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thewhumpcaretaker · 29 days

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⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏: ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕖 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent goes back to his old life in Rome as if nothing happened. But there's Chidi, at his side, the one thing Vincent doesn't want to forget from the last few months. And it's causing complications...especially with Santino.

TW: grief, nightmares, PTSD, drug use, hypersexuality, stalking, jealousy, withdrawing consent during sex (and the response to the “no” is scary, although there’s no assault), attempted kidnapping, knife wound, concussion, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Author's Note: The title is a callback to that line in one of the first chapters, in which Chidi wonders how Vincent lived in Rome - bonus points if you remembered!

Fine. Good and done with. Vincent was strong again.

It was better to forget all of it. That bloodied thing that he could not recognize reflected in the mirrors outside the ballroom. The words coming through the intercom. The time in the hospital. Even the coronation. That was worst of all, perhaps. The disappointment in himself, in the way that perfect day had felt so hollow… No, no, no, just forget any of it had happened. And to Vincent’s great relief, his mind blanked it all mercifully away. There was a gaping hole at the center of him where he dared not tread, but that was better than dealing with it. He could even talk about it, very easily, just as he had done at the ball with everybody. As long as he didn’t feel it, he could talk about it. This was the way one recovered from grief, he decided. One day, one simply decided to stop being a baby.

Yes, he was just going back to Italy after a few days away, and everything would be normal. “Il palazzo,” as he called it, was the quaintest, pleasantest place anyone could imagine living, and he would thoroughly enjoy it. It was humble by the Marquis' standards, but still very comfortable, and fully staffed with maids and a cook. He’d made it every bit as lavish as might suit him, while being a little less stuffy than Versailles. There was an abundance of French furniture with a Roman twist, in sunset gradients from pink to burgundy, with gilding glittering at the edges of everything. There was statuary in honor of Bacchus and Apollo. There was a full bar in the parlor where Vincent was sure to entertain guests as often as he could. There was some obscure art piece or trinket in almost every room, gifted from suitors. He would walk by the river in the mornings, with one of those suitors on his arm, and have luncheons with Gianna to talk business. And sneak off with Santino, not to come back until morning. What happened in between was…generally something of a blur.

In Rome, he didn’t feel quite as unsafe as he did in the estate. He had learned to navigate this city on his own – always guarded, yes, but giving the guards the slip long enough to do a line unseen. The Myrmidons didn’t have the slightest idea about his activities…well, maybe the slightest idea, but they couldn’t prove anything. In the past, Vincent had made sure of that because they reported to his – no. No. Nothing happened. Don’t think in that direction.

There was one problem with this perfect plan, and its name was Chidi. He had absolutely no desire nor ability to forget Chidi. And it was Chidi who carried his broken body out of that bloodbath, it was Chidi who held him together in the weeks afterwards. It was Chidi who stood up for him at the coronation, and then swayed with him in an empty side room, leading him with unexpectedly graceful steps and an exhilarating hand pressed to his waist. Chidi was inextricably tied to everything that had happened to him, everything he had suffered, lacing every poisoned memory with something too sweet to spit out. Chidi had seen all of it, dealt with all of it, and now he haunted Vincent, reminding him of every moment. Vincent found that it was becoming difficult even to look at his bodyguard. A mixture of shame and hope and…something hung over Chidi, making him unbearably beautiful.

So, when they arrived at the precious Il Palazzo, Vincent assigned him a room on the lower floor, not adjacent to his own. It was much finer than the servant quarters. It was the finest of any room in the house except Vincent’s, in fact. But they absolutely had to sleep separately. He was not a child, nor was he a lover. What was acceptable in grief was no longer acceptable once one was done grieving. And Vincent was done grieving, thank you very much. He could sleep very well on his own, and he would need his privacy. Chidi made no protest.

Thus it began. Forcing his eyes to close in an unfriendly darkness. Waking up in cold sweats at three AM until he learned to fear sleep more than exhaustion. Sobbing with his face buried in a pillow so that no one would hear him and force him to admit that yes, things were different now. That he could no longer take being alone. Each morning dawned in pure, golden relief, spent gasping until the remnants of tears had cleared out of his breathing, and then meeting Chidi with a stately nod at his bedroom door. Chidi must know, by the way he waited there earlier and earlier each time, but he said nothing.

There was, of course, an alternative to this torture. He could go to bed with someone. Not Chidi, no, that would reopen too much, but…someone.

It was just three days after their arrival in Rome when Vincent dismissed Chidi for the first time. “Je sors avec les autres gardes ce soir. Prenez du temps libre. [I’m going out with the other guards this evening. Take some time off.]“ He said it casually, the way that one might casually toss a grenade into the center of a crowded room. They were seated at either side of a little round tea table for an afternoon snack. Chidi stood up and stared at him, breathing hard. Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Avons-nous un problème? [Do we have a problem?]”

He promptly sat down again. “Non.”

“Bien. [Good.]”

That night, Chidi had already gone to his own bedroom when Vincent returned with a man on his arm. But the door was cracked open, and Vincent could feel eyes on him as he passed, prickling his skin with visceral guilt. Well, to hell with that. He would not be guilted for doing what he had to do to get a moment of peace. No matter whether he pictured Chidi alone in that downstairs bedroom, unhappy. Probably very unhappy…

The night passed without troubled dreams – in fact, it passed almost entirely sleepless. And in the morning, Chidi was waiting for him at the door, the same as ever. His co-conspirator must have passed Chidi on the way out in the early hours. They didn’t speak a word about it.

And they didn’t speak a word about it the next time, or the time after that. It became Vincent’s habit to ensure that he did not sleep alone two nights in a row – which was to say, it became Vincent’s habit not to sleep more than two nights in a row. It was a perfect system, really. A liaison kept the nightmares away for a night. Drugs kept him upright and free of shame over the course of the day following a liaison. And by the time he passed out from exhaustion the next night, he was too tired to dream. As long as he didn’t look at Chidi, he didn’t have to feel bad about any of it, which was perfect, because he was trying not to look at Chidi anyway. What could go wrong?

Best of all, the whole cycle numbed him just enough to maintain things with Santino. The relationship had become…draining. A series of encounters that he had to get through by being drunk or high or teasing Santino to vent his own resentment. But the connection made sense politically. Vincent wracked his brain for a real reason to break up, and he couldn’t justify it. He definitely couldn’t deal with the fallout that would ensue if Santino decided to throw a fit about the breakup, not right now. It could ruin things with Gianna, and that was going so well.

Santi, for his part, was only too glad to have Vincent back in the city, and to restock his drug supplies whenever he wanted. He made excuses to stay in Rome until winter. The D’Antonio family was already making plans for how they would spend Christmas together. Again, the only hitch was Chidi.

“Pourquoi ne vous débarrassez-vous pas de votre garde du corps stupide? [Why don’t you get rid of that brainless bodyguard of yours?]” Santino would say, while eyeing him across the room and grimacing. Normally, Vincent tried to see him when Chidi wasn’t on shift, but Santino had an infuriating habit of showing up unexpectedly. And every time the two were in the same room, some variation of this conversation played out. “Il ressemble à un gros bœuf stupide. Je peux t'en trouver un meilleur. Quelqu'un de pointu. Vous savez à quel point Ares est efficace... [He looks like a big, stupid ox. I can find you a better one. Someone sharp. You know how effective Ares - ]”

“Je suis très bien fourni en gardes du corps, merci. [I’m very well supplied with bodyguards, thank you.]” But he never seemed to drop the subject for good. It was like Chidi was getting into everything, changing every aspect of his life, haunting his thoughts throughout every one-night-stand. No matter how he tried to act like he didn’t care, no matter how he tried to compartmentalize him, there was Chidi again.

What bothered him most of all was that Chidi seemed to have no trouble getting a life of his own. He was settling into his role as head of the Myrmidons admirably. In the evenings, when Vincent allowed himself the agonizing ecstasy of an hour in undivided company with Chidi, he learned that Chidi was exploring Rome by himself and finding it very much to his liking. He had even discovered a favorite restaurant in a historic building downtown. Would Vincent like to go there together sometime? He seemed to be testing the waters. Vincent couldn’t resist saying yes. Despite his best efforts to exclude Chidi, he couldn’t bear the thought of Chidi having a favorite place that didn’t include him. It was very confusing.

Apparently, the other Myrmidons sometimes accompanied him on his walks through the city. One of the maids, too. Chidi was friends with them now. Everybody liked him, because of course they did. He was so gentle in his brutishness, so playful and yet so steadying, so infectious when he laughed. And on top of that, just look at him. Vincent did, and felt physically burned by the way his shoulders strained with muscle under his blazer, the way that beard cut knife-sharp along his jaw. As usual, he had to look away.

The next day, Vincent watched him with this maid. He felt burned then too. The way her shining, brunette curls bounced when she nodded at something Chidi said, glowing with smiles. Did Chidi feel burned when he looked at her? When he looked at Vincent? Had Chidi ever felt this way, about anyone? Had anyone in the world ever felt this way about anyone else, or was Vincent being tortured in some cruel and usual manner peculiar to god’s least favorites? He was in flames. He was dying. He must be.

That night, he got very high indeed.

He went to Santino, because damn it, if Chidi was going to go to the maid when he was lonely, then Vincent was going to go to Santino.

A line. Santino’s finger running over a wine glass as he stared out at the river at dinner, interrupting sparkling candlelight. A line. That sparkling transformed into flashing on a club floor. A line. Their bodies pressed together in the back of a limo. A line. Santino’s words spilling into his mouth between kisses. “Sapevo che mi volevi, mio caro. Sapevo che saresti venuto da me da solo uno di questi giorni. Hai finalmente finito di farmi implorare? [I knew you wanted me, mio caro. I knew you’d come to me on your own one of these days. Are you finally done making me beg?]”

Disgust twisting in the pit of his body. “No. Prega più forte. [No. Beg harder.]” Say that you desire me. That I’m worth something…that no one could resist me… Santino whined and started humping into the leather seat with Vincent still buried in his ass.

“Per favore, mio amore. Per favore. Fammi sentire bene. Non so come fai... aaaa... devi essere una specie di diavolo. La mia tentazione. Non sei nemmeno umano. [Please, mon amour. Please. Make me feel good. I don’t know how you do it…aaaa…you must be some kind of devil. My temptation. You’re not even human.]”

“Ovviamente non lo sai. Non mi conosci affatto. [Of course you don’t know. You don’t know me at all.]” It just slipped out. Santino didn’t seem to notice.

But he noticed when Vincent went soft and retreated into the seat away from him.

“Dove-cosa...? Dove sei andato? [Where-what…? Where’d you go?]”

“Ferma la macchina. [Stop the car.]”

“Che – [What the – ]“

“Sei sordo e del tutto inosservante? Ho detto di fermare la macchina. Ho avuto tutto ciò che volevo. [Are you deaf as well as completely unobservant? I said stop the car. I’ve had all I wanted.]”

Santino’s face went from confused to livid. “No! Verrai a casa con me stasera. Hai accettato. [No! You’re coming home with me tonight. You agreed.]”

“Davvero Santino? Sei quel tipo di uomo? [Really, Santino? Are you that kind of man?]” He rolled his eyes disdainfully, but his heart had started doing something utterly sickening. Was Santino that kind of man? His hand closed on the handle of the knife in his back pocket.

“Non ti toccherò. [I won’t touch you],” Santino said very graciously, despite caressing the air just above his cheek in a gesture so close to touching that it might as well have been. “Ma avevi promesso di venire. Ti terrò finché non ti renderai conto di quanto ti piaccio. [But you promised to come. I’m going to keep you until you realize how much you like me.]” His face hovered inches from Vincent’s. How did this escalate so fast? Only minutes ago, it seemed, he was sober, having dinner and planning to go home soon…

Don’t panic. He wished Chidi were here. How could he get back to Chidi? What could he do? His bodyguards were following behind them in another car. They’d know if he went missing. And they’d notice if he jumped from the vehicle. His eyes flickered from Santino’s too-close lips to the door handle. Santino caught the look and covered the lock with his hand, grinning. “Non mi sfuggirai, Vincent. Finalmente, dopo mesi, sei venuto da me volentieri. Non a un pranzo con me e mia sorella, non a una cena per cui ho dovuto implorare. Sei venuto da me, da solo, perché stai iniziando a vederlo anche tu. E non ti permetterò di buttarlo via solo perché a volte ti confondi. Apparteniamo insieme. Quella guardia del corpo ti sta dando fastidio, ma io... [You’re not getting away from me, Vincent. Finally, after months, you’ve come to me willingly. Not at some lunch with both me and my sister, not at some dinner I had to plead for. You came to me, all on your own, because you’re starting to see it too. And I won’t let you throw that away just because you get confused sometimes. We belong together. That bodyguard is messing with your head but I’ll - ]”

The blade plunged into the center of Santino’s hand. It was so satisfying that Vincent had to take a moment to enjoy the look on his face. ��Oh, sei sorpreso di essere stato pugnalato dopo un discorso del genere? Hahahaha, malato di merda! Non appartengo a te! [Oh, you’re surprised you got stabbed after a speech like that? Hahahaha, you sick fuck! I do not BELONG with you!]” It was already too late – he might as well unleash everything. “Sai perché sono venuto qui stasera? Perché sei il fondo del barile, la persona che vedo quando ho voglia di sguazzare. Ti ho sedotto solo nel caso in cui tu uccidessi tua sorella più tardi, e sai una cosa? Spero che tu ci provi, e spero che lei ti uccida prima. Ti odio a morte, questa è la verità. Ovviamente devi ricorrere al rapimento solo per la più piccola speranza di ricevere il più piccolo briciolo di attenzione, patetico e disperato succhiacazzi. Risparmiati la fatica e non cercarmi più [You know why I came here tonight? Because you’re the bottom of the barrel, the person I see when I feel like wallowing. I only ever seduced you in case you kill your sister later, and you know what? I hope you try, and I hope she kills you first. I hate your guts, that’s the truth. Of course you have to resort to kidnapping just for the smallest hope of the smallest scrap of attention, you pathetic, desperate cock sucker. Save yourself the trouble and don’t look for me again.]” And with a spray of crimson trialing behind, he wrenched himself and the knife out into the battering midnight wind.

It hurt…a lot more than he was expecting. His shoulder made impact first. The purple-black of the city sky rolled over and over itself as he tumbled across cobblestones. There was tearing fabric, rocks driving into his flesh, a sharp impact against the back of his skull. In the distance, he could hear screeching tires. Was it one or both cars that turned back for him? But he blacked out before he could learn the answer.

He woke up in motion. A familiar scent. Someone’s arms underneath him. “Move. Don’t stand there, get a doctor.”

“Chidi…?” He curled closer against his chest. They were going up a flight of stairs, it seemed.

“C'est moi. Vous allez bien, monsieur. Vous êtes à la maison. [It’s me. You’re okay, sir. You’re home.]”

Splitting pain down the center of his head. “Je ne… je ne ressens pas… [I don’t…I don’t feel…]”

“Vous avez une commotion cérébrale. Mais tout ira bien. Tu étais si courageux. Ils m'ont dit – [You have a concussion. But everything will be alright. You were so brave. They told me – ]“ Chidi cut himself off, seemingly overcome. “De toute façon. Je vais te déposer maintenant, au lit. Est-ce que ça va? [Anyway. I’m going to set you down now, in bed. Is that okay?]”

Vincent realized he was shaking. “N'allez nulle part. [Don’t go anywhere.]”

“Je ne le ferai pas. [I won’t.]” He was laid very gently onto soft sheets. His shoes and tie were pulled away, the blanket tucked up to his chin. Everything was so warm, so bright…his head was still cradled in Chidi’s arms. Finally, Chidi was in his bedroom again, and everything seemed fixed. The change from the past few days was so enormous that Vincent couldn’t understand why he hadn’t done this sooner.

“Chidi?”

“Oui?”

“Je déteste Santino. [I hate Santino.]”

That gorgeous jaw set tight. “Il t'a fait du mal? [Did he hurt you?]”

“Non, heureusement non. Il a juste essayé de me kidnapper. [No, fortunately not. He just tried to kidnap me.]” Vincent scoffed. “C’est de ma faute, j’ai renvoyé mes gardes du corps, donc j’ai dû sauter – [It’s my fault, I sent my bodyguards away, so I had to jump – ]”

“Ce n'est PAS votre faute. [It is NOT your fault.]” Chidi pressed a kiss against his pounding head. “Cet homme est une petite fouine dégoûtante. Je ne le laisserai plus jamais toucher à toi. [That man is a disgusting little weasel. I will never let him lay a finger on you again.]”

Vincent smiled, savoring the way the warmth spread from the spot his lover’s lips had touched. “Merci.” He studied Chidi’s face. Worry lines at the corner of his mouth and eyes stood out prominently. There was the burning thing, flaring up in his chest at the sight of Chidi’s face. The guilt, the shame. The terrifying magnetism. “…Que vous ont dit les gardes? […How much did the guards tell you?]”

“Que veux-tu dire? [What do you mean?]”

They didn’t tell him anything, then. This was going to be incredibly difficult. Vincent tried one more time. “Vous ont-ils dit ce que je faisais avant de quitter le club ? Vous ont-ils dit… dans quel état je me trouve? [Did they tell you what I was doing before we left the club? Did they tell you…the state that I am in?]”

“Ils feraient mieux de ne rien me cacher. [They had better not have kept anything from me.]”

“Je leur ai fait jurer de ne rien te dire. [I made them swear not to tell you.]” He stared at the far corner of the blanket for a minute, trying to muster the courage. Instead, he found himself deciding maybe not. Maybe it was better Chidi didn’t know. If he quit, then who would ever have to tell Chidi? Nobody, right?

But Chidi saved him the trouble. “Que prenez-vous, monsieur? [What are you taking, sir?]”

Infinite silence, still staring into the corner. “Cocaïne.” He waited for disappointment, for crushing sympathy, already preemptively irritated by both.

“Comment ça a commencé? [How did it start?]”

“…Santino. Quand je suis arrivé ici seul pour la première fois. […Santino. When I first came out here alone.]”

“Je vois. [I see.]” Vincent could almost feel that information being filed for later. “Voulez-vous arrêter? [Do you want to stop?]”

“Non. Oui. Je ne sais pas. [No. Yes. I don’t know.]”

“Eh bien… c'est mon travail de protéger votre santé, monsieur. Je ne ferais pas mon travail si je te laissais continuer. [Well…it’s my job to protect your health, sir. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you continue.]”

“Et si c’était la seule chose qui me garde sain d’esprit, hmm ? J'ai besoin… [What if it’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane, hmm? I need…]” Fuck, he was going to cry if they kept on with this discussion. “Et si ça me maintenait en vie ? N'est-ce pas important pour ma santé ? Je serai trop fatigué sans ça, et puis je dormirai, et puis je… je ne peux pas… je ne peux pas… [What if it’s keeping me alive? Isn’t that important for my health? I’ll be too tired without it, and then I’ll sleep, and then I’ll…I can’t…I can’t…]” At some point he had started hyperventilating and couldn’t stop.

Chidi took his hand and kissed it, looking deeply pained on his behalf. “Monsieur. Je veux t'aider avec les cauchemars. Avec le chagrin. Tout cela. Chaque jour, je te vois souffrir alors que tout le monde s’attend à ce que tu ailles bien. C’est impossible, vu la pression que vous subissez, d’essayer de revenir instantanément à la normale. Sachez que vous n’êtes pas obligé de le faire seul. [Sir. I want to help you with the nightmares. With the grief. All of it. Every day, I see you hurting when everyone else expects you to be fine. It’s impossible, the amount of pressure you’re under, trying to go back to normal instantly. Please know that you don’t have to do this alone.]”

“N'êtes-vous pas trop occupé avec la femme de chambre? [Aren’t you too busy with the maid?]” Vincent wished he could take back the words but they were already out, and now he would have to hear the answer, hear Chidi lie or get angry or pity him or -

“Comme si quelqu’un pouvait être plus important pour moi que toi. Vous êtes ma vie, Maître Vincent. J'ai donné ma vie pour la tienne volontairement, tu te souviens ? J'étais prêt à être exécuté. Et je reste prêt. Je vous attends. Je n’ai touché personne d’autre, et je ne le ferai pas, peu importe le nombre de personnes que vous coucherez. Faites ce que vous devez faire, monsieur. Je veux juste être là pour toi. Même quand les choses vont mieux. Quand tu n’as plus mal… et je ferai en sorte que ce jour vienne… quand tu n’as plus mal, je veux toujours être à côté de toi. Pas besoin d’être malade pour dormir à mes côtés, Vincent. Si tu me veux, c'est tout ce qu'il faut. Je viendrai à toi. Peut-être que tu ne ressens pas la même chose, mais je t’aime et je le ferai toujours. [As if anyone could be more important to me than you. You are my life, Master Vincent. I gave my life for yours willingly, remember? I was ready to be executed. And I remain ready. I wait for you. I haven’t touched anyone else, and I won’t, no matter how many people you take to bed. You do what you need to do, sir. I just want to be there for you. Even when things are better. When you’re not in pain anymore…and I’ll make sure that day comes…when you’re not in pain anymore, I still want to be next to you. You don’t need to be unwell to sleep beside me, Vincent. If you want me, that’s all it takes. I will come to you. Maybe you don’t feel the same way, but I love you, and I always will.]”

Maybe it was the dawn finally starting to rise, but the world shone gold at all the edges. Like it was cracking, and sunlight was seeping in. It bled around the curtains, onto the bed, onto their joined hands. But Vincent’s eyes were too well adjusted to the darkness. He didn’t know what to do. Barely even knew how to talk around the lump in his throat. Say it back. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. “Je ne savais pas… Je ne savais pas que tu pouvais parler de cette façon, Chidi. [I didn’t know…I didn’t know that you could talk this way, Chidi.]”

“Ce n’est pas une conversation, monsieur. Je t'aime. [It’s not talk, sir. I love you.]”

I love you too. “Allonge-toi à côté de moi. [Lay next to me.]” I love you too. “Jusqu'à ce que le médecin arrive. [Until the doctor gets here.]” I love you too. “Je ne veux pas que tu ailles n'importe où. [I don’t want you to go anywhere.]”

And Chidi slipped into the bed beside him, embracing Vincent skin to skin, arms securely around his waist, sighing contentedly against his neck… not asking him to say a thing. “Je sais. [I know.]”

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quackerofoatz · 1 month

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The Beauty of Botticelli & The Beauty of Will Graham ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Hannibal’s first instinct upon seeing Will is how unique and different he is from the usual people he interacts with behind his persona. A way Hannibal also fell for him is with the physical appearance of Will Graham. As seen in the show Will isn't known for his looks but for how he doesn't get along with others. Even in the book, he's given a very so-so description of how he's seen by others as average or “not very handsome” as said by the red dragon in the book.

This is why I am examining the looks and appearance of Will Graham from the show only, as it is its own medium compared to the book. Will is not an average but an attractive man by looks alone thanks to Hugh Dancy. It was a factor that stuck out to me as I watched the show. With how the light shadows him and his startling pale skin and blue eyes. He reminded me of beauty only found in the paintings of old masters of Europe.

There are a myriad of reasons shown in the show but I will focus on what I see from an outside perspective into Hannibal's interests and thinking mixed in with my own.

Hannibal as we know likes Europe and favors the arts above all, looking through life with a gruesome but academic lens. Will is the personification of all the arts and humanities he holds so valuable. Will’s beauty transcends these periods and fits them. In morals and looks, Will has it all and is perfect in Hannibal's eyes.

His Vitruvian man, as this user on Tumblr, keenly pointed out. Hannibal is an academic and thinker at heart, he romanticizes Will Graham by his beauty being magnified by his thinking and his deep empathy encroaching on everything he touches. Hannibal's way of absorbing and showing love is embodied in the way he kills and talks to Will through veils of academic conversations with him. Hannibal has never felt nor something strongly other than to kill, which makes his feelings for Will blur in this messy dance of courtship.

First Will could be examined based on his features and personality, in a way examining him on how most people perceive him.

Will is a man who stands at average height with light blue eyes. He has a lean, masculine beauty that can easily mesmerize. His eyes, a deep, intense shade of blue, spark with intelligence and wit. With his tousled dark brown curls and strong, angular features, he has soft but masculine features. He has a lean build with pale skin. He commands attention in a room even with how he speaks rarely to draw attention to himself. He has a scruffy beard along his sharp jaw and an air of unsettledness to most people. It is radiated more by his lack of social interaction and often bored tone of speaking. He is our brooding protagonist with a deep and sensitive soul. He often rocks a disheveled yet charming style. His intense gaze and commanding presence give him an undeniable allure on-screen. A man who feels too much and is wrapped up trying to not let himself drown in it, saving lives.

Will is brave in the face of adversity no matter if it's on both sides or in his field, even as he is chipped away or broken down who he is at his core remains.

Will has features that were the beauty standard of both the medieval and Renaissance period. The Renaissance and medieval beauty standards for men concerning blue eyes and dark curls varied but were generally associated with nobility, strength, and a sense of mystery. During these periods, blue eyes were seen as captivating and intense, while dark curls were considered masculine and powerful. This combination of traits was often associated with warriors, heroes, and leaders. It was believed that these features suggested a deep, complex persona and attracted attention and admiration.

The beauty standard for men during the Renaissance and medieval periods was influenced by ancient Greek and Roman ideals of masculinity. Blue eyes and dark curls were considered attractive features, symbolizing youth and strength. It can be pointed out that Hannibal has a love of Classic Antiquity. During the Renaissance, which lasted from the 14th to the 17th century, the focus shifted towards humanism and the individual, and the ideal man was depicted as well-balanced, well-built, and well-groomed, often with light eyes and dark, curly hair.

Pale skin was considered a beauty standard for both genders during the Renaissance and Medieval periods. It symbolized wealth and status, as those who could afford to stay out of the sun had the free time to do so. A pale, blemish-free complexion was seen as a symbol of aristocracy and class. This preference for pale skin can be seen in many Renaissance and medieval works of art, where men and women are often depicted with a light, almost translucent complexion. It was seen to be revered and “angelic” to have such pale skin marking you as an individual of high status and closer to divinity.

Will is a closed-off man due to how others treat him in his field of behavioral science and federal agents. Hannibal is the first that look at Will not as a basket case but as a muse waiting to be molded. As highlighted in my other post Hannibal had a love for Botticelli and his artwork during the Italian Renaissance. As shown in Dolce with them sitting in the Uffizi gallery surrounded by Botticelli artwork.

He wanted Will to transform into the person he should be, into the person Hannibal envisions him to be. As one Redditor noted they sit in between the portraits of Simonetta and Botticelli. I will explain more about the relationship instead of briefly as this user did.

Simonetta Cattaneo Vespucci was a famed Genoese noblewoman married to Marco Vespucci. known for her beauty and charm. She was an inspiration to many artists of the time and had a close relationship with the Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli.

Botticelli was deeply smitten by Simonetta's beauty and grace. She was the inspiration for many of his works, including "The Birth of Venus," and he included her in many of his paintings. It is often speculated that Botticelli may have even harbored romantic feelings for her.

Botticelli's relationship with Simonetta Vespucci, the inspiration behind many of his famous works, was marked by a deep connection. Their relationship appears to have been akin to that of a muse and artist.

Simonetta Vespucci died in 1476 at the age of 21. The cause of her death is not accurately known, but it is believed to be from complications due to tuberculosis. It is said that Botticelli was devastated by her passing and even refused to paint for several months. He later channeled his grief into his works, creating some of his most beautiful paintings as a tribute to his beloved Simonetta.

Hannibal sees himself as an artist, in the culinary arts, traditional, psychology and so on. He has the mind of an artist who paints even the people he kills.

Throughout the show, he is often seen creating pieces of art, whether it be culinary masterpieces or gruesome tableau displays. Additionally, his ability to manipulate people and situations to his advantage can be seen as a form of metaphorical art, as he carefully constructs his plans to achieve his desired outcomes.

Like Botticelli, he sees himself as an artist creating his muse which is Will. Botticelli is noted as the themes in his art are biblical and had a great appreciation for Dante Alighieri. No matter how grotesque or unethical it is, it's Hannibal’s way of showing affection.

He is shown to have a deep appreciation and understanding of art and often incorporates elements of art and art history in many of his actions and conversations. He is also shown to have a keen aesthetic sensibility, often using beautiful imagery and metaphors in his interactions. He uses it, especially in sessions or conversations with Will. Additionally, Lecter is depicted as a creator himself, both in the literal sense as he composes music and paints, and more metaphorically as he engages in a creative act in his killings.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s attempts to show love to Will Graham are often twisted and manipulative, as his definition of “love” is different from the traditional sense. Throughout the show, Lecter goes to great lengths to get Will’s full attention and admiration, often in harmful and violent ways. He sees Will as his equal and wants to mold him into a partner, someone who can understand him completely. He continuously challenges and tests Will, trying to break him down to build him back up in a way that is acceptable to Lecter.

He is shaping his muse to be his perfect companion. To both worship and eat alive in his dark change.

70 notes · View notes

andkisses · 8 months

Text

♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder. “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him. “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him. You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks. Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now. The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again, and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play.

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You’re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them.

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come.

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment.

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips. "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance. He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt scanarios #txt imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #fluff #angst #scarios #imagines #all #prose #txt

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littleredwing89 · 1 year

Text

FAMOUS - PART ONE

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death threats.

A/N: So part one is finally here!!! Woohoo!!! Enjoy all. More to come soon xoxo much love xoxo @offendedfishnoises thanks again for all of your help with this - all the love xoxo

————

DEATH SHALL FIND YOU

————

The Gotham Sirens.

You never imagined that this would happen to you. Not in a million years. The group had taken off almost instantly and you’d become world famous. You stared up at the stage, the neon blue of your band's name glowing. Several technicians ran past you and smiled, altering the mic stands and taping down the wires so no one would fall. You loved the hustle and bustle just before the performance. Even standing on that stage in front of millions of people, nothing made your soul buzz like the beginning set up of a show.

You, Selina, Ivy and Harley had met at Gotham University majoring in Dance and Music. At first it had been nothing more than just a class assignment. Create a song. But Harley uploaded it onto Instagram and it blew up the internet. The next thing you knew, Mr Roman Sionis - headhunter for Dent Sounds Record Label - himself had arranged a meeting with the four of you.

And well, as they say, the rest was history. That was over 3 years ago now. It had been a complete blur. You were still catching up. You were no longer having to scrimp and save for cash. No. Now, now you had everything. Everything you’d ever dreamed of. Everything but your privacy. Especially after the meeting this morning with Roman.

——

“You’re not being serious are you?”.

You looked into the mirror whilst the make up artist finished off your eyelashes. Your manager, Roman, stood behind you with his arms crossed. A stern look stitched onto his face.

“Of course I am”, he huffed and his stare burned into you, “You’ve received another death threat and someone tried to break into your condo last month. You need more security. Something more personal”.

You rolled your eyes and the make up artist scolded you by smacking her brush on your wrist. You grinned cheekily at her before resting back in your chair, putting on your sickliest, sweetest voice, “Romy…”.

Your little nickname for him. It worked every time. He’d never allow anyone else to call him that. Just you.

“No”, he growled, “This is my final decision. You’re getting a personal bodyguard. I don’t want to find you chopped into tiny pieces”.

“How come Ivy doesn’t have to have one? Or Selina...even Harley doesn’t! So why me?”.

You didn’t need a bodyguard. You knew the second you got one, you would be kissing your freedom goodbye. They’d be with you 24/7. Your apartment would be shared. You wouldn’t even be able to sneak off to McDonalds for a McFlurry at 3am without having to confirm it with them. Or even worse, have them go with you.

“They haven’t had any psychotic stalkers”, Roman rested against the wall, sighing deeply, “yet”.

You scowled and refused to meet his eyes in the mirror. This was a complete over reaction.

“Look, I know you’re not happy but this goes way over my head. Mr Dent, the CEO—insisted. And to be honest Y/N, I think it’s a good idea. You girls are only getting more popular and that means more weirdos will crawl out of the woodwork”.

“Romy…”, you tried once more, turning to him and fluttering your dark, thick lashes at him, “Can’t you talk to Mr Dent?”.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, the muscles in his forearms contracting. You noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and silently wondered when he last got a good night's sleep.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, “But I agree with Harv on this one, I’ve already been in touch with a firm. They’re highly recommended…you’ll meet them tomorrow”.

He turned quickly and strode out of the changing room as his phone rang, ending the conversation abruptly. You could hear his booming voice bouncing down the corridor and you glared at yourself in the mirror.

Fucking perfect.

————

Dumping a wad of paperwork down onto the desk, Jason sighed and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew high profile clientele came with difficulty but the stack of paperwork Sionis had sent him was nothing short of ridiculous. They even wanted to know where he’d bought his new leather jacket from last month.

“Alright?”, Roy sauntered over with his own coffee cup shuffling some of the papers. He was awfully chipper this early in the morning. Jason hummed in response and grabbed a pen from the side beginning to fill in the required forms.

He’d started this business with Roy a few years ago. Dropping out of university was tough but it wasn’t for him. Jason remembered worrying about telling Bruce. What his family would think of him but they showed him nothing but support. Unconditional love. They’d both managed, with countless hours, to build ‘Outlaws Security’, into the most successful security firm in Gotham.

Roy’s eyebrows lifted upon seeing a photo of the new client, “Isn’t that the chick you had on your wall at uni?”.

“What? No!”, Jason bristled and shoved the photo of you back under the documents. He inwardly cursed. Fucking Roy.

“So, you're saying that if I look inside your office locker, I won't find a poster of her?”.

Jason heard the cocky smirk on Roy’s face and groaned in irritation running a hand over the front of his face, “Touch my locker and I’ll break your legs”.

Roy cackled loudly and sat on the edge of Jason’s desk, “Ok so you do still have it. Better not let her find it”.

“You’re a real jackass you know”.

“So I’ve heard...maybe she’ll sign it for you if you ask nicely”, Roy continued to mock Jason, making kissy faces at him.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you”, Jason scowled and turned his chair around pretending to look for some files in the cabinet behind him. Hoping Roy would get the hint and leave him alone.

“This must be like your dream job come true, pretty boy—better not screw it up”.

Jason sighed deeply and threw his head back in exasperation, “I need a new best friend”.

Roy gasped dramatically and held a hand over his heart, “What?! You love me and you know it!”.

“Whoever told you that was lying”.

————

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader insert #red hood imagine #jason todd fanfiction #red hood smut #red hood x reader insert #red hood fanfiction #Jason Todd x you #red hood x you #bodyguard!jason todd x reader #bodyguard!jason todd x singer!reader

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wambsgansshoelaces · 8 months

Note

hiii could you maybe write something about a first kiss with roman roy? I feel like he’s so unpredictable that it could be fluffy or angsty 💖

Vending Machine Oreos

Roman Roy x Reader

oneshot

anon I’m so so sorry this is so late!!! I hope I delivered though :( please let me know what you think and enjoy x

honestly I’m kind of worried because I’ve been struggling with life and my writing’s been suffering because of it so I’m really sorry if this seems unrealistic or rushed or just bad. I hope you guys like it anyway!!!

Word Count: 2.215k

“Roman!”

“What?” he snaps back, not bothering to look up from his desk.

“You’re going to make us fucking late! Come on!”

“It’s not even- oh, fuck, you’re right.” He abruptly gets to his feet, slamming the lid of his laptop shut, and hurries out of his office, you not far behind.

Working at Waystar was certainly an experience. You like to say Logan Roy made you see red, and it’s a sentiment you know Roman shares. When you stop and think about it, you suppose that you’re making way too much money to actually care. Besides, Roman Roy is easy on the eyes. It’s not like all of him was so horrible. If you were honest with yourself, you never really thought he was such a bad person. He was kind to you, in his own neurotic way, and made sure all of his work was done on time. You actually find him kind of endearing, and you both happen to get along extremely well.

“Is the car outside?” he asks, pulling his coat on.

“It has been for ten minutes,” you say back, ushering him into an opening elevator.

“Why do we have to do this again?” he mutters to you in question, glancing at you sideways as you slide into your seat next to him in the car.

“Because your dad wants us to mingle,” you say bitterly. “Some new hotshot piece of shit to impress.” He sighs, turning to stare out the window and watch as New York blurs by.

The event building is large and lavish, the epitome of modern day architecture. The entire thing is floor-to-ceiling windows, and the interior does not let you down. This is the corporate version of a party. You’d spend the night milling about, pretending to listen to half-assed pitches while Roman fucked with all of the corporate jockies he hated. Logan had asked you in person for you and Roman to go. Something about the mind games he was playing with rivals and the fact that a Roy needed to be present at these kinds of things.

You and Roman get your coats checked, and you’re guided into the ballroom. The room is already bustling and half-drunk, and you mentally steel yourself for the next few hours. The two of you get roped into a mind-numbing conversation about stocks and bitcoin, so much so that when you look over at Roman, he’s staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

“And what about you?”

You don’t realize the question was aimed at you until after it hangs for a few moments.

“Sorry?” you ask, returning your attention to your peanut gallery of what’s only men. You notice Roman doing the same.

“We were talking about the whore houses,” an older one chortles, immediately causing your face to sour. “We were wondering if we would see you there. What with the job performance and all.” He laughs, a loud, gaudy sound that makes you want to vomit.

All of the heat rushes to your face. You are by no means bad at your job. But despite your confidence and your skill, you can’t help how disgusting you feel.

“I speak for all of us here when I say nobody would really mind if you were,” another, younger one chimes in. You all but gag. You throw a glance at Roman, pleading, but he looks just as uncomfortable as you are. Disappointed, you realize you’re not going to get any help from him.

Without saying anything, you turn on your heel and calmly make your way out of the ballroom. You feel like ripping your skin off. Maybe then the feeling of those eyes will get off of you then.

You stroll through the halls, trying to comfort yourself. You don’t expect it, but after your second lap around the complex, you find Roman at your elbow, reaching out to take you by the arm.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve said something,” he admits. “That was disgusting. They’re disgusting. I’m really sorry.” He pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I know that doesn’t help.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, rather unconvincingly at that.

Roman makes a face at you. “We both don’t believe that.”

“Really. It’s fine. I should’ve just made a scene so we could leave,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood, change the tone. Roman gives you his signature pout, refusing to take your word for anything. He’s worked with you for long enough to be able to sense when something’s wrong.

“Oh, come on.” He leans in towards you conspiratorially. “Wanna just ditch? Pretty sure I saw a vending machine while I was chasing you around. You walk way too fucking fast, by the way.”

He sets off down the hall, fishing his express card out of the zipper pocket of his dress pants. You follow, catching up so that you’re walking side by side. “You keep a credit card in your pocket?”

“Debit.” He hands it to you, and you hesitantly take it. He pats himself down, rooting through his other pockets. He fishes out some paper money and unfolds it. “Hey, look, five bucks.”

The card is sleek and impossibly expensive. You grip it tightly. Even though you don’t really know how you’d lose it, you don’t think you’ll know what to do with yourself if you do. “Do they even have vending machines in places like these?”

“Yeah, ’course they do. Saw it with my own eyes, anyway. Just told you,” he replies, letting you press the card back into his hand. He turns it over in his palm absentmindedly, eyes flitting about. “They just charge triple ’cause they know nobody’s checking the price.”

You both walk together for a short while, Roman getting a bit frustrated. He tells you that he was ‘just fucking there’ before a comfortable silence stretches, him focused on finding the damn thing. You don’t have to wait too much longer. “Hey, look, there’s an entire row,” you say, pointing.

“You know it’s fuckin’ crazy ’cause these aren’t even the ones that I saw earlier,” he mutters to you. “You like spicy chips?”

“Oh, you don’t need to get me anything,” you tell him after you process what he said. He sighs, turning back to the nearest vending machine.

“Cool. You’re getting Oreos.” Roman takes the crumpled five dollar bill and tries to smooth it out against the machine’s glass. You don’t think it’s going to help. That thing looks like it’s been through hell.

He presses a few buttons and inserts the bill. The machine eats it, and the small screen above the keypad flashes the word ‘PROCESSING’ in red, blocky text. You watch as the curly thing keeping the treats in the machine unfurls, pushing the sleeve of cookies forward, before it shuts, the cookies hanging on to the gadget instead of dropping so that you could get it.

“I feel like that shouldn’t be possible,” you say quietly.

“Fuck’s sake,” he says back. He bangs on the glass, and the sleeve sways. But nothing happens. Roman glances towards you. “Is this real? Are we in one of the most expensive fucking office buildings in fucking New York where the vending machines are holding my fucking Oreos hostage?”

You shrug, then fish out your wallet. “Here, put another five in,” you suggest, offering him another five. He pushes your hand back towards you, making a face, instead inserting his card into the machine. Again, a sleeve of Oreos gets pushed out. The previous ones finally fall from their position, but get stuck on the slot immediately below it. The same thing that happened with the first one then happens with the one just bought.

“This can’t be real,” Roman says incredulously. “Help me out, will you?”

He squeezes himself in between the vending machine and the wall, somehow managing to tilt the entire thing forward. You brace your hands on the front of the thing, keeping it from tipping all the way over. Carefully, you jerk your arms up, trying to shake the cookies free. A couple of tries later, a strange smattering of THUDS sound, spotty and horribly nonrhythmic. Roman peers out at you from his little nook, eyebrows raised.

You manage to get the machine back upright so that he can shuffle back out into the hallway. As you get your first glance through the glass, it’s painfully obvious a lot of what was once in the machine is now at the bottom for you to take.

“All this for only ten bucks is pretty good if you ask me,” you say, smile playing on your lips.

“Thank fuck this company is cheap in their manufacturing,” he murmurs back, grinning. He leans his back against the machine once you both hear footsteps approaching. The young man who’d made that gross fucking one-liner. Even though you have no proof, you get the disgusting inkling he was looking for you. He slows his pace when he sees you, and you do your best to school your face into neutrality. He stops entirely, opening his mouth to say something, look of confidence plastered over his face.

“Fuck’re you looking at?” Roman snaps, arm coming to drape across your shoulders, hand going to cup your jaw. He tilts your head up, quickly crashing his lips against yours. You’re surprised, but not even the slightest bit opposed. You grin into the kiss, and you can feel Roman smirking. He pulls back only slightly, glancing sideways at the other man. “What, you into voyeurism or something? We’re having a moment, shoo.”

You can’t help but laugh, clamping your hand over your mouth to trap the noise, and you watch the guy scuttle awkwardly away. Roman’s fingers stay on your jaw, brushing gently up the expanse of your skin. Without thinking, you lean back in and deposit a peck on his lips. He returns the fleeting kiss as he can, head then following yours back when you pull away to press his lips back to yours.

The kiss is deep, tender, needy. In between kisses, he murmurs praise. “You know you’re thirty times the employee any of those dipshits ever will be, mm?” Another lingering kiss, his hands drifting to your hips to turn you towards him. “And you’re so fucking attractive. Thank fuck this is finally happening. I think my staring at work was getting creepy.”

As his fingers travel to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, you pull back enough to be able to kiss up his neck. You line kisses along the underside of his jaw, and he lets out a strangled noise. His free hand cups your hip, squeezing gently as his face flushes with pleasure.

He turns his head to take your lips with his again, sighing happily into your mouth between kisses. Your hands are now braced on his chest, and your heart flutters.

“Did it really have to take this to get us to make out?” you ask, smiling giddily, rubbing a hand over his pecs.

“Maybe, maybe not. Another few weeks without you and I probably would’ve lost it, anyway,” he admits to you. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Roman pulls away from you entirely, disentangling your limbs from each other. He stoops down to the output compartment, your previously won treasure forgotten in the heat of the moment. He pulls out a bag of chips, sitting down with his back leaning against machine. You go down and settle in next to him, sitting as close as physically possible. He tears open the bag before winding an arm around you, keeping you close, holding the bag so that it’s easily accessible to the both of you.

“What’re we going to do with the rest of it?” you ask, cheek pressed to his shoulder so you can rest your head against him.

“Planning on taking it with us.” Roman chews a bit, swallows, then dots kisses across your forehead. “Hey, wait, your Oreos.”

He twists to reach into the compartment behind him, roots around for the bit, and turns back around to hand you what got you into this mess in the first place. You tear open the sleeve, then offer a cookie to him. He pops one into his mouth, fat smile plastered on his face. You have to admit, you enjoy seeing him happy. Roman Roy’s smile does things to you. You mirror his expression as you gaze up at him.

He plants another kiss right onto your lips.

It’s a bit of a struggle to transport all of your loot to the car an hour later, but thankfully, nobody’s around as the two of you carry all of the junk across the building.

The drive back, you sit practically on top of each other, giggling and munching all the way.

Neither of you waste any time as the weeks go on. You start going out, and you find yourselves spending more time in each others’ offices.

One morning, a few months after you’ve made things official, you step out of your office to come face to face with a vending machine.

All that’re in it are bags of Oreos, and a small sticky note pasted to the glass with a sloppy heart drawn onto it.

#succession #succession hbo #succession fic #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #anon ask #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy oneshot #requests open #first kiss roman roy

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caramelcleopatraa · 2 months

Text

English: Jealousy: Love Me Like You Say You Do

x: A fictional piece of writing starring Hazel and Roman and an uninvited guest that Hazel’s not a fan of

Parts: Celos: Observación ! Celos: Negación Dolorosa ! Celos: Sucia

English: Jealousy : Observation ! Jealousy: Painful Denial ! Jealousy: Dirty

Saturday

The gray clouds blanketed the sky, crying down an ever ending cycle of rain. or, at least, that’s what she remembered. She hadn’t bothered to look at the sky or the grass that sprouted the beautiful list of flowers, or the anonymous people conversing walking the streets. A rather grim start to her day, no doubt. The natural curious soul didn't seek questions today. Those direct chocolate eyes, spent most of its time admiring the smooth floors in the house, or the dark carpet in the cadillac escalade, or the shiny marble floor that reflected the chandeliers so richly.

Blur. It was all a blur. The people moved past her and just looked like motion blur. Not able to identify their faces. Maybe it was the world around her that was the problem. Or maybe it was her. She was in scrambles. Ignoring the gnawing pain in her head, her chest, her stomach. She finally pushed past her bellowing rage from last night when Tiffany called out Roman publicly. Which confused her, because she never wanted to control him, or argue with him. She never wanted to make him feel like she didn't trust him. And she wasn't even mad at him. Maybe Tiffany. Naturally, Tiffany. But more… at herself.

‘There must be something wrong with me. Is that why he stayed over there longer than usual? Why she decided to touch his arm? Did he lie about what they were talking about? Is there something that I don't know about? I thought he was being honest. I trusted him. Is it something that I'm not doing?’

She dreaded this more than anything. She dreaded that she couldn’t fully devote her attention to her clients. But she tried her best, helping the influx of high end customers, while trying her best to find the answer to the questions that clouded her judgment. What a day this was going to be.

The Cadillac rested in front of the building. 8 o clock. Like clockwork. Never late. Never too early. Just on time. There was no light in her eyes by the time that closing had come around. She was sure that her driver noticed. The fire that would be reflecting in her eyes after work was dull, and dim. And the spark that lit that fire had been nonexistent all day. Finally, she would go home. To her bed. Not to see Roman and talk about all of the customers and their annoying demands, just some sleep. She didn't even want to talk to him. Didn’t want to burden him with her fluctuating feelings. And that's exactly what she did. Stripping off everything as soon as she walked through the front door. She only bid him a small hello, before disappearing into the shower, letting the hot water and steam fill her senses. Hazel knew that Roman would try to ask questions about why she was acting this way, but she wanted to be selfish this one time. Let herself figure out what is going on, and then address him. ‘Yeah. That's what i’ll do’

Sunday

The black silk sheets wrapped around her body till morning. He was up at ungodly hours training, attending meetings, and running errands for the house that Hazel had not gotten to yet. She didn’t want to leave the mold she had made in her bed. She knew that the questions and thoughts regarding Tiffany would hit like a surge storm as soon as she got up. But she has work to do, and the bag doesn’t chase itself. ‘Just, happy thoughts. Breathe. Breathe~ Happy thoughts.’

Friday

A drive home. No special drivers, no assistants. Just her. With guilt eating away at her. She had promised him that she was going to be there. But she just… couldn’t stand being in the same place as the two of them. Whether that was beneficial to her didn’t matter right now. Truth be told, she might try something even more bold since she won't be there, or maybe she took out all of the fun because Tiffany can’t see Hazel’s face in real time when Tiffany torments Hazel. Well it’s too late now. She recognized the brick driveway she had driven over countless times. Slugging herself out of the car, through the front door, and plopping onto the bed. Not even bothering to hang her keys up or take her blouse off. Sleep. That sounded so good right now. Order some pizza, hide behind the covers and go to sleep.

She didn’t remember when everything had meshed together. She didn't even remember hopping in the shower. She barely remembered herself walking through the front door. All she was focused on was distraction. ‘Distract yourself.’ She wondered what he was doing right now. Probably backstage readying up to present himself to the masses. ‘Distract yourself.’ Would he be disappointed in her that she didn’t show up like she said? What if this was the worst day she could’ve missed? ‘Distract yourself Hazel..’ “I miss him.” ‘Hazel...’ She misses her man. her man. She should be in his arms while he waits for his cue. Wishing him good luck and showering his face in kisses. ‘Stop..’ What if Tiffany’s there? ‘Hazel this isn't good..’ Trying to take her place and give him words of affirmation with her kiss-ass tone? And she's not there to stop her. She’s able to do as she pleases. “And then she.. she,” Hazel says, snapping to her senses when she realizes that she’s talking to herself, letting her mind break piece by piece. Because of her. And because she loves him so damn much.

Monday

She tugged on the short crop top, making sure her cleavage was showcased through the top. Well, whatever the scraggly piece of clothing was. She sighs. She was going to figure it out. More provocative maybe? Tiffany’s gear always showcased her tits. No matter, she could do that too. A thin mustard crop top that tied in the front, stopping right at the bra line. With that, skinny ripped jeans that cling onto her body like water, with strappy heels. “Hello ma’am how are you doing this morning?” One of the cleaners that always greeted her on the way in. She replies before heading into her office saying, “Not great. But.. another day, another dollar.”

Friday 12:00pm

5 excruciating days of work. She was so busy that she had forgotten who Tiffany was. Or about Smackdown tonight. Client after client. Hour after hour. Customs after customs. Numb. Yeah, that was the best way to explain it. Just numb. After day two, she was on autopilot. Wake up, shower, put on another promiscuous outfit, bid her goodbyes to Roman, and spend the rest of her time at work. It really was exhausting the amount of work that she forced onto herself. With those demoralizing thoughts that seemed to get worse everyday. ‘One more customer.’ ‘Might have to skip lunch today, too many people in the shop.’ ‘Might have to do extra work at home.’

It was noon on her fifth work day. ‘God. I'm tired.’ She had been sipping on an empty coffee cup, pushing out every ounce of energy she had. And she had forgotten to bring her tupperware filled to the brim with her favorite leftovers. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

“Excuse me Ms. Hazel, Roman is here to see you.”

‘Why? Is he here?’

“Let him in,” Hazel says, sighing while tapping her forehead. A tall figure with a black hoodie and black sweatpants entered the shop carrying a gray disposable bag with a tupperware full of food in it. Roman. He never came to visit her at her job, and she honestly preferred it that way. She gets distracted way too much when he's there. He gently lays the bag on top of the glass display case, observing her lazy face upon his entry.

“You forgot your lunch this morning.” She gave him a quick smile and replied, “Thank you. I didn’t want to order anything today. You saved my ass.” Her hands reach out to him, and he leans forward. Allowing her small hands to grab his face and give him two sweet pecks on his lips.

And they thought the same thing at the same time.

‘His lips are so soft.’

‘Her lips are so soft.’

“When are you coming home?” Roman purrs, still remembering the quick but savored feeling of her lips on his. Meanwhile, she shuffles around her office, picking up stacks of paper and sitting them on her desk.

“Um, probably 11, why?”

“Is this job stressing you out?” She gave him a confused look. When has she ever complained to that extent? She loved her job. “No, of course not. It can get hectic, like many jobs, but I love mine.” He places his hands in his sweatpants pocket, watching her rampage through the first stack of papers. “You know you can have someone else help you out with all of this right? That’s what secretaries and interns are for.” Why was he so concerned for her work load? She always worked a lot. This wasn't the first time she came home late from work.

“You don’t think I can handle this?” He sighs and counters, “I know you can, but I want my woman back.”

“Sweetie, i'm right her-”

“I want you home baby. Vibrant like you used to be. You just look so tired and annoyed now. You’re so silent when you come home. You barely want to touch me when you come home. I’m not saying you can’t handle it. My baby is the best of the best. But this.” He was now behind the looming jewelry glass display case, standing in the doorway to her office and motioning to the bothersome conundrum. More like abomination of a room littered with papers in every spare corner. “This can’t be healthy for you, dear. I can’t tell you how to run your business, but I really think you should find a secretary or someone that can lighten the load for you. Please come home. You don’t need to do all of this bull shit right now. Call me selfish, I don't care. Let me take care of you. Let me ease your stress. Let me do what I do best, for you Hazel.”

She didn’t know what it was that made her cry. Maybe it was his tone of voice. Maybe his looming concern for her health. His beautifully constructed sentences. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. Maybe him just being there made hot tears string down her face. He rushed to her side, standing her up and cradling her in his arms while she cried in his shirt. She muttered “I’m sorry,” into his shirt over and over and over. She felt so guilty. She didn’t know that she was hurting him. That was the last thing she wanted. She never wanted him to feel like he did anything wrong. She knew that this was a “her” problem. That was why she even began working so much in the first place. Busy herself and her mind and maybe, just maybe, she’d figure herself out that way.

He told her to stay put, while he exited the office, going to the greeter that stood at the glass doors and asked her a couple questions as she nodded understandingly. Commotion broke out, and workers started grabbing their things. The greeter rushed them out of the door and turned the dainty sign that hung on the door from the “open” side, to the “closed” side. He appeared in her office quickly, only to grab her purse, keys, and other essentials for her.

“Roman what’s going on?”

“We’re leaving.” She pointed to the multiple stacks of paper on her desk. “I-I still have wo-.”

He grabs her hand softly with all of her belongings in the other hand, leading her out of her office and pulls the door shut. “What work?” he says, smiling at her before planting a kiss on her forehead. “You’re well overdue for a Roman special.” Hazel chuckles to herself, her hand re-engulfed in his. “And what the hell is a Roman special?”

He turns around and smiles at her. “Some good food, a hot bath, a massage, some good head, and great dick.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove @sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000 @shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80 @msbigredmachine @sayyestoheav3nn @trippinsorrows @mzv11 @saintmagx @starryskies97

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fic #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x black!reader #caramelcleopatraa

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pr0wlerpunk · 1 year

Text

Title: I trust you.

Person: Roman reigns(yayyy)

Requested: |Yes|No|

Part. 2 Part. 3

★Trust Masterlist

Afab!reader

Warnings: slight!angst, slight!dark themes, reader feels frightened after the whole Sami zayn thing, Reader thinks bloodline is going to betray her, reader is very overwhelmed so that means crying :/

Pairings: Romantic!roman x reader, slight!romantic!Jey x reader, slight!romantic!Jimmy x reader, slight!romantic!solo x reader, also includes a very friendly Paul heyman

Pic creds: WWE/friend Aya

A/n: this is meant for a Roman x Reader thing but it also has some bloodline x reader, also no real plot made!

Standing backstage watching Sami and ko talk Paul walked up to you

“Miss Yn, you have a match right after…that” he gestured towards the screen

“Wait what?” You were confused, how’d you been that out of it you’d forgotten about a match?

“Miss Yn, have you forgotten?!” Seeing the shocked expression on his face was enough to keep you quite

“Oh my, I’ll contact the tribal chief and tell him you can’t do this match-”

“No!” You were quick to say rushing to grab his hands

“No?” He questioned

“I’m doing the match” nodding your head as you spoke

Paul slowly put his phone back into his pocket before nodding and leaving

You let out a short huff as you felt tears prick your eyes…

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

You hadn’t known what to expect but asuka wasn’t one of them, still you carried on the match like you would any other one

Except

Something was off

Everyone could see it…

You were on edge

All you could think about was how many times the boys got ambushed or even Cody rhodes coming down that ramp with Ko and Sami, still you knew you couldn’t fail

Failure would compromise your position in the bloodline

Because unlike Sami you actually loved being in it…

So you pushed yourself, breaking out of all the holds and pins she had you in, at one point you thought you were about to win

That was until..

“Asuka with her mist!” Corey yelled into his mic as you felt the sudden burn to your eyes

wiping at your face to try and get some of the most of as your vision blurred, barely being able to see you felt a kick to the face

Stumbling back you felt a liquid run down your mouth as you realized she made your nose bleed

Again thought swirled in your head

This is too much

What are they going to think of me?

Do they think I’m useless?

What does Roman think of me now?

Does he think I’m useless too?

You hadn’t realized it but you were crying

Quiet sobs racked through your throat as you trembled with only one current thought

You had to win.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

And so you did

with a spear actually she never saw it coming as it knocked her out cold

Blood rushing out of her nose as you hoped out the ring and walked up the mat

The stadium erupting in cheers of your name as you turned out of sight

The first thing you could start to see was Paul and a medic

But you kept walking wanting this night to be over

you could hear Paul tell the medic something before his footsteps picked up until he was right next to you as you both stood outside the entrance to Roman’s locker room

Silence filled the air as neither of you made a move to enter

“Miss Yn..” turning your head slightly as to acknowledge him

“Are-are you okay?” You could fill the tears prick back up in the sincerity of his voice

You sucked in a breath as you shaked your head yes, not trusting you voice to speak

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

As you and Paul entered he took his seat next to Roman as you stood awaiting

Roman looked up before motioning you to come towards him

Making your way you expected to be yelled at

What you didn’t expect was for him to pull you into his lap to inspect your nose and eyes

“Why’d you turn away the medic?”

It was a simple question really

so why did it break the wall you had built up?

Tears streamed down your face for the second time this night as sobs broke out your throat

Body shaking as Roman pulled you further into him shushing you

You couldn’t see the confused face Roman gave his cousins

Or even their confused ones back

“Baby, why’re crying?” His voice softening

All you could repeat was “I’m sorry”

All your bottled up feelings came rushing out at once and you didn’t know how to stop them

“Babygirl look at me”

“You did nothing wrong, so why are you crying?” Hearing his confusion you sniffled before speaking

“Because I almost lost the match, and you probably think I’m stupid for not expecting her mist, and you probably think I’m like Sami, and im scared your all gonna turn on me when I don’t expect it-” you rambling was cut short as he quickly spoke up

“Hey, hey, hey” his voice light as he looked directly into your eyes

“You will Never be stupid or useless to me or anyone I’n this family you hear me?” His voice become start as he continued his own ramble

“You are Not Like Sami and you Never will be”

“So what if you got sprayed, you Won that’s all that matters and you should be proud of yourself like we are” you eyes widened before you spoke

“You’re-you’re proud of me?”

You couldn’t see it but Jey,Jimmy and Solo exchanged knowing looks with each other

“Yes sweetheart we all are” he gestured behind him where Jey,Jimmy and Solo all agreed

“Why?” Your voice meek as you spoke

“Because we Trust you”

There was a pause..

“Princess I Trust you..” hearing that statement made more sobs come out as your body shook

“Shh I know, cmon let’s get you cleaned up babygirl”

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

After getting cleaned up you went to bed before them shortly after they entered the room standing over you

“She’s overwhelmed uce” jimmy spoke quietly as to not wake you

His twin rolled his eyes scoffing lowly

“She needs a break from this bullshit”

It was silent as the tension picked up

“Nah”

Eyes turning to their youngest

“She needs us”

Solo spoke looking directly at your sleeping form

They all looked at each other before nodding with a shared thought..

You Needed Them

And No One was taking you away from them

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Not proof read!

If this does well and if you guys ask for it I might make a part 2

#rae speaks #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fic #Jey uso #Jimmy uso #solo sikoa #the bloodline #the bloodline x reader #roman reigns x reader

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maedae-maedae · 2 years

Text

Did we...?

☆ Reigen Arataka x F!Reader

☆ Genre: Fluff and Smut

☆ Warnings: NSFW 18+, Alcohol

☆ Contents: Drunken confessions, Drunk foreplay, Dry humping, Lots of kisses, Sub!Reigen, Morning after, Sexual tension, Awkward tension, Romanic fluff, Co-workers

☆ Word Count: 7.8k

☆ Summary: It was the day of an important event to promote his business. Reigen, (Y/n), Mob, and Serizawa, dressed up and attended it together. He remembers you in that amazing dress that hugged every curve perfectly. Meeting other psychics and mingling. How the event was successful, so his team went out for food and drinks. And… The rest is a blur for right now.

When he wakes up the next morning and sees you next to him, he has to wonder...

☆ A/N: The new season being out gave me some inspiration. I love this sexy loser of a man. The morning after scenario is given to you before the actual drunken events, to keep some mystery going at first! But you can scroll down and read the night before first if you'd like. Also, I'm realizing this is my first smut I'm publicly sharing, so I hope it's alright! If it's well received, maybe I'll publish some other old ones I have in the drafts.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

The morning after:

10:38am on a Saturday morning.

Light fights to shine through thick curtains that cover the windows. A wake up call, the start to another day of doing to same thing over and over again. Nothing new or exciting. Wake up, go to work, fight some evil spirit maybe, come home, eat, sleep, repeat.

These are Reigen’s thoughts as he starts to come back into consciousness. He fights the automatic reflex to open his eyes. Maybe he’d call out sick just this once, take a break. The thought crosses his mind, but he knows he can’t do that. Also, if he goes to work, at least that means he gets to see you. You would be in the office not long after he gets there, and he’d get to spend the day getting to talk with you, and sneaking little glances at you as you do your work (that he still can’t believe you came to him to do).

He finally starts to open his eyes, slowly, bringing up his hands to rub the grogginess from them.

That’s when he realizes this isn’t just another regular morning.

After wiping his eyes, his first thought is “this isn’t my ceiling”, as he stares up at the unfamiliar pattern. His eyes glance over at the night stand next to him. Not his.

Fuck. Where am I?

Suddenly memories of yesterday start to flood his mind, along with a headache, and just an overall shitty feeling.

Yesterday. He remembers now.

It was the day of an important event to promote his business. Him, (Y/n), Mob, and Serizawa, dressed up and attended it together. He remembers you in that amazing dress that hugged every curve perfectly. Meeting other psychics and mingling. How the event was successful, so his team went out for food and drinks. And…

The rest is a blur for right now.

He feels someone stir around a bit next to him.

Shit shit shit.

He wouldn’t have hooked up with some random person right? He’s literally never done that before so that doesn’t make any sense. His mind races. Then he thinks about you. He’d only want to do... that… with you. It’s possible, but there’s no way, right? You would never… you would never with… him… right?

His mind repeats this as he turns his head slowly to the other side. His eyes widen when they see your face, fast asleep. You looked angelic. His face goes red, mind goes blank. All he can think about for a moment is how gorgeous you look, until he remembers again the situation he’s in right now.

He brings a hand up to his mouth, his mind quiet for another moment.

Then it starts again.

No no no… we didn’t… last night… did we?!?! SERIOUSLY? But I can’t remember, I must’ve been seriously drunk. Was she drunk? Fuck, did I take advantage of her? Shit shit. She’s gonna hate me when she wakes up. What if she quits? What if she-

You make a slight noise in your sleep as you shuffle a bit, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts again. His body goes completely stiff.

Then he comes to another realization.

He lifts up his side of the covers a little, and confirms that he’s still wearing his suit. Most of it, at least. His coat is gone, but his shirt still on. Though, it’s mostly unbuttoned, barely coving his chest, and his tie is laying next to him. But his pants and socks are still on, and when he reaches his hand down, only the button on his pants is undone but they’re not unzipped. Why would he put his pants back on at all, if they were off, and why would he re-zip them?

He does this mental investigation for a bit, trying to figure it out. He starts to convince himself that maybe nothing happened, calming his anxiety about the situation.

He looks up at you again. He should check what you’re wearing too, that would be a real tell tale sign. But as he places his hand on the sheet to take a peek, he stops himself.

What if you are naked under the covers right now? What if he lifts up this blanket and you’re fully exposed to him?

He grips the blanket, his face turning red again. He cant do it.

Damn it reigen, you fucking loser. Just look. This is important. He thinks. But it’s possibly an invasion of privacy, right? I can’t. But if she is naked then that means we already…

His thoughts continue to race as he has this stupid inner debate with himself.

Right, I can just pull down the covers a little. At least see if she has a top on. I don’t have to see her whole body to find out! Is the conclusion he comes to.

When he does this, he finds what he was hoping for, but also something he wasn’t even expecting. You are indeed still wearing the dress from last night, to his momentary relief. However, there’s also a dark noticeable hickey placed on the right side of your neck.

His eyes practically pop out of his skull seeing it.

DID I DO THAT???

He continues to pull the blanket down, revealing THREE more smaller marks on your chest where the neck of the dress scooped down.

His mind actually recalls a few moments now, of the two of you making out. His hands all over you last night. Short erotic scenes play in his mind like a porn trailer. His face goes red and he turns to be on his back again, smacking his hands over his face in distress.

IM DONE FOR!!! IM GOING TO JAIL!

Okay, dramatic.

That’s when you start to stir awake. He jumps a little when he hears you take a deep inhale, and looks over to see if that means you’re waking up now. You stretch your arms out, rubbing your eyes as well to wake up. After blinking a little, your eyes meet his. If you were more awake right now, you might be able to read the slight panic on his face. He only makes eye contact with you for a few seconds before going back to facing the ceiling and draping his arms over his face.

“Good morning.” You say in a sleepy voice, blushing lightly. This was kinda awkward.

You’ll admit, you were a little confused at first when you saw him, but your memory of last night is clearer than his is, so you end up remembering what happened after a little bit. You assume he remembers as well, maybe not realizing he was actually much more drunk than you.

Relief washes over him when he hears your greeting, and you’re not bewildered like he was, or god forbid angry. He unintentionally lets out a sigh with this, and you watch him intently as he does. He won’t look at you.

“Are you… feeling okay?” You ask, still feeling awkward. You’re really not sure what to say after last night. It was really intense and you’re still flustered remembering it. You’re wondering how he’s feeling about it. But judging by his demeanor right now, you can’t imagine it’s good. Your stomach clenches with anxiety.

“Yeah… Yeah. I’m great just. Have a hangover..” He replies. He really cant bring himself to look at you in the eyes right now. And anyways, he thinks his eyes would just immediately go to the huge marks he left on you. Then he’d think about those memories again. And he already has an erection now. Shit.

Your stomach sinks, feeling terrible, as if you’re responsible for said hangover. You begin to sit up. “Oh, yeah! Of course. I can get you some medicine and something to eat. Just-“

“No no. I’m fine I-“ He uncovers his eyes to look at you finally. Bad idea. One of the dress straps hangs off your shoulder as you face him sitting up. It’s barely coving one of your boobs. His eyes go straight there, he can’t help it. He immediately whips he’s head over to look in a ridiculously far direction.

You blink a few times. He’s being weird. Even for him. You look down to where he had glanced and immediately blush, pulling the strap back up. That’s when you notice one of the marks that you hadn’t yet seen in daylight. Your eyes widen in surprise.

You both sit in silence for a few seconds.

You clear your throat. “Um. I’m gonna.. get you some uh… I’ll be back.” You say, and he hears you get up off the bed and leave the room.

Reigen immediately lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He sits up a little, taking a look around the room. It was small, but nicely kept and definitely your style. He rubs the back of his head.

Jeez. This is messy. He thinks. Considering the fact that the two of you have to work tomorrow. How was he going to talk to you about it? He couldn’t just leave and pretend nothing happened, though he kinda wanted to. But I mean. He cant believe he even got this far with you, even if he was drunk. He had no idea you felt the same. But his fear was that maybe you didn’t, maybe you just went along with it because you were drunk. People do crazy things when they’re drunk.

Meanwhile, you’re thinking the same thing. From your point of you, he seemed totally ashamed and regretful about the whole thing. Maybe Reigen was just feeling some type of way due to all of the alcohol, and in the heat of the moment decided to pursue you. Despite what he said to you that night, you never know. People do and say crazy things when they’re drunk.

When you walk back in with a tray, you see him staring out the window next to your bed, the curtain open now. When he looks at you he’s surprised you’re wearing different clothes now. You had changed out of your dress with some dry laundry you had in your living room, as to maybe make him less uncomfortable.

You place the tray on the bedside table, which holds six pieces of toast, some medicine, and two glasses of water.

“Ah, thank you. You didn’t have to..” He starts calmly, going to reach for the water. He seems to have relaxed a little.

“It’s okay, I needed to eat something too.” You say, grabbing a water and a piece of toast, and sitting next to him on the side of the bed.

You look down at your feet as you listen to him take a swig of water and gulp down some pills. Your hand grips the cup as you look at your reflection through it, and you can’t seem to bring yourself to eat yet. You’re still uneasy.

“Well,” Reigen starts suddenly, interrupting some thoughts you were having. “We got into some trouble last night, it seems.” He says, finally addressing it, trying to be passive about the whole thing.

“Yeah… really.” You agree.

There’s another silence.

“I’m really sorry, Reigen.” You apologize, to his surprise. “I shouldn’t have invited you in last night. I don’t want our work relationship to be weird now because of this, but I understand if you need to fire me to keep things-“

“Woah woah woah!” He interrupts. “I-it’s fine. I’m not gonna fire you. Why the hell would I do that?” He says, confused as to how you came to that conclusion.

Your eyes widen and you turn to look at him again. “Really??? But… I mean we…”

“If anyone should be sorry here, it’s me. I mean I must’ve been really out of my mind last night.”

You frown. What does he mean by that?

“Seriously, I’m the man here so… If you were drunk as well and I agreed to stay over, then I must’ve been taking advantage of you. And that’s…” He looks away with a sense of shame, clenching his fist. “I’m a real asshole if that’s the case so. It should be your decision if you want to resign.” He states very matter of factly. Even though it's no ones fault really, since you both were pretty intoxicated and it was consented. But of course he feels he should take responsibility, when the consequences of a man using a woman in that way were far steeper than the other way around.

You take in what he’s saying for a moment. “Wait… what?” You look confused now when he glances back over at you. “Take advantage of me? Do you… Remember what happened last night?”

He laughs a little flatly. “Actually no, unfortunately. Mind filling me in?”

You just stare at him for a moment in disbelief. You hadn’t even considered that he might not remember.

“I mean I remember bits and pieces.. But it gets pretty blurry after we left the pub… Uh...” He meets eye contact with you after looking around a bit awkwardly. “By any chance did we end up uh… Yknow-“

“No.” You cut him off, reassuring him. “No we didn’t… Go all the way. If that’s what you were gonna ask.”

A wave of relief finally washes over him hearing this. Of course. Of course you didn’t.

You see his body physically relax. It kinda makes you a little sad, though you’re not sure why.

“You’re.. relieved.” You say, looking back at the cup in your hands.

“Of course I am. If I couldn’t remember doing something important like that with you for the first time, I would feel like a piece of shit.”

Your cheeks heat up at this, looking away from him. “That’s what you said… last night…” You respond quietly.

“Huh?”

“We um. We were gonna do it, but… You stopped me. You said you wanted to be sober… the first time you got to have me like that.” You inform him.

His cheeks heat up now. He said that? While he was drunk?

“I definitely would have had us going all the way if you hadn’t stopped me. I really wanted to…Um,” You hand fidgets with the cup. “Anyways. I’m sorry. If anything, I was the one responsible. I didn’t realize you were that drunk.”

And now his erection that had partially started to go away, is back again. From thinking about how that might’ve played out. The two of you about to have sex, but he stopped you even though you wanted it seemingly so bad. You… wanted him.

He brings his hand over the bottom half of his face and looks off again, lost in this thought. You really wanted him. He couldn’t believe it.

When he doesn’t answer you, you glance over at him, seeing him red and lost in thought. “Are you okay?” You ask cautiously.

“Okay…?” He still doesn’t look at you. “I…”

You brace for maybe some scolding. You’re still really not sure how he's taking this.

“I feel amazing.” Your eyes widen before he looks at you again. “We really almost went all the way… But it turns out I had the willpower, even drunk, to stop. Which is what I was worried I didn’t do. Not only that, but… You don’t feel like it was a mistake, right? What happened last night?”

“No, of course not! I mean.. I wish maybe we couldn’t have ended up like that sober like you said, but…” Your voice trails off, not sure what you were even gonna say after that.

There's a beat of silence.

“Well... We’re sober now, right?” He says suddenly.

The two of you just kind of stare at eachother. You feel your face get hotter when you realize what he’s implying.

“You… Want to do it right now?”

He scratches the back of his head and gives an embarrassed laugh. “Ah, sorry sorry! You’re right, maybe I’m jumping the gun still. I should probably take you on a date first.”

Your mouth turns up into a smile, and you let out a laugh. He relaxes again hearing this, smiling at you now.

“What’s so funny?” He asks teasingly.

Once you stop laughing, you stand up and walk closer to where he is. You place your water and toast back down. His heart beats a little faster when you sit down right next to his chest and bring your face in close. The two of you share an intimate gaze for a few moments, and Reigen glances at your lips for a split second. You slowly lean your face in closer to his, and you let him make the final move in to meet your lips, connecting the two of you again finally.

The kiss feels soft and gentle, not like any of the ones from yesterday. You keep it going for a while, and then pull back slowly. “You free today?” You ask, smiling.

“I can always be free, for you.” He responds easily, eyes lidded.

“Lets go on that date then~”

———————————————————————

Remembering last night:

It's midnight on a Friday.

You’re sitting across the table from Reigen, the two of you at a pub you can’t remember the name of. Laughter rings through the place, blending with other groups of people around you, the two of you having nonstop drunken banter.

You’d just come from Reigen's favorite soba place, where you had already had a couple drinks. Serizawa had offered to make sure Mob got home afterwards (but that man knew what he was doing). So now it was just the two of you.

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while, and you feel so happy right now you could just die. Your chin is propped up in your hand, the other holding a bottle, listening to the man in front of you babble on about his adorable nonsense. Watching Reigen with that big smile, waving his arms around, his face painted pink with a drunken glow. You could stay here forever and ever.

Or at least you thought.

Truthfully though, maybe you were a little careless with your drinking. The two of you kept the same pace with drinks, but Reigen's got just about as much tolerance as you of course, so you're both equally fucked up. But maybe it was something you ate then? Because you start to feel sick.

You don’t want to spoil the moment and tell him this, but you also don’t want to end up puking everywhere. So, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, where you do infact throw up into the toilet.

“Are you alright?” A women in the stall over asks you.

But then you’re laughing. You’re laughing and giggling and hiccing between each one. You probably sound insane, but you don’t care. Even throwing up, you just cant stop thinking about him, and how happy you are. You love your job. You love your life. It's all thanks to him.

“Um… ma’am?” The woman asks again, more concerned.

You assure her you’re alright. And when you’re feeling better again, you clean yourself up, take a piece of gum in your mouth, and walk back out like nothing happened! Perhaps you used to be a pretty consistent drinker when you were in college, so this isn’t new to you. You just wanted to get back to him as soon as possible.

Though, Reigen did have to wait for a little while, so by the time you’re back, his drink is finished, and his head is down on the table. You feel a little guilty, and you’re now more sober than you were before. So, you decided to pay for the bill while he’s got his head down.

When you walk back over, you kneel next to him and tap his shoulder.

“YEAH yeah im leaving soon! I jusgotta wait for my.. my….. She’s inthe bathroom.” He babbles, waving his hand around, but not bothering to look up. Someone must have come over to him while you were gone.

You giggle a little “Reigen, it’s me.” You inform him. His head immediately shoots up to look at you, and your eyes widen at his sudden energy.

“HEYY! You’re back! Woman of the houur!” He slurs.

You smile and take your bottle off the table. He watches your lips, somewhat mesmerized, as you put the bottle up to them and chug down the rest of it. Then you put your hand under his arm to help lift him to his feet. “Cmon, let’s get out of here! I think we stayed long enough.”

He just hums as he lets you help him up, happily leaned into you as you two stumble toward the door.

“Did I tell you how good you look inat dress?” He says into your ear as he continues to lean on you.

You blush, smiling, guiding him outside “Mhm..” you reply softly.

“I did???”

“Yeah. A few times.” You giggle.

“Oh. Well, shit.” He says, still smiling.

He pulls back from you to try to stand straight again, stumbling a little. You go to grab him to stop him from falling over, stumbling a little yourself. You both seemingly catch and steady eachother, then start laughing again. When your laugher dies down, his face is close to yours. You both end up just staring at eachother for a while, drunkenly lost in each others eyes. Like, literally it’s so obvious how you both feel for each other right now, but your minds are so foggy you still don’t notice it yet.

A car honks in the road and snaps you out of it. You clear your throat and move your head to look out into the street, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Okay.. shouuuld I call you a taxi?” You offer, still not looking at him.

He furrows his brows a bit. “What about you?”

“I think I can walk from here. Myyy apartment is likeee…” you put your finger on your lips. “Overrr there! Like right there.” You point vaguely in one direction, turning back to him with a smile.

“Mmmm yeah no.” He says. “If I’m taking a taxi, yourre not walking home alone.” He pulls out his phone to call both of you a taxi.

“Okay byeeee!! See you tomorrow!” You call out, and he looks up to realize you’re already running off in the direction you had pointed to.

“H-hey!” He shouts, not hesitating to start running after you.

Though you’re both running pretty slow, not like you can run at full speed with how intoxicated you are, you’re both going the same speed so you stay ahead of him for a while. It’s more like a playful chase after a minute as he calls out for you, smiling and scolding you for not letting him call you a taxi.

Finally, after a couple minutes he catches up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey! You shhouldnt make a.. drunguy run liike.. thaat.” He slurs, breathing a little heavy.

“We’re here!” You say smiling.

“Huh?”

“This issmy apartment.” You inform him, starting to fish for your key from your purse.

“Ohhh… It really was close, huh?” He mumbles, just gazing up at the building.

You find the key and hold it up victoriously like it was a huge accomplishment. Reigen stifles a laugh.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence after.

“Do you uhh… Need help up the stairs?” He offers, as if he would be the one to HELP you up the stairs right now.

You turn to look at him and give him a knowing smile that he can’t really read. He’s just thinking about how pretty you are with rosy cheeks in the moonlight. A cheesy thought he tells himself he wouldn’t be having sober. He really doesn’t want to go home suddenly.

But you say “Sure” anyways to his offer, because you didn’t want him to leave either. And maybe that’s why you refused the taxi and made him chase you here. Maybe you thought that if you had gone with him in a taxi, you’d have no excuse to have him stay over. Or maybe you just didn’t want him to pay for your taxi. Who knows. You wont admit it.

So then you two are stumbling up the stairs together. His arm is under yours now, acting like he’s helping, but really you think you’re keeping him steady as well. It’s only one flight of stairs though before you’re standing at your front door.

You turn to look up at him and he swallows hard, not making eye contact.

Should he ask? No, no way. You would absolutely turn him down. Plus, he’s your boss. If he asks you it’d be a little inappropriate right?

He decides in his brain that he’ll just head home, accepting it.

“Well! (Y/n)!” He says a little too loudly, smacking his hands onto your shoulders. “It’s been fun! Thank you forr drinking with me tonight. I cant quite think of anyone else I’d want to have um. Drank with.” He tries to say professionally with his whole business persona, suddenly trying to hide his intoxication as well as he can.

You smile. “Are youuu going home?”

“Well I can’t imagine I'd be going anywhere else.” He says jokingly, smiling back at you.

“Reigen, do you want to stay over?” You offer sweetly, which totally catches him off-guard.

His professional demeanor leaves him as suddenly as it came. His hands drop off your shoulders. “H-huh? Why?” He stutters without thinking.

“Mmm…” You look down at your shoes to hide your blushing from him. “I just thought maybe, your feet hurt from running. Anddd it’ll be hard to call a taxi at this time of night, so. I mean I don’t mind..” You start rambling your words.

God you’re adorable. He thinks with wide eyes as he watches you. You really wanted him to stay over, so much that you’re saying every reason you can think of! How could he turn you down?

“Okay.” He agrees with one word, and you look back up at him a little surprised. You stare into his eyes and he swears you do something to him that no one ever has before. He’s never felt this way. He wants you so bad he can’t even believe it himself. A sudden neediness washes over him.

So you let him in, and you help him take his coat off after you close the door. Your every touch makes him shiver now and he can’t think of anything to say, he just lets you do whatever.

You lead him over to the kitchen where you pour the both of you a glass of water. He's glancing around, examining the place you live everyday, until you hand him his glass. You both lean on the kitchen counter, chugging water in silence.

“How you feelin?” You ask, sounding exhausted yourself.

“Honestly? Like shiit.” He says plainly, not looking at you. He’s been staring off for a while now.

“Do you gotsto use the bathroom? It’s down the hall.” You offer, leaning your head onto the palm of your hand.

“Not cus of the alcohol.” He admits.

Confused, you tilt your head more. “Hm?”

There’s no response. After a few moments, you lay the back of your head on the counter and move over a little so that your face is under his chin, your body bent over in a weird way. “What you thinkin?”

He looks down at you with an intense, almost lustful look that you certainly weren’t ready for. Suddenly you get very flustered.

To tell the truth, your heart has been racing this whole time. You’ve been trying not to make it obvious how badly you want him. You’re not usually a horny drunk, but as soon as you were out of the pub building, feeling his body on you and his breath on your neck. God. You just had to have him. You didn’t think he’d actually end up in your apartment though, and you’re not quite sure what to do from here. You were trying not to make things awkward but…

Reigen looks back up and you have to calm down for a second from that intense eye contact. He broke it because he couldn’t keep holding it either. His thoughts keep wondering. The opportunities he never thought he'd be good enough to receive, but here he is. The two of you alone, hazy, standing in a dark kitchen, the night still young. But he had to be sure you wanted this too. That you were having the same thoughts when you invited your drunken boss inside.

You stand back up straight and watch him. He looks really deep in thought, still.

“Hey.” You place your hand on his shoulder, letting it fall down a bit to caress his arm. It sends another shiver though him. “Tell me what’s up.” You insist.

He now stands up straight and moves in close to you, certainly too close to be professional at all. Your bodies are maybe an inch from touching. Your eyes stare straight at his lips as he speaks, shocked at the sudden close proximity.

“(Y/n), I’m about to do something I think I might regret, and I need you to stop me if you don’t want me to do it, okay?”

Your heart is beating a million times faster now. You feel like you’re frozen in place, you can’t breathe, because you somehow already know what’s about to happen.

When you don’t answer, he places a hand on your chin and pushes your face up to look at him. “Okay?” He repeats.

You nod attentively, and you both mirror the same lustful, longing look now.

Not another second goes by before your lips are connected. You’re not even sure who leaned in first, and you don’t really care either. Your lips push against eachother with way too much eagerness. You grab his tie to yank him closer, and both his hands reach up to grasp your face. I mean really, it’s like you’d been holding this back for years.

One of his hands reaches down to grab onto your hip, using the hold to push you backwards against the counter. His body presses against yours, and you can feel his erection already. Your tongues tangle and untangle in this extremely passionate makeout that you’d both been wanting for so long.

You reach a hand up the back of his neck and grab a handful of his hair, which pulls a slight moan out of him against your lips. Hearing his noises causes you to follow suit and do the same, the two of you starting to voice erotic groans and moans against eachother every few seconds. They echo through the empty, silent apartment.

The sounds tip you over the edge. You cant wait anymore. You need him. Now.

You finally pull back from him, breathless, and you pause for a second to stare at your leftover lipstick smudged a bit on his lips. And god, the way he just looks so whipped right now. He’s breathing heavy against your face, eyes lidded, totally entranced by you. It turns you on like crazy.

He goes to lean in, desperate to connect the two of you again. You grant him this and lean in to meet him once again, but you also slip out of his firm grasp that was pinning you against the counter, now pushing his chest to lead him backwards down the hallway.

He lets you push him easily, stumbling back as the two of you continue to kiss intensely. You start undoing his shirt before you even walk through the door, and his hands desperately explore your body.

When you get in, you practically shove him onto the bed. He adjusts himself a little before you climb on and straddle his hips, and his eyes never leave you. He watches you, mesmerized, as you move your hair out of your face before leaning down to continue kissing him again. But this time, the kiss is slower, more erotic as you sensually mix your tongues together. Your hands caress his exposed chest, feeling his shaky breathing. You kiss and pull back and kiss again, letting out a breathy exhale everytime. It's driving him crazy. He palms at your thighs and your ass like he's eager to feel every part of you.

You can feel his erection through his pants again as you lower your full weight down onto him, the warmth and twitching against you making you more wet than you already were. You start to drag your hips back and forth, rubbing against him. He lets out an embarrassingly needy moan this time, louder than before. He can feel you smile against his lips before you start to pull back again.

“D-don’t even.” He warns before you can even say anything. The first thing he’s said since this started.

There's a sort of smug look on your face. “Soo sensitive...” You lean down to his ear, bringing your voice low. “I think it's so sexy when you moan like that for me.” You tease, and lean down to start kissing his neck.

His breath hitches and he lets out another moan. Holy shit.

He’s starting to realize how much you’ve been making him feel good this whole time. And you’re being so dominant, which he wasn’t totally expecting, but is enjoying every second. He cant tell if it’s the alcohol, or if this is how you always are. But he cant believe this is actually happening, that he gets to have you like this, and with his fogginess right now, it feels like…

“Fuck… Am I dreaming right now?” He says his thoughts out loud as he drags his hand through his hair. His chest rises and lowers as he breaths heavily. You laugh a little at this, the sound vibrating against his skin.

“Do you wanna be?” You ask, pulling back again, but only enough for your noses to barely be touching, your hair hanging over his face.

“What? No, of course not.” He answers, like it was the easiest question he’d ever gotten. Though, he’s pretty sure he’s had plenty of dreams about you just like this.

“We might not remember in the morning.. We could do whatever we want..” You entice him, tracing a finger around his chest, implying that you didn’t have to worry about anything else right now. Like the fact that you’re working together, and this may make things awkward depending how the morning goes. Honestly you don’t know how drunk you are at this point, the lust mixed with whatever was left from the pub was making it feel like you were on cloud 9. You could remember nothing tomorrow, or everything.

“Mm… yeah…” He frowns a bit. You start to place gentle kisses on his face to try and relax him again.

“It’s okayyy, don’t worry about tomorrow.” You softly reassure him between kisses, though you’re not really sure what for. You can just sense a different vibe from him now. You think maybe he got anxious thinking about what comes after this.

He suddenly decides to sit up, pushing you up to be sitting on his lap, and immediately kissing you again. His hands stay grasping your hips and he begins to place kisses on you now, moving from your ear down to your neck. You gasp a bit at first and giggle lightly as he continues down, holding his shoulders.

“I’ve- Always wanted- To do this with you- Yknow?” He speaks between kisses. The genuine confession makes you blush, starting to lose a bit of your cockiness from before.

He then chooses a spot on your neck and starts to suck on the area, biting it and dragging his tongue across the one spot. You gasp and moan at the sudden pleasure it gives you.

“M-me too.” You push out, breathless.

He starts to massage into your thighs with his thumbs, furthering your pleasure. You decide to start rubbing against him again, needing the friction as you ached for him already.

He lets out a deep groan against your skin. “Fuck.” He starts kissing you again, moving down to your breasts. Your dress was still on, but the neck hanged quite low, showing a lot of cleavage. He had to try all day not to drag his eyes down to this area, to stay respectful. Now he’s getting to kiss them and caress them. It was almost funny, he can’t believe it’s real.

He starts leaving hickeys on the bare exposed areas of your chest. You moan and whine as you continue to dry hump against him. His hands wonder your body, eventually finding their way back to you ass and dragging up the hem of your dress so that your panties are showing. You think he’s going to start taking your dress off, but he doesn’t. After he’s left a few marks on you, he pulls your lips back to his again.

As you continue dragging on him at a steady pace, he starts trying to rub against you harder, like he feels as desperate for you right now as you do for him. He’s either pushing your hips down or bucking his hips up, and his groans sound needy. The longer you go, the more he sounds like he's about to reach his limit. Did he want to get off just from dry humping?

You can't lie, you wanted all of him already, it was driving you insane. This wasn't enough for you to finish, but it was hard to bring yourself to stop, as you listen to his noises. It was addicting, hearing him like this, it made your mind fuzzy with lust. Seeing him be so sensitive just from this though, made you so curious how he would sound going all the way, with your walls fully wrapped around his length. How overstimulated would he get?

You finally stop moving for a moment and push back from the kiss only so you’re a few centimeters away again. He lets out a groan as you stop everything altogether. “Reigen… I need you inside me.” You confess, voice low.

He swallows, keeping dazed eye contact with you as he breathes heavily. You try to search his eyes for any sign to stop or continue, but you don’t know what he’s thinking.

He hasn’t really tried to take anything off you yet. It’s like the foreplay has kind of plateaued, but yet he was grabbing at you and moaning for you, looking at you like he couldn’t wait anymore. Was he waiting for you to initiate it?

Then he nods, which confuses you a bit. Why was he so unsure? Was it his first time or something? There’s no way.

Nonetheless, he gave you consent. “Stop me if you don't wan it, okay?” You say, mimicking what he said to you before this all began. He nods again, still giving you a lustful, obedient look.

God he’s cute.

You connect your lips again, letting you get back into the rhythm before continuing. You reach your hand down and start to palm at the buldge in his dresspants. It twitches against your hand as you start rubbing and massaging it. You can feel a bit of precum leaking through as well. He whines into your mouth as you make him feel good. You can’t believe how submissive he is. You figured maybe he would be, you can’t lie and say you’ve never considered it. But really, it’s so intoxicating.

After palming him for a bit as a warm up, your hand finally moves up to look for the top button. You find it and undo it, moving to the zipper next and then-

He pulls back from you. “Wait!” He breathes out, surprising you. You immediately stop what you’re doing and look at him.

“I… Um…” He stutters, blushing and still catching his breath.

“Wha is it?” You ask gently, tilting your head, moving your hands away from his zipper now, placing them on his shoulders.

You’re concerned why he looks so nervous, and consider that maybe your virgin theory earlier was right?

“I just… Sorry I-“ His head spins as he trys to voice his thoughts.

“You don have to be sorry. Iss okay if you don’t wanta do it.” You assure him, slurring your words.

“Noo, I do! I do!” He retaliates quickly, shaking his head. “I-It’s just uh…”

You wait for him to explain, watching him glance around a bit.

“Reigen… Are you a virgin?” You finally ask, letting your invasive thoughts win, completely throwing him off.

“WHAT?! O-Of course not!! I’m 28!” He defends, hurt that you think he’d be so game-less. Though, it has been a really long time since he’s slept with someone.

“There's nothin wrong with it! I understand if you-“

“I'm not a virgin! End of story.” He repeats firmly, and you put your hands up in defense, smiling a little.

He scoffs “Jeez… I’m tryin ta be vulnerable here and you’re cracking jokes.”

You laugh. “Alright, alright! Jus tell me.”

It’s silent for a bit then, and you just wait for his response now.

“(Y/n)… I really like you.” He starts, and your eyes widen a little. “Like, I REALLY like you a lot. This isn’t just the alcohol talking. It’s allll Reigen. I’ve wanted you like this since the first day I met you.”

You were not expecting a confession right now, you’re so caught off-guard you can’t think of anything to do than just stare at him in surprise. He doesn’t move at all saying this to you either, the two of you just sit in stillness.

He rambles on. “But I also wantt you in other ways... An I mean I might as well tell you if we’ll wake up with foggy memory tomorrow, but I been thinking about how I should ask you out for a while now. And well…” He looks around a bit. “This isn’t how I pictured it.”

Your heart flutters, your cheeks heating up.

“And it’s not like I’m not enjoying this I mean, fuck. This is everything I ever dreamed of, but…” He looks back into your eyes again. “I guess what I’m saying is… When we have sex, I want to be able to remember it. I wanna have you for the first time with the both of us completely sober. If we start our relationship off like this then it just feels..."

“I understand.” You finish for him, giving him a soft smile. His confession really moves you, shifting the mood completely to one thats more soft.

“Seriously, like, this is really really hard for me to turn this down! I mean I want go all night with you like this right now honestly I've never felt this fucking good iin my life. It just.. doesn feel right. Like tomorrow I think I mihght feel...-” He continues to ramble to explain himself, though you’ve already made up your mind as well. He’s totally right.

“No, I get it. You’re right. I want to be sober when we do it for the first time too.” You assure him. He smiles back at you, letting out a small breath of relief.

You lean into his ear again. “And I wanna be able to remember clearly all the cute noises you make when I make you feel good.” You add on, teasing him, moving to place a kiss on his cheek.

He blushes as a shiver runs down his spine. His dick twitches against your thigh, to your amusement. “Alrightt… Don make me change my mind now.” He says jokingly, bringing your face close like he's scolding you. You laugh. But he also means it. You’re really such a sweet temptation, it's a miracle he turned you down, especially this drunk. He almost just said fuck it and let his pleasure take over. But you are really special to him, something came over him. He doesn’t want this to feel like some shameful hookup tomorrow. If you hadn’t even mentioned tomorrow, he might’ve just mindlessly gone through with anything you wanted to do. He was ready to follow your lead. But he knew that you’d probably regret it tomorrow as well, and he should feel responsible, being the man and your literal boss.

You pull him into an embrace, and he does so back, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I louve you.” You mumble, the words spilling without even thinking about it. His eyes open wide at the very real confession from you, seeming even more intense than his. It’s a phrase neither of you should be ready to say yet, but just sort of slipped out in your drunken, now exhausted haze. Since the lust all wore off suddenly, you immediately flipped the switch and are now feeling all the drowsiness you'd been pushing off.

After a while of staying like this, you think you're just gonna fall asleep on his shoulder like this. You're just about to fall out of consciousness when you hear Reigen's stomach make a noise, alerting you for a moment.

“I…” He stirs a bit against you. “Shit. I feel liike I’m gonna hurl.”

Your eyes open, immediately pushing backwards from his chest to get a look at him. He DOES look like he’s about to hurl. It must’ve finally caught up to him.

“O-Okay leht me get you a trash can!” You panic a little, not wanting him to puke on your… anything, preferably. As you sleepily stumble around the room trying to find it, Reigen stands, only making his nausea worse.

He gags, and you turn to him with a look of horror.

“BATHROOM!!” You shout, getting behind him to push him there. He just barely makes it to the toilet, but manages to get it all out inside the bowl. You take a big sigh of relief.

You rub his back for a minute or two, and you’re reminded of when you used to do this for your girl friends. It’s kinda funny.

But then he assures you that he’ll be fine and that you should get to bed, once he sees you dozing off while squatting next to him.

You nod and do so, planting a kiss on his head before you leave him be. When he gets back to the room, feeling better now, he sees you already under the covers fast asleep. He climbs in next to you, turning to gaze at you for a little while, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“I love you too yknow…” he says, though he knows you’re no longer conscious to hear it.

Whatever. He’ll tell you soon.

#reigen arataka #reigen x reader #reigen arataka x reader #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #mob psycho x reader #fanfiction #mp100 #mp100 reigen

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thomashewittmybeloved · 1 year

Text

Jealous of a jock

pairing: Ted Logan x reader

summary : You've been friends with Ted and Bill for years now, being an inseparable trio. But Ethan, a jock from your class, desperately needs your help to study for an upcoming History exam. Ted doesn't really like this new friendship and tries his best to make you understand how he feels about it.

Warnings : obv jealousy and a kinda possessive Ted but other than that, it's pretty light! just like every fanfic writer ever, English isn't my first language so keep that in mind while reading!

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I took a deep breath as I walked into the library, trying to calm my nerves. Today was another tutoring session with Ethan, one of the jock's from school. I had been helping him with his history homework for the past few weeks, and despite our very different social circles, we had become quite good friends. We started talking when our History teacher put us together for an oral presentation about the Roman Empire, about how it was founded. When we started working on it, Ethan immediately noticed how much of an History nerd I am, which at first, I was kind of scared of, since he's a stereotypical jock that could make fun of me for knowing so much about "old dudes in dresses".

But, to my suprise, he was more impressed than anything and quite friendly. We clicked the moment I noticed how much he tried to help, even if he didn't understand anything. Our presentation was a success; 18/20, that's when he asked to be his tutor. My friendship with Ethan became quite good, I grew more and more attached to him, which seemed to be causing some problems with Ted, problems that I didn't get why even started.

He just grew more distant and cold towards me, while Bill stayed the same so it really is personal. So his new attitude explains why, right now, it's so awkward between us. I told him I couldn't eat with him and Bill because I promised to help Ethan during lunch, which ended in Ted insisting to, at least, make the walk to the library with me. Of course I said yes, I missed hanging out with him too, but maybe I would have said no if I knew how silent he would be....

As Ted and I continued walking down the stairs, I noticed him staring at me with a look of concern so, I took this opportunity to break the uncomfortable silence. "What's wrong, Ted?" I asked, trying to figure out what was going on. "You've been quiet all the way. Which, coming from you, is really concerning."

"Y/N, I don't like you hanging out with Ethan all the time." Ted blurred out, looking down.

"What? Why not?" I asked, surprised by his sudden change in behavior. Where is this coming from?

"He's a jock, dude."

"Oh." I said, understanding. "Ted, you really don't have to worry about this, he's actually really nice ! Nicer than I would've thought too." I smiled at Ted, to no avail; he still refused to look back at me.

"You're supposed to be hanging out with us, not him...We're your friends," He mumbled, his tone turning accusatory.

"I know you guys are my friends, Ethan just needs my help. He's failing History class and I'm the only one who can help him." I explained, hoping that he would understand. "Also, I'm allowed to have other friends. You're not the only guys I can help with History, you know."

"You're spending all your time with him! We don't get to hang out anymore !" Ted protested. "We also need your help dude for, like, History stuff..." He rubbed the back of his neck, walking farther away from me.

"I'm sorry, Ted, but I have to help him. I promise I'll make time for us too !" I assured him, hoping to ease his worries but by the look on his face, none of what I was saying was comforting him.

"Fine..." Ted sighed, his frustration evident. "Just make sure you don't forget about us. We miss hanging out with you dudette."

"I won't forget about you, Ted. You're both my best friends !" I said, giving him a reassuring smile while gently rubbing his arm up and down. "You're also too loud to forget."

He laughs, making my cheek redden slightly. Finally, here's the Ted I know ! He stops suddenly once we arrive in front of the library.

I look up at him with a shy smile. "I should go." I say, quieter than intended.

He simply waves at me before turning around, walking away, way too quickly. As I watch him go, I feel something tug at my heart, some sort of longing. I sigh, going in, ready to help Ethan.

As the days went by, I noticed that Ted was becoming more and more distant. He would barely talk to me and when he did, it was always about how much he missed hanging out with me. I tried to reassure him that I still cared about him and Bill, but it didn't seem to make a difference, no matter what I said. A few days ago, he commented about how I lied when I said I would make time for them. I didn't respond, not knowing what to say to that. He's usually so carefree, I wasn't expecting such an attitude from him, it took me by surprise. We haven't talked since...As I was walking to my next class, Ethan caught up to me in the hallway, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Hey, Y/N, you free tonight? I need some help with my homework !" he asked, flashing me a smile.

"Sure, Ethan. I'll meet you in the library after school." I replied, feeling a twinge of guilt for not spending more time with Ted and Bill, by accepting his offer without thinking twice. Maybe I was getting a little too attached to Ethan.

"Wait, do you have your Spanish class today?" He asked, smirking. "Because my deutsch teacher isn't here."

"Oh no, she's absent too!" We laugh at that realisation. "Well, I guess we can study right now then."

He comes next to me, taking my bag from my shoulders. "Hey !" I gasp, surprised. "You have to stop doing that, I already told you I can carry my bag myself."

"And I told you I can also carry your bag Y/N !" He winks at me, making me roll my eyes. "You're helping me for free so this is my way of paying you." He replies, walking shoulder to shoulder with me.

"What a gentleman..."

I took a deep breath to calm myself as I walked into the library with Ethan, still laughing from what he said. Today was another day I spent doing a tutoring session with Ethan, instead of hanging out with Bill and Ted.

I felt a heavy gaze on me as soon as we entered so, I looked around, until I saw Ted sitting at a table with Bill, both of them staring at me. Bill smiled when I noticed them while Ted just hung his head low. I turn around to Ethan, asking him to take a table for us. After he left, I took another deep breath, preparing myself for whatever mood Ted was in. "Hey guys," I said, walking over to their table. "What's up?"

"Nothing much dude !" Bill said, grinning. "Just waiting for you to show up, we were gonna go grab some pizza's and slushies !"

Ted didn't say anything, just focusing on his fidgety fingers. I frowned, feeling a pang of guilt for how he felt. "I'm sorry, guys. I can't today. I have a tutoring session with Ethan, his test is next week. He barely remembers when the Cold War was so we have a lot of work to do !"

Ted's head snapped up at the mention of Ethan. "Again ? You're always hanging out with him. Don't you have any time for us dude?"

I felt my face flush, taken aback by his tone. There it was again... "I'm sorry, Ted. I'm just trying to help him out. It's not like we're doing anything wrong." I clutched my arm, trying to stay calm. "We talked about this already; I'm helping him, he needs my help."

"Maybe he's using you for your, like, brain dude." He looked back down. "You don't know..."

I bristled, feeling defensive. "He's a nice guy, Ted. And I can be friends with whoever I want." I crossed my arms. "Why are you so angry about this ? You're usually so chill about everything, why is this specific thing getting to you so much ?"

"Yeah dude, what's with the attitude?" Joined Bill, just as confused as me. "Be nicer to the babe."

Ted's jaw clenched as he stood up abruptly. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don't expect me to sit around waiting for you all the time." He paused, looking at both of us with wide eyes. "I'm hungry anyways."

He stormed out of the library, leaving Bill and me staring at him in shock.

"What the hell was that about?" Bill muttered, looking up at me.

I shook my head, feeling just as confused as him.

"I don't know. He's just been acting weird lately." I sigh, rubbing my hand down my face. "Since I started to help Ethan he's like that... I don't understand why tho."

"Maybe he's jealous," Bill suggested, raising an eyebrow.

I scoffed. "Jealous? Of what?"

"Of Ethan," Bill responded, shrugging. "You guys have been spending a lot of time together. Maybe Ted feels left out, I don't know." Bill smiled knowingly at me. "I mean, you did walk in here laughing while he was carrying your bag, dude."

"I, what ?" I think about it for a moment, still shaking my head. "Why would he mind about that ? Ted never carried my bag before..."

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I knew that Bill was right. Ted had always been a little possessive of me, I just had never thought it was anything serious. We just always had each other so, I simply thought he was afraid I would leave for the more popular kids, maybe it's deeper than that... I look at Bill for an instant, noticing his open notebook.

"Hey, you want to study with me and Ethan ?" I asked, smiling. "I could help you with the Charlemagne chapter."

Bill face immediately lightened up. "It would be most excellent dudette !"

The next week, I had another tutoring lesson scheduled with Ethan, as always. He had his test in two days so this was THE moment to study. It's been days since I saw Ted, I had glimpse of him sometimes in the hallways, he would walk past me after quickly glancing my way. I tried to not overthink it but it was hard, I was missing him an awful lot... Not seeing it everyday of every minute just reminded me how much I like him, how bad my crush on him is.

As I walked into the library to join Ethan who sat at our usual table, I saw Ted sitting alone, looking dejected as always. With my heart starting to pound, I walked up to him, hating how our last conversation ended. The moment I approached his table, he looked up before quickly adverting his eyes, sitting up straight.

"Hey, Ted, what are you doing here?" I asked, kind of surprised to see him here of all places. He usually never hangs out in the library expect if we have to study, he seems to be here quite a lot lately.

"I thought I'd surprise you and come help you tutor Ethan..." Ted said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Bill told him you helped him after, you know."

"Really? That's great, Ted!" I said, genuinely happy to see him and especially hear him say that. "Oh yeah, it's great !" I grasped his hand without thinking, dragging him to me and Ethan's table. When he noticed us approach, Ethan smiled nicely. "What's up?" he asked while Ted sat on the chair next to me. "You're Theo, right?" Ethan asked, putting his fist in front of him.

"Ted." He responded simply, fist bumping Ethan's hand with hesitation.

"Right, Ted, my bad man."

"He's really bad with names." I murmured, trying to ease the atmosphere. " Especially Napoléon Bonaparte, he cannot remember his name even if his life depended on it..."

"Hey, that French guy as a hard name ok !" Replied Ethan, his hand up in surrender.

"Napoleon ?" Repeated Ted, before turning to me. "Oh the little angry French dude ?"

Ethan brust out laughing at that, earning us a shush from the librarian. We giggled quietly, Ted shoulders relaxing lightly and is usual smile finally appaering again.

"Guys, guys, let's focus ok ? The test is in two days !" I say in the most neutral voice possible, not succeeding to stop my growing smile from appearing at Ted's one. "Ok, so what famous battle did Napoléon Bonaparte loose ?"

Three hours later, we finally get out of there, sighing loudly. Ethan's leave's us quickly, having a football practice, leaving me and Ted alone in front of the library. I quickly glance at him but feel heat rise to my cheeks when I see that he was already looking at me, a big smile on his lips.

"You were right dudette ! Ethan is a nice dude !" He pat's my shoulder. "He as a most excellent humour."

I laugh, nudging Ted shoulder with mine. "Told you." I respond, adjusting my bag on my shoulder, groaning.

"I can carry it if you want !" Before I can even reply, he takes it from me and slings it over his available shoulder. "There ! Now we're ready to go !"

"Why do you all think I can't carry my own bag ?!" I complain, while catching up with Ted who already started walking. I stop my thoughts for a moment, thinking back on what Billy said to me a few days ago. I look back at Ted who's still smiling, moving his head to the beat of an invisible song. That's when it hits me, finally. I stop in my track, also stopping Ted by putting my hand on his arm. "What's up dude ?" He asks, turning around to face me. "Y/N ?"

"You were jealous of me and Ethan." I whisper, realising it as I say it. "But, not because you were afraid of losing me as...a friend."

Ted eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over his face. "What do you mean?"

"You were jealous, yes ?" I ask, looking up at him. "Be honest."

He's hesitant for a moment, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I mean, yeah...like, kinda. I was afraid he was, you know, mean and stuff." He shrugges, his gaze looking at everything but me. "Turns out he's nice ! And his exam is in two days, so you'll be free again !"

"Ted..."

"Yes ?" He responds, looking at me again, his smile fading when he see's my expression. "Y/N ?"

"Are you..." I gulp, feeling my hand starting to shake. "Ted, I have to admit something to you. I don't know if I'm reading what's happening in the wrong way but I have to try, just in case I'm right." His brows furrow again, now he looks even more lost than before. "Give me my bag, just in case I'm wrong so that I can run away quickly." I chuckle nervously.

"What ?" He laughs quickly "Why would you ran away dude ?"

"I like you." I blur out, looking him dead in the eyes. "Not in a you're my best friend way but in a I want to be way more than your best friend way." I quickly swallow, feeling my courage fade. "I mean, not super mega best friend way either. Romantic way, like couples." I search his eyes. "Ted ?" I ask, my heart hammering in my chest. "Please, say something..."

"Woah dude..." He whispers, taking his head in his hands. "DUDE !"

I jump at his sudden yelling but can't help a laugh when I see him jumping around, punching the air yelling dude and woah multiples time. He suddenly stops, looking at me with the widest smile I've ever seen him have.

"DUDE !" He yells again, running towards me, lifting me in his arms while I yelp.

"Ted ! Oh my god, what are you doing ?!" I laugh while he spins me around. "I'm going to fall, I'll fall !" I breath out, felling my body slip away from his arms. "Ted, what's happening with you ?" I laugh, out of breath while he puts me down, his arms still holding me close to him.

"What's happening ? Dude, you told me you're in love with me !" He responds quickly, his voice trembling. "The most bodacious babe just told me she likes me ! Like, in a romantic way !"

I push him a bit to look at him, surprised. "Wait, does that mean..."

He cuts me off. "Of course it does ! Why would I spin you around ?"

"Do you even know yourself ? You could do it at any given opportunity!" I laugh, in disbelief. "So, I was right, you were jealous of Ethan."

Ted lower his head, his hair covering his face to hide his shamefulness. "Yeah... I mean, the guy's has everything. He's popular, handsome, nice and a jock. Bonus point for being funny !"

I smile tenderly, taking his face in my hands to put his gaze back into mine.

"True. He's veeeery handsome." Ted huff, trying to look away but I turn his face again to make him look back at me. "But I prefer guys with brown hair and eyes, who wear silly jackets with a big smiling face behind, rather than a sport's one. I also prefer guys with a blond friend called Bill. You want me to continue or you got it ?"

I feel the heat radiating from his face on my fingers, if seeing how red he was wasn't enough. We only look at each other for a moment, letting everything sink in.

"I really want to kiss you." He breaths out. "Can I kiss you ?"

"After you apologies."

"I'm sorry for being an evil dude. I shouldn't have ignored such a babe just because of a nice jock guy."

I giggle when he gives my cheek a quick peck. "And I'm sorry for not taking the time to hang out with you and Bill, I should have. I swear that from this day on, I will no matter what !" I finish my speech by returning his quick peck, making him giggle. "Now you can kiss me handsome."

He blushes at the pet name before crashing his lips on mine without a warning, making me yelp in surprise. Quickly, I compose myself and slide my hands to his hair to deepen the kiss while they move in rhythm with one another. It's clumsy, so we smile and giggle through it, he even apologies some times which I always respond with a simple it's ok before pulling him back for more. He doesn't have to be jealous, because no matter how messy and inexperienced our kisses are, I only want his.

"This was the most excellent kiss ever !"

#Ted Logan #ted logan x reader #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bill and teds excellent adventure #bill and teds bogus journey #bill and teds excellent adventure imagine #x reader #ted logan x you #ted logan jealous #ted logan imagine

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 11 months

Note

YESSS IM SO EXCITED YOU WRITE FOR RYAN FHDNDBFBFJ. Would you write like reader is part of the CKY crew and they’ve both had crushes on each other and like a gary flirting and then she’s thinking it’s unrequited so she gets like a Bf and I wanna know how ryan would feel about this like i wanna see his jealousy and shit talking with bam fjjfgnnkdjffnhy (sorry i had to much caffeine with my meds this morning lol) WHHDHDJAN THANK YOUUUU!!!!

Drunk Love

Y/N and Ryan are best friends, blissfully unaware of eachother’s feelings.

Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

2k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, nudity, alcohol, description of injury, fighting, jealousy, crude language

An: Thank you for the request!! I had a fun time writing more in depth for Ryan! If anyone is wondering why Bam always sleeps naked in my fics it’s because of a story he told on Radio Bam! You can find it on YouTube under “Bam Gets Caught”, but it’s not the onky time to my memory that he’s talked about sleeping naked XD! Besides that, I actually had a couple requests i combined to create this fic so I included the ones I didn’t reply to directly but still used below! :)

“Watchin’ the little back n’ forth thing you’ve got with her’s painful. I mean-“ Bam leaned over on his side, propping his head up with a hand while laying on the adjacent bed, “Just quit the pussy shit, dude.” Ryan ran a hand through his blonde, sweat soaked hand as the sounds of the running shower made white noise in the background. “It’s not easy, man! I mean, I’ve known her since we've been in diapers.” Sighing, Ryan finally looked at Bam, “I'm sorry- I just can’t take you seriously when you’re naked.” It was a casualty of their closeness that he was very comfortable being nude in front of his best friend, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, moving to get up, “You know what? If you’re not gonna tell her, I will.”

“No way! She’s in the shower!” Like a startled animal, Bam broke into a sprint on a dime, nearly reaching the bathroom door handle before Ryan hurled himself off of the bed, tackling him to the scratchy hotel room carpet. His vision was a blur of un-vacuumed orange carpet and pale man skin as the two wrestled, thumping and rolling around and cursing through clenched teeth. But in an act of perfect timing, that’s exactly when you opened the bathroom door. Wrapped in a white towel, hot steam billowed around you as you stared down at the scene at your feet- Ryan pinning a completely exhausted Bam down on his back by his skinny little arms as he straddled him, the two of them making direct eye contact with you. Your mind went blank. “I, uh…did I interrupt something…?”

“It’s wrestling!” They seemed to speak in unison. Bam added hurriedly, “It’s a guy thing.” Panicking and trying to find a way out of this situation, Ryan played along, “Yeah, yeah- total guy thing.” You raised an eyebrow, “So, you wrestle naked?” Easily slipping out from under him and not caring if you saw him, Bam walked into the bathroom, squeezing past you as you still stood shocked in the doorway, “Yeah, Greco-Roman style. Totally!”

You and Ryan sat on top of the covers on his bed as you dried off, only half watching tv. There was some sort of tension between you and him that you really couldn't place. Maybe it was you thinking about technically sharing a bed with him. Maybe it was him thinking about you in that towel. Sniffing the air, Ryan broke the silent tension, “What's that smell?” You sighed in relief that you finally had something to talk about, accidentally replying a little too eagerly, “Oh! I bought some new shampoo.” He sat up a little bit straighter next to you, glancing down at you curiously, “Any, uh- any reason?” You shrugged, “Nah, just felt like it.” Ryan smiled at you. “It’s nice.”

Ryan could hardly remember what stunt he got hurt doing, but the blood dripping into his right eye from the gash on his forehead blurred his vision as he tried to get his bearings. His head spun as he pulled himself up from the pavement, little bits of gravel and dirt caked into his skin and hair. There goes that shower. At least it makes for good footage, he thought, as the rest of the crew cheered while looking back at the footage through the display of Rick’s camcorder.

But just as the cameras turned off, in came Y/N. Oh, Y/N. You kneeled down in front of the dazed man, and you could practically see the little birds and stars flying around Ryan’s head as you reached into your pocket, pulling out some first aid supplies. After a few years of this, you learned to keep this kind of stuff on you due to the nature of what you did- either that, or you'd have to drive bam to the ER again with another horribly infected wound while he wailed in the backseat like a baby. Tearing open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, you gingerly moved the wet curls that stuck to your best friend’s forehead before wiping the cut tenderly, little streaks of red showing through the thin wipe.

There was something in the way that you cleaned his wounds and tended to him better than any of the guys- or hell, better than he ever cared for himself. The alcohol stung and he winced, hissing air through his teeth. You chuckled, “Oh, don’t be a baby…” Your body was so close to him that Ryan could feel the heat radiating off of you as you blew gently on the alcohol soaked cut, the liquid rapidly drying on his face. Oh. Oh, yeah. Yep. He was getting a hard on.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you finished up, shoving the used wipes into your pocket, “There, all better!” Ryan chuckled and, for just a second, you lingered there, maybe a little too close to him for a little too long. But it felt so normal- so right. After a few heartbeats, you pulled away a little reluctantly. He smiled as you gave him a hand, helping him up while he was still a little dizzy, “Hey, thanks for that…”

“It’s nothing! Don’t worry about it.”

Bam groaned childishly, “If you like her so much, just fuckin’ say it!” Ryan relented that it still hadn’t gotten through his thick skull while he nursed that head injury from earlier with a bag of frozen peas. “She’s already got a boyfriend. It’s not gonna happen!” He was an asshole of a boyfriend too, Ryan thought, real scum. He was always so close to you whenever you all hung out as a group, just hanging off of you like he couldn’t stand by himself. Maybe Dunn felt a little envious of all of your body heat that was being absorbed by that dirtbag, but he would never say that to you. “I mean, he’s a fucking dick, but…” All he received from the other man was a shrug in return. “So? I’ve fucked chicks with boyfriends.” Bam sneered, making his way to the door, “Why don’t you just get’er name tattooed on your forehead if you’re so into her?” It’s not like Bam could get the point if he sat on it and it stuck in his ass. Rolling his eyes, Ryan didn’t even notice until his buddy was about hallway down the hall till he heard the echo of his voice, “Hey, Y/N! Listen, I got-“

Before he could even think, he was out in that hallway after him, jumping on Bam before he could finish his sentence. He landed right at your feet, nearly on the toes of your shoes. You peered over the scene as the two, fully clothed this time thank god, tussled in front of you, grunting and muttering cuss words beneath their breath. Eventually, he got Bam’s head pinned firmly to the ground and he looked up at you with those wide, baby blue eyes, cracking a tired smile as he caught his breath. “Hey…” You had to resist blushing, reminding yourself that your heart really shouldn’t be beating as fast for your best friend. “Where’re you two going?” Bam squirmed, muttering something that got spoken over. “The, uh- the bar! We’re going to the bar! You wanna join?”

That act of quick thinking actually worked better than he had planned. Ryan’s half thought out excuse led him to score what was basically- practically a date with you. The only problem was that his wingman was also the biggest cockblock in history. “So,” You leaned towards Ryan, scoping the place out idly, “you wanna get a table?” He glanced over to Bam for an answer, maybe even some smart ass response, but nope. Nothing. In the few minutes you three were there, he had already left and picked up a chick at the bar. Dunn was on his own and maybe not thinking clearly, but he replied anyway, “Uh…yeah, sure!”

“God…” Ryan’s head buzzed as he gazed at you from across the table, maybe just a little too close as he chuckled, “you’ll never guess what Bam told me earlier…” Giggly, you didn’t even think to move, breathing in the same booze scented air as him, “What…?” Your mouth moved lazily and the same was true for Ryan as he murmured, “He said I should get’cher name tattooed- On m’forehead.” He gestured with a finger to the top of his head. “Oh, that idiot…” You smiled, leaning forward just enough that your foreheads touched. While intoxicated, it didn’t seem like that bad of an idea- but not his face. His face was too cute, but maybe the arm. That would look nice, yeah. In fact, it was kinda romantic. Sighing, you sat there for a while, your eyelashes brushing against each others before speaking up, “M’tired…” Ryan looked at you through heavy lids as you slurred, your eyes falling, “Can I go back’t your room tonight?”

God, it was like fireworks were going off inside of Ryan’s head, soldiers giving a twenty one gun salute, angels singing, eccetera. Maybe, just maybe- maaaaybe this might be a sign you liked him back, but god it just felt too good to be true. Even with a stomach full of booze, all he could barely stutter out was, “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

So that’s how you ended up in Ryan’s bed. Sure, you were fully clothed but nonetheless it meant something. The bed felt so nice, so warm and cozy with the two of you in it; hotel beds are made to be shared, you thought, feeling the heat from his body press against your back, not noticing how quickly his heart was beating against you. Ryan thanked god. Slowly but very surely, the two of you were both drifting off to sleep when he piped up, his lips barely moving against your neck as he spoke. What he meant to say was, ‘I think I like you.’ but it came out more like,“I think I love you….I mean, I have for a while.” Time stopped as Ryan felt his face get hot, holding a breath. He felt the giggle reverberate through your body as you dreamily smiled up at him, making eye contact the best you could while reclining to rest your head on his shoulder, speaking just barely above a whisper, “I love you too.” Just like that, you fell asleep, leaving Ryan awake to process what the hell just happened to him.

You were still soundly asleep when the man you were snuggled up against blinked his eyes open, rolling over to face the warmth behind him. “W-what…dude!” Ryan whisper-yelled, “Get out!” Bam simply threw his arm over him, murmuring while half asleep, “Go back’t sleep…”

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