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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 months

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there's dirt on my face from when they buried me alive; i'll show you how to kiss, teach me how to breathe through these soil-laden lungs.

jw60 x reader: what happens at the renaissance faire does (not) stay at the renaissance faire.

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's honestly not bad), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), idk a little hair pulling, nothing too crazy (be proud of me!), but you should be warned about the insanity that is me writing slow burn. i know i'm forgetting a lot but all my usual suspects. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: well, favorites, did someone say longest story yet? no, size doesn't matter, but this is getting out of hand. we're over 15k, now. next time i'm just gonna hand you a novel. happy valentine's day from the writer that loves you the most. where to begin? no, i don't know anything about faire culture or even that much about theatre, but i hope you like this anyways, because i absolutely loved writing it. i guess goalies are for the heartbreakers (and jw60 is for people who have been demonized because they're hot). this is for those of us with a little bit of a reputation, a little bit of a history. you deserve someone who thinks you look like a princess when your tits are falling out of your corset. yeah, the pacing's probably a bit off, and i got carried away with his big doe-eyes, but shh! don't tell anyone. oh, and you guys can pry bad kisser jw60 from my cold, dead hands. you know how i used to say i hope you watch the canucks and think, wow, qh43 definitely wants something that's just his? i hope you watch the leafs (when jw60 comes back) and think, wow, sweetheart doesn't know how to kiss! and with that stiff upper neck, too, poor baby! of course, please tell me what you think, because i love it when you do. what else? thank you a million times for all the love. try to spot the baby leafs in the supporting cast. and i'm about halfway done with frat!jh86 (it's fun, you'll love it). thank you for being patient with me. go canucks. until next time, all my love).

the corset was making it really, really hard to breathe. you swore, tonight, when you finally unbound yourself, there would be indentations of the small brass eyelets in your spine, perhaps that your back would slink and melt into the ground, having grown accustomed to the relentless support of the tightly-tied ribbon.

"i don't want to hear it," jenny, your best friend, said, holding a hand up to silence you before you even spoke. "you look unreal. you'll thank me for this, babe, i swear it."

you shook your head at her. "i just don't get why i have to dress like a medieval prostitute," you mused, gesturing to yourself, then her, "and you get be, uh, whatever that is."

jenny threw a hairbrush at you, which you dodged. "i'm a jester. you know this. you know how important this is to me."

you sighed, because you did. jenny had been a regular at the old renaissance faire every summer since she was little. you were about to be seniors in university, but this summer, jenny had insisted that you join her, some kind of last hurrah before you began to walk an intertwined path for what would likely be the last time.

and as much as you didn't really have any interest in jousting, or feudal society, or turkey legs, or whatever it was that people did at these things, you loved jenny enough to be grateful that she wanted to share her special place with you.

you didn't ask why she insisted on being a court jester ever year. maybe that was just her true form.

you walked over to where she sat in front of her mirror, put your hands on her shoulders. "and you're the hottest jester i've ever seen," you said, kissing her on the top of the head. "but i still can't breathe in this."

"that's the point," jenny replied, waving you off.

you had wanted to design your own costume, as costume design was quite literally your passion. you'd designed for every school play and musical since freshman year, wanted to pursue it further after college.

jenny had seemed so excited, though, and it was her day, so you let her take the reigns. the way this get-up fit you, though, the revealing upper-thigh slit, the abundance of cleavage you were sporting, the draping lacey skirts, it all had you hoping this specific faire had a strict no-men policy. you could practically already feel the weight of slimy stares on your exposed leg, the top of your chest. not to mention your face, but that was a bit of a constant, not just today.

you finished your hair and makeup, perfected the wench/heroine/damsel look. you knew yourself to be capable of all but shapeshifting, with your design and artistic abilities, but this old-timey seductress look was a spectacle, that was for sure.

jenny squealed when she saw the finished look. you cracked a smile at her ensemble, a straight-up court jester, down to the bells on her pointed hat, the face paint that matched the color scheme of her costume. "you look great," you told her.

"it's about letting my inner jest shine through," she said, "and that's why i dressed you up. so you have enough sex appeal for the two of us."

you were going to ask why there needed to be any sex appeal at all, but when you finally arrived at the sight of the faire, it became clear that that was simply part of the show.

you weren't even out of place in your revealing get-up, among all of the corsets and pants that looked like tights, not at all, although you had to give jenny credit. out of the many wenches and princesses and knights and pirates and such, your costume was especially lovely.

jenny linked her arm with yours as you passed under the tented entrance. it smelled like charcoal smoke and sugar, like wet leaves and musk.

"welcome to paradise," jenny said, a bright, genuine smile on her round face.

you couldn't help but smile, too. smile at this almost-hilarious display of the modern obsession with the past, of the unrelenting pursuit of entertainment, of the shared desire to be someone, somewhere, sometime else. this faire was just human, in a way that could be sort of somber, but in a way that you read as beautiful.

"where to first?" you asked your friend.

for hours, you let her lead you from place to place, from memory to memory.

"this is where my cousin, brett, bought his crush a leather-bound notebook," jenny said, while you perused a leather goods stand. she winced. "think she had a boyfriend, though."

you took pictures of her with different characters, let her take pictures of you with them, after. you smiled, big and cheesy, next to guys on stilts, jugglers, acrobats.

"you're gonna love this one," jenny said, pulling you into a barn that sold soaps and other handmade goods. you held a candle to your nose, inhaled, closed your eyes at the subtle combination of pine and something slightly floral.

you held it out to your friend. "try this one," you offered, picking up another one to test. you left the barn with two new candles and a hand soap for your apartment at school.

"we have to avoid archery," jenny whispered to you from behind a hand as you waited in line for giant pickles.

"why?" you asked, tilting your head at her serious expression.

"pretty sure my high school ex still runs it," she said, "and not the fun one."

you successfully avoided her ex, tried mead (honestly, how did people ever drink that), had your fortune told.

"my mom used to be the fortune teller at her local faire," jenny told you, a wistful sort of look in her eyes. "it's how she met my dad."

your heart flipped. you were a sucker for a meet-cute. "really?" you asked, "how romantic, jen. we have to do it."

jenny went first, the bell on her hat jingling with each movement. she walked away with a vague promise of new opportunities ahead and a new light to step into.

you smiled when she relayed this information to you, grabbed her hands excitedly. "a new light?" you said, "like a center-stage light? like a lead role?"

jenny's eyes widened. you'd met her freshman year in the theatre department, you a bit of a loner with a knack for a sewing machine and her a talkative actress with a beautiful singing voice.

still, after three years of productions, jenny had never had a lead role. she had a affinity for playing the side kick, the best friend, the assistant, the villain's love interest.

but no one had seen what she was capable of more than you, and you knew this year would be the year. you couldn't wait to watch her give the last bow on opening night, with you clapping from the wings.

now, jenny grinned at you. "this is the year, babe," she agreed. "now you!"

she gave you a gentle push towards the booth. the woman running it was probably somewhere between fifty and sixty. she had the face of a person who took advantage of sunny days, of someone who didn't deny herself simple pleasures, who had spent years laughing.

you felt at ease with her when she took your hand, ran her fingers along the ridges of your palm.

"rough hands, girly," she said, shooting you a lighthearted wink. "you workin' too hard, eh?"

you smiled. "just hard enough, ma'am," you told her, to which she patted your hand lightly in approval.

"you'll keep working," she told you, "but you'll find some new fun, too. sooner than you think."

you thanked her, bid her a good day. you never were one to put much stock into this kind of thing, but you'd take a little more fun any day.

when you told jenny what your fortune had been, she bumped her hip against yours. "hopefully that means a new guy," she mused.

you rolled your eyes. "don't need a guy for fun, do i?"

"'course not," she said, waving you off. "just know you, babe."

"you make it sound like i'm some depraved witch," you teased.

she laughed, pulled you by the arm to the big tent in the center of the faire. "c'mon," she said, "it's time for the joust!"

the joust was the main event of the day, you had known this coming in. it was fun, a spectacle of men on horses. you found yourself fascinated with the way they had dressed the horses up, the funny way all the actors were talking, so distracting that you barely noticed when the joust actually happened.

you still applauded and whistled along with jenny, listened to her tell a story about one joust in which the horse ran in the opposite direction, right out of the tent. you were holding your stomach in gentle laughter as you made to finish your day off at the tavern.

the sky began to melt from a blue to a burnt orange, the air hazy with heat. you could feel a day of standing in your thighs, a day of heeled boots in your calves. the makeup on your face had stayed put, but you could feel the weight of it like a halloween mask. your hair pulled at your scalp, a bit.

"hey, thanks for being such a good sport about this," jenny said as she brought you back a massive jug of beer, setting it down on the table with her own.

"what?" you said, scrunching up your face. "this is awesome, jen. thank you for inviting me."

she rolled her eyes at you, but her smile was obviously pleased. "i know it's corny, and kinda weird, but it's, i don't know." she trailed off, a misty sort of look in her eye.

you took her hand from across the table. you got what she meant. with senior year about to start, everything had a new, foreign sort of gravity to it, like it might never happen again. like you might miss it, if you didn't breathe all of it in. "i get it," you told her. "and where else am i gonna get to dress like this?"

she grinned at you as you took a sip from your jug.

"little jenny jester? is that you?"

you both turned to see an old, old man in magician's robes. jenny squealed. "magic jarod!" she said, before turning to you. "be right back," she whispered, "family friend."

"go 'head," you said, waving her on. you watched her approach the man, give him a big hug. you smiled. it was pretty cool, to know people at an event like this. to have people know you.

you sipped on your beer, quickly realized there was no way you were going to finish it. to pass the time, you people-watched, tried to guess people's relations to each other. you admired people's costumes, made mental notes of unique beading patterns or interesting pleats.

at some point, you were torn from your lulled observance by a polite cough. "is this, uh, where the plus-ones hang out?"

you turned your head to the side slightly to see the owner of that deep, pleasant voice. if you were the type to wolf-whistle, this would have been the time to do it.

something thrummed in your chest as you took in the man who stood in front of you, now. maybe it was the height, maybe the lean, working sort of bulk, maybe the soft-looking, just long enough hair. maybe it was the impossibly blue eyes that you could see even in the dim light of the tavern at dusk. maybe it was the careful, straight posture, the high cheekbones, cut jaw.

or maybe it was the fact that he was dressed in some sort of homemade prince outfit, a loose cream blouse, dark trousers, a dainty tiara-like crown atop his head.

he shifted back on his heels ever-so-slightly under your gaze, like it was something tangible, something that meant something.

in the misty, warm lighting of these low ceilings, among the dirty tables and scent of beer, he appeared deliciously out of place, like some fabled savior, some ancient temptation disguised as an angel.

you gave him a small smile, leaning into the table, just a bit. "did you also come with a jester?" you asked, teasing.

his mouth quirked, a beautiful flush blooming across his cheeks at the sound of your voice. he gave a shake of his head that shook the longer curls around his ears. "'m with the knight," he said, nodding to the person who was currently talking to a woman dressed as a pirate, who appeared very confused. to be fair, the person she was talking to was in full armor.

you gestured to the open spot across the table from you. "keep my friend's spot warm until she gets back?"

he stepped closer until he was just across from you. until you could see how long his lashes were, how big his eyes were, doe-like and boyish. how, ever since you'd first made eye contact with him, his gaze hadn't dipped to your chest even once. which was a feat, even jenny had gotten distracted a couple of times.

he made eye contact like a religion, like it was so, so significant. you took a sip of your beer. "what kind of prince are you?" you asked, leaning your heavy head on a palm.

he gave a low short of chuckle, and the sound was a rumble through your body, shook you up from the inside out. he clasped his broad hands in front of himself. "the boring kind," he said.

you shook your head, laughed. "okay, then, boring prince," you said. "what's your name?"

he licked his lips, and your eyes tracked the movement. your hands felt jittery. "joseph," he said, then asked for yours. you gave it. his kind eyes shimmered at this piece of you. "and what kind of princess are you, sweetheart?"

you laughed, bit your lip to stifle it, as you didn't want him to think you were making fun of him. but, really, in what world was this a princess costume? maybe in an adult film, but not here.

he didn't seem offended, though, just gave you a pouty look dripping with mirth. "what?" he said. you had a feeling he was rarely on the outside of an inside joke.

"it's just funny," you told him, feeling honest and open in the light of his polite gentleness. "that you think 'm dressed as a princess."

"oh, yeah?" he asked. his tiara shifted on his head. "what're you dressed as, then?"

something different wafted through the air between the two of you, something stronger than just the smell of grime and alcohol. something that felt sluggish, sparkly, seductive.

because even now, he didn't look away from your eyes. and that was, somehow, so much more intimate than some desperate once-over, one that would get caught on your chest, your thighs.

"how many princesses do you know who show this much skin?" you asked instead of answering his question. your voice had grown gravelly without your permission.

you had almost dared him to look away from your eyes, to take you in fully, in all of your corset-strapped glory.

but he didn't. which had you almost begging that he would.

"at least one," he said, a lopsided grin slanting across his face. "at least you."

"you know," you started, thought for a second. you sucked on your teeth, and his gaze flickered to your mouth for one single, almost undetectable second. a second that sparked a fire underneath you, had victory horns blaring in the distance. "you're pretty charming for a boring prince, joseph."

that pretty blush grew deeper, made his stark stature appear comfortable, warm. you wanted more of it. you wanted to know it deeply and personally.

when had you shifted so close together? the both of you leaning across the small table like it wasn't even there, breathing in the same air, sharing so politely.

you wanted to make his kind eyes simmer, make his blood run hot. you were close, you knew it, you could feel it in his exhales, in the slight tremor of his hands.

"don't think 'm the charmer between us, sweetheart," he said, low, a secret.

"we can share the title, if you want," you offered. "i'd share with you."

he hummed, shifted on his elbows, restless. "that's kind of you," he said. there was a roughness to his tone that flipped your heart in your chest, wrapped your legs up in coiling heat.

"what can i say?" you said, "you're a good influence on me."

there was a pause, during which you reached a hand up and gently adjusted his tiara so that it sat straight on his head again. you tried not to ruminate on how soft his hair was under your fingertips, pretended not to notice how his gaze draped over your face like a weighted blanket as you focused on the task.

when you withdrew your hand, he was staring at you. it felt like there was no one else in the room. "there," you said.

"straightened me out, did you?" he rasped, those doe eyes drowsy.

your mouth quirked up in a smirk. "oh, joey, i couldn't straighten you out," you said, tilting your head.

"no?" he asked, almost disappointed, not really. "what, sweetheart? 'd you be a bad influence on me?" he teased, twisting your words.

you knew you had him.

you knew you had him, so you forced aside any sensuality from your tone, your expression. "oh, fuck, i think my necklace is stuck in my hair," you said, clutching your hair, wincing like it hurt, watching concern flood his delicate features so gracefully. "know it's a lot to ask, joseph, but could you come to bathroom with me and untangle it, please?"

"of course," he said, practically before you could get it out, letting you take one of his wide, warm hands and tug him to the bathroom. once he was inside, just behind you, you locked the door, dropped your hair, both hands now free.

he appeared confused for a second. "your necklace?" he asked, but he trailed off as you placed a hand on his chest, felt the silken material of his shirt under your palm.

you peered up at him through your lashes, cocked your head. "'d you really fall for that, joey?" you asked, almost shocked.

his firm chest rose and fell under your hand, his exhales coming out shaky. "you're very persuasive," he mustered.

you hummed, relished in the heat that simmered between the two of you, full-bodied and palpable. "'m sorry i lied," you whispered, because you felt compelled to, because you had a feeling it mattered.

"'s okay," he breathed, immediate in his forgiveness, finally moving his hands from his sides to rest gently on your hips. this decision seemed to take a lot out of him, which made you smile. like his desire was heavy, like he just needed somewhere to put it down. like he wanted to touch you, so badly, but needed permission, needed someone to tell him how.

"can i be a bad influence on you for a second?" you asked him, leaned forward into his chest, "please?"

he nodded, leaned back against the door like holding his posture straight was suddenly too much to endure, let out some affirmative sound, halfway between a breath and a whimper.

you kept one hand on his chest, pressed him into the door, snaked your other hand into his hair and rooted it there. his grip on your hips tightened, now hard and strong, his own hips angling up slightly, involuntarily.

"can i kiss you?" you asked, suddenly soft, despite his sudden strength. because you had a feeling it mattered. that he mattered.

"please," he said, basically a whine, which had you fisting his shirt and tugging him down, his lips meeting yours in something like a fairytale, something heated and passionate and glutted with relief.

something heated, in the way you pulled at his hair, how his hand reached around you to pull you closer, right up against him.

something passionate, in the way your knees felt wobbly as swallowed down his sounds, swore you could feel his heartbeat under your palm.

something glutted with relief, in the way his tiara fell from his head entirely, only recognized by the dull clatter of plastic against wood, in the way neither of you pulled away, in the way it only gave you more access to him.

he tasted like mint and something slightly earthy, like peppermint candy and flaky sea salt. you much preferred this, you decided in a moment, to the taste of weed brownies and red bull that distinguished the kisses you had grown accustomed to, at school.

it was something like a fairytale, but not because it was perfect.

because it wasn't perfect, not at all. joseph was actually kind of a bad kisser, you realized. nothing crazy, nothing jarring, but the tell-tale signs of inexperience hung off of him like a too-big jacket.

moments of too-much teeth, unsure hands, a stiff neck, they made you smile against his mouth, because it was obvious he didn't let just anyone into his space like this.

so when his teeth would clash against yours, you'd simply nip at his bottom lip, playful, forgiving.

when his hands would still, uncertain, you'd just place a hand over where one of his rested, held it there, let him know you felt him, still, unwavering.

when his neck would stiffen, you'd rub at the knots with a knuckle, trace your nails over his hairline, feel a shiver erupt under your fingertips.

until he grew more comfortable in his motions, more brave in his want. desire flowed between you both like gasoline, sharp-scented and flammable. he let out an especially uninhibited groan when you brought your hand down to rest on his waistline, but the sound was engulfed by three swift knocks on the door.

"get outta there, guys," some authoritative voice called. "we're not that kind of establishment."

reluctantly, you pulled away from each other, chests heaving. the top of your chest glowed with warmth.

your prince looked delightfully disheveled. the top button of his shirt had slipped undone, his hair beautifully fussed, his cheeks ruddy, lips swollen, eyes glossy.

you knelt down, gently, picked up his plastic tiara, pushed up on your toes to place it on his head again. when you pulled back, there was something more dangerous than pure lust in his gaze.

as much fun as you knew you could have with him, and as much as you wanted to, you knew jenny would be looking for you, ready to go home. you knew joseph had his knight to attend to. knew this perfect moment that you had summoned was all but gone.

you knew the chances of seeing him again were very slim. the thought made your stomach drop, a bit. you exhaled all of your expectations, let them fall to the ground like sediment as you placed a hand on the doorknob.

he still hadn't said a word, almost in a daze. "you're going?" he asked, a husky rasp, and you could have pouted. it felt cruel, to be leaving behind such a pretty boy, one with such kind eyes.

you nodded slowly.

he just gave you a goofy sort of sad smile, tilted his crown to you like the brim of a hat. "until we meet again, trouble," he said, "you've been a lovely bad influence."

you smiled back at him, actually felt yourself blush. "and you've been a deviously good one," you said, "goodbye, joey."

and so you left him, walked away, but you could still feel his lips on yours, could feel the steadiness of his eye contact, the endearing uncertainty of his grip.

when the night ended, you had walked away from the dashing prince, the one you had pulled apart at the seams, but you knew you wouldn't forget him. your not-so-boring prince, who you couldn't even call a hookup, couldn't deem a fling, so you just knew him as your storybook kiss.

and you didn't forget him, even as the last summer days melted into early september, even as school started back up again, as classes came back into full-swing, as senior year and the countdown to graduation began.

you and jenny moved your things from your summer lease to your on-campus apartment, reunited with your friends who had been away for the summer, got all your classes and credits in order.

before you knew it, it was the first theatre department meeting, and you found yourself in the auditorium on a hot tuesday afternoon, slotting into a seat next to jenny and benji, the set designer who you had worked closely with during all your previous productions.

"good to see you, benj," you said, smiling at him.

he grinned, returned the sentiment, but tilted his head back in mock anguish. "another year of madness," he mused, "here we go again."

"our last go-around," you reminded him, elbowing him softly.

jenny made a noise, shook her head. "don't say that to me," she warned, "swear i'll start crying."

after welcoming everyone back, and building an adequate amount of suspense, the theatre director announced the fall play to be romeo and juliet.

"our department hasn't put it on since the eighties," the director exclaimed, "and i have the utmost belief that we will make it every bit the magical tragedy it is."

jenny was squeezing your hand so hard it hurt. juliet had been one of her dream roles since she was in middle school, since she had watched the movie with claire danes.

already, your head was spinning with visions of shakespearean headpieces, draping dresses, flowery imagery, blushy makeup.

beside you, benji groaned. "oh jesus," he lamented, "please, please, no castles."

you and jenny laughed. benji was one of the most talented artists you knew, and he always pulled it together before opening night, but he was a true procrastinator, tended to be a bit of a lazybones. the cast and crew loved him for it. what was an artist without a little bit of torture?

auditions were set for thursday morning, callbacks on friday, the final cast list to be posted on monday.

you didn't need to be present for any of the auditioning process, so, for the next few days, you enjoyed what you knew from experience to be your last moments of free time for the rest of the semester.

you went to office hours for your design professors, as you always did at the beginning of classes, just to introduce yourself, get yourself properly situated for academic success.

after jenny's audition on thursday, you went out, celebrated what she assured you was an astounding monologue delivery. between salted rims and blue-colored cocktails, jenny flipped her phone screen your way to show you the email that confirmed her callback tomorrow.

you squealed, shook her by the shoulders, pure excitement flowing through you. this was the year, you knew it. this was it.

nothing out of the ordinary, you let one of your friends set you up with some guy on saturday night. he was cute enough, kind of scummy, but, up until recently, he would have been exactly your type. you'd been known to go for the guys who looked like they'd been around the block, a little fratty, a little jocky. this guy, across from you, fit the bill, you could give him that.

all throughout college, you hadn't been the type to judge too harshly if a guy was a little too glued to his phone over dinner, if he had the distinct posture of someone who grew up with money, if he spoke shortly to wait staff.

for some reason, though, tonight, you felt itchy at the fact that he had a tough time looking you in the eye for more than a few seconds, felt a practically motherly concern at the way his fingers twitched towards his phone if he went more than a few minutes without looking at it.

for some reason, tonight, more so than nights before, the memory of a certain stiff-spined prince, blushing pink and thinking you were a princess, even dressed your sluttiest, danced across your mind like a waltz.

you sort of hated how his memory had kind of ruined what, a few months ago, would have been a satisfying hook-up, resented how someone you were never going to see again was dictating, to any degree, who you would go home with, but, regardless, you gave this guy across from you a terrible excuse for your need to leave, set a fiver on the table to cover your drink, hurried out the door and home.

jenny was sprawled out on her bed when you opened the door, watching some trashy reality dating show for the millionth time.

"watching it again isn't gonna make kaitlyn make the right choice," you reminded her as you set your bag down, recognizing the season from a single line of dialogue.

jenny groaned. "i can dream," she said, then fixed her eyes on you. "you look hot," she observed, "what are you doing here?"

you smiled as you began to take your makeup off. "went out with that guy chase set me up with," you explained, then sighed.

"what, did he lose his eyeballs on the way to the bar?"

you laughed, shook your head at jenny's characteristically odd wording. "nope," you said, "eyeballs intact. i just wasn't into it, i guess."

"fair enough," jenny agreed.

"it was so weird, though," you continued, "like, he was exactly what i usually go for."

"so he was a grimy slacker with a good face who has a concerning obsession with his mom?"

you gasped, feigned offense. "how dare you?" you asked, to which she giggled. "that was only twice!"

jenny rubbed at her neck. "for real though," she pushed, "what do you think is different?"

you bit your lip, thought for a moment, looked down at the cotton pad in your hand, now smudged with clumps of mascara and smears of blush. you swallowed. for some reason the sight made you slightly nauseous, some reminder of guilt or dirtiness or low self-esteem, or something like that, something you didn't really want to get into.

"you remember when you took me to the faire?" you said, still not looking at jenny.

"'course."

you exhaled. "well, when you were talking to that magician guy, i met this guy-"

jenny bolted upright from her horizontal position. "wait," she cut you off, excitement making her tone vibrate. "you mean to tell me that you met a guy at my faire, and i'm just hearing about it now?"

"sorry," you conceded, looking up to meet her eye.

"don't be," she waved you off, hugged her pillow to her chest. "i knew your costume would work!"

you rolled your eyes at her, pulled one of your knees up to your chest.

"so?" she asked, urging you on with her eyes. "tell me about him."

"he was just so fucking polite," you told her. "and so pretty. and when i made out with him in the bathroom it was like he didn't know how to kiss me, but he wanted to be good at it. so bad. like he was almost embarrassed about it." you sighed. "i don't even know why 'm still thinking about him," you told her, and it was true, sort of.

"i do," jenny told you, cracked a smile when you shot her a look. "i know everything."

"enlighten me, all-knowing jester," you said, gesturing for her to elaborate.

"you always take the scumbags, babe," she told you, "and they're fun, sure, but now you've had a taste of the teacher's pet, mom's favorite, goes to church on sunday. once you go 'good guy,' you never go back."

"i don't know," you said, skeptical, "i feel like i'm putting too much stock into this. feel like he probably doesn't even remember me."

jenny blew out a breath. "yeah right," she said, "let me tell you something."

"please."

"as much as you're feeling hooked on the good guy, right now," she said, "i can guarantee he's plagued at night by his glimpse of the dark side."

you hummed, smiled. "and i'm the dark side, in this scenario?"

"babe," jenny said, "you're not a 'bad person,' but you're a 'bad girl.'"

you pouted, but you knew what she meant. knew that you were kind, a good listener, a good friend, that you were trustworthy and patient and generous, but also that you weren't above the simple pleasures. that you weren't one to turn down a free drink, were always down to get your hands (and reputation) a little dirty, and until recently, that you were a one-night-stand frequent.

you also knew that people liked to label you as the bad girl simply because of the way you looked, the way you flirted, the way you dressed.

"whatever," you said, shrugging, acting like it didn't matter, wanting to change the subject, knowing just how to do it. "monday's the big day, right?"

jenny gushed about her callback, how that juliet role was practically hers, how she didn't want to jinx it. you told her the truth, that you couldn't imagine anyone else for the role, that they'd have to be stupid not to cast her.

and they proved to be not stupid, monday morning, when the cast list was emailed out to the department. on you way between classes, you received a face-time call from jenny before you even finished reading the full list.

"we did it!" jenny screamed as her jubilant face filled up your screen.

you couldn't help but let your face split into a grin at her excitement. "i told you," you said, "i told you! this is your year, jen. you deserve this so much." you almost felt misty-eyed. "'m so proud of you."

she looked like she actually was crying, now. "stop, babe, or you're gonna get me going," she warned. "fuck, i can't believe it. a lead role! i can't wait to wear your designs center stage!"

"i can't wait, too," you said, and you meant it.

"i know you have class, i'll let you go," she said, "see you at the meeting at four. okay, bye." she gave one last look. "our year!" she squealed as she hung up, leaving you laughing as you walked into class.

finally, it was time for the all-department meeting, your last commitment of the day, when everyone involved in the production met, now that you all knew the cast, from the leads to the directors to the stage managers to the last freshman painting sets under benji's direction.

"morrison's a night. mare," was the first thing that benji said to you as you slid into the seat next to him.

you hummed. "who's morrison?"

"one of my freshman," he explained. "his girlfriend's in the cast, said he wants to 'keep an eye on her,' whatever that means."

you scrunched up your nose. "gross," you said.

"and he sucks at everything," benji said. "'m half tempted to tell him to just stand in the corner and not touch anything."

you laughed as the director clapped his hands on the stage to get everyone's attention, launched into the typical congratulations speech. you felt jenny sit to your right with a deep breath.

"little late, eh, jen?" benji whispered.

"can it, benny," she replied, to which benji scowled. he hated when she called him that.

"and now, we'll do a full introduction," the director was saying, "from the back of the house all the way to the front. i can not emphasize enough how important it is that we, here in the theatre, trust and love everyone around us."

"i love you so much," you whispered to benji, who smirked.

"'m not interested, babe, but so flattered," was his response.

"why don't we start with our leads? jennifer and carlos, please stand and introduce yourselves."

"yeah, jennifer," you whispered, giggling into your hand. benji shook next to you.

jenny smacked you on the shoulder as carlos went. your production's romeo was a senior, too, had been in the department as long as you and your friends. you were a little surprised he had gotten the role, if you were honest, had always thought his acted grief came across as a bit shallow.

then jenny went, standing up, waving to everyone. when she was done with her introduction, no one clapped louder than you and benji, even whistling, a sound that echoed through the space.

the rest of the cast went, then all the directors and behind the scenes people. eventually, benji and his team went, followed by the costume crew.

"hi, everyone," you said, standing up, giving them all your name. "i'm the head costumer designer, and i can't wait to help all of you look like the best versions of yourselves and characters." you had used that line since sophomore year.

more people followed, eventually even the ushers went, followed by the orchestra and band.

you were friends with some of the music kids, so you tried to pay closer attention.

"'sup guys, 'm matt, on percussion," a stocky guy said, then gestured to the guy next to him. you laughed when you heard him grunt, "go, dude."

"yeah, i'm bobby," his friend, the blonde one, said, giving an awkward wave, "i, uh, play guitar."

"jesus, how does he look hotter than last spring?" benji said, putting his head in his hands, referring to the crush he had harbored on the department's guitarist for two years. you rubbed his shoulder in comfort, but a voice you recognized made your gaze snap back.

"hello, everyone, my name is joseph, i'm your new pianist, and i'm so excited to get to know you all."

the next person went to speak, but you just blinked, swallowed your disbelief down like a too-big pill.

it couldn't be him, but it was. there stood your boring prince, in a button down and khakis, this time, no tiara to be found. it made you wonder if he still had it, somewhere, maybe his bedroom, if his gaze would catch on it sometimes and he would think of you. if it would make him blush.

there he stood, hair just a bit longer, but the rest all the same as the dream boy who lived in your memory. so pretty, his words so naturally kind, you barely even noticed that he mentioned he would be the pianist for the production, too distracted by the fact that he was here, in front of you, right now.

hands on your waist, his soft groans muffled against your lips, wide doe eyes looking at you like he couldn't bear to look away, it all flashed across your mind, made you stiffen, your exhale come out short.

"you okay?" jenny whispered to you.

"that's him," you said.

"who?" her brow was furrowed, confused.

"that's him," you repeated. "the guy from the faire."

benji turned to you. "no way you let her drag you to that geek fest," he said, but you both ignored him, jenny's eyes going wide.

"that's your good guy?" she clarified. "the piano man is the bad kisser?"

"lower your voice," you warned, your voice low, serious.

benji leaned in. "you kissed bambi, over there?"

"yes, benny, keep up," jenny said, barely sparing him a look. "babe, you need to talk to him. this is fate." she snapped her fingers. "this is literally what the fortune teller was talking about, work and fun and all that."

you bit your lip, looked towards joseph again. your heart stuttered in your chest when you found him to be already looking at you. his lips quirked up in a shy smile as his fingers fluttered in a gentle wave.

you let a smile drape across your face at his recognition, his cordiality, then winked at him.

he looked at his feet, shifted lightly on his feet. you swore you could see his nervous blush from here. it made you feel like you were coated in glitter.

finally, the meeting ended with the promise of an email containing a review of all the information discussed. as everyone stood up and made for the exits, jenny gently shoved towards the front, where joseph was talking with his friends. she grabbed the elbow of benji and walked in the other direction as he muttered something about always being the last to know things.

you walked down the auditorium aisle, joseph's eyes lifting to meet yours as you got close. his smile grew boyish and bashful as he registered your approach, stepped out of his lean against the stage, brushed his palms against his pants.

there was a pause that you noted, because what exactly could you say, here? what exactly could you do?

could you say hey, matt and bobby, i don't know how you know joseph, but i made out with him in the bathroom of a ren faire tavern and haven't stopped thinking about him since?

probably not.

instead, you just smiled, asked matt and bobby how their summers were. they had been in the theatre band since sophomore year, so you were familiar with them, at least enough to know what place matt was talking about when he mentioned his vacation home and who bobby was referring to when he mentioned his buddies on the team (the both of them were on the club hockey team at school).

matt clapped a heavy hand on joseph's shoulder. "woller's on the team with us," he explained, "convinced him to fill the piano void we had after the seniors graduated."

you hummed, turned your gaze back to joseph, relished in the endearing awkwardness you found. "joey and i have met, actually," you said.

bobby shrugged. "you go to the same school, not all that surprising."

it was sort of funny, now that you thought of it, that in three years, you hadn't crossed paths with joseph one time. not once did he catch your attention in the dining hall, not once did he drop a pen in your vicinity during a lecture, never did he accidentally bump into you between classes.

you'd gone three years without seeing those blue eyes, and since that chance encounter, you hadn't stopped thinking about them.

matt seemed to be more perceptive than bobby, though, giving a slight nod in understanding. "we'll leave you to catch up, then," he said, grabbing his backpack, tossing bobby his. "see you 'round, guys."

then the auditorium was empty, except for you and joseph. like a universe that existed only for the two of you. the high ceilings seemed barely suitable to fit the mass of emotion you felt.

you kept a safe step's distance. "hi, joey," you said, softer than you meant.

his eyes shimmered at your voice, at the nickname. "hi, trouble," he said, in that tone that felt like winter sunlight, "how are you?"

of course he would ask that, hands shoved into his pockets, of course he would ask that and really mean it, really care.

"'m good," you said. "really good, now. didn't know 'f i'd see you again."

he hummed, and it felt like power, to know that you both were thinking about the last time, to know for certain he was thinking of you, pushing him up against a door.

"how are you?" you reciprocated, leaning back on your heels.

he thought for a moment, the pause fat with nostalgia, ripe with promise. "pretty nervous, if 'm honest," he told you, looked down.

you couldn't hide your delight. "like you honest," you told him, and his blush deepened. he wanted to meet your gaze, so badly, you could tell, but it was almost like he didn't trust himself to, like he might get caught there forever.

he gave a breathy sort of laugh. it made your head spin.

you stepped closer to him, which tore his eyes up to yours. his chest heaved in what might have been a relieved sigh. "do your friends know?" you asked, and your voice had grown husky, softer, only for him.

he shook his head, his eyes welling up with genuine truth, like he would never. "no," he said.

"really?" you asked, cocked your head. "don't kiss and tell, joey?"

his ears bloomed pink, like the word kiss was some kind of curse, like all of it was too much to hear aloud. it had you almost regretting saying it. almost.

when he spoke, his voice cracked, slightly. "no, uh, can't say i do, sweetheart." he said.

you gave him a smile that curled with smokiness. "did you just wanna keep it to yourself, then?" you asked, let your gaze grow hooded. "maybe keep me to yourself?"

his breathing was heavier, and he was so close, and all you wanted to do was kiss him again, knead your knuckles into that stiff neck, feel him against you, but you didn't.

you didn't and then he spoke again. it was breathy, wavering. "think, maybe, uh, we should," he started, "think we should just be, uh, friends, sweetheart."

and you could have been disappointed, offended, even, but you weren't. you just took a small step back, smiled at him gently. let his words settle. "do you, joey?"

he gave a slight nod. "yeah, um, just 'cause of the show, and we'll be working closely, and such," he said. "for the sake of the show." something permissive and almost regretful, something practically compunctious flooded his bright, blue eyes, the way oil sullies a warm ocean gulf.

"thank god we have a pianist so dedicated to the production, then," you said, eyes wide, watched him blush further. "we should probably exchange numbers, then," you continued, "so we can do things that friends do."

he cleared his throat, nodded, entered his information into the phone you offered him. "it'll be good," he said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you.

"it'll be so, so good," you amended, retreating, now walking towards the exit. "i promise, joey, 'll make it so good, for you."

for the second time, you left him, blushing, disheveled, this time with much more hope in your heart.

"so, did you talk to him?" jenny asked you over lunch the next day.

"and can you get him to talk to bobby about me?" benji asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"yes, and no," you said, making benji pout.

jenny stamped her feet under the table in fast succession. "so, what did you say? what did he say?"

you shrugged. "he said we should be just friends." it even sounded funny coming out of your mouth.

benji winced. "ouch," he said, blowing out a breath.

"i don't get it," jenny said, appearing genuinely confused.

"said it was for the good of the production, or something," you said.

"what a load of bullshit," jenny said, now almost angry.

you shrugged again.

"why aren't you upset?" benji asked, skeptical. "in all the time i've known you, you haven't been friendzoned once. it can't feel good to be slummin' it with the rest of us."

you laughed. "i'm not upset because i know he doesn't want to be friends, he just thinks it's the right thing to do."

"what's the difference?" jenny said, "regardless, he set his terms."

"and i'll be respectful of them," you said, and you meant it. you were not one to break hard-set boundaries, to act in a forceful or disrespectful way. "i'm a great friend."

benji narrowed his eyes. "so, you're just gonna be totally platonic with this guy?"

you nodded, leaned back in your seat.

"just friends with the only guy i've ever seen you think twice about?" jenny clarified.

"exactly," you reiterated. "just friends, nothing more." your mouth quirked. "until he inevitably decides otherwise."

benji rolled his eyes. "of course," he said, almost bitter. "the elusive long game."

"won't be that long," you corrected.

"how can you be so sure?"

you smiled at the memory. "his eyes," you said, honestly, almost guiltily. "bit of a dead giveaway."

joseph had declared you just friends, so that's what you would be, for the time being. you trusted he would come to his own conclusions as time passed, so you figured there really wasn't any reason to rush things. there were much worse things than being friends with a very kind person.

so you texted him the next morning, sent him a hey :) it's your favorite new friend, followed by your name, followed by a what're you doing later?

and of course he was a prompt responder, getting back to you in a matter of minutes. a Good Morning, Sweetheart, followed by a We have practice until 6:30, but I'm free after that. What did you have in mind?

his texts read a bit awkward and stiff, in all of their grammatical correctness, but it made you sigh, because what was he, if not a little awkward and stiff?

wanna study at my place? you sent, followed by i could walk you back from practice.

I'd like that. was his response, followed by Just to clarify, you mean actually study, right? That wasn't an innuendo?

now he had you smiling at your phone. get your head outta the gutter joey you texted, followed by just to study, followed by pinkie promise.

you could picture his blush as if you wear standing in front of him.

See you at 6:30, Trouble, was his last response.

you sort of thought it was funny that he called you that, and maybe it should have been a little offensive, because maybe you were tired of being associated with that kind of negativity. maybe you were tired of coming with a warning label, tired of feeling like all anyone saw when they looked at you was a pretty face wrapped up in red flags.

what was funnier, you supposed, was that you didn't mind it when he called you that. you didn't mind it because there was something you liked about being trouble to him, in particular. you liked being his sweetheart, probably more than you would admit to yourself, but there was something addictive about being important enough, singular enough, powerful enough to be deemed trouble by a person like him.

a person who just oozed with goodness, with righteousness, without any of the arrogance so typically marring the quality, a person whose smile leaked sunshine, who was distinct in their genuineness, whose honesty and kindness you swore you could taste, the way marshmallow fluff sticks to your teeth, grainy and sweet.

maybe you didn't love being trouble, but perhaps you didn't mind being his trouble.

that was the sentiment at the forefront of your mind as you entered the ice rink that the club team practiced at, a few minutes early, let the chillier air cool your face.

the last of the team was on the ice, just a few bodies picking up pucks and cones. you scanned the ice, didn't spot his distinct profile, so you just took a seat in the bleachers, enjoyed the rare moment of quiet, breathing in and out.

a quiet thudding noise drew your attention to the glass, where matt and bobby were waving you down. you hopped down from the bleachers while bobby opened the door to the ice, which made a heavy clanging sound.

"hey, guys," you said, now standing in front of them.

"you missed the fun part," bobby said. you had to crane your neck to look at them. they were taller in skates, a little more intimidating in full hockey pads than when they were goofing off in the pit of the theatre.

you laughed good-naturedly. "not here to watch you trick pucks off the crossbar," you said.

matt laughed. "why are you here, then?" he said.

you didn't quite answer, sucked on your teeth for a second. "where's joey?" you asked, instead.

bobby rolled his eyes.

matt just nodded towards the other end of the ice. "i'll tell him you're here," he said, skated away.

your eyes followed him, then widened. "he's a goalie?" you asked bobby. you tracked the big number sixty on the back of the jersey, the slow, deliberate skating motions, the posture you recognized.

"yeah, why?" bobby asked.

"i don't know," you said, "forgot that was even a position."

"it's the position for freaks," he clarified, leaning against the boards.

you scrunched up your face. but, you supposed, you had never met anyone quite like joseph. perhaps that made him a freak, to some degree.

matt skated back over and told bobby they had to get off the ice for the zamboni, telling you that joseph said he'd meet you by the exit.

you hadn't been waiting for five minutes before the three of them emerged from the locker room, holding water bottles and backpacks. your eyes, however, snagged on joseph like a thread on a nail, didn't leave. he looked too pretty like this, damp hair curling at the ends, face flushed with exertion and cold, his body visibly tired but also more relaxed than you'd seen him.

your throat went dry when he smiled at you. "hey, sweetheart," he said, easy.

"hi," you responded, clasped your hands behind your back, scared, if left to their own devices, they'd reach up and push that rogue curl from his forehead.

"where're you guys headed?" matt asked you as you pushed the doors open into the dusky night.

"mine," you said, not thinking anything of it, because it was the truth, because there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

then you saw the blush that tinted joseph's nose, dainty, but there. maybe it had sounded a little suggestive, but you had nothing to apologize for, and his reaction sort of hurt your feelings, for some reason.

you both said goodbye to matt and bobby, who were headed off to the dining hall, and continued on the walk to your apartment. "are you embarrassed?" you asked, not harshly, just truthfully. because it mattered.

it mattered if he thought you were the kind of person it was embarrassing to go home with. it mattered if he thought there was some kind of reputation with you that would become his through association.

it mattered if he thought you were an embarrassing kind of trouble, instead of a beautiful kind.

he didn't answer for a second, exhaled, and you squinted. "are you embarrassed of me?" you amended.

his gaze shot to yours, eyes flooded with concern, genuine worry. "what? no," he promised, "no, sweetheart, of course not of you."

and this made you feel better, a little. "what of, then?" you asked, in step besides his large frame.

a pause settled in the space between his hip and your waist, side by side, stride by stride.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "it's just that," he started, took a breath, then started again. "i know it must seem weird to you, how flustered i get." you wanted to cut him off, correct him, but mostly you wanted him to continue. "'m not as comfortable as you, as confident."

"it's not weird," you promised, "i like how flustered you get. i like your blush." your fingers twitched. "i can try to dial it back, if it'd make you feel better. i can try to be, i don't know, less-"

he did cut you off, then. "no," he said, his voice breaking, only a bit. "don't, uh, change." he cleared his throat, squeezed his plastic water bottle, making it crinkle. "please."

you stared at the side of his face, for a second, any words dying in your throat. "really? aren't you scared 'll bring you over to the dark side, joey?" you said it like a joke, but it wasn't, not really. "aren't you scared i'll turn you bad?"

he looked at you, then, big blue eyes drunk with truth. "'m not scared of you, trouble," was all he said, and that was that.

you showed him up to your apartment, gave him a short tour.

"where do you usually do homework?" he asked, gentle.

"bedroom floor," you said, almost sheepish. "floor's the best place for critical thinking."

he laughed, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. "lead the way, then," he said.

so you sat with him, on the floor of your bedroom, for a couple hours, until the night made time feel viscous and thick, until your throat was rough from lack of use, until your eyelids felt heavy.

hours of you, doing physics problem sets, and him, finishing history readings. hours of work that were made comfortable, sleepy, by the shared presence of each other, of exhales and warmth and shifting limbs.

hours of work cut with questions about his day, about your classes, about him playing the piano, about your friendship with jenny, about his with bobby and matt, about your mom and his siblings and your design dreams and his uncertain ones.

before long it was past midnight, and you felt your eyes lingering too long on his full mouth, and his gaze felt too honey-sweet on your face. before long, it was time for him to go, before the late hour made you want to see just how far you could push just friends.

out of respect, though, and because you cared about him, at some point, you cleared your throat.

"i should probably go to sleep, soon," you said, a rasp to your voice.

he made to grab his things, pushed his massive body up from your floor. "me too," he said. "'s getting late."

he swung his backpack onto his shoulder and you walked him to the door. he opened it, turned back around, leaned against the frame, facing you.

he looked down at you, and your heart surged, your mind clouded with deja vu. "do you still have your tiara?" you asked, nodding up to his head.

his lips split into a smile as he gave a rough, low laugh. "yeah, sweetheart," he said, his eyes growing foggy with memory. "that's, uh, a keeper."

and it probably wasn't how he meant it, but it almost felt like he was saying you were a keeper, and no one had ever thought that before. you squeezed your hand into a fist. "remember when you said you were a boring prince?"

he nodded.

it took every inch of your discipline not to touch him, hug him, tug him down by his shirt and kiss him dumb. "you're not boring, joey," you said.

he swallowed, his eyes welling up with meaning. "how can you be so sure?" he asked, soft.

"you can't be," you explained, "or i would've been able to stop thinking about you."

his hooded gaze caught on your lips, and it would have been so easy to push up on your toes, slot your mouth against his, but you didn't.

his simmering eyes met yours again. "goodnight, sweetheart," he breathed.

"goodnight," you said, your smile fluttery, shutting the door gently behind him.

and so began the most confusing friendship of your life.

the semester progressed quickly, the pace constantly being pushed by your busy schedule. your days seemed to pass in a blink, filled by classes and exams and rehearsals and theatre commitments, fittings and design meetings and movie nights with jenny, lunches with benji.

jenny's juliet grew more and more compelling, benji grew more and more annoyed with his set crew.

the more time passed, the more frequently you were making plans with joseph, until he just became a part of your schedule. two days a week, you would study at your place, a different two days, you would go to his, instead.

he lived with some guys from the team, so the kitchen was a bit messy, and the decor was seriously lacking, but his room was spotlessly clean, actually sort of comfortable, so you didn't mind. he had a desk, but you had convinced him of the magic of the floor, so the floors of your respective bedrooms had become something of a safe place, a tall, tall tower, away from everything else, away from reality.

you came to find that there was absolutely nothing more comfortable than the warm silence that settled between the two of you like a glittery fog when you'd both get into a working groove, perhaps not talking for stretches of time, but the presence of each other easy enough to fall asleep in.

here and there, one of you would slice through the silence like a warm knife through salted butter, asking about something that had happened that morning, or practice, or rehearsal, or something.

he'd ask how your exam went, and his gaze would melt a bit when you'd gush about how you knew you nailed it.

"that's great, sweetheart," he'd say, his posture more relaxed in the nighttime drowsiness. "'m so proud of you."

maybe you'd ask how the game last weekend went, and his nose would twitch, just a bit.

he'd shrug, and the muscles in his neck would clench, and you'd want nothing more than to ease the tension there with your fingers. "fine," he'd say. "could've been better."

and you'd roll your eyes. "you always think you could've been better," you'd say, and it would be true. you had come to understand that he was a real perfectionist when it came to hockey.

he'd smile, lopsided, and your stomach would flip. "'cause i always could be," he'd say, and it would make you frown.

"i don't know," you'd say, the words coming out slow, like molten chocolate. you'd meet his lazy gaze. "don't think it gets much better than you."

nights of studying and walking him back from practice, days during which, when you were lucky, you could sneak a coffee break with him, began to feel normal, but not in the sense that you didn't feel especially grateful every time you saw him. you couldn't imagine an instance that his eyes wouldn't make your knees wobble, that his voice wouldn't make your heart jolt, a time when making him blush wouldn't feel like a triumph, when making him laugh wouldn't pull the most genuine smile from your own mouth.

you felt as if he'd been an abrupt reset to your whole system, ever since that dusky summer kiss against a door, like a startling ice bath to your entire being. for him, though, you didn't imagine your presence to be as shocking, instead more gradual, like your attention, your thinly-veiled attraction was like ivy, slowly overtaking an old brick building.

miraculously, for weeks and weeks, you kept your hands to yourself. sure, there was the occasional hug goodbye, which typically left you speechless, the more frequent touch of a hand here and there, over a glass of water or across a spread of notebooks. once, and only once, there was a firm arm around your waist, the time when you slipped while walking next to him, his quick reflexes meaning his arm shot out to wrap around you, pulling you back upright in a single motion.

you tried your best not to lean into his embrace, mentally applauded yourself for a job well done. "thanks for that," you said, clearing your throat.

he didn't let go of you immediately though, his hand lingering on your waist for a split second, his gaze shadowy, like in a trance.

"joey," you said, and it came out like a plea, because he couldn't touch you, not like this. it wasn't fair, and you were being so good. "don't do this to me."

that snapped him out of his daze, as he gently retracted his arm, settled it unnaturally next to his side, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, now that his palm had laid flat against your hip. what do you do with something sacred? "sorry, sweetheart," he said, and his voice was rough.

for the first time, though, you realized, with narrowing eyes, you got the sense that he was lying to you. that he wasn't actually sorry, not at all.

then there was the time that he showed up at your place unannounced, on a day when you hadn't made plans. "coming," you'd yelled out in response to a knock, fresh out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around you. you opened the door, almost yelped when you saw him in the frame, looking straight out of a fairytale with his hair in his face.

of course, he blushed, looked down when he registered your appearance, clicked his tongue as you held your towel tighter around you. "d'you, uh," he said, "do you always answer the door like this?"

you could have laughed at his gentle humor, despite him being so obviously flustered. "only for you, joey," you said, winking at him, making him go red, which made your smile grow as you swung the door open wider, wordlessly inviting him inside. "kidding. one sec, let me get dressed."

eventually, matt and bobby got used to your presence in their kitchen, in the bleachers of the rink. you met their fourth roommate, a tall, lanky defenseman you mistakenly called simon the first time you met him.

"not si-mon," he corrected, "si-mone."

"like the girl's name," bobby said, trying to help, to which simon whacked him on the back of the head.

"aren't athletes supposed to eat healthy?" you asked one time, when you were steeping one of the tea bags you had begun to keep at joseph's place, just for convenience's sake. you had walked in on matt, bobby, and simon making ice cream sundaes.

matt just waved you off. "it's different for club," he said.

bobby scowled. "last i checked, you don't pay rent here," he said, "no rent, no opinion."

"yeah," simon said, his accent slight as he put the ice cream carton back into the freezer. "why don't you go back to your own house?"

"because i'm studying," you said, to which you were on the receiving end of a chorus of groans.

"swear you guys are practically married," matt said. "remember when i walked in on you putting that gray shit on his face?"

you rolled your eyes. "that was a face mask, and it's good for your pores."

"he has you over here more in a week than my girl has been here in a month," simon continued.

you scoffed. "maybe you should fix that, then," you told him. "nothing to do with me. me and your roommate are just-"

"don't finish that sentence," bobby said, "for my sanity, don't do it."

"what's going on out here?" came that deep voice from behind you.

"nothing," simon said, "your girl called us athletes, though."

simon's wording had you almost sad, about to correct him, but something in you stopped. because was it really all that much of a lie? joseph didn't correct him, either, which had to count for something. had to mean something.

"bein' nice, trouble?" joseph asked, a lazy smile on his face.

"you know me," you said, to which his eyes shimmered. because he did, because it was true.

you could almost hear bobby's eye roll. "we'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow," he said on his way back to his room.

as opening night grew impossibly close, your path began to cross with joseph's more in the theatre, too.

as you'd get final measurements in, make some last minute adjustments to skirt lengths and blouse widths, you'd hear that telltale melody from the pit, so smooth it'd put a smile on your face.

once, you were doing a final check of jenny's costume, the last one she would wear before curtain close, and the music began.

jenny's grin grew teasing. "such a sap, now," she said.

"don't," you warned, "i'm the one with all the pins."

she put her hands up in surrender. "not a bad thing," she said, "it's really cute, actually. just can't believe you've lasted this long."

you sighed. "that makes the two of us."

benji popped in from the wing. "so proud of you," he said, "but one of you needs to do something. it's actually painful."

it was sort of crazy, you realized, to be anything but completely grateful and satisfied with being one of joseph's closest friends. it was a privilege, you knew that. it just kind of made you wish you'd never kissed him in the first place, that you didn't know what he felt like, sounded like, tasted like. you could be so completely content if you didn't know that.

"dude, you sound like a dying cat." you recognized matt's voice, assumed he was talking to bobby. "opening night's in two days."

you could picture bobby's disinterested shrug.

benji took this opportunity to walk all the way out onto the stage, clear his throat. "i think you sound great, bobby," he said.

there was a pause. "uh, thanks, man," was the short reply. "what was your name again?"

you winced. jenny shuttered. "brutal," she whispered.

"bob, you know benji," joseph said from the piano bench, ever the polite diplomat. "he paints all the sets."

bobby looked around, took in the castles and gardens that benji had worked so hard on. "you did these?" he asked. benji nodded. "pretty sick, dude," he said, impressed.

jenny put a hand over her heart. "oh, benji, you're so talented and handsome," she said, loudly, drawing everyone's attention.

benji rolled his eyes. "oh, fuck off, jen."

you caught joseph's gaze across the space, him at the piano, you bent down, fussing with jenny's hem.

hi, he mouthed, and your heart stirred.

hi, you mouthed back.

because of the packed and overlapping theatre schedule, you became closely acquainted with the way joseph played the piano, nothing like matt's violent percussion or bobby's novice-at-best guitar abilities. he played with a gentle intensity, a passionate perfectionism, which you supposed was just the way that he was.

you swore you could watch him get caught up in the notes, could follow the deft movements of his hands for hours and not get bored, because he wouldn't get bored.

finally, it was the day before opening night, and after completing the whole last minute checklist as well as all the department's traditions and superstitions, you went back to your workspace for just a second to triple check everything. you wanted everything to go smoothly tomorrow, no surprises. a few minutes into your last checks, though, there was a soft knock on your open door.

you looked up to find a tired pair of big blue eyes. "what're you doing here?" you asked, gentle. "look like you're about to fall asleep, joey."

he shook his head. "wide awake," he said, and he sounded it. "know it's a late night, but it's still thursday. i understand if you wanted to skip tonight, but-"

you waved him off, lugged your bag onto your shoulder. "yeah, right," you said. "not gettin' rid of me that easy."

he smiled, held the door open for you as you passed him, as you both began the walk to his place. the air was chilly, refreshing, but you shivered, nonetheless.

"cold?" he asked, and you nodded, to which he started to unbutton his shirt.

"what're you doing?" you said, and you couldn't help the shocked sort of tone your voice had taken on.

he gave a light laugh, handed you his button down, revealing a t-shirt underneath. he looked at you, almost guiltily, eyes a bit dark, as you shrugged your bag off, put his shirt on, then your backpack. "'m always prepared," he said.

"thank you," you said, and it looked like the words warmed him from the inside out. you figured, maybe, you'd push your luck. "god forbid you show a little skin."

the silence rumbled. it was dark, but it was as if you could feel the heat of his blush, felt it on your own face like a creamy foundation. "easy, trouble," he said, and it was quiet, hoarse.

soon enough he was holding the door of his apartment open, as he had so many times before, then he was leading you into his bedroom, but it felt so different, for some reason, so much heavier, harder, more heated.

you took your spot on the floor, spread out your notes, planning to get a little bit of studying done, as you knew you wouldn't finish any schoolwork tomorrow, with all the running around you were going to be doing. he took his spot across from you, maybe a little bit closer, which you pretended not to notice.

time passed as it usually did, in this situation, at this hour, in his company.

but then you'd catch him looking at you, feel it like a blistering singe, would look up to meet his gaze, only to find it back down on his homework, like the movement of your head was enough to scare him back into routine.

and then it happened again, and he wasn't even looking at your face, this time, he was staring at your middle, your body, which he never did, and you wanted to throw something at him, tell him to stop, please, because you couldn't handle it. his longing was too much to take, the way it was seeping through the walls like a aphrodisiac. if it was a challenge to keep your hands to yourself under normal circumstances, it was almost impossible, now, when he was hiding his want so poorly, almost like he wasn't trying to hide it at all.

the third time it happened, you cleared your throat. it was making you sort of nervous, and it was definitely getting your hopes up. "you starin' at me, joey?" you asked, not accusatory.

"sorry," he said, immediately, didn't meet your eyes.

you tilted your head. "that's the second time you've done that," you observed.

he looked up, at that. "what?"

"that's the second time you've lied to me about being sorry."

he swallowed, and your eyes tracked the motion. his flush was that of guilt, maybe a dull sort of shame.

"why're you embarrassed?" you asked, shifting a bit closer to him. "you're allowed to look at me, you know."

his blue eyes swam with promise as he let out what looked like a soft sigh of relief. "i am?" he asked.

you nodded, felt a little mean. maybe it was the fact that it had been months since his lips had been on yours, and the memory still sparked a fire inside of you. maybe it was the fact that you'd been so patient, maybe it was that you had a feeling the sight of you in his button-down, a little tight in the chest and by the hips, was making his throat dry. "you're allowed, joey, because we're such good friends."

something like a grunt rumbled in his throat, involuntary, and you squinted at him. you were right in front of him, now, sitting on your heels, watching his indecision weigh on him like a boulder between his shoulder blades.

"what?" you asked, the picture of innocence. "what's wrong?"

"nothing, sweetheart," he said, breathy, "nothing's wrong, it's just that-"

"what?" you pushed.

he didn't continue, just swallowed around his words, rested his elbows on his bent knees, notebooks strewn to the side.

you gave a little pout, leaned forward, so close, now, you could see the faint gold in the blue of his eyes. "don't like being my friend, joey?"

"no, i do-" he rushed, but you cut him off again.

"'ve been so good," you said, because it was true, "and you're being mean."

this seemed to sober him up, to turn his words to steel, steady and honest. this seemed to tap into a well of confidence you didn't even know he possessed, because he leaned forward, too, reached a broad hand out, brushed his thumb against your cheekbone, making your breath catch in your throat.

"i like being your friend," he said, and the words were like a soothing balm to your scorched reputation. then his gaze rippled with heat, and you remembered how you had gotten that reputation in the first place. he gave you a knowing sort of look. "but i want to kiss you, sweetheart. so badly."

you could have cried with relief, could have slapped him in the face for taking so long, could have made him wait a little bit longer just to be cruel, but instead, you just wrapped your arms around his neck, shifted forward, let him make space for you until your knees straddled his hips.

it felt like something religious that he was the one that pulled you closer, by your hips, that he was the one to dip his head down and meet you in a kiss that felt, simultaneously, like opening a door marked do not enter and finally, finally, coming home.

you tugged lightly at his hair, just wanting him closer, just wanting him as close as you could get him. his grip on one of your hips grew firm, confident, as the other hand splayed out on the side of your face, rough and warm.

you sighed into his mouth, because he tasted like how you remembered, like cool mint, and because he smelled so good, and because you felt so perfect, so safe.

his teeth knocked against yours, and his rhythm was off, and you had the feeling he was holding back, a little, but all of that was so him, was exactly the imperfect kiss you had been fixating on, but this time with the added passion of knowing him so genuinely, so deeply.

you dug a knuckle into his neck, worked at the knots under your touch. your movements grew slow, languished, lazy, as you softly rocked your hips against him, relished in the groan you pulled from him, making you pull away, just a little, feel him breathe heavy against you, his eyelids heavy. "so stiff, joey," you said, "relax for me, yeah?"

"yeah." he nodded, whined, slightly, when you shifted back and forth again. when his eyes caught yours again, there was something new there, a deeper desire, a question.

you leaned forwards, pressed your mouth messily to his jaw, down his neck. "just ask me," you said, between kisses, "you're allowed, baby, just ask me."

his voice was dazed, like it was hard to focus with your lips on his neck, with you grinding against him. you could feel him, firm and hard, underneath you. "just need," he tried, "just need something, sweetheart, please."

you pulled back, slightly, rested your cheek on his shoulder, giving you both a moment to catch your breath. "don't wanna rush you," you said into his collarbone, because you meant it, because it was important. "but 'll give you anything you want."

it felt so odd to even have to say that, because it seemed that everyone you'd been with, before, had already assumed this of you, that of course you'd give them anything, everything, because you were you, with that face, with that flirtatious smile, with that history.

it felt so lovely, to feel compelled to have to clarify that for him. because of course you would give him anything, everything, every single part of yourself, if he'd only ask.

he clasped his hands behind your back, exhaled slowly. "thank you," he whispered, and it broke your heart into a million pieces. when was the last time someone had thanked you for offering yourself up, like this? why did it almost make you want to cry?

"what do you want, baby?" you asked, running your nails along his neck, after his words had hardened around your heart like crystal, somehow still silken-soft. "will you let me make you feel good, hm? can i?"

you felt him take a deep breath against your chest. "please, sweetheart," he rasped. "please, need you, so bad."

"yeah?" you asked, shifting up and off of him, now kneeling beside his lap. "can i touch you?"

he nodded, and the heat in his eyes burned you. "please."

you reached a delicate hand forward, palmed his cock over his clothes, gentle, found him so hard and hot, while he hissed at first contact. "makin' me wait so long, baby, and you've been needin' me, too?" you teased, a soft grin on your swollen lips as you pulled him out fully, ran your hand along the length of him.

"'m sorry, sweetheart," he breathed, and it seemed funny, apologizing, then. "just wanted t'do the right thing."

you hummed, pumped him up and down, slowly, spit onto his length, kept going. "right thing, hm?" he nodded. "didn't feel right to me, baby," you said, picking up your pace, your grip wet and firm. he huffed, and his thighs tensed. "know what feels right?"

"what?" he asked, eyes pleading, practically spellbound by you, your steady stream of words, so different from him, rendered basically speechless.

"your cock in my hand," you answered, and of all things, he blushed. you bit your lip, because you had a feeling your word choice was the reason. you were pretty sure that, despite the circumstances, the thing that had your clean-tongued prince flustered was your dirty mouth. you pulled your touch away, let his eager hands help you out of his button down, your shirt underneath.

when you looked at him again, he was looking at you, already, with a galaxy in his eyes.

"what?" you asked, your mouth quirking up.

he laughed, lightly, shook his head. "just so pretty, sweetheart," he said, "just so, so pretty."

you scrunched up your face, but didn't hide your delighted smile as you went to kiss him on the jaw, hoisting your leg up and over him until you hovered above his lap. "pretty enough to fuck?" you asked, against his neck, right by his ear, and you smiled at the jolt of his hips, the shake of his breath. "tell me."

his hand braced the back of your neck, gave the softest rumble of a laugh, like whatever he was about to say was above him, like it was incomprehensible. "can i fuck you, trouble?" he asked, and you laughed, too, because the curse sounded so foreign on his lips.

it was something lovely to be laughing, with someone you trusted wholly, like this. with someone who thought, all that time ago, that you were a princess.

"watch your mouth, joey," you teased, giving him a false look of depravity as you reached under you, gripped him again, angled his cock to your core.

"such a," he began, his breath hitching when you began to sink down on him, "such a bad influence."

you groaned at the stretch as you pushed yourself down further, felt the burn of it in your throat, in your toes. you sucked on your teeth, had to close your eyes for a second as you clung to his neck for support.

finally, all the way in, you stayed still for a moment, adjusting, letting him adjust to you.

"this okay?" you whispered into his shoulder.

there was a pause. "you're perfect," he said, so genuinely it hurt. "feel so good, sweetheart."

you smiled. "can i move, baby?" he surprised you, then, answering you by gripping you harder and angling his hips up into you, slow and deep. you groaned at the sensation, fluttering in your stomach. "so good, joey," you breathed, then smiled, your tone turning devious when his other hand rooted in your hair, hard, steady. "fast learner, hm?" you asked, "already know what i like?"

his pace stuttered, but you met him thrust for thrust, up and down. "show me," he said, almost whiny, a slight sheen on the high points of his face, a flush on his neck and nose. "show me what you like, sweetheart." his eyes flooded with meaning. "want this t'be good for you, hm?"

your chest could have cracked open, because you couldn't remember the last time someone had wanted that, never mind voiced it to you. who would you be to deny him that?

you kissed his shoulder, showed him just how hard to tug at your hair. "you're so good to me, baby," you said, "too good to me, yeah?" you placed your palm over his hand, on your hip, moved it to your clit, showed him how to touch you. the friction made you clench around him, forcing a whimper from your mouth, a throaty groan from his as you both picked up your pace.

time didn't feel real, you supposed it never had, in this room. it had seemed irrelevant when you were working on mechanics problems for physics while he drafted papers for eastern european history, and it seemed irrelevant now, too.

for seconds or minutes or months, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer, heat building inside of you as his thrusts grew jerky, as his breathing heaved, as the friction of his hand against your clit made you delirious.

your thighs felt hot with exertion as you moaned. "gonna make me cum, joey," you said, at some point, dreamy, "so deep inside of me, baby, feel you here." you placed a palm on your lower stomach to show him, pushed down, relished in the pressurized sensation.

"'m so close," he breathed, "so perfect, sweetheart, right there."

"fuck, let me have it," you pleaded, so warm and wet around him. "want it so bad, baby, let me feel you. let me take it."

he came apart at your words, his muscles tensing abruptly under your palms as his orgasm triggered your own, so sudden and staggering you swore your teeth were chattering. your head collapsed onto his shoulder as your eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your back, holding you tight against his chest.

his shoulder was just barely damp with sweat under your cheek, and the air felt humid, heavy, like you could cup it in a palm.

when you opened your eyes, your flighty gaze caught on something shiny, just next to his desk, which had been taken over with completed lego sets. hanging on his open closet door was his tiara, you realized, from all those months ago. from before all the friendship and pining and making kingdoms out of bedroom floors.

it was sort of funny, how something like a cheap plastic crown could mean so much. if he hadn't worn it, what then? would any of this have even happened? if you hadn't reached up to straighten him out? hadn't made some joke about not being able to?

you laughed into him, and you could hear his smile. "what?" he rasped, making you look up at him. he looked straight out of a classical art museum, some kind of angel in acrylic, painted by a god-fearing sinner, all blushy cheeks and big, forgiving eyes, corded shoulders and lips wet with spit.

you massaged the back of his shoulders with a careful hand. "remember when you thought i was a princess?" you mused, the memory at the front of your mind.

"'course," he said. "most beautiful girl i'd ever seen."

you closed your eyes, exhaled, opened them again. "i was dressed as a wench," you said, but the joking tone you'd aimed for sounded dumb, following his honest confession.

he just smiled, a sliver of perfect teeth through pink lips. "don't know, trouble," he said, "pretty sure i know i princess when i see one. i was a prince, after all."

you hit him lightly on the chest, laughed. "i guess you know what you're talking about then, hm?"

he hummed. "oh, yeah," he confirmed, rubbing circles with his thumb into your lower back, "'specially when i'm talking about you."

and you thought, for the first time in a while, that maybe, to have someone talk about you wouldn't be a bad thing. that, perhaps, to have this somebody talk about you would be something quite special.

tomorrow, it would be daylight, and it would be busy, and the world would speed up again. tomorrow, benji would be late, of course, and bobby would mess up the chords to the interlude, and jenny would absolutely nail her first lead role. tomorrow, matt and simon would make a bunch of crude jokes and benji's freshman would give him a fruit basket to thank him for his leadership, and the theatre director would cry, because of how wonderful the production went.

tomorrow, a lot would happen.

but, tonight, there was just the boring prince of legos and piano keys, holding the unbecoming princess of bedpost notches and pleats. tonight, they resided over the kingdom of bad influence and embarrassed flushes.

and tonight, the kingdom was finally quiet.

fin.

364 notes · View notes

websterss · 17 days

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 — 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: If there's one thing Caleb is scared of it's the color red and the devil.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, some fluff, implications of smut, some making out

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3,604

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! This was one fic I lost when I made a new blog and was reposting my works. It's not exactly the same but I stuck to the same plot as best as I could.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had caught Luke's eye as soon as he stepped out onto the floor. Many people flaunting and going amidst their night caught his attention. He felt that he and the guys were a little underdressed for the fancy club, but it had been your appearance alone that had you catching their eyes like flies. They were drawn to you in particular. Luke most of all, couldn't sway where his sights were directed towards.

"Hey boys, I'll be right back." He made to move past Reggie, his hand on his chest in passing but was stopped when Willie intersected him. Luke looked down at the hand that Willie pressed against his chest. He scoffed in amusement. "Where's the fire?"

"N-Nowhere, but there could be. I wouldn't recommend it. Not her. Y/n isn't someone you just go up and talk to." Willie's face fell with fear.

"Oh yeah, why's that? Is she important or something?" Luke laughed, but Willie wasn't finding Luke's advances towards you hilarious. "She off-bounds?"

"Yea- Yeah, she is in fact," Willie said nervously. After taking notice of Willie's shift in tone when he spoke of you, Luke's eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

"What are you getting at, Willie? You seem protective." Luke questioned as he put two and two together. He was almost certain that Alex was Willie's crush, he didn't take him to swing both ways or had he simply misread him, that and the way he reacted just now…it seemed unprecedented. "I thought you liked Alex?" Luke crossed his arms.

"I do- It's not like that. Just- Just promise me you won't approach her. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you guys." Willie pleads.

Luke couldn't help but raise a brow, Willie was acting like she was some sort of monster. "A heartbreaker then, that's okay Willie. I've had my fair share of girls like her." He smiled boyishly. He reached up to slap Willie on his upper arm in reassurance. "Nothing's going to happen." Luke shrugged off Willie. Willie was being dramatic. The interest of doing something irrational intrigued him like a child who was told to not play with fire.

"Luke, I mean it. She's not even a regular. You won't see her that much. She's only ever here on business."

"Only ever here for business, huh?" Luke repeated curiously with an eyebrow up. "Then why can't I talk to her? What's gonna happen, Willie?" Luke wasn't one for following orders, that was not in his nature. He couldn't stand being told what not to do, it only made him crave what he wasn't meant to have or do even more. So, it was no mistake that Willie had made one just now. This little curiosity of Luke's was going to get the best of him. The way Willie made it sound like you did some kind of illicit activity intrigued him even more. "What, does she work for the mob or something?" He said half-jokingly with a brow lift. It was only natural to be enticed by a beautiful woman whom people were being tight-lipped about, it only made you seem more interesting and willing to know more about in his books.

"N-Nothing good." He muttered softly. "Why don't I show you guys to your table?"

"Yes, please!" Alex raised a finger, eager to move past Willie's sudden fear-stricken face.

"You guys go ahead. I'll be right back." Luke finally did move past Reggie and began making his way over to you.

"Luke, I wouldn't!" Willie exclaimed.

"I'm just gonna say hi." He turned to walk backwards as he faced him with a cheeky smile. Then turned as he approached the empty bar, beside you and the bartender giving you your drinks with shaky hands. That had him raising his brows with interest.

"Hi Marcus, long time no see." You flashed the man with a sweet smirk. Marcus's smile fell upon the realization you were sitting before the bar. He stopped cleaning the glass in his hands letting it fall to the ground with a smash. He winced at the sound of it breaking. He remained composed as your smile didn't let up. You were the mere image of innocence, you conjured up the identity of a teenage girl this time around. Last year you looked older, dressed up as a woman in a black dress, but this by far was his least favorite one on you, your childlike nature and appearance was scaring him shitless. Your soul was pure rotten, you by no means represented youth and innocence.

"Y/n." He dipped his head in greetings.

"I see Caleb still keeps you around." You tilted your head.

Because he knows I can keep you tranquil. He wanted to say but opted not to. "I'm the only one who can make a dirty cocktail." He lets out nervously.

"That you can, sweetie. Though I'm more in the mood for something sweet tonight, like you." You poke his sternum. Your sweet angelic laughter unsettles him, but he laughs along with you. Knowing Caleb would have his soul again if he made you angry.

"Perhaps a living soul?" He offered with a timid smile.

"Hell no, Lucifer knows I deal with too many of them back home as it is. Why on earth would I waste my time on one tonight? Though you do have a fair amount of them tonight..." You hum surveying the floor. You turned back to the bar. "How about a slushy, make it strong, and fruity." You order.

"So you're not here to collect a soul?"

"I have other matters to tend to Marcus. I've been getting screwed over you see. My bargain with your showman has not been followed down to the last letter, and I am not happy Marcus." You sigh. "I mean how stupid does Caleb peg me? Stealing souls from me." Your laughter darkens with every word that escapes you. "I am a woman of business, and I don't see my need to be tethered to one so insidious. You understand, Marcus?"

Marcus nods furiously. "Where's Willie? As of now, he's my new eyes and ears. Caleb still has his soul right? Of course, he does that's how he controls you all. If this gets out to Caleb sweetie, I'll be the one to devour that pure soul of yours." You raise a brow in question gesturing to his chest. Marcus nods and snaps his fingers. Your requested drink appearing before you. You raised the glass to your lips and let your shoulders drop. "This is why I love you, Marcus."

"Am I no longer your eyes and ears?"

"No." You could see Marcus's disappointment flash in his eyes. "You've been upgraded to my personal assistant."

Marcus felt honored. "Oh wow. Does this mean I don't have to be behind the bar anymore?"

"Only when we come to the club, but other than that..." You snap your fingers nonchalantly. Caleb's stupid stamp floated off of Marcus's wrist. The poor man looked as though he'd cry.

He did.

"Consider it a gift, sweetie. That's all you're gonna get...really." You shrug. You didn't like getting too sentimental with others. Marcus palmed his mouth. Covering it to muffle his cries. You looked around hopefully no one was watching the scene unfold before you. You shrink in your stool and take another sip of your drink. You took another gulp of your drink, enjoying the flavor it had, it was indeed what you had asked for.

"Marcus." You called his name softly when the tears finally stopped flowing. "Look at me." Marcus's head raised and eyes widened with fear once again. "Stop, please."

"S-Sorry. I'm good, I'm good." You nodded with him, your eyes widened with concern. "Thank you..." He muttered softly.

"Sure." You laughed out nervously wanting his hands off you. “Marcus.” You spoke sternly this time which brought him to pay attention and made him stop touching you. “How about another drink, yeah.” You shifted the mood, hoping to reassure him by taking his mind off of being freed by you. "Surprise me this time."

"Yes- Yes, right away." He composed himself as best he could and began to make your new drink.

Luke's gaze was fixated on the bartender's shaky hands, having caught the last of your conversation with him before he grew close. It was something that caught his attention to no end. A burning hole in his brain as he wondered why you had such an effect on people, good and bad. He wanted to know more about you. So he sat on the stool right beside you.

He turned towards you; his hands were resting on the counter, as he tapped along to the melody playing throughout the club. Luke's gaze met yours, raising a brow as he took notice that you were eyeing him. It made him a little self-conscious, but he hid that fact with an amused smirk.

"Nice shoes." His grin brightened. "I'm more of a vans guy myself but I think it's time I make a drastic brand change." Luke turned in the stool, next to the very pretty girl, who looked completely out of place. Your leather jacket and dark blue denim, not to mention your incredibly red shoes, didn't fit the club's dress code.

You peered over the glass in your hand. Your eyes narrowed curiously at the curly-haired stranger who unashamedly sat in the vacant seat next to yours. Surely he had to be pulling your hair. When you saw no falter in his charming smile, you played along. Hoping to amuse the poor lad unaware of the person you were, of your identity. Most would cower at the sight of you but his lack of knowledge told you all you needed to. He was clueless...and a pretty sight. You set your drink down and smirk, turning your full self towards him.

"Thanks. I had them dyed with the blood of the damned." You stuck your leg out, tilting your head in admiration of your shoes.

Your brows pinched closer together upon his laugh. You were confused by his reaction, what had been so funny? You were being your most sincere.

He snickered again, trying hard not to laugh, in fear of offending you. He let out another brief laugh, trying his best not to lose it. It was the way your words so casually rolled off your tongue that got him. He smirked. "Damned you say. Does that mean that you had to damn them yourself or were they already damned and you just decided to take advantage of the opportunity." He joked around, though curiosity filled his mind as he wondered what your answer would be. He sure wasn't expecting your sweet angelic tune that escaped you as a response. Your head fell back. Marcus stilled, looking at the new stranger who caused such a reaction from you and then at you. Was this a stroke you were having and he was completely unaware? He opted to join in, his fake laughs weren't noticed by you luckily.

He eyed Luke as though he put the moon in the sky. He got you to laugh. Completely unheard of.

Luke felt satisfied. His grin widened as he softly joined in on your bubbled display of joy. "I mean they do make killer shoes. I kind of want some now." He shrugged with half interest.

Marcus finally released a stifled laugh. The poor man was holding it in, not knowing where you two would take the conversation. "I can't say I've ever had the urge to wear shoes made of human blood," He spoke in an attempt to keep the energy at bay.

"Well," Luke started, "they're rather fashionable, right? I mean, I know leather clothing is still in style, you're perfectly on top of that trend already." He joked back casually. You felt something strange in your chest as he raked his eyes up and down your entirety. "All I'd be missing is the shoes..." He bit his lip.

"Yeah?" You looked back at him amused. "You want a pair?"

"Why not?" He entertained the idea.

"What is happening?" Marcus mouthed in shock.

What was happening indeed? Didn't he know who you were? His lack of fear was the most shocking part of this whole interaction. Surely he wasn't one of Caleb's newest edition of collected ghosts. Another soul he had taken, or made Willie lure him in to take it while he's blindsighted by the pretty picture Caleb paints for him. For once you wanted to lay your claim on a soul. To rub it in Caleb's face for stealing your portion of the bargain. You extended your hand out to him and asked him what any wise girl would do. You asked for his name.

"I'm Luke." He took your hand gently. Unaware of the marking you placed under his skin. Your bargains, your markings, were more subtle than Caleb's, where he wanted to show them off, you kept yours hidden behind a mere handshake. Along with the idea of never actually telling them you had done so.

"Pleasure." Your grip on his hand remained firm and tight as your eyes searched his own. You could already envision Caleb brewing with envy once he sees you and Luke engaging in a friendly, and dare you say romantic conversation. Luke didn't appear to know the full truth of what was going on. He appeared to be so blindly curious and unaware. So you went ahead and lit a spark to that curiosity as you pressed a finger to the back of his hand, caressing the length of it.

"Luke," you said slowly, testing it out. The name sounded nice; it rolled off your tongue perfectly. Luke, Luke, Luke. He would be your plaything for tonight, perhaps another time as well should you choose to extend that privilege. You felt a tinge of regret for marking a soul as pure as his, you could feel his warmth the second he sat down, but that was soon washed away with his charming grin; it made you want to make him break his moral barriers all the more. He seemed so different from the others, he was your next perfect leverage on Caleb. "I'm Y/n." You leaned forward, Luke's eyes falling in a daze at your sultry voice and doe eyes.

"Y/n..." He breathed out, mesmerized.

"Marcus I want a private space." You turned to the poor lad who was still stunned that this one guy alone was able to sweeten you down like honey. Get on your good side in the blink of an eye. "Now!"

Willie had paced back and forth, going over what he would say to Caleb as he waited for him at the bottom steps of his dressing room. When the man of the hour finally descended the steps Willied perked up.

"Oh hey um, Caleb." He smiled. "I brought those ghosts I met, um it's still cool they're here right?"

"Of course William! I even reserved a special table for them." Caleb shrugged him off nonchalantly.

"Woah! Uh alright, um thank you!" Willie reeled back, not expecting him to do something so nice.

"No, no, thank you!" Caleb sipped at his tea and watched as Willie made his way to leave but turned the wrong way.

"That way!" Willie laughed as he turned to go in the right direction this time.

"Hey William, while I have you here. Make sure to let me know when Y/n has arrived. I need a least half an hour to ready myself before her arrival."

"Oh, Y/n? She's already here." Willie shook his head confused, hadn't he known?

Certainly not, it appeared.

"What!" Caleb screeched, making Willie to flinch. The cup in his hands clattered onto the steps. Willie shrunk in on himself as Caleb berated him. "You useless monkey, why do I even keep you around? Oh my god, I'm not even dressed. Quick go make sure she gets everything she wants. Hopefully not my soul...Whatever she wants give it to her. A lifer's soul, it's hers. I don't care. I need to go look presentable. Go!" Willie straightened out as he walked away from Caleb's dressing room with haste. Caleb ordered staff to make sure you remained in a good mood. He was late, you had been earlier than expected and he was about to lose his shit.

When Caleb dispersed from the dancers and band, you had rolled your eyes as he made his entrance past the golden curtain.

He gulped nervously when his eyes danced back and forth between you sitting back on the sofa, and Luke kissing down your neck like a lovesick puppy. You hadn't stopped his attack on your skin. Caleb straightened out, clearly his throat to make his presence known.

"I don't like being kept waiting, Caleb, I have better things to do." Your voice broke in soft breaths as Luke found your sweet spot.

"Y/n, nice to have you back my sweet. We've missed your presence at the club and I-"

"Don't patronize me, ghost." You rolled your head back against the cushion.

"Ah, I see you've found our special guest of the night." He laughed nervously. "Have we bored you already, the night has only just begun." Caleb was thankful he didn't have to find you in a much more compromising situation. As he watched your hand run through Luke’s hair, a pang of emotion rose in him, jealousy? Anger? Regret? He felt his emotions bubble over as he watched Luke's lips meet your collarbones, his hands running down your back to your waist. Caleb bit his lip to keep an audible curse from escaping his lips.

You smirked, he was lucky that Luke wasn't getting too ahead of himself, but seeing how things were playing out at the moment it wouldn't take much for Luke to slip. Your attention turned back to him once Luke's lips had moved elsewhere on your body.

"Caleb, how stupid do you think I am?" Your question had caught him off guard.

He was speechless for a few moments before he regained his composure. He laughed a bit in your face. "Y/n, it's obvious," He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "He's a soul I promise to you in our deal. I got two more waiting on you out on the floor."

Luke's head dropped lower to your chest, his kisses stooping lower down your blouse. Caleb's eyes narrowed at the sight.

"Luke's already mine." You sigh in contentment. "I meant about the souls you’re taking for yourself, Caleb."

"What of them?" Caleb's face remained emotionless. He kept his arms crossed while your head was nuzzled into Luke's neck, you were barely holding on to the conversation while your chest had been preoccupied with Luke's hot breaths. His hands slide up and down your body.

"You can't even deny you've broken our bargain." You reminded him, your mind clouded with the sensation of his kisses. "You know what happens when people cross me, Caleb." You giggled as your breath hitched with every word spoken. You placed a hand over Luke's curls to stop him from continuing his kisses down your torso, his lips rested on your chest instead.

"Surely, we can work something out." He begins softly.

"I don't think so." You spoke plainly, your eyes finally focusing on Caleb. Your hands placed on the back of the sofa, you were feeling a bit confident and sassy, something Caleb hadn't seen for a good while, not with him at least. You sit up causing Luke to fall off you. You grip his chin gently and turn his face towards Caleb. You watch as the ghost shrinks back into the shell of the man that he is as Luke's gorgeous brown eyes flash red at him.

You staked your claim on him. "You touch the other two, and this all goes away." You gesture to the room, to the entirety of the club. "I’m going to need Willie's soul by the strike of midnight. Poor thing needs a break from you seeing as you can't do your job properly. He's mine until I say so. You understand, Caleb." You recline back into the cushion.

"Yes ma'am." He nods, feeling like a child being scolded.

"You can see yourself out now. It's like you said; the night is only getting started." Your angelic laugh is one for his nightmares. Not to mention your red eyes. You hold his gaze as you push down on Luke's curls, his body sinking to the carpet before you. "You might not want to stay around for this next part Caleb. Wouldn't want to traumatize you as it is." Caleb gasps and turns in place of the sound of your zipper being pulled.

Caleb's jaw went slack. His head tilted to the side. He tried hard to hide his surprise, but he wasn't sure what he should have said in this occurrence. "Right… I will be leaving. Enjoy yourselves." He uttered stiffly. Caleb retreated out of the room.

Luke's warm hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them slightly. His lips moved back up to your neck. His fingertips trailed lightly along your collarbone, his breath hot, you could feel his blood rushing. Once you were sure Caleb was out of earshot you pulled Luke up by the collar of his shirt.

"What's wrong?" Luke's dazed-out look had you feeling a smidge of guilt. "I thought we were having fun?" He breathed out a laugh as he tried to lean in to kiss you.

"It's not that kind of business, baby. Another time." You gripped his chin and sweetly placed a kiss on his lips.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x fem!reader #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp x reader #jatp imagines #my gif #writings by juls

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pablitogavii · 6 months

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NNN

Apperantelly, in America there's this thing called no nut november ;))

After hearing about it and making a bet with his friends (without thinking obv!!), Pablo was trying his best to be a winner of NNN. Everyone who knows Pablo, knows he LOVES to win and this challenge was no different.

First week was relatively easy because he was away most of the time for Champions League so there were not as man temptations as when he's home with you...like right now ;)

"Why would you agree to something so stupid amor!? It's pointless!!" you said removing your makeup in the bathroom wearing one of your new thongs.

"It's a proof of character and strenght of mind princesa!" Pablo said from the bedroom and you rolled your eyes (he didn't see it but he knew you did it).

"It's literally a relationship destroyer! Plus, there is no way you'll win Pablito!" you said stepping out of the bathroom immediately noticing your boy eyeing your new thongs.

"Hmm..why..um..why not princesa??" he was asking meanwhile his eyes staring directly at your pussy and his lower lip hanging adorably. He was craving you and you used it to your advantage ;)

"Because most of your friends are single..and it's harder for a taken man to resist..much..harder" you smirk touching his clear bulge but he pulls away running his hand through his sweaty hair. You were torturing him!!

"You should put some clothes on princesa!" he said and you giggled shaking your head and jumping towards the bathroom making your ass cheeks jiggle. That made pablo gulp..maybe he hasn't thought this through as he thought..

"Hm they are my new thongs..do you like them Pablitoo??" you teased wiggling your butt in front of his face and he smacked it roughly making you whine and jump to look back at him.

"I can still do that, so behave!!" he said clenching his jaw and you rolled your eyes calling him "no fun!" before jumping to bed.

Ever since that night,, you made it impossible for the poor boy to complete his task. For the next two weeks you would do everything in your power to drive Pablo mad every time he was spending time with you. It became too much fun!!

Every time he is laying in bed waiting for you, you would "accidentally" straddle his lap to fix your pillow before laying down and raising your hips up so that you bum was impossible to miss. Oh, and Pablo certainly didn't miss it. He would always place blanket over it to help himself (twilight anyone?). He would kiss your neck before saying a quick "goodnight" and trying desperately to sleep.

"I'm missing you amor.." you pout during a movie night since he was so far away and you just wanted your cuddle bear back not even caring about anything more(well you were always down to tease and make this challenge harder for him tho).

"Bueno..I'm gonna cuddle you but be good, vale?" he said moving closer and you nod although giving him naughty eyes. He knew he was in a world of trouble the moment your hands were on his body.

The longer the movie laster, the more wandering your hand got moving slowly downwards making him continually gulp and observe your actions.

"Amoor!! Basta!" he said and your grinned looking up as his hand gripped your raising it up and placing it on his heart again.

"Why is it so important for you to win this..!?" you whined starting to kiss his neck and he pulled back shaking his head no in response. Ughh you hated this!!

"Because they keep saying I'll fail cause I have a girl and I like to prove them all wrong!" he said and you sighed getting up and saying you were in no mood for a movie anymore just leaving to the bedroom.

You were so needy and desperate being touch starved but knew Pablo's rules were clear about touching yourself without permission..nobody touches what's his quoting him anytime you tried asking in the past.

"Amoor! Por favor..touch me..I need you pleasee!!" you whined when he joined you and Pablo told you that the month is over soon and that he will pleasure you properly then. But you didn't want "properly"..you wanted something..anything..right now.

"So just let me touch myself then!!" you say back angrily feeling his hand grip your neck as he came closer to your face.

"The answer is 'no' preciosa! You're mine and only mine!" he said and you gave him innocent eyes while nodding your head submissively..damn it he still got that effect on you!!

"Now shut up and cuddle me!" he said pulling you in as both of you fell asleep utterly unsatisfied and tired. This f sucked!!

"Someone haven't been sleeping..did our little Pablito cave??" Ferran teased during Practice and Pablo had enough really snapping this time.

"NO, I haven't cabrón! I didn't sleep cause she would cuddle up so close to me, I swOre to god I was gonna explode! This is stupidest thing I've ever chose to do!" Pablo just went to the dressing room where Balde was ready to add salt to his wound.

"You know I've heard stories of girls cheating much more during nnn because their guys don't satisfy them properly.." he said and that was the end of it as Pablo grabbed his bag and practically ran home.

Balde's words kept replaying in his head as he imagined some other man fucking you sensless in your shared apartment while he was on training..he was done with this bullshit! He wants you and will have you now!

"AMOR!" Pablo yelled barging inside like a maniac and you jumped in the kitchen while washing some salad later for lunch.

"Que pasa Pablito!? You alright??" you ask walking up to him and touching his face while he looked at your body wearing your home dress that looked way too delicious on your right now. Pablo couldn't resist anymore.

"Ohh nena.." he groaned placing his hands on your ass which took you a little by surprise after week of touch starvation. It felt nice to feel his hands on your body again..but why now??

"Que haces cariño??" you say while his eyes were practically glued on your cleavage as his bulge hardened more inside his shorts.

"Mm let's go.." he said and you raised your eyebrows deciding to play hard to get a little after being so patient for him.

"Go where??" you played dumb and he smirked looking towards your shared bedroom and then back at your lips while licking his own.

"But your challenge? You wanted to win." you say moving your hands to his shoulders while his moved up to grip your breast and then back down to your ass. Fuck..he was feeling you up and it felt SO DAMN GOOD!!!

"Here's a new challenge..make my girl cum until she passes out with my dick still buried deep inside her perfect pussy!!" he said grabbing your hips wrapping your legs around his torso carrying you towards your shared bedroom being utterly done with NNN!!!

Hope you enjoyes;) An idea sparked and vuola!!

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barcelona #fc barca #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #gaviral #pablogavixreaderfluff #pablogavixreadersmut #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #gavi x reader #gavi x you

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 7 months

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hey murphy!! i saw that you’re still accepting or going forth with your 3k celebration, so curiosity struck me…

could i order a rum with bucky barnes?

(i wanna hear some headcannons you got for this man. i can’t help but ask! but ofc if you’re too busy with honey girl chapter 5 i totally get it, i hope all is well and take care of yourself darling ❤️)

Bucky Barnes Headcanons.

warnings - sexual content.

my love, thank you for this!! if anyone agrees/disagrees or has any thoughts on these, please feel free to discuss/send them to my inbox. <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

- I think Bucky wants a simple life. Definitely appreciates the little things. I think he'd thrive in a 'regular' job - working weekdays, weekends off, probably something physical/manual. Maybe a small town, away from the city. The man needs a break.

- The most observant lover/partner. Because he's always kind of 'on guard', he notices everything. Can and will read you like a book.

- Would definitely use/benefit from therapy eventually. I know he didn't like it in TFATWS, but I think after those events, his eyes open a little. Learns the importance of communication and tries his best.

- Doesn't want children. Between the whole super soldier age thing and the trauma, I don't believe he's ever going to want kids. Marriage is definitely on the cards, though. He'd look handsome in a tux.

- He'd definitely benefit from a pet of some kind. I know he has Alpine in the comics, but I do think a dog would benefit him. Not a puppy, but a rescue. Something he can focus his attention on, it offers comfort, gets him out the house a couple of times a day.

- It'd take some time, but once he lets his guard down again, his love language is touch. Touches you all the damn time. His hand on your back, your hips, in your back pocket. Linking his fingers with yours whenever you're close enough. Fiddling with your hair. Kissing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth whenever you give him the chance.

and now onto the sexy stuff...

- I have a firm belief that this man is filthy. Fucks like he's feral. Sweaty, dirty, we're-definitely-going-to-hell type sex.

- I think after he's worked through some of his trauma, he's using that metal arm. The temperature play? He's into it. He likes to watch you gasp. Shiver. Shake.

- He's a grabber. He's so strong, he's leaving bruises wherever he's got a hold of you. Hips, ass, wrists. He'll apologise, at first. Later, he won't.

- Likes his hair pulled. Hard. Likes to toe the line between pain and pleasure. He likes that edge. Likes it when you bite him. Loves when you scratch your nails down his skin.

- Thrives on intimacy. Loves to be skin to skin with you. Wants every part of himself to be plastered to every part of you. Presses your foreheads together, swallows your moans straight into his mouth. Puts his mouth next to your ear so you get a front row seat to the delicious sounds he makes.

in conclusion, he's perfect, your honour.

please feel free to send me any opinions on these!! agree, disagree, expand.. if you send me a thought (feel free to get dirty ;)) I'll always expand and maybe write a little for it... <3

#murphy's 3k celebration #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes headcanons #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x reader smut #marvel smut #marvel headcanons #marvel headcanon #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader

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tia-222 · 6 months

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I want to enter the void within this week. I have been trying and affirming right before I go to sleep and I can feel my body falling asleep or kind of vibrate like it's going numb but I never get in. Any advice or methods I can try out that might help?

Hiii my love, also it's been awhile since I answered a void/ Loa ask. I missed yall tho. Yess, I do have a method that you might wanna try and I think everyone should too. I'll share the method below with the links and stuff ♡

✩ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐃 ✩

( This is a void state method and can also be used as a shifting method, but only use it for shifting post-void state as the whole point of this IS to get you into void state >:) if you use this for shifting it will be an awake method, but you can turn it into an asleep method if you prefer after you enter void ) Credits to Eros !!

This method has worked for me everytime I've tried it and usually takes about 5 minutes to enter the void. i have had minishifts while using this btw and my most powerful and intense minishift was actually when i first made this method.

For this method you need to be relaxed, i usually do this when tired but it works best when you're not drowsy, i dont recommended being tired to the point you’re about to fall asleep but moreso in a state where you think youll be up for about an hour more before you go to bed :smile: i HIGHLY recommend it is night time.

✧ Get in a quiet and DARK environment and turn on some theta waves, i HIGHLY recommended theta and/ or epsilon waves or binural beats. Make sure it is dark and nothing is bothering you. I'm ngl to you guys the ones i find most helpful are these here, ive literally had the most shifts with these than with any other sub/waves I've ever used, and I've also had the most powerful experiences with them.

✧ Lay in starfish, ik ik but this is very important for this method on its own, you won't have to fall asleep for this at all so dw about that. i recommend lying on your side for like 20 minutes beforehand so you’re uncomfortable on your side and lying on your back feels nice and welcoming. you dont have to be directly in starfish but make sure you're on your back and your limbs aren't touching.

✧ Relax your whole body, go from your head to your toes, release your forehead muscles, unsquint your eyes make sure they're relaxed, release tension in your shoulders, then your left arm then you're right and make your way down your whole body. Relax it fully and make sure there is no tension in your body.

✧ Now imagine your seven main chakras, see them in your minds eye and focus on seeing balls of white energy where they are. then start feeling the energy within your body. start from the root and count upwards to your crown chakra 6 times, feel the energy there and see the light get brighter and stronger. feel your eyes move beneath your eyelids as you go upwards (do not force this movement or try to move your eyes forcefully, it should happen naturally as you imagine focusing on different spots of your body). take your time with this and please dont rush it, you are supposed to FEEL. Here is a picture if you dont know the main chakra points.

✧ Now for the seventh time imagine the energy orbs connecting to one another, as you move up your body imagine the white light connecting from your root to your crown and creating a straight line of energy connecting your head to your toes, the second it all connects hold the image and focus on your third eye and the energy it holds, then release. the second you do this you should feel a sensation in your body and possibly see lights, you are in void state.

✧ From here affirm things such as “i am more than my physical body, i am not attached to a physical body, i am pure consciousness, i am in the void state” if you feel it necessary.

#void state #ask answered #law of assumption #void state tips #anon ask #the void state #manifestion #void thoughts #neville goddard #void state success story #void concept #loas tumblr #loassblog #chakras #spirituality #Shifting #void state methods

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someonegoood · 25 days

Text

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 2 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which life does not go on after Mason breaks your heart over and over again. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 2 ! Mason made his first goal for United and I'm emotional 💞 I'll do part 3 later

taglist: @dreamingofautopia @xjval @sunflower-tia @sad-fridge2323 @girlidekanymore @borbolwra3

Chelsea added to their story.

Your phone notified you, immediately dampening your mood. Everything was related to him.

It’s been two months since Mason shattered your heart after that nightmare of a night. The funny thing is that a part of you didn’t hate him, a part of you that still loved him existed.

You had waited for him to text you to ask how you were and if you were free to hang out. And by the time you realized that he wasn’t going to, it was too late… too awkward for you to ask as well. So, both of you had resorted to ignorance and hostility.

Life eventually went on, even though you had cut one of the most important people out of your life. And you’d see yourself by night, in your dreams. All these faces in the crowded city of London, and for some reason, you’d still try to find his. Mason was no longer yours.

Although he never was.

The first time Mason saw you after that night was a couple of months later, at a family lunch. The two families —Mounts and yours—had united in your family's garden for a little lunch to catch up on life. You had turned twenty and Lyon was old news.

But Mason’s eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sit between his sister and your brother just before him. Sipping from a glass of wine that you most likely didn’t like, he glanced at you.

Your brother had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, his attention was on the pretty blonde talking to your nanny.

Mason had spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Although he just couldn’t.

—Dear, will you serve me a little piece of that cake? —Your mother had her plate in her hand, waiting for Mason to react. It took him about five seconds to come out of his trance and then he served her what she had ordered.

He was too busy thinking about you.

—So, Mason… when is your next match? Your dad told me you were playing for England. —Your mom tried to lighten up the mood since you were not bickering with Mason as you were on other occasions.

Mason smiled up while you looked at him and caught a glimpse of his beautiful Cheshire cat smile.

—I’m playing next week, on Sunday… —He looked around at everyone and proceeded. —You are all invited, of course.

After an hour or two, everyone stood up, scattering around the decorated garden. Mason grabbed his phone from the table and headed to the kitchen in search of a beer.

In the background, the voices of the two families blurred together as you finished washing your plate. Both Mount sisters were busy playing card games with their mother and your brother was having a talk about politics, which you were not at all interested in. You had no one to talk to.

Suddenly, you feel someone behind you trying to open the refrigerator. That bloody refrigerator, which, being so old, could not be opened correctly. You turned around, not expecting to see Mason looking at you.

You headed to the refrigerator to open it, so Mason moved from where he was previously standing, leaning on the kitchen counter. You gave the refrigerator a little kick and it opened.

—Thanks… —He said grabbing the beer, the tension being palpable in the air. After a long pause, you continued:

—How are you? —you asked, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the British landscape.

—I’m alright.

Scoring some scarce points with Chelsea has become almost impossible under a year ago now, and you really felt sorry for him, knowing everything he and his team put in.

—How are you holding up? —you stood next to him, nudging his shoulder with yours, before looking down at the floor. You felt the look of pity that Mason was giving you, but you tried to ignore it.

—Thank you, really.

—Mase...

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn’t pressure him to answer your question, instead, you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the garden in silence.

—It will be alright, you know. —He hummed, knowing you were still hurt because of what he had said.

—I know. —You whispered back. —And don't worry much about scoring, in the least expected moments your shot is the one that serves the most.

He hated how much you believed him because at that moment he felt like the six-year-old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself, who thought everything was possible.

Mason looked down at you, the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, and threw his head back in a laugh.

—I don't think I’m ever getting rid of you.

Now it was your turn to laugh. After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place. He did a face.

—I know, I know. —You said with a sad look on your face.

—You know I’m too old for you, right? —Mason whispered as he leaned his forehead on yours.

—I’m in it for the long game, Mount.

It felt like your heart was twisting and stuttering, sometimes beating too quickly that you were afraid it was going to push you over the edge. You wanted him to notice, to do something to fix it.

Time went on flying, the last few days being hectic. It was already Sunday and today Mason was playing with England and obviously, you were more than proud. He had invited your brother —his best friend—, you and your family to watch him from the special box for family and friends.

The cold air hits your face as soon as you enter the box with your family. Excited, you see Debbie and Tony, and their children already seated. You were so nervous that your hands were even sweating.

You sit next to Stacey, Mason's older sister. She gives you a smile.

—Nervous about the game? —she asks.

—A bit, yes... —you say as you settle down, your eyes scanning the pitch, looking for him. For Mason.

—This should be an easy game, England has a better team.

—You never know. —you reply. You were almost freezing, you only had the basic England t-shirt on.

Stacey noticed that you were shivering from the cold and decided to take off the sweatshirt she had tied around her shoulders. She put it on your lap and smiled.

—Put it on, otherwise, you'll freeze to death here. —she said, laughing.

—I'm... —You said about to deny it. For a second, you thought about the cold that you would catch without the sweatshirt, so you decided to take it. —Oh, never mind.

The sweatshirt was white and had his number and surname printed on the front, in a blue font. This made you remember the uncountable times when you stole Mason's sweatshirts just to have his number on you.

Stacey, without you seeing, grabbed her phone and texted his brother: "Just wanted to say that she's here and she's got your name on her sweatshirt. Good luck! We're all rooting for you. And don't worry, she'll wait for you."

All of a sudden, Summer, Mason's niece, came up to you asking if she could sit in your lap to have a better look at the pitch. It was no secret that Summer enjoyed seeing you, as she had grown up seeing your brother and you in the Mount household.

—Look over there, Summer! There is your uncle. —said Stacey, and both Summer and you looked over to where the players were entering the enormous pitch. There he was, beautiful as always.

The whistle was blown and the match started. Everyone was immersed in the excitement of the box, watching the match carefully. The atmosphere was electric, and each second increased the tension.

—Yes! —You screamed when Mason's friend, Declan, scored the opening goal, feeling your heart beat against your chest rapidly. Summer looked up at you with wide eyes, before she started giggling. You smiled and leaned down to where she was and kissed her on the forehead.

The second half started and your eyes only followed Mason running up and down the pitch. Only one goal was scored in the whole 45 minutes of the first half, that being Declan's goal.

Abruptly, Stones stole the ball from a player on the opposing team. He ran alone, jumped over some defenders and, feinting, the ball passed to Henderson on the right side. He analyzed the position of the players spread around the pitch before passing it to Foden, who was almost close to the goal.

He passed it to Mason and he, avoiding the players, aimed and kicked with all his strength.

The world went silent for a moment. He had scored.

After realizing that he had scored a goal, Mason ran to the end of the field, right where you were. The atmosphere was pure shouting, people jumping and celebrating but you only had eyes for Mason.

He looked towards the box looking for those who truly love him and just at that precise moment, you connected glances. With a shaky breath, you stood up from your seat and waved to him, also trying to hold Summer up with your other arm.

Mason's heart melted when he saw that scene and many things went through his head: he couldn't believe he had scored a goal after so long and he also couldn't believe how beautiful you looked with his niece in your arms.

In celebration, he pointed to both of you and you could only sigh in love. The game ended with a great performance from Mason and a win for England.

As soon as he stepped into the box, he scanned the room for you, but Summer caught him off guard.

—Uncle Mase! —she ran toward him and he picked her up, planting a kiss on her cheek while she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

—My favourite person! —His eyes fell on you and he didn't know if it was his imagination or the fact that he hadn't seen you in days, but you looked prettier than usual.

You were standing at the back, watching Mason greet his family. You felt shy and awkward, which made you hate the feeling even more. All you wanted was love from him and for that, you haven't slept well in the days after the family lunch with the Mount's.

—I played well, all thanks to you. —He kissed her head and his niece giggled. The little girl ran toward her mother and then closed the door, leaving you and Mason all alone. Your family had congratulated Mason before and told you they were waiting outside.

—How have you been? —His voice was gentle like he was afraid to say something.

—Mason! —you laughed. —You just scored a tremendous goal for England and you ask me how am I? Sometimes I don't understand you.

—Alright, alright. You have a point! —he laughed, definitely not missing those nervous butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a little boy.

His gaze searched yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He scratched the back of his neck and then looked at your sweatshirt with his surname and number.

His number looked very good on you, he thought.

He gazed at your lips and he came dangerously close to you. You stepped back, hitting the table. Mason was looking straight into your eyes when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and sat you on the table. You let out a little squeal. The air was thick with tension, and all you craved was to pull him close and kiss him passionately.

—We-we should go. —you said, clearing your throat. —Your family is waiting.

Quickly, Mason grabbed your wrist.

—Mase... You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. His breath hitches.

—I feel things… —your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him say that.

Pushing his hand down, you look back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again.

What he didn't know is that he's everything you were imagining those long nights… he had never kissed you, not even touched you.

—It’s okay if you want to stop- —he said, while you slid your hands under his t-shirt. Running up and down your hands through his lower torso, you felt his abs contract.

—Mount, I'm certain that I'm okay. —you said, giggling. He smirked. Your core grows tighter with his expressions, now holding onto his broad shoulders.

Unexpectedly, you both heard from behind the closed door someone shout: —Mate, are you there? The party starts at ten, hurry!

Fuck. That was your brother.

Mason had completely forgotten about the party in honour of their win. How the fuck was he getting out of that room with a hard-on? He had to calm himself.

You, on the other side, felt your heart falls into pieces. You thought about how long you had waited for this exact moment, every time you gave your endless hope all you ended up doing was bleeding. And this time, not only he was about to leave you alone but he was going to leave you turned on.

—I'm-I'm sorry... —he said, exiting quickly from the room.

After that match, you only heard from Mason through your brother. He had told you that after the match, at the party, Mason had rejected every girl who appeared to flirt with him.

Apparently, you've had an effect on him.

Mason hated how his heartbeat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his parents' house, with a blue shirt that had printed out the number 19 on the back, hugging your figure.

You had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, you had for sure gone through puberty. He didn’t like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

—So, we're leaving after lunch. Do you want to meet at the stadium or at home?

You took a minute to understand. —What?

—The game, remember? We're having lunch here and then driving up to watch the game. —Said your brother, while getting on the boat. About three weeks had passed since you almost kissed Mason and now you were about to hop on the Mount's boat in Portsmouth.

You had completely forgotten about the game. During your conversations with your brother, you could sense that Mason hadn't mentioned anything about that night which was, in a way, kind of relieving.

Just like you, Mason had also forgotten that your family was coming over. But when his sister sent him a text saying that your family would join him before his game, he was flabbergasted.

You both hadn't spoken since the night of the win, but you both were thinking about that interaction since then. To forget that incident, he had spoken to one of his best friends, Ben, in search of a solution.

—Mate, what you need is a good fling. Maybe you should invite someone next time you're going on a family boat day —said Ben, laughing because of what Mason was asking him.

You got on Mason's boat, feeling heavy-hearted once again. After an hour, you were seated on the floor, helping Stacey with a puzzle, after your mom expelled you from the kitchen when trying to help her. Meanwhile, Mason and his mother sat down on the couch.

—She has grown into a beautiful woman, don't you think? —His mom said teasingly, already knowing that you were not the only one fallen for someone.

—Yes, she has. —He looked at you, seeing you laugh at something his sister had said. —Mom... I think I fucked up.

—If you had fucked up, she wouldn't be here.

—No mom, I really- —Mason got interrupted by the entrance of a tall, dark-eye, skinny blond, almost gotten out from a runway. She turned toward Mason and presented herself as Daphne, a friend. Debbie now understood why her son said he had fucked up really bad.

Your brother, seeing Daphne —the supposed fling of Mason— talking with him, turned to you.

—Forget your stuff, let’s just get off this boat. Don’t turn around okay? —his hands gripping strongly your shoulders. He knew how much you liked his best friend.

You laughed and followed your brother down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

—Since when have I ever listened to you? Dear God, I- — Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Mason and his mother, and the presence of a girl that looked like an actual model.

She was leaning on him and he was laughing at whatever she had to say, while Debbie looked at you with pity. You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out, for a hundred times.

—You knew?

Your brother sighed before running his hands through his hair: —She's only a side thing, a one-time fling. I mean she’s not you, but he decided to find someone before Christmas. —He shrugged his shoulders and you felt the rage creeping up your body.

—What about me? When will I be happy? —you said, crying.

That sentence broke your brother's heart.

19 years to be exact, that's the time you've been waiting for him.

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writerslittlelibrary · 25 days

Text

I'll protect you, princess au

masterlist

summary: you're the princess of the most important kingdom in the world. every illegal organisation in existence has it out for you, and after a particularly dangerous situation, that almost ended in your death, your parents have decided to give you a personal guard to protect you. what happens when this knight messes with every rule you've ever known?

pairing: knight Abby Anderson x princess reader

warnings: at one point it’s mentioned that being gay is forbidden (does that need a warning lol???)

genre: fluff, forbidden love

words: 1634

a/n: I'm not even gonna pretend that I don't fantasise at night about me being a princess, and sneaking around with knight!Abby. could you even imagine?! Abby is literally a perfect knight. she's sweet and protective and strong and god I'm experiencing gay panic

I'm imagining this to be set in a more mediaeval world, like once upon a time :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Your father had always been a cautious man. Being the most powerful Royal family in the world came with its risks, and after you almost got killed last year, he had assigned you with a personal guard.

You were a bit sceptical at first, yet your father assured you she was the best trained person in the entire country. With her protecting you, nothing could happen. She was strong, and she was well trained to be able to tell whether people were sketchy or not from a mile away.

You still weren't sure, but you were quick to change your mind when you finally met her.

She was insanely attractive. She looked super strong, but when she went to introduce herself to you, she had the sweetest smile you had ever seen. She was polite, and yet she looked like she could lift you up and throw you down a cliff. To say she didn't make you feel things would be a lie.

She had been by your side for a few months now, and you couldn't deny how nice it was to be able to go out into the world without having to worry about people harassing you.

Abby was always there, no matter what you did.

Whether you went horse riding, or decided to have a little picnic by the lake, Abby would join you, and she would either keep you company, or stand at a safe distance. Whichever you preferred at the moment.

Today was one of the days that you felt like going out for a ride. The weather was great, and after the heavy rainfall you had been experiencing for the past couple days, you were craving some nice spring sunshine.

“Are you almost ready, milady?” Abby asked after knocking and opening your door.

“I'm nearly finished,” you replied, pulling your boots on and making your way towards the door. “Will Arthur be joining us today?” you asked Abby. You were oblivious to the face she made. You figured she simply did not like Arthur, but to Abby it was so much more than that.

Arthur had been the guy your parents had been pushing you towards.

You were growing up, and it was time for you to try and find a husband. Arthur was a prince who came from your neighbouring kingdom. His family was rich, and his people were pleased. His family was well respected, and because of this fact, your parents were greatly interested in a union. You, however, made no effort to show interest in Arthur, and so, your parents had decided to invite him over to your kingdom, to hopefully create a spark between you two.

It was safe to say that Arthur was head over heels for you, but you could not say the same.

He was kind, sure, but he was too sure of himself. He was convinced that every girl in the kingdom was obsessed with him, and that he was the greatest prince that the kingdom had ever seen.

Every time he made a comment about his greatness, you tried to kindly explain to him that what he was saying was probably not true. However, Abby was less kind, and every time Arthur made a comment that insulted either you, or any other girl, she was quick to shut him up.

Arthur didn't like Abby, and Abby didn't like Arthur.

“I believe I heard him say he's not very fond of horseback riding, ma'am,” Abby explained, knowing full well that she never made an effort to ask him.

You let out a sigh of relief. “That's a shame,” you said, trying, and failing, to hide your satisfaction.

“Shall we go then?” you asked Abby, who nodded and stepped aside, allowing you to exit your room and walk ahead as you made your way to the stables.

Abby walked behind you, exactly three steps, like she always did. She wasn't too close, neither was she too far. You liked it that way, unaware of the fact that Abby liked it just as much. She felt at ease, knowing she was the one protecting you.

When you arrived at the stables, your horses were already prepared. You thanked the stable boy and took the reins of your horse, waiting for Abby to copy your actions.

She did, and together you walked outside.

“Where should we go today, princess?” Abby asked, getting onto her own horse after you had gotten onto yours. You simply shrugged in reply, looking out into the forest.

“I'm not too certain. We could, perhaps, just ride around, and see where we end up?” you suggested, looking at Abby for approval. She smiled.

“Of course, princess. That is a wonderful idea.”

After riding around for a few hours, you ended up at a beautiful lake. The sun reflected off the water beautifully, and the grass field around the lake was breathtaking. You stopped there, getting off of your horse and tying it to a tree.

Abby copied your actions, tying her own horse to the tree before following you towards the water.

“What’s on your mind, princess?” Abby asked while she gave your side a slight nudge.

You sighed, looking over the water to take a moment to collect your thoughts.

“What do you think about Arthur?” you then asked Abby, who sighed and looked away from you, thinking about how to say what she wanted to say, without sounding too rude.

“I think his family is rich, and that he is the textbook definition of the perfect prince,” Abby said, turning back to look at you again. “Why do you ask?”

You sighed, turning to face Abby as well.

“I don’t think I want to marry him, but I don’t want to disappoint my parents. They appear to really like Arthur, and he seems kind enough, but he’s so full of himself. Besides that, I just don’t…” you stopped yourself, nearly spilling your deepest secret.

Abby quirked her eyebrow, looking at you with much interest now.

“You don’t… what?” she asked.

You sighed again, turning your head away from Abby.

“I am not attracted to him,” you said, hoping to satisfy Abby with your answer. Of course, she knew that that wasn’t what you were going to say.

“Not attracted to him, or to guys in general?” Abby subtly questioned, patiently waiting for your answer.

You gasped, turning to Abby like she had just spoken of the devil.

“Abby! How dare you suggest such a thing. You know that is forbidden,” you corrected her, to which Abby just smiled kindly at you.

“It is just us two here. I promise you that whatever you tell me, I shall not tell another soul,” Abby promised, reaching for your hand and rubbing circles at the back of it.

You sighed softly, gathering your courage before speaking again.

“Do you think it is wrong? To be attracted to the same gender, I mean,” you asked Abby, looking at her with questioning eyes. Abby simply shook her head.

“I don’t. Do you?”

You sighed once more, before nodding slightly.

“I am not certain. I cannot deny these feelings I have. But I cannot let it hinder me from becoming the queen my people need. One day, I will have to make an heir. I will become queen, and I will need to have children. That’s just the way it is,” you explained.

Abby smiled at you.

“You know, when you are the queen, you get to decide that. You could make new laws, that would state that the next heir, wouldn’t have to be your bloodline. You could give someone else a rightful claim to the throne,” Abby suggested, and after thinking about it for a little while, you turned to her, nodding.

“In that case, I do prefer girls. I wish I could tell the one that I like…” you confessed, and Abby smiled.

“You’re secret is safe with me, princess. And if we’re being honest here, I do prefer girls as well,” Abby confessed, chuckling at the way you head whipped around.

“You do?!” you asked in surprise, and Abby nodded.

“In fact, there happens to be a girl I like as well,” Abby told you, smiling at the hint of disappointment that flashed over your face.

“You know, I think she likes me too,” Abby then continued, waiting to see your reaction.

“Will you tell her? Will she accept it?” you asked Abby.

“That depends. May I kiss you, princess?” Abby then asked, placing her fingers under your chin to get you to face her.

You’re cheeks flushed to a bright red, but yet you still nodded, biting you lip while staring into Abby’s eyes, waiting for her next move.

Slowly, Abby leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. After she pulled away, she smiled sweetly at you.

“And? Do you think she’ll accept it?” Abby asked you, smiling when you nodded excitedly.

“I think she’ll be delighted to know you like her,” you responded, giggling when Abby gave you a small kiss on your cheek.

“We should go back to the castle. Your parents will start wondering where you are,” Abby then said. You looked around, noticing that the sun had already started setting. Your dinner would be prepared soon, and you knew how much your parents disliked you being late for dinner.

“Do you think we’ll be able to share a moment like this again…?” you asked Abby carefully after you walked towards your horse, mounting it.

“Don’t worry, princess. There will be plenty of moments like this,” Abby assured you, climbing onto her own horse and following the way home.

Maybe you feelings weren’t that scandalous at all. Maybe Abby was right. Perhaps you could bend the rules, should you become queen soon…

(Wouldn’t it be cute to make a part 2, with queen reader and Abby who find Lev, and assign him as the next heir 🫣)

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @n0txn3vee @lorsstar1st

#abby anderson x reader #abby and lev #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou au #tlou fanfic #tlou2 #tlou #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us fic #the last of us part two #wlw #lesbian #reader insert #lev tlou #yara tlou

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billybob598 · 9 months

Text

More Than You Know (Leah Williamson x Reader)

All right! So this is a F1 reader x Leah fic requested by anon. Again any feedback good or bad is welcomed! I'm sorry if there's lots of f1 talk and some don't get it. I have another f1 fic coming up but other than that nothing else so, if people want to start sending me requests, please do! I'll get more into that later. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1K (That's what Docs said anyways)

Set at Abu Dhabi GP, end of 2023

Thursday

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the final press conference of the 2023 Formula 1 season.” You fix your shirt as you settle into the seat. Max Verstappen, your teammate, on your left with Charles Leclerc beside him.

“Question for Y/N and Max, heading into the final race of the season the title battle is close between the two of you. What kind of mindset do you have for one of the most important races in your career?”

“To win,” Max says simply. All the reporters let out a laugh as you crack a smile.

“Y/N?” The guy who asked the question prompts you.

“Uh, well, I mean for sure to win is the goal but, trying to just stay calm and do what I’ve done for the last twenty-two races,” you explain. After a few more minutes of questions, they let you go. Walking through the paddock and into the Red Bull garage you can’t help but let your mind spiral. This was your first championship battle, this was Max’s third. You were only 22 years old, if you won on Sunday you’d be the youngest-ever F1 champion and the first-ever female champion. You knew you had to be a little lucky on race day, considering you sat five points behind Max.

Entering your driver room you’re met with your girlfriend, Leah Williamson.

“Hey babe, what are you doing now?” She asks you, watching as you pace back and forth across the room.

“Track walk, I think.”

“Okay, well I’m going to meet up with Alex in a couple of minutes so, I’ll see you later, yeah?” She presses a small kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, yeah, see you later,”

Friday

You loved racing around Yas Marina Circuit, it had just the right amount of technical corners and overtaking opportunities. You loved the lights and going underneath the hotel. Probably the worst part of it though, was the heat. Sitting in your car you feel like you’re going to die from the heat. Sweat just keeps pouring from every pore on your body, making your race suit damp. At the end of Free Practice 2 you were the fastest overall. This gives you a little bit of confidence, your race pace also seemed to be pretty strong so these were all good signs. Leah watches as you take your crash helmet and balaclava off, trying your best to fix your sweaty hair. You looked hot, and Leah was living for it.

“You’re drooling,” Alex, who happened to be right beside her, said. Leah shakes out of her trance enough to give Alex a light slap on the shoulder.

“Whatever mate, if you had a girlfriend as hot as mine you’d be drooling as well.”

A couple of hours later, after all the media was done and the sponsor dinner was finished, you and Leah finally were able to settle into bed. Leah’s arm draped over you and her head nuzzled into your neck. She was just about to doze off when you spoke very quietly into the darkness,

“Would you be mad at me if I didn’t win?” Of course, Leah knew you were nervous, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? But, for you to think that she would be angry with you if you finished second? That was terrible.

“Of course not, love, I’d be sad for you, sure, but mad? Never.” This seems to calm you down a bit, and soon enough you both are sleeping soundly.

Saturday

“Good luck kiss?” Your favourite blonde questions. It was a tradition in your relationship, whenever either of you were participating in a sporting event you had to make sure you kissed just before it started.

“Of course,” you say with a smile, not that she can see it. Your helmet already on with your visor up so she can see your eyes. Leah kisses where she imagines your lips are, you can’t help the dopey smile that comes across your face, the squint of your eyes making it obvious what you’re doing.

Leah watches on as your car pulls out of the garage and onto the track. After making it through both Q1 and Q2 easily now comes the biggest test, the top 10 shootout. Your banker lap for Q3 is solid, only six-hundredths of Max’s time and you know you can improve. As you cross the line to start your second flying lap you feel the adrenaline rush through your veins. Every turn of the steering wheel, every push of the pedals, and every G against your body feels just right. Heading into the final sector you know you’re going faster than your first lap. Crossing the line, your entire body relaxes as you hear your engineer over the radio,

“Okay mate, that’s P1 so far, P1 so far, but Max is yet to cross the line.” You wait anxiously for Max to finish his lap. Leah feels her heart sink as she sees Max’s name move above yours on the timing screen.

“For fuck’s sake, fuck this shit, honestly,” you say over the radio.

“It’s okay Y/N, points come tomorrow,” your engineer replies.

“You’re right, you’re right, let’s get them tomorrow.”

Leah gives you a hug when she finally sees you after all the media and post-qualifying traditions.

“You did great love, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she says sweetly. You sigh, knowing she is right.

“Mhm, I’m not that happy but I’ll get over it. I think right now all I wanna do is go back to the hotel and cuddle with you,” you mutter with a little pout. Leah finds this adorable. So, when you guys do get back to the hotel she cuddles with you until you fall asleep, only hours before one of the most important races of your life.

Sunday

When you wake up you feel the nerves settle inside of you. Leah tried her best to get you to eat something before your race. Abu Dhabi was a night race so, you still had the whole day ahead of you. After going through the pre-race meetings with your engineers you feel pretty confident in the strategy for today. As you walk around the grid with the music in your headphones blasting you see your girlfriend walking towards you. Slipping one side of your ear so you can hear, you give her a questioning look. She never usually comes onto the grid before races, why would she now?

“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Leah says kindly, “I know you’re nervous, but don’t be, you’re gonna smash it out there.” Your heart melts at her consideration.

“Thanks Lee, I’ll do you proud I swear,” you say, looking at her with what can only be described as heart-eyes.

“You already have, more than you know,” she smiles at you, giving one last kiss on your lips before heading back to the garage.

A couple of minutes later, you’re sitting inside your car mentally preparing yourself for the race. The entire formation lap your mind is blank, trying your best to not overthink. As you park in your grid slot as close to a billion people watch with their breaths held.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix!” Crofty exclaims into his microphone.

You get a good start drawing alongside Max heading into the first corner, but he pushes you wide. As the pair of you continue to the first of two long straights, you follow closely behind him gaining a slipstream. When you enter the braking zone you decide to go for a dive bomb, getting your elbows out a little to barge past your teammate and take the lead.

“She can’t fucking do that, mate. She pushed me off the track,” Max voices to GP.

“If Max has a problem with that, then he can cry in a crib, that was clean.”

As the race gets past halfway done, both you and Max had made pit stops, while also exchanging the lead of the race multiple times. Leah had about chewed her entire nail off watching. She was nervous as hell, she could feel something bad about to happen, she just knew it in her gut.

You once again closed up to the rear end of Max with DRS. As you got close enough to pass you slightly jerked out to the left before cutting back to the right, effectively dummying him. You were on the outside heading into the sweeping left-hander of Turn 9, you tried your best to give him space, but he completely misses the apex and rams into your front wheel/side of your car. Your neck whips to the side as you try to keep control of your car.

“What the fuck was that?! What a fucking idiot, I gave him shitloads of space! Is there any damage on the car?” You are pretty much yelling into the radio. The anger you’re feeling showing through your choice of words.

“So, major front wing damage we are going to have to box. Box, box.” Swearing under your breath you pull into the pit lane for new tyres and a new front wing. Stopping on your marks you sit there for what feels like forever before finally getting the green light and getting back on track. Leah knows you are fuming but she also knows that you’re very good at turning that anger into motivation. She readies herself for a wild end to the race.

“Okay, so the gap to Max is 30 seconds.”

“Just leave me alone, I know what to do,” you say sternly.

For the next 24 laps, you put in of the most impressive comebacks in F1 history. Closing the gap a little bit each lap. You fully catch up to him on the final lap of the race. The entire world sits on the edge of their seat as you stick right up to Max’s gearbox for the majority of the lap. Entering the final sector, you find the gap to stick your nose down. Making an unorthodox move down the inside into Turn 12. When it becomes clear that you stuck the move your side of the garage goes crazy. Leah screams, thinking it is too good to be true. As you head around the final corner, the Red Bull mechanics hang off the side of the fence cheering and yelling as you cross the finish line.

“She’s redefined motorsport as we know it, and as she crosses the line Y/N Y/L/N is CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” Crofty shouts.

“AAAHHHH OH MY GODDDD! YESSS GUYS COME ON! I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY!” You scream over the radio.

“YOU” VE DONE IT MATE! YOU’VE DONE IT! GOOD LORD!” Your engineer screams back at you. You start to cry as you go around for your celebration lap. When you park in front of the number 1 sign you take a minute inside of your car to collect your thoughts. Finally, you get out and stand on top of the car, raising your arms in celebration. You jump down and start sprinting to your team. After receiving multiple hugs and slaps on the back, mixed with a varying range of screams and yells, you decide to look for your girlfriend. Looking around you spot your favourite person on Earth and make a beeline for her. She pulls you into a bone-crunching hug, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, more than you know,” she says tearfully. You give her an award-winning smile before moving to take your helmet and balaclava off. You surprise Leah when you connect your lips in front of God knows how many cameras.

“I’m a World Champion Lee, a World Champion.”

“I know Y/N, I know,” she giggles at how excited you look. After completing the post-race interview you make your way to the podium.

“And your Abu Dhabi Grand Prix winner and 2023 World Champion, Y/N Y/L/N!”

The crowd and paddock below you roar as you make your way onto the podium, pumping your fists with joy. Stepping onto the top step of the podium, a sense of relief washes over you, everything you’d worked for this entire season, your entire life basically, had finally paid off. You take your cap off when your national anthem plays and begin to scan through the crowd until you meet blue ones. You give her a grin and blow her a kiss. She returns it. When you are finally handed your first-place trophy you raise it high with a little yell. After the rest of the podium is handed their trophies, you get to your favourite part, the champagne. Spraying it in every possible place, you can’t stop the stupid-looking smile from taking over your facial features. When the celebrations seem to die down a little you look over at Leah, mouthing,

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she mouths back.

“More than you know.”

#leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #f1 reader x woso

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slasherscream · 1 month

Text

Wash Day

pairing: jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #jordan li #black!reader #black reader #IVE WORKED ON THIS ONE TOO LONG FUCK IT WE BALL #last few jordan li readers i've written have not had a reader who is a goofball #and if someone acted like this around me (hot brooding and scowling)#i suffer from jester syndrome. i would need to make them laugh

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captainpulisic · 9 months

Text

said im fine but it wasnt true - m. mount

hearing cruel summer live changes you as a person. wc: 3.3k gif creds to owner

it had meant to be a summer fling, nothing more. from the very beginning, it was mutually decided upon that it was just two good friends hooking up- something none of your other friends would ever find out about. it wasn’t anything serious, so why involve other people?

that’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

you had been positive you could keep the sex as meaningless and detached as possible. you thought it’d be enough to have mason when he’d give himself to you and not a minute more. who cared that your heart beat embarrassingly fast when you’d catch his stare during a night out with friends, knowing you’d certainly be leaving with him. that most nights, after a long fuck, he’d practically beg you to stay the night, not wanting to sleep without you. it wasn’t of any importance that this situationship- if that’s what it could be called- had you constantly questioning the line between ‘just sex’ and the outline of a real relationship. I mean, how many mornings can you wake up to him peppering your face with kisses and shy smiles before you could consider him more than just a fuck buddy?

it was all so confusing for your heart and you brain. did you want more? did he? and why did the idea of the answers being ‘yes’ make you weak at the knees? wasn’t this the exact thing you both agreed couldn’t happen, the one rule you had made?

you were screwed.

yet, every doubt and worry you had over your predicament would temporarily vanish when you’d tap on his door. he’d greet you with a shy smile and a soft glint in his eyes. it was all too soft. as soon as you stepped foot inside, his fingers were everywhere. on your cheeks, your jaw, and down your shoulders. they’d end up traveling up and down your sides until they settled on your waist. quickly, his body would be pressed up against yours, a hot mouth marking up the side of your neck.

he was everywhere. you felt him everywhere. the way he was on you, it was as if he couldn’t bear the idea of having you in proximity and not be touching you. and there were no complaints on your part.

he continued to kiss you, messily and heatedly. and you kissed him back until you were both repeating each other's name, as if they were sacred prayers. like usual, there was a messy, abandoned trail of clothes left in the hallway. and just like usual, it led to masons bedroom where you could be found laid together in bed. blissfully, spent and content.

as he left soft kisses on your collarbone and jaw, he continued to whisper how lovely you were. he’d talk nonsense about how these were the best ways to spend his nights, that there's nowhere he’d rather be.

boy, did that make your heart do somersaults. you’re sure your face was crimson as he continued the soft praises.

it’s just sex.

all you could do to save face was scoff, “calm down, it’s just sex.”

yes, you reaffirmed yourself. you both begin to get up, ready to go find where you had thrown your shirts not so long ago. if I keep saying it, maybe i'll even end up believing it.

“no it’s not,” mason deadpans. he pauses all movement and for some reason, you feel obligated to mirror his actions. this is it, you feel yourself buzz with anticipation. he’ll say it’s not just sex for him, either. you want to look at him straight on, ready to tell him you’ve been feeling the same way for awhile. and with the way his eyes won’t leave yours, you can practically hear the words wanting to leave his mouth. you’re tempted to just kiss him and let that show him you’ve been aching for more than just these secret hookups. suddenly the corner of his lip turns upward, “it’s award winning sex.”

oh.

it was at that moment you realized it was in fact not just sex. not for you, at least.

and the next moment is when you realized you couldn’t keep up this little game, anymore. a part of you knew you could continue giving yourself to mason whenever he called, only taking what he’d let you have. you’d settle for it because having some of him in the dark hours would be better than nothing at all. and when you realized how pathetic that sounded, you knew what you had to do. there had to be some self respect.

this all had happened two weeks ago. that next morning, you had swatted away masons roaming hands and dodged the kisses he was trying to leave along your face. you mumbled some half hearted excuses about your unusual rush to leave and avoided his sad stare as you hastily dressed yourself. when you got his usual text the following night, begging you to come over, you figured it was as best time as any to rip off the band aid. it was a simple, short text saying these late night reach outs and quick fucks weren’t what you wanted anymore.

i hope you can understand where i’m coming from, you had typed. lets go back to just being friends, yeah?

you felt ill as soon as you hit send.

you felt even worse when he spent two whole minutes typing, just for the bubble to disappear and not a single reply come back. the following days were radio silence on his part. you hadn’t known this absence would make you feel as lonely and as sad as you were.

this is what has led you to your current crisis. getting shitfaced in some downtown pub, drinking until you can forget who has you there. staring at the third empty glass in front of you, your mind swirled with bittersweet memories of mason.

“we just don’t get it,” one of your friends frowned at you. you’re sure she means well but it’s hard to care too much when you can’t even recall her name at the moment. looking at the group of friends who’d practically forced you out of your bed and to come out, their eyes were full of concern and sympathy. “you never even told us you were seeing someone.”

“I-”, you begin but instantly stop. your words are starting to get all jumbled up in your mouth and the world around you is slowing down. it takes you a moment to breathe and organize your thoughts.

where’s mason?

all you want is mason.

why isn’t he here?

why didn’t he want you the way you wanted him?

another friend prods, “was it that serious?”

you felt the tears welling up in your eyes. all you could do is give a slight shake to your head. you try to smile but you’re sure you’ll start crying if you force it.

no, you kept thinking. I loved him and wanted him but all he wanted was sex. it was anything but serious.

there was only one way to get this idiotic brain to shut up. reaching out to chug the remainder of your drink, your frown gets deeper when you remember the cup is empty. standing up from the too crowded table, you let out a slurred, “‘m just gonna get one more.”

yet,as soon as you rise, your legs feel less sturdy than usual and the room has a slight haze to it. another concerned friend holds out their arm for support, worry growing more evident on her face.

“are you sure?” she sighs. lightly tugging on your arm, she tries to guide you to sit back down. “you’ve had enough, no?”

“no,” you practically whine. this is the only way to get your mind off of mason and these people have the audacity to deny you it. still standing, you try to get free of her grasp and tug towards the direction of the bar. it’s half cry and half whisper, “just one more.”

“maybe we should get you home?” another friend, wearing an even more sympathetic expression (if possible) chimes in. “lets call it a night, yeah?”

“no!” you protest, once again. “you guys don’t have to cut your night short because of me.”

the table erupts with their assurance of them not minding and that they’ll gladly drop everything to take you home. you know they mean well but it just adds even more guilt and weight to your heavy heart.

“I mean it,” you straighten yourself up as much as you can. you offer a small smile and wave them off. pulling out your phone, you’re able to somewhat make out the apps icons. cluelessly swiping at your phone, “i’ll order an uber and you guys can stay.”

it takes a few more minutes of convincing and protest, but nonetheless, they oblige to your request. after hugs and promises that you’ll soon get over your mystery man, two of them help you stumble outside and wait for your ride.

when your assigned car arrives and your friends triple check that the license plate is a match, final hugs and words of consolation are given. once in the car and speeding down the empty streets, it takes a great deal of effort not to puke and not to cry.

instead of thinking about how badly you want to spill your guts, you think of the boy whose absence feels like a dull stab at the heart. that’s what's been occupying your thoughts for the past weeks, anyway. if we’re being honest, he was the sole person in your thoughts. him and the beautiful summer you had shared together. if you closed your eyes, you could see it all so clearly.

you could recall the trip to his house like the back of your hand. you knew the paveway of trees that greet you as soon as you turn onto his street, the shiny gate blocking entryway to his house. blindfolded, you could locate the flower pot where he hid his spare keys. you’d use them almost every time you’d sneak away into his house and arms.

wait.

feeling the car park, you’re snapped out of your daydreams and look out towards the window.

it’s not that you could just recall all of those stupid details, which you’ve proven you could. it was that you were watching it all unfold outside of the car's window. you were smackdab in the middle of it, parked right in front of his house.

“hey,” you mumble in a panic. tapping on the window, towards the direction of masons house. with the fear setting in, your tears are ready to make their comeback. you feel like a child, helpless and scared. your voice wavers with a small sob, “this is not my house.”

the poor uber driver looks as confused as you. shaking his head, he surrenders his hands up. “I just brought you to the address you gave me.”

“I did not- '', you begin to argue. grabbing your phone, you squint at the screen, ready to show him how you had put your own address. and how it definitely wasn’t this one. and how he was going to have to explain what type of sick joke he was playing on you by bringing you here. yet, after a long struggle to find the fucking app, all words leave your mouth when you see masons address as the destination.

oh, force of habit.

all summer, during your little flings with mason, it had become second nature to get a lift to his house. it came more naturally to give directions to his house than to your own. it felt more like home, too.

“alright, you can leave me here.” you’re not sure if the alcohol is giving you the courage to face him or if you just really want to see his stupidly beautiful face- or if you’ve officially gone insane, but you find yourself unbuckling your seatbelt.

“ma’am are you sure?” the driver's gaze shifts between you and the enormous house looming over you both. you’re sure you must look insane with your tear filled eyes and inebriated state. you went from being terrified of where you were to shaking with anticipation. he offers a small smile, unsure how to proceed. “I can take you somewhere else if this was an error, I could go back to where I picked you up.”

“no,” you interject. “it’s fine, i’m fine, thank you.”

“really, it’s no problem-”

you wave him off, trying to appear as sober as you could possibly seem. opening the car door, “I was just confused. this is my friends house, silly me to not recognize it.”

he eyes you suspiciously but nevertheless nods as you get off. you try your best not to to wobble as you wave goodbye and walk away. but it’s not until you make your way through the familiar garden gate that you see the headlights pull off.

with that, you’re left standing alone in front of masons house. theres a small ache in your chest as you see the entire house is dark, not one ray of light peeking through any window.

what if he's not even home?

what if he's the one sneaking into someone else's house now?

you feel like you're going to throw up all over again. and it’s not because of the three vodka cokes you’d had.

that's it. you have to get into the house and find him and tell him…well, you don’t know what yet, but you have to say something.

the sensible you would figure that knocking or even calling him would be the best way to go, but clearly you’re not the most sensible person tonight.

standing in the middle of the garden, you take a breath and yell his name to the endless mirage of windows. within a minute, a light turns on and a window on the second floor shimmies open. it’s dark and far but you can slightly make out masons confused face.

“y/n?” you could see him squint down at you. “is that you-”

“I know this doesn’t make sense and what we had is over but for whatever it’s worth,” you cut him off, your mouth moving at its own volition. you pause, unable to believe that you’re finally going to say it. you have to choke down a sob before you scream, “i’m in love with you.”

you can see mason freeze. it's barely a shout when he says, “what?”

did he really not hear you or does he just like torturing you now?

“I love you, idiot.” you shout, again. there it is. all your emotions and feelings laid out in front of him. there's no use in trying to stop the tears so you just let them stream down your flushed face. once more, “i’m so in love with you and maybe that’s the worst thing, or the last thing, you wanna hear from me but it’s true.”

it all happens so fast. if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. the window mason was leaning out of, was left deserted without him saying anything back to you. you’re stood frozen, unsure of what to do. was your confession so horrible that he retreated back to his room, waiting for you to get the hint and leave? as you debate this, the side door, leading to the garden where you stand, bursts open.

he’s breathless, and an image of him running down the stairs flashes in your mind.

in just a few, short steps, he’s standing directly in front of you. his eyes are wide, slightly crazed. he hesitates as he merely whispers, “what did you say?”

“I love you and you don’t even care.” looking up at him, you try to blink away the tears. you’re sure you look a blubbering mess, and embarrassingly enough, there might be some snot. “you don’t care but it doesn’t matter. I needed to tell you that i’m so stupidly in love with you and you don’t even care. ”

“I do care.” his hands reach to hold your face but you swat them away.

“you don’t,” you begin to take a step back. what are you even doing? was this a love confession or a chance to tell him off? maybe, a bit of both? it’s just too confusing. pointing an accusatory finger at him, “if you cared, you’d have had the decency to reach out.”

he tries to interject but you just keep going. crying harder than before, “when our little hookups ended, a part of me hoped it would make you realize that you couldn’t bear the thought of not being together. that you would come back to me and tell me it all meant more to you. why didn’t you come back to me? why didn’t I deserve a fucking text back? it might’ve been just sex for you, but to me it meant everything.”

“that’s what you think?” mason scoffs, which only infuriates you more. it’s not until you really look at him that you see the same tears pool in his eyes. it’s when you see that he looks just as broken as you do. “I tortured my brain for days, trying to find the right words, to get you to understand that it wasn’t just sex for me.”

you squint your eyes at him, causing him to sigh. he continues, “okay, maybe I thought it was at first but then I read your text and it nearly broke me. at first, I thought I was just embarrassed that I got dumped over text but then I realized I was miserable at the thought of not having you anymore.”

you let out a defeated sigh, “but you never texted me back.”

“y/n,” it’s a sad smile, as you finally give in and let his hands cup your face. “I’ve typed and deleted a hundred texts, telling you I love you. but what if I said the wrong things and you'd leave again? I don't think i'd survive it. I don’t think i’d survive being forever known as the idiot who let you get away.”

you want to scold yourself for the way your heart flutters, “you really love me?”

his thumbs are stroking under your eyes, wiping away any tears that’ve overstayed their welcome. he’s giving you that smile, that boyish smile you fell in love with. that bastard, he’s always known how to get you weak in the knees. he says it so softly, “i love you, yes of course I love you. i've loved you since we started whatever this is, maybe even before then. i’m sure I fell in love with you the moment we met.”

instead of answering him, you shush him by pulling him down to meet your lips. it’s a kiss filled with ‘i love you’s and ‘i'm sorry's and ‘please, stay’s. you don’t even realize when mason has taken your hand, leading you inside the house and up the staircase. yet, as he leads you to the bedroom where you spent countless summer nights, you feel utterly happy.

you continue to interrupt the kisses with, “say it again.”

and not once does mason deny you with his, “I love you.”

leaving a delicate kiss on his jaw, you whisper against his neck, “i’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

mason returns a kiss to your forehead, mirroring your lovesick smile. leaning close to your ear, “lucky for you pretty girl, i’ll never get tired of saying it.”

you loved mason, unashamedly and quite pathetically. and you’d continue to do so for the rest of your life, if he let you.

feedback is appreciated, please :)

#mason mount x you #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #angst? kinda? not sure if it qualifies?

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aliveinacoffin · 10 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Come back to bed

In which he's an asshole and you're annoying

Angst no comfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She's homeless, bada dee bada doo." The sound of your humming bounced off the white metals of the spider building.

Other spiders ran or walked passed by or around you, each lost in their own spider world.

Your world was set on a mission, one even the most terrifying wouldn't dare walk. One that would even make the strongest man tremble in his shoes.

Bring Miguel lunch!

You'd endlessly talk his ear off at any given chance, and he'd sometimes would laugh at your jokes! A fair trade, you would say. Today, you had a 2099 burger packed away in a styrofoam box, with blue fries and a red drink.

You giggling while swagger walking to his office, the closer you got to his office, the less and less there were spider people. Not many people hung around his hallway, everything personalized to Miguels specific tastes. No use for other people going down here unless they specifically needed him.

You opened the door to his office with gusto, and you loudly called out to him.

"Miguelllll!! ¡Yo tengo comida para ti! It's muy delicioso!" You closed the office door before swinging up to his desk, plopping all the food down beside him.

You sit beside the food, kicking your feet up while cheesing at him. He glanced at you, then at the food, and then back up at you. His shoulders dropped, and he sighed.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out on a mission." He continued to swipe and work at the red screens infront of him.

"Oh, but of course! I'm the Amazing Spiderman, I kick ass and take names. I took care of it, no sweat!" You wiped your hands like you were wiping away dust. And looked back up at him, shoving the food at him. "You weren't at the cafeteria, eat." You commanded, voice lacking all the silliness from before.

"I'm not hungry." Miguel huffed, looking back at the screens.

"Jeez I just," You held your head, looking confused and lost, "I don't remember when I asked." You made a face at him. "You didn't eat breakfast, and you already skipped out on dinner last night. You don't get to skip out on this. Plus!" Excitment flooded back into you. "It has your face on it!" You giggled, showing the burger up to him.

Miguels eyes widened, and looked inside to see his masked face on a burger with blue fries. His wide eyes looked back at you, and let out an airy chuckle. Still, his eyes went back to the red screens. Those fucking screens man, he was worse than those iPad kids.

"Miguel-"

He cut you off, huffing out your name before fully turning to you. "This is important, a new and dangerous anomaly just showed up in the timeline and I need to figure where or even what it is. I'll join you for dinner later, alright?" He all but growled out, his deep brown eyes flashing red for just a moment.

You were taken aback for a moment, Miguel has never spoken to you this way before. You knew he could be stern, but ever since you entered the realm of dating, he's made sure to try and communicate his feelings with you a little better.

"Well alright, no need to snap at me. I was just concerned you haven't eaten." You hopped back down, a lump formed in your throat as you turned away from him. You didn’t turn back when you left, and he didn't stop you.

___________________________________________

Dinner was cold by the time he ate it, you knew that because the next morning when you went to clean the dishes, the food had become hard and stuck to the plate. Angrily you washed it away. The bed was cold when you went to sleep, and it was cold when you woke up.

___________________________________________

"Helllloooo? Anybody home??? Honey, I'm home!" You called out, and bounded up to Miguels high tower.

You sighed when you saw him still working, still looking.

"Jeez, you might work yourself to death before you find the thing." You sneak up behind him and try to wrap your arms around his neck the best you could.

"As long as I find it." Was all he said.

"Oh wow Miguel, you're such a romantic. 'Thank you mi vida for dinner, gracias por lunch the other day.'" You made your voice deeper to try and mock him, walking to try and face his front.

"Thank you." Was all he said, again.

"Yes of course Master, as your faithful butler, is there anything else you need of me?" Your voice went higher, and you batted your lashes at him.

"Leave me alone. You're distracting me right now, and this is important to me." Miguel turned to you, face cold and set in a scowl.

Your heart picked up, and hurt was laced all over your face. "Well, I'm sorry I'm distracting you from something so important. I'll be on my way now." You angrily turned, and quickly jumped off from the platform and stomped out before he could say anything more.

If he even did.

___________________________________________

His dinner went uneaten that night. And when you went to check, he didn't eat breakfast. You don't think he even came to your shared space that night.

Your watched beeped with a request, how considerate of him. He won't talk to you properly, let alone sleep in the same bed as you, but he can send you out on mission. How thoughtful, truly.

You sighed and rushed to get your spider suit on before jumping into the orange portal, blindly following his orders blindly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The problem was bigger and way more difficult than expected.

A lizard to be specific.

He was huge and had pink spots all over his brught blue body. A harsh contrast to the monotone soft red world that surrounded you.

Your mind so lost in the details you missed his big talons scratching across your back, sending you flying into the nearest building. You groaned, comically sliding down.

You hit the ground with a harsh thud, your head spinning while the asshole lizard stomped towards you. It wasn't the first time the asshole landed a hit on you, but by the way your body was reacting it needed to be the last.

Fuck.

You sprung up, webbing around him before landing a fast and harsh kick to the bass of his head. The lizard was caught off guard, giving you the option to trap him in the red cell and port back to base. You checked in with Margo before you hobbled your way to Miguels office.

You don't know why you wanted to see him, but you felt pretty weak and battered (considering you actually were) so wanting to see your partner wasn't exactly a crime.

Opening the door to his office seemed more difficult than usual, you may be a spider person, but you were still human. You were hurt, physically and emotionally, and you looked up through your broken mask to Miguels high position.

It made you feel even weaker, smaller. It had been a full weak since you've been able to fully talk to him, let alone sleep in the same bed, or have him hold you after a bad day.

"Miguel?" You called out, your mask broken, your real eye open to the world while your other, unbroken and small in the spider mask. Your voice was small, your hunched over form showed how battered you really were.

You could feel the breeze on your back, blood slowly washed down your back, and you could feel the bruising forming on both your arms.

There was silence. You could see him, see him standing there just fucking, tapping away!

"Miguel, I'm hurt. All I'm asking for is a hug, or just a kiss to make the boo-boos better." You laughed bitterly, anger starting to get the best of you.

Miguel huffed, not even turning to look at you. "Then go to the nurse, I can't kiss your injures better." You could feel him rolling his eyes at you, annoyed at your childish behavior.

"I'm not asking you too, I'm just asking you to even acknowledge me!" You yelled, anger getting the best of you.

"You just asked me too, are you dumb-?" Miguel finally turned around to look at you fully, finally giving you his full attention. His eyes went wide, shock taking over his whole body at the state you left yourself in.

"Why didn't you go to the nurse? Why did you come to me first? You really are stupid." Miguel sighed, looking down on you like you were the stupidest person ever.

"Because I wanted to see you! All week, you've been blowing me off and being a dick to me! You're right, this was a mistake. I'm sorry for even wanting to see my partner." You screamed at him, voice hoarse from the fighting from earlier.

You straightened up, and turned around, rushing out of his room, leaving a trail of blood in your wake.

You don't think he even followed you.

___________________________________________

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader angst #angst #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse fanfic

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dahliamalfoy97 · 1 year

Text

NEEDY - Muzan

MuzanxReader

A/N: probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Synopsis: Basically Y/N is feeling a bit needy and is a bit of a brat and Muzan is a sadistic bastard.

Warning: SMUT +18!! , MDNI, Yandere Muzan ! Explicit Content, daddy kink, monster kink, brat kink, degradation, masochism, slight dacryphilia, choking kink, spanking kink, manhandling, orgasm denial, overstimulation, penetration, oral sex, thigh riding, hair pulling, cockwarming, mentions of blood, and whatever else I forget to mention. Muzan is kind of mean but I mean it’s Muzan soo.

You were feeling Needy.

Your boyfriend Muzan was really focused on defeating the Demon Survey Corps and the upcoming war and you knew how important it was to him. You knew he was busy and you know he had specifically ordered you don't bother him while he was working. Usually you followed his orders but all he seemed to do is lock himself away in his lab. And it left you lonely.

Feeling needier than ever.

It had been weeks since you two had been intimate. And you were starting to forget what his touch had felt like. Sure you were a demon and life was unending. You had an infinite amount of time with him but 2 weeks seemed like forever this time around.

So probably making the worst decision of your life you dress yourself in a short red dress that hugged every curve and barely covered your ass. It was new one you had bought just for him. But he's been too busy to see it on you. You curled your hair and put on some makeup and made way to his lab.

You knocked softly.

"Who is there?" Muzan answers monotonously and you knew he was probably not even looking up at door.

"It's me, Muzan," you say.

Immediately the doors open, "I thought I've told you to not to bother me while I'm working, Y/N," you feel your heart drop because he hadn't even looked up at you and he called you by your name. Not doll, or princess.

"I know but, I barely see you anymore," you pout, creeping quietly towards where he sat in his chair with a vial in his hands. His crimson cat like eyes narrowed in pure concentration. " I miss you."

He sighs, "I know, Princess, but you know how important to this is."

" I get that but lately it seems more important than me," you can't help but hiss in dismay, leaning against his desk, admiring his breathtaking profile. You had missed him so your heart ached. As a demon naturally you didn't feel much emotions. But you burned and craved him like he was your own heartbeat.

His gaze flits to yours for a second, "I promise nothing is more important than you, but this is so we can be together without any issues. Remember?"

"Of course. And I want that future with you, but right now I need you right now."

"I'm busy, princess, I promise I'll make it up to you later."

But you're not giving up so easily, you begin prowling around him. Creeping behind him to massage his shoulders.

"Have you even eaten lately?" And he immediately relaxes under your touch. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I am a demon, I don't need those things."

Your hands curl around his tie, nibbling on his ear, he lets out a groan. His grip on the vial tightening.

"Well you can't continue to be the most powerful demon king if you're refusing to eat."

"I'll eat later," he growls. "Right now I need to finish this concoction-"

"Damn it, Muzan, you haven't even looked at me since I walked in here. I know this is important, but you can at least remember me from time to time," his hand grips yours tightly, pulling you in front of him. His crimson stare finally meeting yours,

"I can never forget you, Sweetheart."

You stick out your lower lip, "well it seems like you have. It's been 2 weeks since I've seen you, two weeks since you've touched me. And i know you've said not to bother you, but fuck Muzan, I need you. If you're going to ignore me than I can just go find Douma, I know he'll-"

The vial in his hand shatters, his veins strain against his pale skin, his hand grips your wrist and yanks you on to his lap. Your legs on dangling on both sides. You gasp at the sudden reaction.

"Don't even think about finishing that fucking sentence," he growls, those crimson eyes glaring into yours, his hands grip your waist tightly. "You're fucking mine, sweetheart, and I will kill that demon if he lays a finger on you."

Your core fluttered at his degrading words.

"Muzan, you've been ignoring me the last few weeks," you reply back. "You haven't even what I'm wearing right now and I've bought it for you."

His eyes finally do a fully take of what you're wearing, and his eyes darken, "you bought this for me," his fingers skim the satin material, "let me guess you're not wearing any panties are you?"

"Maybe, maybe I am. But you won't be able to find out if you continue to ignore me like you have been," you run your hands down his torso, feeling his muscles tense underneath you, running them all the way to where they brush along the noticeable bulge that's straining against the material of his slacks. You rub it teasingly, and grind yourself a little on his thigh. But he stops your movements with a firm grip around your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirk, knowing he was pissed, "You mean to tell me you've been wandering around the castle without panties where anyone else but me can see you?"

"Well I mean you haven't been around to see me so really why does it matter?"

He growls, a deep guttural growl, it vibrates underneath you and you can't help but bite your lip, knowing this man was was mere seconds from unleashing the beast that slept underneath.

"You're really going to be a fucking brat? What have I fucking told you about wandering around the castle without your panties on? You know I don't want anyone else seeing what's mine."

You squeeze him tightly and his eyes flash a dangerous scarlet, "again, you haven't been around so why would I listen to you when you haven't even cared to come and see me? I've gotten lonely without you, Daddy and I have needs. But if you're not here to take care of me than I might as well go find someone else who will-"

His hand suddenly grips your throat, squeezing, "you're being a real brat, little one, you come and bother me after I've told you not to, then you decide to parade around in no panties, even when I've ordered you not to and then you decide to get mouthy. The fucking nerve you have to speak to me like that, looks like I need to punish you. Teach you some fucking manners."

"Fuck you," you spit in face, choking slightly in his tight trip.

Suddenly he's throwing you off of him, rage is in his eyes, shoving you to your knees.

"Fine. If you're going to be a bitch, then you can get on your fucking knees. And I'll treat you like one."

He unbuckles his pants letting them fall to the ground, his massive angry cock slaps against his stomach, the red and dripping with precum, your mouth waters as he takes the belt off and forces your hands behind you and binds them together, tightly. The leather digs into your wrists when you try to wiggle out of them.

"Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth," he demands, but he doesn't give a chance to do much as he's already gripping you by the hair, pulling you so that you're directly in front of him. His cock is right in your face. He looks down at you with a mocking grin. "Aww look at you, utterly helpless against what I'm about to do."

He grips his cock his hands, stroking it a little, before rubbing the tip up and down your awaiting lips. Smearing precum all over.

"You think you can talk to me however you please," he growls, slapping his dick on your face, continuing to taunt you with it. "Think again, slut. Did you forget who I am little one?"

Without any warning at all, he's forcing his cock into your mouth. Not giving you any chance to breath or adjust as it lodges all the way into your throat, your throat not nearly big enough to take all of him. For he was just too massive and this wasn't even him in his true demon form. You could feel every inch and vein humming against your throat, it was angry. You could feel the rage as he began to roughly slam into you. You choke immediately, but soon hollow your cheeks and breathe throw your nose so you can take him in as deep as possible. He grips your hair winding it tightly in his fists, pulling harshly against it while he abuses your mouth.

"That's it, that's much better, having you silent and gagging around my cock. Much better than that nasty attitude that comes out of it," he watches with twisted satisfaction as spit and precum begin to dribble out of your mouth. Your eyes watering as his tip hits your throat repeatedly. As he's fucking your throat, his form begins to change. His black curly hair turns into those gorgeous snowy curls, the transformation causing his dress shirt to rip exposing his corded muscles and ribbons of red that laced around him. You whimper at the sight. He was magnificent and deadly at the same time. "Yes, that's it, whimper for me, whimper at the sight of your King."

You wiggle against the belt that's keeping you from touching him. You so desperately wanting to feel him underneath your finger tips.

As if he can read your mind, he laughs, "what you want to touch me? Hmm? I can't let you do that just yet. You have to be punished, sweetheart. You've been way too naughty. Way too defiant."

You protest, but his cock is keeping you from being able to speak, it- he was relentless against in your throat. He was no longer the soft man that he only was with you. No he was officially the devil, taking what he wanted from you. Using your for his sick pleasure. But you had missed it. You had missed the way he felt in your throat, the way he would pulse inside you, his warmth, his touch. His fucking attention. All of it which is why you had acted out. Your core was aching and you were rubbing your thighs together. The need becoming to great.

"are you making a mess down there?" Muzan mocks, eyes locked on your shifting thighs, never loosening his grip in your hair and relenting on his thrusts. "You've already caused me to break one of my vials. Because you couldn't be nice, you just had to go and talk back, and now I have to fucking start over on that one. What a greedy little slut."

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, your jaw was starting to hurt, at being stretched out so widely and brutally, but you didn't care. You welcomed that pain. His thrusts start to become more erratic and you feel him growing, those veins becoming more prominent as his release was nearing.

"Now be a good little slut and swallow for your King," all you can do is hum, as hot liquid pours down your throat, you welcome the salty taste as it costs your tongue, sucking greedily not wanting to miss a single drop, as he slowly starts to pull out, he smirks as you swallow it all. "Good girl.”

In rapid motion, he's yanking you back up, he bunches up the skirt of your dress, eyes flaring at the sight of your bare cunt. He sits down on the chair and pulls you with him, he places you on one of the mouths that decorates his leg, and you immediately fall against his chest as the wet muscle flicks against your slit. Your hands are still behind your back, so you have nothing to grab you to stabilize you. He rocks you along his thigh, body is already convulsing as the mouth on his leg eats you out. Meanwhile, he's just leaning back, watching lazily as you fall apart.

"You're so sexy when you're writhing against me like this. I love how small body is compared to mine. So easy to manipulate how I want. So easy to just break."

Your arch into him, grinding desperately along that mouth. As it cruelly sucks on your clit and draws circles, you're a whimpering mess. He laughs taking your tits in his massive hands, and latches his mouth one of them, swirling his tongue around your nipple, then he switches to the other one.

"Fuck Muzan,” you cry, and he bites down on one of your nipples causing you to scream.

"Wrong name, slut," but you can't hurl a sassy remake back, for the coil in you snaps, causing your legs to shake and you to clamp around the mouth as your orgasm crashes through you.

"Daddy," you whimper, "again."

Once again, he laughs, "you don't get to tell me what to do, I'll do to you what I want. And you're just going to have to take whatever it is I give you."

Suddenly, he’s manhandling so you’re pinned to the table with your front side facing the table, he adjusts your stance your legs so their stretched wide. He grips you neck, pulling you in for a kiss, pulling you against him so your entire backside is pressing against his front side. He pushes your head down. He skims a hand along your ass before bringing it down in a hard slap. You jump, crying at the sting. But you could feel your arousal dripping.

"You think you can be a brat and get away with it?" He says before bringing his hand down again. "Think again," he smooths his hand along the sting before bringing it down again. Tears stream down your face, at the burning sensation. It stung. But it felt oh so good. His fingers cup your pussy lips, allowing your wetness to pool in his fingers before bringing them to your mouth and shoving them down your throat. He pulls them out and spanks you again.

"Fuck, Daddy, feels good," you cry.

He just laughs, "of course it does. Because it comes from me. Your pleasure comes from me, remember that before you get smart with me." Then he gets down on his knees behind you, his face inches away from your cunt, he grips your thighs before leaning in and giving you a slow lick. You quiver at the feeling of his hot tongue lazily licking your cunt. He continues this slow torturous pattern, lazy circles. Flicking it up and down. Sucking, biting, energyrhing he did was slow. Driving you on the brink of the edge, you were still sensitive from your previous high. You desperately wiggle yourself against him, trying to get him deeper. But his tentacles stop you from doing so, as they slither like vines around your legs, limiting movement. Like a predator finally going in for the kill, Muzan begins devouring you, body wracks in shivers at the overwhelming pleasure. As You could feel yourself getting closer to your peak, his tongue swiftly pulls out. And you glare at him for denying you of your orgasm.

"Muzan-"

SMACK!

"Still haven't learned to address me properly I see, if you're going to continue doing this bratty routine, then I'll continue denying you of what you really. But if you can be a girl good and be obedient for once, then I'll give you what you want. But you have to be a good girl for me."

"Please, Daddy," you beg, "please let me cum, I'll be a good girl, I promise."

"Really? Or are you just saying so to get what you want?" He slaps your cunt, before sinking two long inside and starts to finger fucking you, your gummy walls clamping. "Fuck, are you really this tight? Has it really been this long since I've fucked you?"

"That's what I've been tried to tell you, but you haven't been listening to me,"

He clamps his free hand around your mouth, as his other one deliciously continues thrusting in and out, "you really need to learn to shut that mouth of yours." You sink your fangs into his hand, causing him to growl, "little bitch," you smirk at the metallic as he lets go of your mouth and slaps your ass again. His fingers still deep inside, never relenting. You could feel your orgasm building again, and you selfishly grind again his fingers.

"Please, Daddy," you pester again him sweetly, with puppy eyes, “let me cum."

"I don’t think so, sweetheart, you’ve been nothing but a brat,” he purrs, “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

You’re practically sobbing at this point as he alternates between slow and fast thrusts, once you’re orgasm would build and you’re walls began to clench, he’d stop and start over. You were shaking at this point, aching with the need to cum. But he was cruel and relentless. But you loved it and this is what you had been wanting when you sought him out. The reason why you misbehaved. You wanted him to treat you like this.

“I don’t know why you have to torture yourself,” he coos in fake sweet voice, “all you have to do is apologize. Apologize , and I’ll give you want you want.”

One of his tentacles curl around your stomach down to your clit and begins sucking on it, and you’re wailing at this point. The pleasure is too much. Too much to bear. Sobs wreck through your body, you’re legs are barely holding you up. No it’s Muzan that’s keeping you from falling apart.

“I- im sorry Daddy,” you blubber, “I’m sorry for being a brat. I just missed you and wanted your attention. I- I was feeling lonely.”

He’s eating this up like a smug bastard, “now that wasn’t so hard was it?”

You’re so so close, but right when you’re about to cum, he pulls out fingers entirely.

“DADDY,” you whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” suddenly your walls are being breached, and his cock is slamming in. No warning, or adjusting, he was selfish with how he took you, cruel-violent. The table was creaking. “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy so much.”

“Your fault,” you snap, only to earn a slap.

His tentacles shove themselves inside your mouth. Your being impaled by his enormous cock and being gouged by his tentacles. The monster had officially ensnared you in its wrath. Destroying your body as it pleased.

“You really don’t know how to talk to me nicely,” he growls. “But perhaps this was your intention huh? Because you get off on being punished don’t you? You love the pain I give you. All you had to do was wait and be patient, but no, you had to be a selfish little brat.”

Soon he’s releasing into you before you have chance to orgasm yourself, he pulls out of you- his tentacles retracting. Hastily spins around, picks you up so you’re lying against the table, before spreading your legs again, and re-enters you again, making you feel every ridge of his monstrous cock as he split you open, deeply and slowly. Slowly, bringing you to another orgasm. The outlines of his cock could be seen in your stomach, and you moaned at the sight. His hands grip your waist, you’re gripping his arms that are incasing you, your nails digging into his skin. His scarlet orbs never leaving yours as he fucks you.

“You’re being such a good girl now, so quiet and obedient. Look how well you take my cock,” he growls softly, “this pussy is made to take my cock and mine only. Not Douma’s, so I don’t want to hear that bastard’s name come out of your lips again, understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod tiredly, you could feel yourself slipping into your headspace, as you could feel your walls tightening around his cock again. You knew you were close again, the ache was becoming too much, “you know I love only you. I just was missing you and miss how good you make me feel.”

“I know Princess. And I’m sorry for making you feel forgotten, but I promise I have not. I’ve just been super stressed,” his strokes become slower, deeper, his grunts were becoming more labored you knew he was close too. “This war isn’t going to be easy.“

“I know and I’ve been extra needy - I’m afraid of losing you,” you whisper softly, reaching up with one of your hands to caress his face, loving the way he leans into your touch.

He leans down in between thrusts, capturing your lips in a soft-yet demanding kiss, you moan when his tongue brushes against yours. “You won’t lose me, I promise, my love,” he says in between kisses. “You’ve been so good for me, go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart.”

finally you do, like a big crashing wave, your legs shake as you finally are able to let go, spraying Muzan and he growls in pride.

“That’s it, make a mess for me.”

Not long after he’s releasing into you. Once he’s filled you to brim with his hot seed, he pulls out watching as it gushes out with a satisfied hum. He starts to change back into his human form, but you shake you’re head.

“No stay like this, I love your true demon form.”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart,” then he’s lifting you his arms, and sits down with you in his lap. He settles you so you’re straddling him, and lines his tip with your entrance guiding it through your folds once more. “Now be a good girl and warm my cock for me while I continue my work.”

#demon slayer #muzan x y/n #kny muzan #muzan imagine #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #muzan smut #yandere muzan #Muzan one shot #whitehairmuzan #demon king muzan

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fatecantstopme · 10 months

Text

From Past to Future

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After you and Bucky break up, you end up engaged to Steve. What happens when Bucky comes back into your life two years later?

Warnings: So much angst. Cheating, cursing, use of pet names. Some fluff. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), slight choking, metal arm kink (choking kink)

Two Years Ago

"Why are you always pushing me away?"

"It's better for you," he said calmly.

"Who are you to decide what's best for me?"

"I know myself better than anyone...I know my past. I know what kind of monster lives inside of me, so if anyone is equipped to decide you're better off without me, it's me."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"No."

Anger threatened to bubble over. "I can't live like this, James. I can't. I would do anything for you, but I can't make you see that I can handle everything about you, including your past. I'm not afraid of you, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose myself if I keep fighting you like this."

He nodded slowly. "It's better this way."

"How can you be so calm?" you yelled. "Do I really mean so little to you? Did the past year mean nothing?"

He had the decency to look ashamed. "You mean everything to me, that's why I have to let you go."

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and pain clouding your features. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He simply shrugged.

You hastily grabbed your jacket, keys, and purse before heading towards the door. You turned back to look at him one last time. "I hope you heal, Bucky, I really do. But I won't be around to see it."

You turned and left the apartment, shutting the door behind you. It felt final, as if you'd just shut the door on your old life. You'd left a piece of your soul in that apartment, a piece you prayed you could learn to live without.

**********

One Year Ago

"You are such a dork."

He grinned ear to ear with pride. "That could be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

You laughed warmly and rolled your eyes. "What are you talking about? I'm always nice to you."

He raised his eyebrow teasingly.

"Alright, alright. I'm mostly nice to you."

He chuckled and tugged you against his chest. "I'll take it."

You giggled as you leaned back against him, gaze wandering out towards the ocean and the beautiful sunset beyond it. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Every morning."

You looked up at him in confusion.

"I'm blessed to wake up beside the most beautiful woman in the world every day," he said almost reverently.

Your expression softened and you turned to face him, putting your back against the balcony railing. You reached up and caressed his face, eyes shining with emotion. "Steve..." you whispered.

He placed a single finger to your lips to silence whatever you were about to say. He ducked his head to kiss you and you sighed as you melted into him.

After a few moments, he took your hand and guided you back through the open door and into the bedroom.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin as he laid you down on the soft bed.

"I love you too," you said softly, before you got lost in each other for hours.

**********

Two Months Ago

"Seriously? The wedding is in three months!" you yelled into your phone.

Your best friend, Natasha, came into the room when she heard you yell. "What's wrong?" she mouthed at you.

"Well the dress is pretty damn important, don't you think?" you seethed.

Natasha's eyes widened. "What's wrong with the dress?" she asked aloud.

You pulled the phone away from your face. "The tailor lost it."

"What the hell do you mean they lost it?"

You put the phone on speaker so Nat could hear. The man on the other end of the phone was explaining some sort of snafu with the dress and the shop moving locations.

Nat took the phone from your hand. "Let me handle this, okay?"

You sighed and nodded, grateful that she was there to take care of at least some of the wedding issues. Steve had been traveling a lot for work, so the wedding planning had fallen almost exclusively on you. If it hadn't been for Natasha, you were pretty certain you would have lost your mind.

The doorbell rang, bringing you out of your thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, but you'd been getting a lot of deliveries lately thanks to the upcoming wedding.

You opened the door without checking to see who it was and the moment your eyes focused on the person standing on the porch, you found yourself wishing you'd looked first.

"Hey, (Y/N)."

"What are you doing here?" You winced slightly, the sound of your voice a bit harsher than you'd intended.

"I deserve that," he admitted softly. "I, um...well I heard you were getting married."

You stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry...you heard I was getting married, so you decided it would be a good idea to pay me a visit?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well--umm, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so good."

"You think?"

Once again, the harshness of your voice made you feel terrible. You knew exactly why you were being rude, but you couldn't bear to admit it to yourself. You hadn't expected to see him again, and certainly not like this. What was worse was you hadn't expected to feel like this when you did. Your palms were sweaty, your heart was racing, butterflies danced a merry jig in your stomach...you hated yourself for the emotions that washed over you at the mere sight of him. Hating him too made it that much easier.

"I just, I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing," he mumbled.

"I'm happy, thanks for asking. You can go now."

"(Y/N)..."

"No," you snapped. "No. Don't say my name like that. Don't you dare."

He looked down at the ground and muttered, "I'm sorry."

When you didn't say anything, he looked back up at you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). For all of it." His words began to come out in a rush, as if he was hoping you wouldn't have time to interrupt him. "You were right. You were right about all of it. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn't...and you--you deserve an apology. Even if it's two years too late."

Your heart clenched in your chest and tears pricked at the backs of your eyes. You were struggling to find the words to say, to fight through the storm of emotions swirling around you, when Nat came to your rescue.

She appeared beside you, took one look at the man standing on your porch, and said, "I don't know what the hell you're doing here, James, but you need to leave. You have no place in her life anymore...not after all the pain you caused her."

Bucky's blue eyes darkened with sadness. "I know," he said softly. "I just wanted to apologize...and say goodbye."

He turned and began to walk down the stairs. You watched him make his way to his bike before you ran down the steps after him. "Bucky!"

He turned to look at you in surprise. You'd stopped at the bottom of the steps, but he could see the emotion on your face as clearly as if you were an inch from him.

"I forgive you," you whispered so softly he almost missed it. If he hadn't been a super soldier, there was no way he would have heard you.

He nodded his acceptance--his gratefulness--before getting on his motorcycle and driving away.

"You okay?" Nat asked softly as she reached the bottom of the steps.

"Yeah," you lied.

She knew you well enough to recognize the lie, but she also knew better than to push you. When it came to Bucky, you'd always been vulnerable. You'd loved him with everything you had--a kind of fierceness she'd never seen before or since. She'd hoped Steve would change that...that loving him would help you forget Bucky, but when she looked at your face in that moment, she knew you'd never stop loving him.

**********

Present

"I'm getting married in a couple weeks," you said with a sigh. "Can you even believe it?"

"Yeah, babe, I can believe it," Natasha teased. "How excited are you?"

For the first time, you were grateful she wasn't there with you. "I can't wait," you lied. You hoped your voice conveyed excitement, even though your face did not.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Nat asked for the third time in your 20 minute conversation.

You groaned into the phone. "Nat, I'm fine. Now can you stop worrying about me and go enjoy your vacation?"

"It's not as fun without you here," she pouted.

You laughed. "I know, I know. I'm the life of the party."

She laughed too. "I miss you and I'll be home in a couple days."

"Miss you too. Give my love to Bruce."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too."

You hung up the phone and leaned your head back against the sofa. You hadn't felt right in weeks...not since Bucky Barnes had shown up unannounced on your front porch.

You hated how he made you feel...hated that even after everything, you still loved him. You were engaged to be married to another man for God's sake, but here you were crying on your couch over a relationship that died two years prior.

You hadn't mentioned anything about Bucky's sudden appearance to Steve. You didn't want to upset him...or at least that's what you told yourself. Seeing him had brought back years of emotions you'd buried long before. You didn't think you could explain any of it to Steve without him realizing what you'd been denying for two years: you still loved Bucky.

You'd managed to convince yourself that it was okay to love two people at once...because you did love Steve. You really did. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you loved him more than Bucky. You were grateful you didn't have to choose between the two. You were marrying Steve and that's the way it needed to be. Steve loved you so much and he treated you like a queen. How could you want anything else?

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts. At least this time you were expecting a delivery, so you didn't think twice as you opened the door.

"Bucky..." you whispered.

He was standing there, flowers in hand, blue eyes warm and gentle.

"What are you doing here?" you asked softly.

"I needed to see you."

"Bucky, you can't be here."

"Please, (Y/N). Can we just talk?"

"I'm getting married," you said, less firmly than you'd intended.

"I know, doll. That's why I need to talk to you."

Against your better judgment, you turned to the side, allowing him entry.

He stepped past you into the foyer and handed you the flowers. "Um, these are for you."

"Thank you," you said softly. "I'll just...get a vase."

He followed you into the kitchen. "Your home is beautiful."

"Thanks."

He stood awkwardly on the other side of your kitchen island, hands at his sides as if he wasn't sure what he should do with them.

"So...what did you wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"Bucky, we can't--"

"Just let me get this out," he begged. "If you hate what I have to say, you can throw me out...but just listen for a moment."

Tears welled in your eyes and every sensible part of you screamed at you to make him leave, but you couldn't force yourself to move--couldn't say a word.

He took your silence as permission to speak. "When we first met, I was a broken shell of the man I used to be. My past was still so fresh in my mind and I hated myself more passionately than any person should. When you came into my life, I desperately wanted to be the man I was before Hydra...but I couldn't. I was scared of hurting you, scared of what I was capable of and what I might do to you if I lost control. So I pushed you away...until you finally got tired of it. I don't think I'd ever had a broken heart before that day."

Tears streamed steadily down your face as you listened to him speak. You were still frozen in place, his words gluing your feet to the floor.

"It took me a while to realize I could never be that man again...that young, carefree, charming guy. I figured if I couldn't be him, then I was just the monster Hydra made me. All that was left was the Winter Soldier." He paused for a moment. "I didn't want to be him, but it wasn't until I was in Wakanda that things really changed...I changed."

"You were in Wakanda?" you asked softly.

He nodded. "For a while, yeah. I dealt with a lot of my issues and I don't have to fear the trigger words anymore...they have no effect on me. But it wasn't until I received my pardon that I started going to therapy. At first it was because I had to, but after a while, I wanted to go...it was helping me in ways I didn't know I needed. I'm not the person I was before Hydra, but I'm not the Winter Soldier either. I'm just a different version of me...but at the end of the day, I'm still Bucky."

"I'm glad you got the help you needed, Buck. I truly am," you said softly. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that," he answered quickly. "Losing you hurt me infinitely more than I expected it to and at first I wanted to get help so maybe you would want me..." he trailed off for a moment. "I eventually realized I needed to change for myself, not for you. I'm by no means perfect, but I am comfortable with who I am now."

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I know my timing is terrible, but I need to say this or I'm going to regret it for the rest of my unnaturally long life." He took a deep breath before continuing, "I fell in love with you the moment I met you. I loved you every day of our relationship and every day since--I've never stopped loving you. I don't think I can--and trust me, I've tried. You've held my heart in the palm of your hand since we first met..."

Bucky took a step towards you, then another, then another, until he was mere inches from you. "You are my heart, (Y/N), and I don't want it back."

"What do you want, Bucky?" you whispered.

"You," he said simply. "You're all I've ever wanted."

You should have pushed him away. You should have told him to leave. Hell, you should have left...but you didn't do any of those things. You didn't pull away when he reached out to wipe your tears from your cheeks. You didn't stop him when he cupped your face in his hands. And you didn't fight him when he pressed his lips against yours.

Instead, you pulled him closer to you as you returned the kiss--the feeling of his lips igniting a fire deep inside you that you'd never felt with anyone else.

What began as a loving kiss, quickly turned to pure desire, a passion so explosive it couldn't be contained. You practically tore each other's clothes off, leaving a trail of clothing from the kitchen to your bedroom.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind told you this was wrong...that you should stop...but you ignored it. Soon, all coherent thoughts slipped from your mind, replaced by overwhelming pleasure.

Sex with Bucky had always been incredible, but this was so far beyond every encounter you'd ever had before. He was comfortable, confident, and so sure of himself--it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen.

"Bucky," you gasped as he finally entered you after relentlessly teasing you with his mouth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body.

"Fuck," he grunted. "I forgot how good you felt."

"So big," you whispered.

He grinned. "Yeah? Well this pussy was made for me, baby. I could stay here forever."

You'd be lying if you said that didn't sound like heaven to you. He felt so incredible...every sensation felt heightened in a way you hadn't felt in years.

His cock brushed against your g-spot with each thrust, turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. "Shit, doll...you gotta stop squeezing me like that or I'm not gonna last."

You'd long since lost control of your body--it was acting entirely of its own volition by this point. All you could do was moan and gasp and dig your nails into his back as he plunged into you again.

Back when you'd first started dating, you'd told Bucky you wanted him to choke you with his metal hand during sex, something he'd vehemently refused to do. He'd been terrified of hurting you, but now as he looked down at you, he found himself wanting to try it.

He gently placed his left hand against the column of your throat, putting only enough pressure for you to know what he was doing. Your eyes widened before rolling back, a moan of need breaking free from your lips.

"You like that, doll?" he whispered.

You nodded rapidly.

He smiled and gave the tiniest squeeze to your throat. You gasped loudly and your nails dug into the flesh of his right bicep. He continued to fuck you as fast and hard as he could, left hand never leaving your throat.

He could tell you were close, but he didn't want you to cum until he did, so he waited until the very last moment before giving your throat another small squeeze. You screamed his name as you came, your orgasm triggering his own. He called out your name as he filled you with his seed, hand slipping from your neck to caress your face.

Bucky's stamina was truly a thing to behold even now. He hovered over you, lips pressed against yours in a heated kiss. Somehow, his cock was still hard, despite having just had the best orgasm in years. Instead of pulling out of you, he began to move again, your shared releases mixing together to provide extra lubricant.

"Bucky," you moaned softly. "What--"

"You didn't really think I was done with you yet, did you doll?"

The sensations began as almost painful, the sensitivity making it hard to enjoy. Within moments though, those sensations turned to pleasure and the need began to pool in your belly again.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked teasingly.

"Don't you dare."

He chuckled darkly and sped up his movements, earning a pleased moan from you.

The two of you were so lost in passion and pleasure, neither of you heard the front door open. Even Bucky missed the telltale signs of someone walking through the house towards the bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The sound of your fiancé's voice brought you suddenly back to reality. You wanted to sink into the floor and never come back out.

Bucky's first instinct was to protect you, but when he turned his head to look at the newcomer, he felt nothing but shame.

"Bucky?" Steve said in shock.

"I can explain..." Bucky began as he removed himself from the bed, grabbing a blanket to cover himself with.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your chest, eyes wide as you stared at Steve. "Steve..."

"Don't," he snapped. "Don't you dare try to talk your way out of this, (Y/N)."

"It wasn't her fault--" Bucky tried.

"Save it. I know you were pissed at me for dating her after you broke up, so maybe I deserved the revenge," Steve said angrily. He turned his gaze back to you, hurt filling his beautiful blue eyes. "But you? I've done nothing but love you. I treated you the way you deserved to be treated...I did everything right."

"Steve, I'm so sorry," you whispered.

"That doesn't change anything." He turned to walk away and you jumped up to follow him, grabbing your robe on your way out.

"Steve, wait--"

"What do you think you could possibly say to fix this, (Y/N)?" he yelled.

You took a step back in shock. Steve never yelled. Ever. "I don't...I don't know..."

"Exactly." Tears pressed against the backs of his eyes and his voice was shaky. "It's over, (Y/N). I'm done."

You hadn't expected him to say anything differently, but it still hurt to hear it. You looked down at your left hand and saw the diamond ring he'd given you. You didn't cry as you slid it off your finger and handed it to him...nor did you cry as you watched him walk out the door and out of your life.

A few moments later, Bucky appeared behind you fully dressed. "(Y/N)..." he began.

You held up your hand to silence him. "Don't--just don't." You stared at the door your fiancé--ex-finacé--had just walked through. "I can't believe I ever thought I was a good person," you whispered.

"You are a good person," Bucky countered, taking a step towards you.

"Please just leave."

"(Y/N)..."

"Just go. I can't even bear to look at you right now."

Bucky knew better than to argue. He loved you more than anything, but he knew he'd made a mistake. He never intended to sleep with you...it just happened.

He shrugged his jacket on and walked out the door, leaving you on the other side of it. Your life had been shattered into pieces because of a choice you'd made...you and Bucky.

**********

"You did WHAT?!" Natasha yelled.

You'd called her a few minutes after Bucky had left to tell her what happened. "I slept with Bucky," you repeated.

"What in God's name were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," you whispered.

"Jesus, (Y/N/N)," she sighed. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. I managed to blow up my life in a single afternoon."

"It's not that bad, okay? We'll figure it out. Just...don't tell Steve."

"Too late."

"What?"

"He walked in on us."

"WHAT?"

You made the sound of an explosion, complete with hand movements she couldn't see.

"Okay, don't do anything crazy. I'll be home in a couple hours."

"Nat, don't cut your vacation short because of me."

"It's one day, (Y/N). Besides, you need me."

You wanted to deny it, but you really did need her. "Thanks," you whispered.

"You're welcome. I'll see you in a few hours."

**********

Two weeks had gone by since you'd slept with Bucky and broken up with Steve. Natasha had stayed with you for the first week...you were much too upset to be left alone.

You spent the second week by yourself...you needed the time alone to figure things out. Natasha had been helpful, but she'd also been upset with you for ruining things with Steve over Bucky. She'd always hated that he broke your heart.

As much as you loved Natasha, you knew you needed advice from someone else. You wanted to believe everything Bucky had told you, but you were too jaded to believe him without proof.

Steve was Bucky's best friend before the two of you had started dating and they really hadn't talked since. Bucky became closer to Sam Wilson over time and you knew they were best friends now. You decided Sam was the person you needed to talk to, so you called him up and asked him to meet you for lunch.

Sam hadn't been surprised when you'd called him...Bucky had told him everything that had happened. What did surprise him was that you wanted to meet up to talk.

He contemplated calling Bucky to tell him, but he decided it would probably be better to talk to you first. So he got himself together and went out to meet you for lunch.

You were already seated at a table in the back of the restaurant when Sam walked in. You waved him over and he took a seat across from you.

"Hey, (Y/N). How are you?" Sam asked as he sat down.

"Honestly, Sam, I've been better."

He was a little surprised by your candidness, and he wasn't sure if he should play dumb or admit Bucky had talked to him already. He opted for something in the middle of the two, "Bucky mentioned he went to see you a couple weeks ago."

"Did he say anything else?" you asked uncomfortably.

Sam knew better than to try and verbally lie to you, so he simply shook his head.

"He may have left some things out," you said softly. "Steve and I broke up."

Sam's eyes widened. He did his best to act surprised as he asked, "Why? What happened?"

"Bucky happened," you said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

You closed your eyes for a second...not quite ready to admit you'd done something terrible. "He shows up back in my life after two years and says a bunch of shit that I don't know what to do with. Who does he think he is? I was happy, Sam. I was getting married in a couple weeks!"

Sam sighed. "I know, (Y/N)...and I've known you for a long time, so I'm just going to say this: you were content with Steve. He never rocked the boat, never challenged you or upset you, never did anything to hurt you--but he also never made you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe, he never made you smile so wide your face hurt, and I know for a fact he never loved you the way Bucky does."

You stared at your friend in silence. You knew Bucky had loved you two years before and he'd professed his love to you mere weeks ago...what you'd spent two years denying to everyone including yourself, was how you felt about Bucky. You'd never loved anyone the way you loved him and as much as you cared for Steve, it never came close to how you felt about Bucky.

"It's okay to admit you still love him," Sam said gently.

"Is he different, Sam? I mean really, truly different? Because I can't--" you took a shaky breath. "I can't go through that again."

Sam shook his head. "He's not the same man he was before. You know how I felt about him when we first met...we didn't become friends just to fill some kind of void in our lives. I love the guy like a brother, but I would never lie to you (Y/N). You're family too."

You swallowed thickly. "Natasha says I should move on."

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Natasha doesn't know Bucky like I do. She knew him before...she has no idea who he is now."

"I know," you whispered. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "You wanted to know if Bucky had really changed."

You nodded.

"Because you still love him."

"I never stopped," you admitted.

Sam offered you a gentle smile. "You should tell him that."

Your eyes were teary as you looked up at your friend. "I know."

**********

Two days later, you were standing on the front steps of Bucky's apartment. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and you were quite certain you were moments away from throwing up. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt this anxious.

Your decision to come here had been spur of the moment and you suddenly regretted that decision. You'd hit the buzzer for Bucky's apartment, but no one responded. Like an idiot, you hadn't even bothered to check if he was home before coming all the way over there.

You turned around to leave, feeling like a fool, when you heard the door open behind you and a voice call your name. When you turned back around, Bucky was standing in the threshold, looking at you in surprise.

"Oh, I umm--I thought you weren't home."

He gestured to the call box. "The damn speaker is broken again, so you couldn't hear my response. I woulda buzzed you up, but that's also not working right..."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "So...what brings you by?"

You were one hundred percent certain he could hear your heart beating even without his super hearing and your breathing had become obviously shallow. You felt like an absolute moron standing on his front stoop, staring at him in silence. He was beautiful and it always took your breath away...even now.

"I thought we should talk," you blurted.

Bucky looked slightly surprised, but he nodded in agreement. "Why don't you come inside?" He turned to go back through the door.

When you made no move to follow him, he stopped and said, "Or we can just stand out here..."

You shook your head, partially in response to his statement and partially to clear your head. You didn't say anything, but you took a step towards him, so he turned to guide you up to his apartment.

"Sorry about all the stairs. I like being up higher."

"It's fine."

Once inside his apartment, he gestured for you to have a seat before heading into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Maybe something to drink?"

You'd never felt so awkward in your entire life and you knew you weren't going to be able to say anything you wanted to like this. "Do you have whiskey?"

Bucky chuckled lightly. "Always. On the rocks?"

"Is there any other way?"

He laughed. "Touché."

He brought you the drink and sat down on the couch across from you with his own. "Please sit, (Y/N)."

You didn't want to be any weirder than you already were, so you took a seat on the chair beside you. You took a long drink from your glass, almost draining it.

"Should I have made it a double?" he teased lightly.

You looked down at your glass in embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm just--nervous, I guess."

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "And no need to be nervous."

You laughed breathily. "I think I'll have to disagree on that one." You downed the rest of your drink and sat the glass on the table in front of you.

"Would you like another one?"

"No--I uhh, I think one will be enough."

He nodded. "So...what did you wanna talk about?"

The speed with which you'd ingested the whiskey ensured you felt it almost immediately. You took a deep breath, allowing the liquor to calm your nerves. "I wanted to talk about what happened."

"When?"

Your eyes snapped up to his. "Seriously?"

"Ahh...so this is about the other day."

"Yeah, Bucky, it's about the other day. Ya know, when I cheated on my fiancé with you and broke his heart? That day."

"His heart? Not yours?"

You didn't appreciate the tone in his voice, so you snapped, "No, you managed to do that all on your own."

He sighed and sat his drink down. "That was two years ago, (Y/N)."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Hurting you was never what I wanted. But we needed to be apart and the only way that was going to happen was if I hurt you. You just wouldn't leave," he finished softly.

"Because I loved you, Bucky! Is that really so terrible?"

"No, of course not. But I never would have gotten the help I needed if you hadn't left me...if I didn't have a reason to get better."

"I wasn't reason enough?"

"You were my reason and that was the problem. I needed to do it for myself and I couldn't do that if you were there."

You were quiet for a moment. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did, James. I didn't think my heart would ever heal."

"How'd you think I felt when you got together with my best friend?"

You winced. "It just sort of...happened."

He sighed. "I wanted you to be happy and if Steve was the one who made you happy, then I had to accept that. But that's why I left, (Y/N). I couldn't stand to be in the same city as you two anymore. The possibility of running into you was too painful to risk."

"I'm really sorry, Buck. I didn't do it to hurt you."

He looked up at you with soft eyes. "I know that. It's not in your nature, nor is it in Steve's. You can't help who you fall in love with."

"I missed you...so much, and Steve--Steve understood how that felt. Better than anyone."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes."

"Were you really planning on spending the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes."

"If he hadn't caught us...would you still be marrying him?"

"I...I--I couldn't. I can't. It wouldn't be fair to him. Not when I feel--what I feel."

"And what do you feel?" Bucky asked softly.

"Bucky..."

"Please."

You sighed heavily. "When I first got together with Steve, I still loved you more than anything. Over time, I suppressed that love just enough that I could open myself up to loving someone else. After a while...it got easier and easier to pretend I felt nothing at all for you. And then you barged back into my life."

Bucky didn't say a word, too scared to stop the flow of emotions coming from you.

"You barged in and you brought all of those emotions back to the surface. You made me remember everything I'd ever felt for you--and I wanted to hate you for it. I wanted to hate you so badly, but I couldn't. I can't find it in me to hate the person I love the most. I never fell out of love with you, Bucky, I just hid it really well."

He wanted to speak, to say something to acknowledge what you just said, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he got up and came to stand directly in front of you, before kneeling down and grabbing your hands in his. "I think this is the moment where I'm supposed to say something deep and profound, but all I can think to say is, 'I love you too'."

Tears filled your eyes. "That's more than enough," you whispered.

He pulled himself up slightly so he could reach your face. He gently pulled you down towards him, kissing you with a loving intensity that set your soul aflame.

Loving Bucky Barnes just felt right, as if it was all you were ever meant to do. He was the love your life and being here with him in this moment reminded you of how good it felt to be in the arms of someone you loved with every part of you.

When you'd left Bucky two years ago, you'd left a piece of your soul with him, a piece you'd worried you wouldn't be able to live without. You'd learned how to, but it wasn't the same--you weren't the same.

For the first time in years, you felt whole--complete. If life was a giant puzzle, Bucky was your missing piece. And in the darkness of his bedroom, wrapped in his arms, you made a promise to love him forever--a promise he returned in kind.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #marvel smut

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dyaz-stories · 4 months

Text

you took the words right out of my mouth || Kim Yeong-Hu x Reader

word count: 1k

warnings & tags: mostly sweet and fluffy, implied sex but nothing explicit, just harmless flirtation

A/N: For @neohumanmonster's Born in Blood prompt! I don't know if I'll post the other prompts right away because I don't want to burn myself out, so I hope you'll enjoy that one in the meantime!

“You do realize that there are two doctors in here, right?” you ask as you enter the room, not bothering to greet the man sitting on the examination table.

Sergeant Kim Young Hu’s eyes follow you as you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Around his bicep, a makeshift bandage seeped with red. By the looks of it, it isn’t the worst state you’ve seen him in.

“I’m not letting that lunatic touch me,” he answers, his voice calm, as it usually is, and you roll your eyes.

You’d be lying if you said you were a fan of Dr. Lim. You already had your issues with the man when you both worked for the government, before this all started. Once the Outbreak had begun, it had taken you forty-eight hours as his assistant before you had requested to start working out in the field. You’re well-aware of his shortcomings.

Unfortunately, and it stings to admit it, he’s one of the most competent doctors you’ve ever met. He’d be more than able to take care of the Sergeant.

“You do realize I have other things to do, right?”

“And I am deeply sorry to have taken you away from your fifth grade biology lessons.”

…Okay, he has a point. Finally done with your thorough handwashing — it’s not nearly as sanitizing as you’d like it to be, but it’s not like there’s a lot more you can do —, you come to stand in front of him.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask as you start undoing the bandage. At least working with the military means that the men all know what they’re doing in terms of first-aid.

“Could be worse. I think I just need stitches.”

You’d trust him, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve heard him say that about injuries that could have been fatal, had you not been there. In this case, though, you’re relieved to see it does look mostly fine. Whatever attacked him slashed through him, deep enough to be concerning but without actually damaging the muscle or hitting an important artery.

“What happened here?”

“One of the guys tried to take something from a monster,” the Sergeant Kim replies flatly. “I intervened.”

“Oh, it’s good it didn’t turn out worse, then?”

“Not really,” he says with a shrug. “The monster wasn’t violent until disturbed. This could have easily been avoided.”

“Sounds like your boys need a stern talking-to.”

While talking, you go fetch what you need. At least you’ve got everything required for something like stitching someone up, which you can’t say about most other ailments.

“I’ll handle that,” the Sergeant answers from behind you, and you smile. He exudes this quiet strength that you cannot help but be impressed by. His men would follow him to the end of the world and back, if he asked, and you can see why.

“Alright, well, you know the drill,” you tell him, coming back in front of him. “Think you’ll be okay?”

It’s silly to ask, with how often you’ve had to patch him or his men up. You’re well aware of his resistance to pain. Nonetheless, your training requires you ask, even if it’s no surprise when he nods in answer.

“Just go for it.”

You make quick and easy work of the wound. You focus on being fast and efficient rather than on lessening the pain, which you know is for the best with him. It’s not long before you’re setting your tools back down, done with your work. There are a few seconds during which the Sergeant takes the time to relax his jaw, to breathe in a couple of times, and then he nods at you.

“All done?” he asks.

“You’ll need to come back here so I can check on it,” you say. “And try not to put any strain yourself with that arm for a couple days, alright?”

He nods, but you don’t put much faith in that. As a soldier, you’d think he’d be good at following orders and, to be fair, you’ve heard he did an outstanding job most of the time. Unfortunately, your recommendations seemed to fall into deaf ears more often than not.

“Is that all?”

“Sure,” you say, even if his nonchalance exhausts you. “Hope I don’t see you here again for a good while.”

This, at least, brings a smile to his lips, and you try your best to suppress your shiver. He gets up from the table, and stands up, just inches from you. He’s so close, his torso almost brushes against your chest.

“Is that so, Doc?”

Damn that man.

“You know, if you keep this up, I’ll end up thinking you’re landing yourself in here on purpose,” you say.

The smile turns more amused.

“I would never endanger myself on purpose,” he tells you with disarming honesty. “But I’d be lying if I said I minded this kind of flesh wounds all that much these days.”

And before you can tell him just what you think of that, of course, he leans in to capture your lips. It’s not the first time. It doesn’t look like it will be the last time. And you’re in one of the very few rooms in the stadium that can actually lock.

Fuck it, you decide, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter why the two of you play that game together, the people you shared a past with and that are long gone, the fact that this relationship was built on blood. What matters is that in his arms, for however long you get to have him, you forget that the world is doomed.

If him coming back for more over and over again is any indication, so does he.

hope you liked this, it's a little sillier than what i've written for the fandom so far, so that was fun to play with. i don't know if i'll write for other soldiers because most of them... didn't leave me much of an impression as far as their personality goes, but i tried something for sergeant kim ^-^ please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you're enjoying my writing, interactions are what keep me motivated to write for a fandom!

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home netflix #sweet home 2 #sweet home season 2 #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #kim yeong hu #kim yeong hu x reader #my writing

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the-milk-monarch · 4 months

Note

hello hello! I really like your writing! can I request a Mal x autistic reader but all good if not. Have a nice day/night!

☣︎ omg yes I wanted to write sth similar but I felt like it'd be too self-serving lmao I hope you don't mind I added Mike in there as well

[𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲 𝚂/𝙾]

Summary: Mal pretends to be Mike but Reader picks up on it. After the reveal, Reader has to spent a cold night out with Mal as a challenge + dating headcanons.

[𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎]

Ever since you joined the Total Drama show, you knew you had to get an ally if you were to win.

Your social skills weren't the best, but you had your good problem solving skills to make up for that. At least you hoped so.

You were a little anxious while interacting with other contestants, hoping they wouldn't notice your a bit different approach to conversations.

But there was one boy who didn't seem to mind your awkwardness. On the contrary, he was a bit awkward as well, which filled you with adoration.

Mike was always so kind and respectful you never felt anxious around him, even with your quirky way of speaking.

Or the fact that you avoided eye contact while you spoke.

And when you cringed at yourself whenever you tripped on the flat ground, he didn't think of you any less, he was just worried whether you hurt yourself or not.

You could say you caught a small crush on Mike because of how comfortable you felt with him, but you knew he was interested in Zoey.

Although you were unsure about some small gestures received from him. "Was he just nice or is it his interest?" played in your head, although your mind told you to assume the worst and not hype yourself up.

That didn't stop you from simping from afar though.

What you loved the most about Mike was his willingness to listen to you ramble about your special interest.

You were really worried about being annoying around other people, knowing you might get a bit too excited the stuff you like and it'd be "inappropriate".

But Mike seemed to be into it, asking follow up questions and overall being engaged with you talking.

Your trust towards Mike was put to a test once you got a bit too overwhelmed in the middle of a challenge.

This particular day you seemed to have extra clumsy coordination which pissed you off a little, as it was important for you to win this time, given how strict the criteria for losing were this time.

"God, I have enough-" You desperately and a bit irritated announced while trying to tie a knot.

The challenge Chris McLean decided to do today was a scout obstacle course. Each person had to partner up with someone and do some scout activities, which included tying knots into various shapes shown on the picture.

The rope fell out of your hands for the 5th time while you were almost done with it and it made you forcibly exhale in irritation.

Mike had just finished his part of the activity and he noticed you had some troubles.

"Um, what is it?" He asked carefully, looking at your closed off body language.

"My hands don't listen to me and I can't tie these damn knots-" You tried not to make a scene, hating how much a simple, stupid task made you upset.

Your breathing got slightly heavier as you tried to suppress your rising emotions. You knew you had the right to express it, but not now. Not in front of Mike.

You took a step back from the ropes laying on the ground helplessly and given up, wanting to get some space from the irritating item.

Mike had noticed your change of attitude and immediately sensed you were losing it a bit.

"Hey, it's fine- I'll do your part." He suggested quickly, hoping to give some reassurance. "I-it's just ropes, right? We can still win!"

You felt a bit silly but you had no power to complete the task. You meekly nodded.

You stood there, just looking at his hard work until he finished.

"Okay, let's go!" Mike announced as he was done with your both parts.

At the end of the day, you and Mike managed to avoid elimination and after the challenge ended, you had some alone time to yourself.

Once you had a chance to be alone for a second, you quickly escaped the large crowd of people, wanting to get some space after such tiring situation.

You were chilling on a bench until you noticed a familiar face appearing on your radar.

Mike had managed to find you.

You quickly changed your way of cross legged sitting on a bench due to fear of being perceived as weird, even though you knew Mike probably wouldn't bat an eye on that.

You politely smiled as he approached you.

"Hey, there you are-" Mike reciprocated your smile a bit nervously.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I noticed you kind of- disappeared from the rest earlier, did something happen? Are you alright?" He asked with worry on his face which made you soften your expression. Did he really care about your wellbeing so much he came after you?

"No, no, you're not disturbing-" You said, halfly honest. You wanted some time alone for yourself, but you couldn't say you didn't appreciate him coming here.

He came up to the bench you were sitting on and sat beside you, keeping a respectful distance.

You didn't even notice when you started slightly bouncing your leg as you spoke.

To a keen eye (or even not so) it was clear that even though your face was calm, you had some bottled stress inside.

Mike was mindful enough to notice it, so he proceeded carefully.

"So- you're fine, just wanted to- chill out alone for a second?" Mike gently asked, looking at your face, even though your eyes avoided his.

"Yeah. You know, people overwhelm me a bit sometimes-" You admitted a bit bluntly.

"Oh, yeah, it's fine, I get what you mean-" He assured you with a smile. But then his smile faltered a little in worry.

"Wait, since you wanted to be alone, aren't I a bother?" He asked again, ready to stop bugging you in case it wasn't welcomed.

You softly smiled at his politeness.

"No, I said you're not a bother. I don't mind you being here, and- I like that you came here, actually." You admitted with a bit awkward and coy smile. You weren't used to speaking your mind freely like that, in case something came out wrong, but you concluded your response was acceptable.

Mike grinned bashfully as he remembered your previous words.

"Right, right, sorry heh." He scratched his neck as he showed a toothy grin.

"So..." He started after a few seconds.

"Tell me if I'm crossing any boundaries here, but I felt like there was some shift from you since that, um, knot situation." He carefully said. "...Are you- mad at me? Did I do something?"

You cringed internally at yourself.

"Oh, eh- no-" You quickly chimed in. "No, I'm sorry if I came off that way-"

"I just got a bit overwhelmed because I'm so clumsy- But I'm alright now." You assured him with a half smile while your leg continued to bounce. Until you noticed the movement and promptly stopped.

Mike had noticed all of your quirks but never commented on them.

"Hey, it's alright- I didn't mind helping you." He gave you a warm and a calm smile.

You waited a bit before thinking about saying something.

"I- I dunno if you know what a 'meltdown' is...?" You carefully started. You never explicitly stated you're autistic, nor you wanted people to treat you like a child whenever they found out, but you trusted Mike wouldn't do that.

Mike blinked once before tilting his head slightly.

"A meltdown... Uh..." He looked at the ground, trying to think about it.

You explained before he could say anything else, saving him from an awkward silence.

"It's an autism thing, I just kinda shut off for a moment there. I know it's not really useful in a competition." You bluntly admitted, waiting for his reaction.

Mike then seemed to get the idea "Oh, right! Yeah, yeah I know what is it." He nodded to emphasize.

"You- You don't have to worry about that! I know how it is to get overwhelmed sometimes-" He chuckled nervously.

"Just so you know, it doesn't change anything." He showed yet another reassuring smile which made the corners of your lips move up as well. "I'll help you whenever you need it!"

"...Thanks." You hoped the shine in your bashful eyes didn't expose your feelings too much.

["𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎"]

After several days on the island, you noticed something changed. Mike seemed off to you.

Others didn't seem to notice, but your eyes caught some discrepancies in the way Mike acted.

His whole demeanor changed in an uncanny way.

You were used to being very chatty around him due to his always reciprocative stance, but recently Mike started to seem annoyed.

Worries flared up immediately once you noticed he might get bored of your ramblings, so you decided to ask him about it.

"Hey, uh, Mike? Can I ask you a question?" You tried to casually introduce the topic.

"Hm? Yeah, sure. Go on." He answered with fake investment in his voice, smiling.

"Am I talking too much? You can tell me to stop if you got bored or something-" You awkwardly informed him, hoping you weren't a bother after all, waiting for the confirmation.

He stopped for a moment, showing an unsure but cheery smile.

"Oh, no, no- Of course I love listening to you- But I'm just a bit tired today, so maybe you could tone it down a little today?" He tried to be as gentle as ever while shutting you up.

He wasn't very disrespectful but it kind of hurt you. Even though you knew he had the full right to politely ask you to stop, you thought he enjoyed the discussions with you.

You tried once again a few times, but all you were met with was subtly seeping annoyance from his responses.

"Oh my, that's interesting- But tell me, do you have anything else to talk about?" He asked while smiling and pretending to be invested.

"Uh- yeah. If you want I can-"

"Cool. Then talk about something else." He abruptly cut you off.

So with time you slowly shut up with the ramblings, which Mike seemed to be happy about.

You couldn't believe he just changed like that, as if it wasn't him. But you also felt like you had any right to force him into listening to you.

The changes in his behavior didn't stop at that, as you also noticed some remarks coming his way, which you had trouble deciding whether it was sarcasm or not.

He also seemed to get a bit more demanding, not being as keen to help you with things now.

You didn't take Mike's kindness for granted of course, but you knew something changed.

You had a bad feeling.

Your logical thinking made you come up with theories on what happened.

You knew about Mike's D.I.D. and wondered if it was maybe someone else. But you also knew Mike's alters well enough to know it wasn't any of the ones you were acquainted with.

Only thing that stopped you from outright asking him about it was your common decency. It would be rude to just assume.

So you decided to test something.

You once again started your favorite topic, one that Mike had a lot of questions and discussion about while he still acted like himself.

"Hey, Mike, I recently thought about that one tv show we talked about recently and I forgot to tell you some trivia. Wanna listen to the facts about [character] or [character2]?" You asked with halfly casual tone, wanting to check his reaction. You mentioned Mike's favorite action movie, so you believed he would reply with some enthusiast about it.

"Wow- um- Yeah, [character2] sounds good." He responded with pretended interest but you caught some annoyance from him, "per usual".

"...I thought you didn't like [character2]?" You asked a tricky question. The character in question was his favorite one. At least Mike's favorite. You purposefully asked an untrue question.

"Eh- I mean- Hate-listening is a thing, right?" He tried to get out of the hole he fell in due to not listening previously to you. His attempts at trying to be casual were obvious to you now.

You stopped for a moment to look him briefly in the eyes.

"Actually, you mentioned [character2] being your favorite." You tilted your head and raised your brow a bit accusatory.

He looked to the side, as if caught in a lie, but still tried to save face.

"Well tastes change, don't they?" He crossed his arms in a bit of annoyance because of you poking holes in his story.

"That's really rude of you." He furrowed his brows in slight irritation as his patience was running out.

That was it, you knew Mike wouldnt' just tell you that! Or, at least you hoped you were right about it.

You took a leap of faith as you also crossed your arms in a defensive state, staring at him.

"You're not Mike are you?" You asked bluntly.

He got a bit surprised at your boldness.

"What?" He chuckled a bit patronizingly, as if you said something stupid. "Of course I'm Mike. Why do you say that?"

"Well- I didn't wanna assume, but looking at your behavior recently I noticed you got a lot less enthusiastic about spending time with me. So obviously something's up." You concluded, still sticking to your belief. You hoped you weren't wrong.

"God you have to overthink everything, do you?" His tone changed to a slightly deeper one.

You noticed him gracefully swish his hair in a way which made his bangs cover his eye.

"Are you usually this annoying? How did Mike even managed to deal with you?" He expressed his thoughts freely now while you were under his judging eye.

Your eyes widened a little - you were right, it wasn't Mike.

"Wow, okay- Who are you then?" You asked now without any restriction.

"I'm Mal." He responded with arrogance.

"And if you tell anyone I'm not that nerdy freak, you're done." He added with an undertone of threat.

"Hey, what's with that hostility?" You tilted your head and asked a bit bluntly but still remaining polite.

"I am simply direct. I don't have the time or patience to deal with any of your foolish questions." Mal's cold and serious persona was quite intimidating, but you managed to stay calm.

"Okay- I'm direct too, but I don't have to threat you while at it." You pointed out calmly.

"I'm not threatening you. I'm simply telling you what will happen if you reveal my true self to anyone else." Mal's words echoed a threat without any hesitation.

You sighed, sensing some mixed messages from him. "Alright- Uh, so- Why don't you want me to tell others you're not Mike?"

"It's not your business." Mal's face displayed no change in expression, still remaining as firm and strict as ever.

You waited a bit before shrugging. "...Fair enough."

Mal stared at you, showing no reaction whatsoever. "Anything else?"

"Uh- Since you're obviously not Mike, why don't we start again?" You tried to make something out of this unusual situation.

Mal raised his brow skeptically, trying to sense your intentions with that question.

"And what do you mean by that?" Mal's demeanor stayed unchanged, keeping a sharp and indifferent look on his face.

"Like- I know nothing about you, but- I'm opened to still hold an alliance, you know?" You shrugged, hoping he'll agree.

"I'm not looking for any kind of alliance with you." Mal's words sounded harsh and blunt. He never cared for any relationships, especially with people he doesn't even know.

"Okay, harsh." You bluntly put it, a bit awkward he wasn't keen on it. "But- uh, why not?"

"Because there will never be any mutual benefits here." Mal's statement was short and concise, showing no further interest in their current conversation.

"Uh- How so?" You continued.

"You have nothing worthwhile to offer me. No one else has anything worthwhile to offer me either. It's why I'm alone." Mal's words sounded as cold and harsh as ever, as if you weren't even there.

"…Isn't it a bit lonely?" You didn't wanna push the matter further, but without Mike or anyone else in an alliance, you felt lonely yourself. That's why you tried to save the situation you had before.

Mal stayed silent for a bit. "Lonely? Yes. Do I care? No." Mal's face showed no visible change of expression, staying as cold as ever.

"It doesn't matter to me if I'm alone. I can survive on my own, I don't need any friends. I never have and never will."

Your face showed a bit of concern as well as mixed emotions.

It was hard to get to him, but you still had some hopes.

"Well- I'm not saying you need them, but- since I already know you're not Mike, why can't we be at least on a positive terms?" You tried your best to seem an appealing friend.

Mal stayed silent for a bit, considering your words. He remained indifferent and unamused, but your words at least reached his ears.

"You don't even know me, yet you want to be on positive terms with me… Are you that desperate?" He looked at you patronizingly amused.

"I'm trying to be nice here." You bluntly said, a bit discouraged by his unwillingness to cooperate.

"Nice, you say? Do you even know what 'nice' means? To my knowledge, 'nice' is something you do to manipulate people and get their trust. I'm not interested in those kinds of games." Mal's words were cold and sharp, as if challenging you to answer him.

You stood there a bit dumbfounded at his definition of "nice". "No- And I'm sorry you had this experience if that's what you think it means. But I hold no malice towards you, really."

"Well you're either lying, or you're just a fool. I haven't decided yet." Mal didn't make an effort to hold back his words, just letting them slip with his usual bluntness.

You rolled your eyes slightly, but you were determined to change his mind. "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, like me, or even believe me, but- let's say it makes us even then? We get to be in an alliance, and I don't tell your secret?" You didn't like blackmail, but you had to save yourself somehow.

"…Let's say your offer interests me… What would be your goal of this alliance?" Mal's demeanor changed slightly, becoming noticeably more analytical and entertaining the possibility at least slightly.

"Well- First off, a buddy is always nice to have on the competition, second reason- I like Mike. And you're a part of Mike So- I also wanna be friends with you. And- I hope that's reasonable?" You put it in a honest way.

Mal chuckled out loud before looking at you entertained and looking as if he was about to burst your bubble. "But I'm no Mike. If you think I'm gonna act like him then you're mistaken."

"No, I don't." You quickly disregarded his words. "That's why I suggested a fresh start."

You waited a bit before elaborating more. "Yes, I know that probably sounds stupid, but I'll be blunt. I just wanna make a friend and stay in the game. And I suck at social interactions." You knew how desperate you probably were to him, given his indifferent approach to you, but you had no other idea what to do.

Mal was clearly entertained by your responses. He couldn't help but chuckle at their naivety and the sheer persistence of being his 'friend' or something similar. "…You're one odd individual. I must say."

Mal stood silently for a moment, pondering the possibilities for an alliance between you two. He sighed before responding. "…Very well" Mal's face looked serious now, having a proposition in store.

"Should you fail to respect my boundaries, or try to manipulate me in any way… you're dead meat." Mal's tone of voice changed a bit too, now sounding as if he weren't joking anymore.

"And I also want you to not interfere with any of my plans. Understood? I can tolerate working with you for the time being, but only for the sake of mutual benefits." Mal's words were harsh and intimidating, but there seemed to be a slight tinge of… skepticism.

That was a good thing, you thought, because at least he was considering your request.

You nodded.

[Mal at the confessional]

"I can't decide whether they're planning something I didn't give them credit for, or are they that stupid to think I'm really gonna be in a real alliance with them." Mal chuckled to the camera. "Probably the latter." He added with a smug smirk. "That naive pawn… it's too easy to manipulate them. All that talk about "friendship…" nonsense." He obnoxiously mocked your words with a hand gesture as his look held entertainment. "As if that mattered to me… or anyone." Mal thought to himself out loud. "No one ever mattered to me, and they never will. People are merely tools in my eyes, and I will use them to get what I want..." His expression seemed to stay serious and pondering for a moment before the video cut off.

[𝙼𝚊𝚕]

You had very mixed feelings about the situation.

You were very well aware Mal probably didn't respect you and only agreed to it for his benefit, you weren't stupid.

But you also had some hopes he would come around with time.

Your relationship proceeding further was very rocky, as Mal didn't really treat you with kindness, which you kind of expected, but weren't happy about.

Still, he didn't try to vote you off, and for the time being it worked.

You were a bit lost about what to do, but the days on the island didn't let you have a break to think about things, and the challenges proceeded as usual.

Today's challenge was a camp-out one. People in the team had to partner up with someone and then spend a night outside, in the forest.

"Easy enough", you thought, but you noticed some eye-roll from Mal.

Obviously you and Mal ended up being partners, due to the "mutual" alliance you had.

Once the teams had chose their respective campsites and you were alone, Mal swooshed his hair so it fell on his eye once again without a comment, seemingly more comfortable with this hairstyle instead of Mike's usual standing hair.

"So- How about this place?" You pointed out to a simple area that didn't have a lot of pinecones on the ground, offering a softer ground to set a tent on.

"Whatever, can be." He briefly acknowledged your words without any further interest.

You were a bit tired of his apathetic demeanor but you let it slide.

You placed your backpack on the ground, preparing to take out the necessary equipment.

Mal sat on some available tree root, expecting you to do all the work.

It took you some time but you were determined to set out the tent properly, even under Mal's judging eye.

To no avail. Without an instruction, it wasn't your strong suit to just "wing it".

Mal raised his brow unamusedly while crossing his arms.

"God that's pathetic." He commented without any hesitance.

"Okay then, you do it." You crossed your arms as well, now looking at him.

You heard a "tch-" from him. "Really? You're that helpless?" He smirked.

"It would appear so." You just bluntly admitted, gaining some surprise from Mal, which quickly disappeared after a moment.

"Weak." He murmured to himself, making sure you also heard him. He walked up to the tent, setting it up without much resistance.

You plopped down on the tree trunk Mal was previously sitting on, watching him work.

After he was done you didn't want to be useless, so you got up with an idea of gathering some wood. What's a camp without a camp-fire, eh?

Mal saw you leave but didn't comment anything, choosing to go sit in the tent he just set up.

You were really trying to be nice and respectful to Mal, but he was slowly draining your willingness to do it.

As you were collecting random twigs from the ground you were thinking about him though.

No one was mean without a reason, and given Mike's situation, he probably went through lots of stuff to get to his current behavior, which made you feel sympathetic towards him.

You came back to your little campout, noticing Mal lazily sitting inside the tent, holding a knife in his one hand that was carving the wood he held in the other. You wondered where did he get it from?

"I brought wood." You announced, letting the twigs fall onto the floor.

"Congrats, you made yourself useful." He commented briefly, but mostly ignoring you.

It was a start at least.

Soon enough the air became colder, forcing you to make a fire.

You gathered some rocks and formed them along with several pieces of wood, trying to set the fire with 2 rocks, as you had to do with Mike on scout-type challenge, until Mal took out a match with unamused expression and started the fire.

You blinked as you saw the fire appear, then looked at Mal. "How did you get a match?"

"I stole it." He replied carelessly without a hint of shame.

"...Okay, that works." You only managed to say.

You both got near the source of warmth in a careful distance away from each other, you sitting on the tree trunk nearby, him sitting in the tent.

The challenge was going pretty smoothly, until it began to pour.

The rain quickly took out your fire, making Mal groan in irritation.

As you felt the droplets of water on your clothes, you quickly went into the tent where Mal was taking most of the space, but he reluctantly moved to the corner once he saw you coming.

You stayed silent as you observed the aggressive change of the weather, with Mal not making a peep either, only keeping his outward display of annoyance towards the rain visible.

It was getting dark and cold, with the weather having no plans of going back to the sunny afternoon it previously was.

Mal backed out into the tent, sitting quietly and looking outside with an upset expression on his face.

There was a long, awkward silence that got to you internally, but you didn't want to risk annoying Mal with bringing up "annoying" topics to talk about, as you had no other ideas.

You came to the show with quite a thick jacket with a hood on, so the cold didn't bother you that much, but you observed Mal pressing his bent knees to his stomach in attempt to keep warm.

There was no sign of struggle from his side though, as he made a good job of sitting still, acting like it wasn't bothering him, with the exception of subtle trembles of his body once in a while.

It was obvious he felt cold with only a short-sleeved shirt to keep him warm.

"Are you cold?" You asked hesitantly, even though you knew the answer.

He shot you a death glare. "I'm fine."

You waited a second, looking at him briefly and thinking about your options. You decided to press further.

"You have short sleeves though." You pointed out, looking at his face getting agitated.

"So fucking what? My fault this moron can't dress properly?" He barked at you with hostility, as if you were pointing out his misfortune.

"No." You responded a bit taken aback by his tone, but you remained calm.

"But- We can share." You made your intentions clear as you took off the jacket, handing it to him.

He looked at you with skeptic and confused eyes as if you had some hidden intentions behind that move, but he accepted the gift without any comment.

You noticed his grumpy expression soften slightly but still keeping that distrustful glare, avoiding your eye as he put the jacket around his back.

You judged his reaction as a positive one though.

After a moment you scooted closer to him, touching his side with yours, to which he raised his eyebrow at your "audacity".

"What are you doing?" He muttered, looking at your movements with mixed feelings.

"You're not the only one cold here. I'm also freezing." You explained a bit lightheartedly, hoping to ease the thick tension between you two.

Mal only briefly looked at you and let out a "hmph" noise as an acknowledgement as he looked away from you, yet he didn't move away, letting you stay in this position.

You sighed contently for the first time in a few days now.

You watched the rain fall in silence, but at least it wasn't as overwhelming now.

Finally the exhaustion caught up to you both as a product of several hours of walking and doing stuff.

Mal let out the first yawn and so you asked him whether he wants to go to sleep.

He shrugged, still keeping his indifferent behavior but accepted. "Sure, whatever."

You both moved to the far away corners of the tent and layed down, feeling the fabric of the tent soften the hard ground halfly. Chris didn't pack you any sleeping bags, that would be too easy.

All you had was your jacket as a make-shift blanket.

You noticed Mal laying on his side, in a way that wouldn't make him face you.

You offered him a part of the jacket but his ego didn't let him accept this time.

"I'm fine. I don't need it." He harshly turned down your offer.

You sighed. "Fine."

Mal remained stubborn, even though the cold was biting his ass, he managed to fall asleep.

You however couldn't, due to the uncomfortable place of sleeping.

You laid on your back for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling of the tent, before deciding to take a look at Mal.

His breathing let you notice he was asleep, although his shaky body was visibly cold.

You didn't have the heart to let him freeze, so you very carefully moved near him, putting a part of the jacket on him to cover him up.

You pressed your back very slightly against him, craving some additional warmth from his body that would benefit you boths

Fortunately he didn't wake up.

You managed to fall asleep after some time as well.

Mal woke up after several hours, thoroughly confused about the state of his being, as he expected to wake up cold, but he was quite- cozy.

His expression changed as soon as he noticed you very close to him.

He cringed at your proximity, with your front facing him in a blissful state of sleep, hair over your eyes as if in rom-com movie.

He was about to forcefully shake you off him, but he decided against it for some reason.

Perhaps it was his self-preservation finally speaking, instead of ego getting in his way of survival. Your position was both comfy and warm, after all.

He only turned to lay on his back, letting out a heavy sigh, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as it was now his turn to look above without any particular reason, just to think over the situation.

As soon as you started to wake up, he immediately backed off, putting the whole jacket on you.

"Finally you're awake." He said as if it was a big bother.

You softly rubbed your eyes, yawn escaping your lips as you done so.

"When did you wake up?" You asked with a bit of haze still.

"Doesn't matter." He sharply shut down your question, although his tone was just slightly different than his usual bitterness.

After you both past the challenge timer of staying and ready to leave the place, you noticed Mal taking down the tent, without you having to ask him for it. Huh.

[Mal at the confessional]

Mal stared at the camera with crossed arms for a longer moment, having an ambiguous expression on his face. After some time he finally decided to open his mouth. "God, they're so helpless. They can't even set up a damn tent." His scornful tone made it obvious he was making fun of you. "How would they even make it so far without me?" He once again made it clear to the recording device that he was needed for your victory. Yet another few seconds passed by before his thought was said out loud, this time his face turning less arrogant and more figuring out what he's gonna say. "...They're so naive." He reiterated once more, as if to reassure himself what to think. "But- Maybe with my help I'll be able to use them to my advantage." He finally found the correct direction of his further words. "I'll make sure no one gets between me and Y/N getting a chance at winning the money." "Of course, just for me to forcefully take the victory away from them, later." He said confidently, but he felt the need for a clarification on that last part. He lingered in the confessional for a moment more, before getting to his final words, looking straight at the camera. "And if anyone plans to interfere with that, they're gonna go down."

[BONUS - DATING HEADCANONS]

Of course if you and Mal become a thing, he'll be more keen about tolerating your quirks and listening to you ramble about your hyperfixations.

He won't be as invested in them, but he'll treat you in a way he'd treat a cat enjoying it's favorite toy - "You do your thing sweetie. It's stupid but adorable to look at."

Once he gets used to your true thoughts and trust you, he'd also think your honesty is refreshing.

He thinks neurotypicals play too many complicated emotional games.

He can also play them as a form of manipulation, but if it comes to trusting each other he appreciates you always being blunt when it comes to what you think.

It's obvious Mal most probably has ASPD and Narcissistic Personality Disorder, so he's not a stranger to people not liking his attitude and way of thinking.

He might be a bit too harsh on you at first, not used to having someone caring about him (or vice versa) but with time he'll learn to not go as hard on you.

Like with your 'special needs', not tolerating some textures and foods, your obsession about only on topic at a time, or stimming, which might be distracting to him.

He might panic a bit inside once you have a meltdown first time around him though, not knowing how to act around you in that state, as only thing he knows it's hostility, so don't expect him to be much help.

He might listen to your requests how should he act later on, though.

He will also be more straightforward around you when he notices your "denseness".

"Do you- want my jacket again?" You asked, looking at Mal. "No, let me freeze to death." He remarked sarcastically, expecting you to pass him the jacket again, but you just blinked, unsure if he wanted it or not after your previous similar encounter with him being reluctant to accept it. He looked at you a second more, now elaborating a bit annoyed. "Yes, I want it."

Even more so after Mal became less insecure about showing his interest in you.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked, looking at you expectantly with a hint of tease in his voice, obviously wanting you to come closer to him so you'd need him as a source of warmth. "Kinda-" You responded casually, yet still did nothing. Mal waited a moment before finally sighing and pulling you closer to him in a smooth manner, making you a bit surprised. "That means come here." He reiterated slightly more greedy about your presence. That amount of possessiveness made you a bit stunned, but in a kind of positive way. He wasn't negative towards you anymore, after all. "Do I really have to spell out everything for you?" He asked halfly serious. "Well- apparently." You admitted a bit embarrassed at your lack of clue. He rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. "Okay then. You're mine now."

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