauses and leans back in his chair. "I have one more day here. Do you?" You nod your head in response, waiting for him to continue. "Would you want to go out into the city with me tomorrow?"
"I would love to. I've never been to Paris before," you tell him excitedly.
The man across from you gasps, and his dark eyes widen. "You've never been here?" He asks.
A laugh escapes your lips, "no, I haven't."
"That's it," he claps his hands, leaning back in his seat. "I'm taking you everywhere."
You continue to giggle, finding his excitement to be really cute. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, stopping yourself from smiling too much.
"You're too cute, Hyunjin," you grin at him, feeling your heart fluttering inside your chest.
He smiles at you and you notice his cheeks are a bit pink. "Thanks," he whispers, hiding his face in embarrassment.
The two of you finish your dinner, and now you're sitting in complete silence. Hyunjin stands from his chair, starting to clean up the table.
"Do you need any help?" You ask him as you start to lift yourself from the chair.
But Hyunjin just shakes his head, giving you a smile. "No, I'm okay. I got it," he reassures you.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you quickly pull the device out. "Oh, shit," you mutter to yourself before answering the call. "Hey, what's up?"
"He broke up with me," she cries, causing your chest to clench.
You stand up from your chair, finding Hyunjin placing the empty plates back on the sterling silver dolly. "Okay, hold on real quick," you tell her in a soft voice.
"Everything okay?" Hyunjin asks, seeing the slight sadness in your eyes.
"My best friend called," you mention, releasing a breath, "her boyfriend broke up with her. I'm sorry, but I have to go."
A frown comes to his plump lips as he nods his head in understanding. "That's okay. You go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow," he says, leading you towards the door of his room.
You lean on your toes, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks again for dinner. I can't wait for tomorrow," you whisper with a smile, both of you blushing.
Hyunjin nods his head, a large smile coming to his lips. "It'll be the best day," he whispers as well, feeling his fingers brush against yours.
"Good night, Hyunjin."
"Good night, Y/N," he smiles, opening the door for you.
~
tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @foxinnie8 @moon0fthenight
#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids x y/n#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#stray kids fluff#stray kids scenarios#skz#skz x y/n#skz x you#skz x reader#skz imagine#skz imagines#skz fluff#skz fanfiction#skz fanfic#skz fic#hwang hyunjin#hwang hyunjin x y/n#hwang hyunjin x you#hwang hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin imagine#hwang hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin fanfiction#hwang hyunjin fanfic#hwang hyunjin fic#hwang hyunjin fluff
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「✰」 ━━ ARRANGEMENTS
PAIRING Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader
RATING PG-13 - Parents strongly cautioned [ Content warnings: light cursing, brief references to sex, situationship, heavy fluff ]
SYNOPSIS My submission for @bunnyreaper's Valentine's Day event for @ivymarquis. So sorry for it being late, but I really hope that you end up enjoying it. Here's to hoping that your day is spent with the love and adoration that you deserve, Ivy.
WORD COUNT 1.1k
Simon Riley is, contrary to popular belief, not a difficult man to love. Maybe love is too strong and too heavy of a word to use only a few months into whatever situationship that's been established between the two of you, but it rings true nonetheless.
He's gone away for weeks and months a time, outwardly shows himself as a cold and calloused man, keeps his emotions under lock and key (and concrete walls, chained up, locked in a box on the ocean of the floor).
But, at the same time, that makes him all the easier to love.
Learning the little quirks about him, the things he enjoys outside of his work, the little excerpts he has from his past that make him human, the hobbies he takes part in, the simple and extravagant things that enjoys.
The way his eyes squint when he smiles genuinely, the way he cocks his head and keeps his eyes solely on you when you talk, the way he whispers curses under his breath each and every time he touches you, feels you, tastes you.
All of it. They're all simple qualities and characteristics that make him him, and they're what you love.
Although, as easy as he is to love for you, he falls short in actually expressing his own adoration. It's not to say that he doesn't at all or that he refuses to or anything of the like, but rather he isn't exactly sure what actions to do that would land him in your favor.
The two of you haven't put any label on what you are yet. Friends with benefits? Consistent hookup partners? Neither of you have ever called one other lovers, partners, boyfriend, girlfriend, or anything of the like, so saying you love him and the he loves you seems to be a stretch.
Is it, though?
You know you love him in evert facet, and he knows he feels the same about you, but bringing up those words of "what are we" get lost on both of your tongues, caught in the back of your throats with a sudden gasp, hesitation, and a shake of the head.
But with a day dedicated to love, even if he's never said he loves you (yet), Simon Riley, a man who knows comfort in the grip of gun more intimately than another human, decides his time would be best spent... here.
Within the walls of your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, fingers slotted into the holes of scissors as he makes diagonal cuts against the stems of flowers, eyebrows furrowed as he silently glares at the offending plants, frustrating himself with organizing them into a way that appeases him.
You've never told him what flowers you like, so he had to take his own guess when it came to choosing. White hydrangeas, white carnations, pinkish-red miniature roses, foliage to accent. To him, the assortment looked... nice.
He can only hope you'll share the same sentiment.
He's never been a romantic, per se. Hopeless at times, maybe, but never to the point where he himself or his actions made that word ring true in the phrase "hopeless romantic". Though, maybe that changes with your spot in his life seeming so conrete.
The waste from the flowers fall onto the counter with gentle thuds, the green snippets covering the surface along with leaves and flowers he deemed not suitable enough for the arrangement he's creating.
There's certainly a method to his madness.
Once he's completed cutting off the ends, ensuring all of the different plants are to the same height, he puts his focus on actually sorting and arranging all of the flowers and foliage together in a way that's appeasing to the eye.
He... certainly tries.
The finished product is a bit messier than he knows, with the different plants stuffed into the vase with no real rhyme or reasoning, but it's more the thought of his actions that matter rather than the actual factor of visual appeal.
(It still matters, yes, but let's not bruise the poor man's ego when he's working so hard to appease you.)
As he lumbers around the kitchen, mumbling soft words under his breath, dressed in a pair of loose plaid sleep pants and a gray tee, barefoot, feet padding against the hardwood, your own footsteps reach his ears, so much softer than his.
"Si?"
Your tired voice calls out to him, his name laced within a yawn, the sight of you, hair messed and tousled, hands gently rubbing at your eyes, gracing his vision. His eyes soften, that scowl and glare he had on moments ago lost within a moment at the sight of you.
"Mornin'."
He greets gruffly, leaning back against the countertop, fingers gently drumming against his shoulder as he crosses his arms tightly, anxiously waiting your reaction. And as you drop your hands, eyes landing on his face before quickly shifting to the bouquet, your heart stops.
Your lips part, jaw slackened slightly, breath catching in your throat.
"Is this...?"
"For you."
He finishes before you can even ask, giving a curt nod.
And oh, the wide, giddy, childish smile that spreads out across your lips is all he ever hoped for in response. Sleepy eyes crinkled in delight, bottom lip between your teeth as your grin so shamelessly, approaching the assortment tentatively, as if your footsteps alone would disrupt their chaotic beauty.
"You didn't have to."
The words pass through your lips, bordering on shyness, as if you can't even believe he'd go through the effort of doing something so simple for you.
"I didn't, but I did."
He muses, voice lightly laced with humor. You roll your eyes softly, but don't move to say anything more on the matter for the moment, eyes getting lost in the petals and leaves as you truly appreciate what he's taken the time to craft for you.
There's a long moment of comfortable silence that stretches between the two of you, disrupted only by the sound of the world beginning to wake up beyond the window of your kitchen, lights beginning to flicker on.
"It might help if you added water to the vase, though."
You hum, giggles passing your lips and floating into the air as you hear him mumble out a whispered 'fuck' under his breath, grumbling to himself as he takes the vase over to the sink.
He loves the banter, as do you.
He loves you, and you feel the same.
The words need to be said aloud, for a confirmation of feelings to be made and for this stupid situationship you have going on to turn into something concrete. You both want it. But, for now, even on a day dedicated to the word, it doesn't need to be said aloud for the feeling to be felt.
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