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celestie0 · 9 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

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“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it.

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket.

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.”

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible.

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you.

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks.

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age.

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.”

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him.

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you.

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation.

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time.

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes.

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–”

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–”

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you.

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden.

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut.

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.”

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating.

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw.

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie.

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape.

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you.

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist.

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now.

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives.

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains.

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

[the end]

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

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deepestdelulu · 7 months ago

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Learning to love yourself ౨ৎ

Celebrate yourself. Every accomplishment deserves to be acknowledged, no matter how big or small. Stop putting yourself down by thinking that you don't deserve to celebrate your achievements just because others have accomplished "greater things." Also, there is so much fun in hyping small wins; call your girlfriend, bake a cake, and enjoy yourself!!

Invest time in things that you love. Doing what makes you happy is essential for your mental health. It's so important to pursue one's small and simple pleasures without the intention of turning them into profit!!

Boundaries and relationships. Learn to say no, define and set boundaries, question your current relationships and friendships, and distance yourself from people who make you feel unloved or worthless.

Allow yourself to grow. Let go of the notion that you are undeserving of growth. Acknowledge the past for what it is, learn from it, and grow from it.

Refelct. Getting to know yourself deeply is key to self-love; journaling is a great way to reflect. Ask yourself questions, question your habits, observe how you respond in certain situations, etc...

Trust yourself and your intuition. Listen to yourself, and don't dismiss the small cues that your inner voice gives you!!

Care for yourself. It is not selfish to look after yourself. Start exercising, eat balanced and healthy, stay hydrated, educate yourself, read complex literature, consume media mindfully, prioritise your sleep and routines, care for your skin and hair...

Be patient. Self-love takes time; you must slowly unpack and unlearn past habits, confront uncomfortable thoughts and memories, and gain a deep understanding of yourself. Give yourself time and approach this as a journey to enjoy. <3

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malusokay · 1 year ago

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Learning to love yourself 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Allow yourself to grow. Let go of the notion that you are undeserving of growth. Acknowledge the past for what it is, learn from it, and grow from it.

Refelct. Getting to know yourself deeply is key to self-love; journaling is a great way to reflect. Ask yourself questions, question your habits, observe how you respond in certain situations, etc...

Trust yourself and your intuition. Listen to yourself, and don't dismiss the small cues that your inner voice gives you!!

You guys ALWAYS ask about self-love and confidence, sooo I hope this can be a little helpful to some of you and as always, please feel free to share your own suggestions and tips in the comments!! ♡

love ya ･:*₊‧౨ৎ

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natsaffection · 10 months ago

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Im glad i’m not the only one who saw 4ngel1v’s ai pics!! It just brewed up another idea! I told you it would be soon.

Think about Gp Nat as a beefy bodyguard and reader is like a famous singer or actor🤷‍♀️. And they didn’t meet on great terms, but reader ends up hiring nat and whatever it was between them grew. But thing is that they couldn't distinguish their tension from hate. One thing that reader could distinguish though, was Nats jealousy. SO LIKE A YKYK ENEMIES TO LOVERS BUT RLLY SLOW PROCESS TO LOVERS n smuttyy🤭

“What’s with the attitude, you weren’t as grumpy earlier?”

“Loosen up a little, it’s fine to be a risky once in a while, Natasha”

“You’re giving me a handjob at YOUR premiere. We’re thinking of two different versions of risky.”

-💋

I'm not going anywhere. | N.R

Bodyguard!Natasha x Younger!Actress!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, Age gap ( R is 22 and Nat is 32) Inappropriate behavior, so much teasing, kinda handjob, begging, rough sex, pet names, angst

Word Count: 9,5k

A/N: Okay, when this is posted I'll be driving 200 km/h on the highway for the next 36 hours. So I hope everything works out, because I don't have the chance to reply right now 🫶🏼🥸

Thank you my lovely anon, you served again 🌚 I really enjoyed writing this, even though I was very carried away

You were born and raised in a small, picturesque town in the heart of the countryside. Your parents, both teachers, instilled a love of learning and creativity in you from an early age. Your mother, an English teacher, often read you classic literature at bedtime, sparking a lifelong passion for storytelling. Your father, a drama teacher, introduced you to the world of theater and encouraged you to participate in school plays and local theater productions.

As a child, you were curious and imaginative, often inventing elaborate stories and characters in your head. You were very popular in your community for your kind heart and lively personality. Despite your small-town upbringing, you always dreamed of something bigger and longed for the excitement and opportunities that lay beyond the boundaries of your hometown.

At 16, your life took a decisive turn when you attended a summer acting camp. The camp was located in a bustling city, a stark contrast to your quiet hometown. There, you met aspiring actors, directors, and producers and for the first time, felt like you belonged. Your talent was quickly recognized by the camp leaders, who encouraged you to pursue a career in acting.

Upon returning home, you were more determined than ever to follow your dreams. You participated in every theater production you could to hone your craft and build a portfolio of diverse roles. Your parents, though initially concerned about the uncertainty of an acting career, wholeheartedly supported you and believed in your talent and dedication.

At 18, you moved to Los Angeles, the hub of the entertainment industry. The transition was daunting, you were a small-town girl in a sprawling, fast-paced city. You faced numerous rejections and challenges, working several part-time jobs to make ends meet while attending auditions and acting classes.

Your perseverance paid off when you landed a small role in an independent film. Though the role was minor, your performance caught the attention of a prominent casting director. Impressed by your natural talent and screen presence, the director recommended you for an audition for an upcoming blockbuster film from a major studio.

Nervous but excited, you gave your best at the audition. Weeks later, you received the life-changing news: you were cast in the lead role of the blockbuster film. The film was a huge success and catapulted you into the spotlight, making you an overnight sensation.

The sudden fame was overwhelming. You went from an anonymous aspiring actress to a celebrity constantly in the public eye. Paparazzi followed your every move, tabloids speculated about your private life, and fans demanded autographs and selfies everywhere you went. Although you were grateful for your success and the opportunities it brought, the lack of privacy and constant scrutiny were challenging.

Despite the challenges, you remained grounded, thanks to the support of your family and close friends. You continued to focus on your craft, taking on diverse roles to prove your versatility as an actress. You also used your platform to advocate for causes you believed in, earning you respect and admiration beyond your acting abilities

You are known for your down-to-earth personality and genuine kindness. You cherish your close circle of friends and often retreat to your hometown to escape the pressures of Hollywood and reconnect with your roots. Your parents remain your biggest supporters, proud of your achievements but always reminding you of the values they instilled in you.

In your free time, you enjoy reading, painting, and exploring new hobbies. You are a passionate traveler and find inspiration in the various cultures and stories you encounter. Despite your fame, you strive to lead a relatively normal life and appreciate the simple pleasures that keep you grounded.

4 years later.

The evening of the premiere was a whirlwind of flashing cameras, excited fans, and palpable excitement in the air. You, dressed in a stunning gown that perfectly captured your rising star status, had just finished a series of red carpet interviews. You felt a mix of excitement and nerves; this night was special not only because of the premiere of your new film but also because you were nominated for an award for another project. It could be the night you finally take home the coveted trophy.

As the event continued, you felt the familiar but inconvenient need to use the restroom. The premiere was in full swing, and you needed to be on stage soon. You made your way through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking on the polished marble floor of the grand theater.

Finally, you spotted the restroom sign and quickened your pace. But as you reached the door, you encountered an imposing figure: a tall, striking woman with piercing eyes and an aura of authority. Dressed in black, the woman stood guard in front of the restroom door, her stance rigid and alert.

"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom," you said, trying to maintain your polite demeanor despite the urgency of your situation.

The woman, whom you would later learn was Natasha Romanoff, did not move. "The restroom is occupied." Natasha replied sharply and unyieldingly. "Okay, surely there is a second stall..." you pleaded, glancing at the closed door behind Natasha.

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "You'll wait.“ Your patience was running thin. You were a rising star and not used to being dismissed so abruptly. "Come on, I need to go, please. This is really important."

Natasha's expression remained unmoved, her voice cold and professional. "I don't care where you need to go. My instruction is to ensure no one enters until it's clear. Now step back."

Frustration boiled within you. You couldn't believe this woman didn't recognize you, given the number of posters and billboards plastered with your face. "Listen, I understand you have a job to do, but so do I. And if I can't use the restroom right now, there will be a disaster."

Natasha smiled and leaned in slightly, "Then you'll have to hold it, sweetheart."

You were taken aback by the dismissive tone. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, the door behind Natasha opened, and another actress emerged, thanking Natasha for her vigilance. The actress’s eyes widened when she saw you.

"Oh my God, Y/N! Congratulations on the nomination, I loved your performance in the last film.“ the women gushed, clearly impressed. You forced a smile, still simmering with frustration. "Thank you. I'd love to chat, but I really need to use the restroom." The women looked at Natasha with a mix of surprise and something different. "Did you talked to her?“

Natasha's gaze remained unwavering and ignoring the question of the Women. „The restroom is free now." she said, stepping aside without acknowledging the women’s comment. You didn't waste a second and hurried past Natasha with a grateful nod. Inside the restroom, you took a moment to breathe, still fuming from the encounter but also somehow fascinated by the unyielding bodyguard.

When you emerged a few minutes later, you felt much calmer. Natasha was still there, like a sentinel. You couldn't help but feel a sense of challenge. You weren't used to being treated like an ordinary person, and part of you found Natasha's attitude both infuriating and refreshing. Without a word, you walked past Natasha, not giving her a second glance. As you walked away, you heard Natasha call after you: "Next time, plan better."

Your cheeks flushed with anger. You clenched your fists and kept walking, refusing to give Natasha the satisfaction of a response. The audacity of this woman! You couldn't believe how rude and dismissive she had been.

The energy in the grand theater was electric. The audience buzzed with excitement as the prestigious awards ceremony reached its climax. You, still feeling the irritation from the encounter with Natasha, took a deep breath as you awaited the announcement of the award. The presenter, a well-known acting veteran, took the stage and held the envelope containing the winner's name. "And the award for Best Actress goes to..." He paused for dramatic effect, letting the suspense build. "Y/N L/N!"

The room erupted in applause and cheers. Your heart raced as you stood up, your initial frustration forgotten in the wave of exhilaration. You moved gracefully to the stage, your gown sparkling under the bright lights. As you accepted the trophy, you couldn't help but smile at the outpouring of admiration and support from your peers and fans.

With the trophy in hand, you took a moment to collect your thoughts before beginning your speech. "Wow, this is incredible. I can hardly believe I'm standing here holding this award. First, I want to thank the cast and crew who made this film possible. You are all amazing, and I couldn't have done this without you."

As you continued your speech, your eyes wandered over the crowd, taking in the sea of faces. Then you saw her. Natasha. Despite the distance, Natasha's piercing gaze was unmistakable. Your smile faltered for a brief moment, but you quickly recovered. Natasha watched you intently, a slight smile on her lips. When your eyes met, Natasha winked.

The gesture, small but significant, sent a wave of annoyance through you. You could feel your cheeks heat up, not from embarrassment, but from the irritating coolness of the woman who had previously dismissed you so rudely. You continued your speech, trying to ignore the irritation under your calm facade.

"...And finally, I want to thank my family and friends for their unwavering support. You believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. This award belongs to you as much as it does to me. Thank you all." With a final wave, you stepped off the stage, your mind racing. The applause followed you, but your thoughts were fixated on Natasha. It was infuriating.

Backstage, you were surrounded by well-wishers and photographers, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha. You couldn't shake the feeling that your paths would cross again in a significant way..

A few days after the awards ceremony, your agent called you with concerning news. "Y/N, we need to talk about your safety for your tour. There have been some..incidents." You frowned, recalling the increasing number of intrusive paparazzi and overly enthusiastic fans. "What kind of incidents?"

"Threatening letters, suspicious individuals trying to get close to you. It's getting serious, and we think it's time for you to consider a professional bodyguard." You sighed. The idea of having a bodyguard felt like a double-edged sword. You valued your privacy, but recent events had made you feel vulnerable. "Alright, who do you have in mind?"

Your agent hesitated for a moment. "There's someone highly recommended, but she has a... unique style. Natasha Romanoff.“ Your eyes widened. "You must be joking."

"No? She's one of the best in the field. Her methods are unconventional, but she gets results. Given the current situation, I think she's the right person for the job, plus she’s available now.“ Your mind raced back to the Gala night, the unyielding stance, the cold demeanor, and that infuriating wink. But if Natasha was as good as they said, it might be worth a try. Reluctantly, you agreed.

The next morning, Natasha arrived punctually at the agreed time at your residence. Dressed in her usual black, she looked every bit the seasoned professional. You opened the door, your expression a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "So, we meet again." Natasha nodded, her face impassive. "Hello, sweetheart. Patience today?"

You crossed your arms and stood firm. "Just so we're clear, I don't need you to treat me like a child. I can take care of myself." Natasha's lips twitched into a barely perceptible smile. "Noted. But my job is to protect you, even if you don't like my methods." You felt a flicker of the same irritation you had experienced at the Gala. This was going to be an interesting arrangement, to say the least.

A few weeks after the charity gala, you attended a book signing event for one of your favorite authors. The bookstore was packed with fans and media, all eager to catch a glimpse of the rising star. Natasha, as always, was nearby, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

As you chatted with fans and signed autographs, you felt a growing unease. One particular fan, a middle-aged man, lingered closer than seemed appropriate. His intense gaze and the way he approached you made you uncomfortable.

"Hello, can I take a photo with you?" the man asked, his voice overly eager. You forced a polite smile. "Of course," you said, posing for a quick photo. As you tried to move on to the next fan, the man grabbed your arm.

"Wait, you looked so good in the last movie... your style and all..." he said, tightening his grip. Your smile faded, and you tried to pull your arm back. "Please let go."

The man's grip only tightened, and he began reaching into his pocket. Before you could react, Natasha stepped in. She moved with lightning speed, prying the man's hand off your arm and positioning herself between you.

"Step back." Natasha ordered, her voice cold and commanding. The man looked startled but did not move. "I just wanted to give her something!"

Natasha remained unmoved. "I said step back. Now." The intensity in Natasha's eyes and the firmness of her voice finally got through to the man. He stepped back and disappeared into the crowd. Your heart was racing, but you felt a wave of gratitude toward Natasha. "Thank you.." you said, your voice shaking. Natasha nodded, her eyes still scanning the crowd. "Time to go."

At home, you couldn't shake off the day's events. You sat on the couch, replaying the encounter in your mind. Natasha stood nearby, her stance as rigid as ever. "Are you okay?" Natasha asked, her voice softer than usual You nodded. "Yes, just... a bit shaken." Natasha sat across from you, her expression unreadable. "You handled it well. But you need to be more aware of your surroundings. Fans can be unpredictable." You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. "I know. I just didn't expect that."

"That's why I'm here," Natasha said, her tone firm but not unkind. "To expect the unexpected and keep you safe." You looked at Natasha, seeing her in a new light. Despite the rocky start, you realized how much you had come to rely on Natasha's presence. "I appreciate it.“

Natasha gave a crooked smile, a rare expression on her otherwise stoic face. "Just doing my job, princess." You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You're impossible, you know that?" Natasha's smile widened. "And you're stubborn. I think we make a good team."

In the following weeks, your relationship developed further. There were still plenty of tensions and your share of arguments, but a mutual respect began to grow. Natasha's relentless professionalism and your determination to live your life on your own terms created a dynamic that was both challenging and oddly comforting.

One evening, as you were preparing for another public appearance and saw the crowds you had to move through, you stood closer to Natasha, her presence calming you. Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips forming a teasing smile. "Careful, princess, it almost looks like you actually like me." You laughed and shook your head. "Don't push it, Romanoff. But, since you're here..." Natasha's smile softened a bit. "Anytime."

Despite the nicknames and teasing, there was an unspoken understanding between you both and you couldn't deny Natasha's skills and dedication. Natasha, for all her toughness, began to see the determination and drive behind your fame and youth that had brought you to this point. Slowly, you began to understand each other and formed an uneasy alliance.

Next up was another film premiere, where you were the guest of honor. The tension between you was palpable again, fueled by your contrasting personalities and constant proximity.

While you were getting ready, you felt Natasha's eyes on you, checking every detail. "You know, you don't have to watch me like a hawk." you said, your tone sharper than intended. Natasha leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "It's my job to watch you."

"I can take care of myself." you snapped, turning fully to face her. Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Really? Because from where I stand, you've been pretty naive about the dangers around you."

You felt stung by the implication. "Naive? Just because I'm younger doesn't mean I'm clueless. I've worked hard to get here, and I don't need you undermining me." Natasha pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer. "And I don't need you questioning my every move. You hired me to protect you, and that's what I'm doing. If you don't like my methods, find someone else."

You glared at her, frustration boiling within you. "Maybe I will! I can't stand you treating me like a burden." Natasha's jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I enjoy this? Looking after a spoiled little girl who doesn't appreciate what I do?"

The words hurt more than you cared to admit, and tears sprang to your eyes. "I'm definitely not spoiled! You don't know anything about me! And you know what? You are i-impossible, Natasha! I've had enough of your condescending attitude."

Natasha took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in her temper. "Fine. Maybe I'm impossible. But at least I'm doing my job. You want to fire me? Go ahead. But don't come to me when everything falls apart."

You refused to let your tears fall. But Natasha saw them. "You're so arrogant... Do you even care about anything other than your job?" For a moment, Natasha's eyes softened, and you thought you saw a hint of regret, but it was gone in an instant. "I care about keeping you alive, even if you don't see it."

You turned away, struggling to compose yourself. "Just leave me alone for a moment." Natasha gave a curt nod and walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You felt a mix of anger and guilt, knowing that despite everything, Natasha was right. The world you lived in was dangerous, and you needed someone like her to protect you.

Later that evening, you stood on the balcony of your hotel room, staring at the city lights. The day's events played over in your mind, and you felt a pang of guilt for the harsh words you'd thrown at Natasha. You heard the door open and turned to see Natasha, her expression unreadable. "Can I join you?" Natasha asked, her voice surprisingly gentle. You nodded, and Natasha stepped onto the balcony, leaning against the railing next to you.

"I'm sorry," you said after a moment of silence. "For what I said earlier. I didn't mean it." Natasha glanced at you, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have called you naive... and a little girl." You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "It's just... this whole situation is new to me, okay? I'm not used to someone constantly having to watch over me."

"I know," Natasha said quietly. "And I'm not used to working with someone so... spirited as you. But I'm here to protect you, Y/N. Whether you like it or not." You couldn't help but laugh. "Spirited, huh? That's one way to put it." Natasha's smile widened. "You're tough, I'll give you that. But you need to trust me."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I trust you. Even if you drive me crazy sometimes." Natasha chuckled. "The feeling is mutual, princess." You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn't suppress a smile. "Thank you, Natasha."

"Anytime," Natasha replied, her tone sincere. She looked at you, and before you could think too much about it, you turned and impulsively kissed Natasha on the lips. Natasha stiffened for a moment, then returned the kiss, her lips moving confidently against yours.

Your heart raced as you kissed Natasha, a surprising warmth flooding through you. As you pulled back slightly, you felt something firm press against your hip. Your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what it was. Natasha smirked, clearly noticing your reaction.

"Surprised?" Natasha asked, her voice deep and teasing. You nodded, still a bit stunned. "A little. I didn't see that coming.“ Natasha's smirk widened, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Well, I'm full of surprises."

You felt a blush creep over your cheeks, but you couldn't help but joke to cover your own nervousness. "Didn't know bodyguards got excited so easily." Natasha's eyes darkened with something more than just amusement. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Only when it's worth it."

Your breath caught as Natasha's hand lightly traced over your back, sending shivers down your spine. Natasha's presence was overwhelming, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. Natasha leaned over you slightly, her lips brushing your ear. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess," she murmured, her voice husky with desire.

Your cheeks burned, and you felt a wave of excitement that both thrilled and embarrassed you. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Natasha straightened up, an amused glint in her eyes as she stepped back. "Get some rest," Natasha said, her voice returning to its usual calm tone. "You have a big day tomorrow."

With that, Natasha turned and walked back into the hotel room, leaving you standing on the balcony, your mind racing and your body buzzing with emotions. As you stood there, the cool night air brushing your skin, you knew that things between you and Natasha would never be the same again. When you lay down that night, replaying the memory of the kiss and Natasha's teasing words, you couldn't help but smile, your heart racing with excitement and curiosity about what the future would bring.

Your schedule had become a whirlwind of appearances, interviews, and fan interactions as you toured to promote your latest film. Everywhere you went, enthusiastic fans awaited you, clamoring for autographs and selfies. Natasha was always close by.

One afternoon, you were at a signing event in a busy city. The line of fans stretched around the block, and you took time with each person, chatting and taking photos. However, Natasha noticed a pattern: you were livelier and smiled brighter when interacting with your female fans. It was something you did unconsciously, but Natasha picked up on it.

During a break, Natasha couldn't resist commenting. "You really come alive around the ladies, don't you, princess?" she said, her tone teasing but with a hint of something else. You raised an eyebrow, noting the subtle undertone in Natasha's voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" Natasha shrugged, a smirking smile on her lips. "Just an observation. You seem to enjoy their company more."

You felt a spark of defiance. Remembering the balcony scene and Natasha's teasing nature, you decided to push it further. If Natasha wanted to tease you, you'd give her a taste of her own medicine. "Maybe I do," you said, your tone playful. "Is that a problem?" Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her cool demeanor. "Not at all. Just interesting to watch."

You decided to take it up a notch. For the rest of the event, you made an extra effort to be even more attentive with your female fans. You laughed louder, leaned in closer for photos, and gave their conversations more attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha watching, her jaw tensing slightly.

You found it immensely amusing. You liked seeing the usually unflappable Natasha show a bit of emotion, especially jealousy. It gave you a sense of power in your otherwise tense dynamic.

Later that evening, you returned to the hotel. You were in high spirits, still buoyed by the interactions of the day and the success of your plan to annoy Natasha. As you entered the hotel suite, Natasha finally spoke. "You really enjoyed today, didn't you?“ You turned to her, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, I did. It was a lot of fun. Especially to see how you lose your composure"

Natasha's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something deeper. "My composure? I have not lost my composure." You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a teasing whisper. "Sure looked like it to me." Natasha's gaze hardened, but there was no denying the hint of jealousy there. "Careful, Y/N."

You felt a thrill at the challenge in Natasha's voice. "Nope." Natasha stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity. "You're testing my patience." You smiled, enjoying the power you held in this moment. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Natasha's eyes darkened with desire, and she stepped closer, her body only inches from yours. "Do you really want to know?" Your heart pounded in your chest, the air between you thick with tension. "Maybe I do.“ Natasha leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Don't forget who you're playing with, princess. I don't give in easily."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to back down. "Good. Neither do I." Natasha's smile widened, and for a moment, you thought she would kiss you again. But when Natasha turned and walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and excitement. You had pushed Natasha's buttons and gotten a reaction, but you knew that this game you were playing was far from over.

In the following days, you continued to tease Natasha, finding new ways to provoke her jealousy. You found it incredibly amusing to see the normally composed bodyguard show signs of possessiveness. And despite the tension, there was an undeniable thrill in your interactions. Natasha seemed to enjoy the challenge as well. She never backed down and always met your provocations with her own brand of teasing and intensity. Your relationship was a constant back-and-forth, filled with playful banter and underlying desire.

The evening of the final premiere had arrived, and you were in your hotel suite, getting ready for the event. Your hair and makeup team were putting the finishing touches on your look, ensuring every detail was perfect. You wore a stunning dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, the shimmering fabric catching the light beautifully. You looked every bit the star you were, ready to captivate the crowd and cameras.

As you admired your reflection in the mirror, the door to your suite opened. Natasha walked in, looking as composed and confident as ever. She wore her usual black ensemble but had her jacket casually slung over her shoulder, and her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of her toned chest. The sight made your heart skip a beat, and you hated yourself for finding Natasha so attractive.

Natasha's eyes scanned over you appreciatively, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, don't you look like a million dollars tonight." You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your blush. "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself."

Natasha chuckled and stepped closer. "You really know how to turn heads, princess. Try not to cause too many heart attacks out there." You felt a mix of irritation and something warmer, more exciting. "I'll do my best." you said, your tone half teasing, half serious. Natasha's smile widened. "Remember, I'm here to protect you. Can't have you distracting me too much." You laughed and shook your head. "I'll try not to be too much of a distraction."

Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "Good. Ready to go?" You took a deep breath and cast one last look in the mirror. "Ready."

The red carpet was a flurry of activity, with flashing cameras and cheering fans. You moved gracefully through the crowd, stopping for interviews and photos. Natasha was always nearby, her eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. Despite the busy environment, your mind was elsewhere. You had been thinking about the ongoing game with Natasha, the back-and-forth of your interactions, and the growing tension between you. Tonight, you decided, you would take it a step further.

As you entered the theater for the premiere, you could feel the electricity in the air. You excused yourself from the group of people you were with and moved to a quieter part of the lobby. Natasha followed you, her vigilant eyes missing nothing. "Everything okay?" Natasha asked, her tone professional but with a hint of curiosity. You turned to her, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, I just needed a moment. It's so hectic out there."

Natasha nodded, her stance relaxed but alert. "You should have thought of that before." You stepped closer, your hand lightly brushing Natasha's arm. "You weren't so grumpy earlier. What's with the attitude now?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. "I'm not grumpy. I'm just doing my job." You smiled, your hand sliding down to Natasha's waist, your fingers tracing the edge of her pants. “Loosen up a little, it’s fine to be a risky once in a while, Natasha.”

Natasha's eyes darkened with desire as she realized your intentions. "You're giving me a handjob at your premiere. We're thinking of two different versions of risk." You leaned in, your breath warm against Natasha's ear. "Maybe I like my version better." Your hand moved bolder, stroking over the bulge in Natasha's pants. Natasha gasped, but quickly placed her hand over yours to stop your movements. Her grip was firm, and a smirking smile played on her lips as she leaned closer, her voice a soft, seductive whisper.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Natasha murmured, her breath hot against your ear. "If you keep this up, I'll have you on your knees, begging for more. I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week." Your heart raced at Natasha's words, a shiver running down your spine. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, your breath hitching.

Natasha stepped back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. "You have no idea what you're getting into, princess." You tried to regain your composure. "Then show me." Natasha's smile turned dangerous and seductive. "Not here. Not now."

Your heart raced, your mind buzzing with anticipation. You stepped back slightly, your eyes meeting Natasha's. "When then?" Natasha's smile was dangerous and seductive. "You'll see." You felt a thrill run through you. You had challenged Natasha, and now you were ready for whatever came next. As you returned to the premiere, the tension between you was palpable, an unspoken promise of things to come.

The premiere went smoothly, but your and Natasha's thoughts were elsewhere. The silent promise you had exchanged hung between you, intensifying every glance, every touch. As the event came to an end, you felt both excited and nervous about what would happen next. Natasha's presence, as always, was a calming force, but now it was charged with a new kind of tension.

As you finally returned to the hotel, you couldn't resist teasing Natasha one last time. "So, what's next, bodyguard? Do you still think I'm playing a dangerous game?" Natasha's eyes were dark with promise as she stepped closer. "Oh, princess, the game has only just begun." You felt a shiver of excitement. "Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

You turned to head to your room, thinking you had the upper hand. But before you could take more than a few steps, Natasha grabbed your arm and effortlessly swung you over her shoulder. You gasped in surprise as Natasha carried you into the bedroom.

"Natasha! W-What are you doing!?" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and excitement. Natasha didn't answer immediately. Instead, she gave you a quick, firm smack on your butt, making you gasp. "You wanted to play games, princess. Now it's my turn." Your heart raced as Natasha carried you into the bedroom and tossed you onto the bed. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed, removing her jacket and unbuttoning her blouse with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving yours.

"You've been teasing me all night," Natasha said, her voice deep and commanding. "Now it's time to show you what happens when you play with fire." You felt a wave of heat wash over you as you watched Natasha undress. You bit your lip, your breath catching in anticipation.

Natasha climbed onto the bed, her movements predatory and deliberate. She leaned over you, her hands pinning your wrists above your head as she kissed you deeply and possessively. You responded eagerly, your body arching into Natasha's. She broke the kiss, her lips brushing your ear. "You belong to me tonight, princess. And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

Your faces were only inches apart, and you could feel Natasha's breath on your skin. The tension between you crackled like electricity, a mix of anger and desire. Your teasing had always been a game to provoke Natasha, but now, faced with the intensity of Natasha's gaze, you realized how far you had pushed her.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," Natasha whispered, her voice rough. "Now it's my turn." Your heart skipped a beat, your body trembling with anticipation. "Then don't hold back, please.." you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. Natasha's smile widened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Oh, I don't plan to."

Natasha's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body arching into Natasha's, your skin tingling with the intensity of the moment. Natasha's hands moved purposefully, one sliding down your side, her fingertips tracing the hem of your dress before slipping underneath.

You gasped into the kiss as Natasha's fingers drew patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you. You had never experienced such a touch, so firm, so assured. It was as if Natasha knew exactly how to unravel you. "Natasha.." you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "Please..." Natasha pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her gaze fierce and intense. "Oh, I like that. Please what?" she demanded, her tone commanding.

"Please... more.." you begged, your body aching for Natasha's touch. A satisfied smile spread across Natasha’s face as she obliged, her fingers finding their way to your most sensitive spots, drawing moans and gasps from you that filled the room. Your world narrowed to the sensation of Natasha's touch, your body responding with an intensity you had never known.

Natasha's hands moved expertly, teasing and pleasing you until you trembled with desire. Just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, Natasha pulled back slightly, her gaze dark and full of promise. "You're not ready for what's coming next," Natasha said, her voice deep and husky. She stood up, her movements intentionally slow, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

You watched with wide eyes as Natasha unbuckled her belt, your gaze following her every move. As Natasha's pants fell to the floor, you caught your breath. There, proud and ready, was Natasha's member. Natasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a condom, rolling it on with practiced ease.

"You were prepared," you teased, your voice breathless. "Did you know the night would end like this?" Natasha gave you a sly smile. "I had a feeling. And by the end of the night, you won't have that attitude anymore."

Your body responded to Natasha's words, a mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through you. Natasha climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself between your legs. She leaned in to capture your lips in another searing kiss, her hands roaming over your body, stoking the flames of desire even higher.

As Natasha slowly entered you, you gasped at the sensation, your body arching into hers. The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a perfect blend of pleasure and connection. Natasha moved with a careful rhythm, watching your reactions to ensure every movement brought you joy. "Do you like that?" Natasha whispered, her voice deep and rough. "Do you like feeling me inside you?"

"Y-Yes, oh God, yes.." you moaned, your hands clutching at Natasha's back, your nails digging into her skin as waves of pleasure washed over you. "Good," Natasha growled, increasing her pace slightly. "Because I'm not stopping until you've learned your lesson." Your breath grew heavy, your moans louder with each thrust. Natasha's lips found your neck, kissing you, making you tremble. Natasha's hand slipped between you, her fingers brushing over your clit in teasing, light touches.

"Natasha!" you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden rush of pleasure. "Please, stop..."

"Just a taste of your own medicine," Natasha murmured, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. She kept her slow, torturous rhythm, her fingers lightly dancing over your sensitive spot, driving you wild with desire. Your frustration mingled with your arousal, the teasing making you desperate. "Please, Natasha... I need more.." you begged, your voice trembling.

Natasha's smile deepened, savoring your pleading. "You need to learn that actions have consequences," she said, her pace increasing, each thrust deeper and harder. "Is this what you wanted, Y/N? To be dominated, made to beg?"

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered, your body arching, seeking more. "Please, Natasha, I need you..“ Seeing your desperation, Natasha finally relented. She increased her pace, her thrusts becoming rougher, harder. Her fingers pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with her movements. "You feel so good," Natasha groaned, her own arousal evident in her voice. "So tight around me. You love being fucked like this, don't you?"

„God.." you cried, your body shaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

"I'm not," Natasha promised, her voice rough with desire. She began slowly, her thrusts gentle and deliberate, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. Each movement was measured, designed to build the pleasure slowly. Her fingers pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with her movements. "You feel so good," Natasha groaned, her own arousal evident in her voice. "So tight around me. I told you how it would end."

"Oh God!" you cried, your body shaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop..“ Natasha's breath came heavy, her movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to take everything I give you," she growled. "And you're going to love it." Natasha's eyes burned with a mix of desire and something deeper. "Turn around," she commanded, her voice rough. "I want to take you from behind."

You complied, your body trembling with anticipation. Natasha positioned herself behind you, her hands gripping your hips firmly. With one swift motion, Natasha entered you again, the new angle sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. "God, you feel so good," Natasha groaned, her pace rough and relentless. "Do you like this, Y/N? Do you like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, Natasha, y-yees.." you cried, your body pushing back against each thrust. "Harder, please, harder..“ Natasha's grunts filled the room, her movements becoming more powerful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. "Fuck, what would your fans say if they saw you like this?" she growled.

Your world was a whirl of sensations, your body burning with pleasure. "Please, please, please!" you gasped, your voice breaking with need. "Please, I'm so close.."

Natasha's hands slid to your shoulders, pulling you back with each thrust, her pace unrelenting. "I want to see your face when you come," Natasha demanded, her voice rough. You turned, your eyes meeting Natasha's intense gaze. Natasha didn't break the connection, her thrusts deep and powerful, her eyes locked on yours. "You're so beautiful," Natasha murmured, her voice filled with raw emotion. "Come for me, Y/N. I want to see you come."

Your body obeyed, the intensity of Natasha's gaze and the power of her movements driving you over the edge. You called out Natasha's name, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, your eyes never leaving Natasha's. She followed you, her own orgasm hitting her hard, her body tensing with the release. She held you close, your bodies entwined, the intensity of your connection overwhelming.

When it was over, Natasha collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. You looked up at Natasha, your eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. "That was... incredible," you whispered, your voice shaking. Natasha smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You're incredible," she replied softly, her touch now tender, filled with affection.

You snuggled into Natasha's embrace, feeling safe. You had challenged Natasha, teased her, but now you understood the depth of it and the passion that lay beneath your banter. It was a night you would indeed never forget.

The next morning, the sunlight filtered gently through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a warm glow across the bed. You stirred slowly, a pleasant ache in your muscles reminding you of the intense connection you had shared with Natasha the previous night. A contented smile spread across your face as you replayed the events in your mind. The way Natasha had made you feel cherished and desired was unlike anything you had experienced before.

As you stretched lazily, you noticed Natasha already up and moving around the room, her movements efficient and purposeful as she dressed in her black uniform. Still feeling the warmth of the night, you sat up and instinctively pulled the blanket around you.

Natasha caught sight of your movement and smirked. "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've already seen everything." You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but managed a small smile. "Force of habit, I guess." Natasha chuckled softly and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "How are you feeling?"

You leaned into her touch, savoring the intimacy. "Good. Better than good, actually." Natasha's smile softened, and she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Good. We've got a busy day ahead. Remember, it's the final interview for the film today." You nodded, the reality of the day settling in. "Right. The last interview." Natasha's eyes searched yours, a hint of concern flickering in them. "Are you ready for it?"

You sighed, feeling a pang of anxiety. "I think so. Just... nervous, I guess." Natasha squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You'll do great. And I'll be right there with you."

As Natasha continued getting ready, you reached for your phone on the nightstand. Unlocking it, you saw a barrage of notifications. Among the messages was one from a close friend, marked urgent. Curiosity piqued, you opened the message thread.

The message read: "Y/N, have you seen these articles? Be careful with Natasha Romanoff. She's got a reputation." Attached were several links to articles and gossip columns detailing Natasha's past relationships, her numerous one-night stands, and her professional life as a bodyguard. The headlines screamed warnings about her dangerous allure and the trail of broken hearts she had left behind.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the articles, each one chipping away at the happiness you had felt just moments before. The friend’s message continued: "I just don't want to see you get hurt. She might be good at her job, but she's also known for not sticking around."

Natasha's teasing smile from this morning flashed in your mind: "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess. I've already seen everything." What if you were just another conquest for her? The memory of her passionate words from last night seemed suddenly tainted "You belong to me tonight, princess. And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

Natasha noticed the shift in your expression and the way you had gone quiet, your eyes glued to your phone. "Y/N, is everything okay?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. You quickly locked your phone and forced a smile. "Yeah, just... some messages." But the seed of doubt had been planted. Despite your efforts to focus, the words from the articles lingered in your mind. Was last night just another notch on Natasha's belt?

As you got ready, Natasha left you alone for a moment to gather your thoughts. The anxiety gnawed at you, turning the warmth you had felt into a cold pit in your stomach.

The day passed in a blur of preparations and travel to the interview location. Your mind kept drifting back to the articles, the warnings, the doubt. By the time you arrived at the studio, the unease had settled deep within you.

When the time for the interview finally arrived, you found yourself sitting in a brightly lit studio, facing a well-known interviewer. The cameras rolled, and the interview began. You tried to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering, haunted by the headlines and Natasha's reputation. "So, Y/N, this film has been a huge success. How has the journey been for you?" You forced a smile, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's been incredible. The cast and crew were amazing, and I learned so much."

But even as you spoke, you couldn't shake the memory of Natasha's voice from last night"Do you like feeling me inside you?"

"Can you share any particularly memorable moments from the set?" You hesitated, your mind momentarily blank. "Uh, there were so many great moments. I think... the camaraderie we shared off-camera was really special."

Natasha's teasing smile from this morning flashed in your mind "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess. I've already seen everything."

"What are your plans after this film? Any new projects in the pipeline?" You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. "I'm exploring a few options, but nothing's set in stone yet."

Natasha's concern earlier replayed in your mind "Are you ready for it?" The interview continued, but your responses grew increasingly mechanical. Natasha, standing just off-camera, noticed the shift in your demeanor. Her brow furrowed with concern as she watched you, sensing something was wrong. She began to worry that she had overstepped last night, that perhaps she had pushed you too far.

When the interview finally concluded, you left the studio feeling drained and unsettled. Natasha was by your side immediately, her eyes filled with worry. "Y/N, what's wrong?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle yet urgent. "Did something happen during the interview?"

You shook your head, avoiding her gaze. "No, it's not that. I just... need some space right now." Natasha's heart clenched at your words. She followed you silently back to the hotel, the worry gnawing at her. Had she misread the signals? Had she taken things too far last night? The thought of having hurt you in any way made her feel sick.

Back in the hotel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Natasha hovered nearby, her concern evident "Y/N, please talk to me," Natasha said softly. "I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." You took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm.. scared, Natasha..“

Natasha's heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice. She stepped closer, her hand gently cupping your cheek. "Scared of what? Talk to me, please." You finally met her gaze, the tears spilling over. "I'm scared that last night... that it was just a one-time thing for you. That you only wanted me for my body."

Natasha's eyes widened in shock, and she immediately knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. "W-What?“ You reluctantly lifted your gaze to hers, seeing the sincerity and depth of her feelings reflected in her eyes. "Last night was not just a one-time thing for me," Natasha said firmly. "I didn't just want you for your body. You mean so much more to me than that."

You searched her eyes, your voice trembling. "But what if... what if this changes things between us? What if it's just a fling?" Natasha shook her head, her grip on your hands gentle but steady. "It won't be. Because I care about you, Y/N. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. Last night meant everything to me, and I don't want it to end there." Tears flowed freely now, and Natasha wiped them away with her thumbs, her gaze never leaving yours.

"But what about all these articles and rumors about you?" you asked, the fear and doubt still lingering in your voice. "They say you've had so many one-night stands and relationships that didn't last. How do I know I'm not just another one?" Natasha sighed deeply, her expression turning serious. "Do you remember the actress you met at the restroom at the Gala?" You nodded, recalling the striking woman who had seemed so authoritative.

"Her name is Jessica," Natasha continued. "We were in a relationship a few month ago. It was toxic and manipulative. When I finally managed to leave her, she was furious. She threatened to ruin my reputation if I ever left her." Natasha pulled out her phone and showed you a message thread. "Here, look at this." She scrolled to a particular message and handed you the phone. The message read:

"If you leave, I will destroy your life, your reputation, everything, Natasha. No one will ever trust you again."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you read the words. Natasha's voice was steady but filled with pain. "She's the one who started those rumors and spread the articles. I'm already taking legal action against her, but these things take time."

You looked up at Natasha, seeing the sincerity and anguish in her eyes. "I had no idea..." Natasha cupped your face gently. "I would never use you, Y/N. What we have is real, and I want to protect it. Protect you. Please believe me."

You searched her eyes, feeling the sincerity in her words. "But how can I be sure?" Natasha's grip on your hands tightened, her gaze unwavering. "Because I'm standing here, telling you this. I'm not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be with you, not just for a night, but for as long as you'll have me."

You felt a flood of relief and emotion wash over you. "I want that too, Natasha. I just... I needed to know." Natasha pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." You clung to her, feeling the warmth and strength of her presence. The fear and doubt that had plagued you melted away in the face of Natasha's unwavering support.

As the day continued, you felt a renewed sense of connection and understanding with Natasha. The bond between you had deepened, forged through honesty and vulnerability. With the whirlwind of your film promotion tour finally over, you felt a mix of relief and excitement as you arrived back at your home. For the first time in months, you had some well-deserved time off. Natasha, your steadfast bodyguard, was right by your side as you walked through the front door of your cozy house.

"Home sweet home.." you sighed, dropping your bags and stretching your arms. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of peace that you had missed during your hectic schedule.

Natasha smiled, leaning against the doorway. "It's nice to see you relax." You turned to her, a question lingering in your mind. "So, what happens now? Do you move on to another client with a tour or something?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Actually, I took some time off too."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You took time off to stay here?" Natasha nodded, stepping closer. "Yes, I wanted to spend more time with you. I meant what I said a few days ago, Y/N."

A wave of warmth and happiness washed over you. "You really do care," you whispered, feeling your heart swell with affection. Natasha cupped your face gently, her eyes soft and sincere. "I care a lot, and I want to make the most of this time we have together."

The next few days were blissful. You and Natasha spent time just enjoying each other's company, something you hadn't been able to do during the tour. The bond between you grew stronger, built on trust and genuine affection. One lazy afternoon, as you lounged on the couch together, you started discussing potential vacation destinations. "We should go somewhere special," you suggested, scrolling through various travel websites on your laptop. "How about a trip to a secluded beach resort? Just the two of us."

Natasha leaned in, looking at the screen. "That sounds perfect." You found a beautiful resort that offered private bungalows by the ocean and various activities for couples. "This one looks amazing," you said excitedly. "Let me book it."

Before you could click the "book now" button, the doorbell rings, "Food is here!" You sprint over and meanwhile Natasha took the laptop and made the booking. When you come back with two pizza boxes, you pouted playfully. "Hey! I wanted to pay for it!“ Natasha chuckled, pulling you into her arms. "I know, but I wanted to do this for us." You gave her a mock glare. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle kiss, her lips soft and tender against yours. "Shush," she whispered against your lips. "Let me take care of you for once." You melted into her embrace, feeling the love and care she poured into every touch and kiss. "Okay," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I can let you spoil me this time."

The anticipation of your upcoming trip added an extra layer of excitement to your days. You spent your time planning activities and daydreaming about the sun, sand, and sea. The more you got to know Natasha in this relaxed setting, the more you realized how deeply you felt for her. As the departure date for your vacation approached, you and Natasha packed your bags with a mix of excitement and eagerness. The thought of being in a beautiful, secluded place with her made your heart race.

Finally, the day arrived, and you both boarded the plane to your dream destination. The flight was smooth, filled with laughter and light conversations about the adventures you planned to have. Upon landing, you were greeted with warm ocean breezes and the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

Your bungalow was even more beautiful than the pictures, nestled right on the beach with a stunning view of the turquoise waters. As you stepped inside, you felt a sense of tranquility wash over you. "This is perfect," you sighed, looking out at the ocean from the large windows. Natasha wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "It really is. I'm glad we're here together."

You turned in her arms, looking up at her with a smile. "Me too. Thank you for everything, Natasha." She leaned down and kissed you softly. "Anything for you, Princess." The days that followed were filled with pure bliss. You and Natasha spent your time exploring the beach, swimming in the crystal-clear waters, and enjoying romantic dinners under the stars. Each moment felt like a precious gift, strengthening the bond you shared.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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jaxon-exe · 2 years ago

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Dp x dc prompt

So this starts with Danny becoming the ghost king on his 18th birthday and almost immediately every power-hungry ghost in existence starts proposing to him. At first he just ignores it but after the 10th time someone tries to kidnap him to marry him Greek god style, he’s fucking sick of it and goes to Clockwork for help.

He’s not much help. The only way for other people to stop trying to marry him is if he’s already married. What’s more, because he’s the king of the infinite realms, it has to be someone that’s considered a citizen of the Infinite Realms. (Like he can marry someone that’s still alive but they wouldn’t count and people will just keep trying to marry him) CW also warns him that people will try and kill anyone he marries if they can so a living person isn’t really ideal. The only bit of real helpfulness he does provide is a list of non-evil non-power-hungry citizens so he can have an easier time finding someone.

So Danny takes the list and starts crossing of names (like Johnny, even tho the guy won’t abuse the power of being the ghost princess, kitty would kill Danny for good this time) when he comes across the perfect candidate.

Jason Todd (Robin/Red Hood)

He’s been to Gotham before, knows the Robins all do good work and knows the Red Hood is already a good and fair ruler of his criminal underground. Plus the guy could definitely fight off any ghost trying to kill him even without the power boost and some helpful weapons Danny would give him if he agrees. Plus he has the perfect bargaining chip to get the guy to help by offering to fix the corrupted ectoplasm in him (not that he wasn’t gonna do that anyway when he had the time to but Hood didn’t need to know that)

So Danny hops over to Gotham and after quickly getting permission from Lady Gotham (she’s very protective of her Knights) heads over to crime ally and pitches the idea to Red Hood.

Which basically goes like-

Danny: so I give u, the title of prince, access to the Infinite Realms whenever u wish, a sweet private wing in my castle, any of the op ghost weapons in the castles armoury and a fix for ur rage problems and u marry me so I stop getting people trying to propose to me in increasingly more annoying ways :)

Jason, a literature geek with a secret desire to be the protagonist in a shitty YA romance: u had me at Prince

So the two of then jump over to the Infinite Realms to get married thinking it’ll take 30 minutes top only to learn that CW left out that a Royal wedding has to take at minimum a week otherwise no one will consider the Marriage valid. So the two, not backing out at this point, join in on the week of parties and celebrations without putting much more thought into it.

Meanwhile back in Gotham, after not having Red Hood check in after his patrol, Oracle searches CCTV and finds Jason having a conversation with a figure that is glitching out the camera to much to identify them, then the figure seemingly grabs Jason and drags him into a portal and the two of them disappear.

So obviously the Batfam comes to the conclusion that Jason was kidnapped by some sort of magical being and calls in John. He identify the magic as that of the ghost king’s and has been hearing that the king had been looking for a bride so comes to the conclusion that Jason has been kidnapped Persephone style to be be married and is under the (wrong) conclusion that it will mean Jason can’t leave the realm of the death after.

And so the Batfam + Constantine start planing to crash a wedding.

#dp x dc #danny fenton #jason todd #jason x danny #dead on main #batfam #Danny and Jason r basically Hades and Persephone #at least in the Batfam a POV #jason is having the time of his life #fake dating #kinda???#more like marriage for tax benefits

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months ago

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Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table. You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like.

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty, almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x y/n

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reiderwriter · 2 years ago

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✍️Introduction and Masterlist✍️

About me: Hi! I'm Kacie, I'm 21, and I use she/her/any pronouns. I'm from the UK but I'm currently an English Teacher in South Korea (if you want to know more I'm totally open to conversations about it!) and this is my side blog, so I follow and respond to comments from @studykac

Writing: At this point in time. I only write for Spencer Reid. I will pass on any requests that focus on other characters because I don't currently write for them. A lot of my work is also NSFW. If you are under the age of 18, do NOT interact with any of my posts that are tagged #maturereiding - please block this tag!! When my requests are open you can request through the Ask box, or through DMs, but please keep in mind I do have a full time job, so I will do my best to get things out quickly. You can find my recommendations in the tag #reiderrecommends!

Other interests: kpop, especially Seventeen, SHINee, NCT and BTS, Criminal Minds (obv), NCIS, reading any genre of books (here's a link for my GoodReads page), Percy Jackson, languages (learning Korean currently!), English Literature, Jane Austen etc.

Requests are: CLOSED - find my request guidelines here!

Writing:

Spencer Reid x Reader NSFW

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress // 3.8k

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress pt. 2 // 2.4K

Summary: After a hot encounter in your car, Spencer pulls you inside your apartment hoping to give you some more relief from the heat.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, soft Dom, oral (M receiving), pet names, degradation, face fucking, messy sex, creampie, breeding kink

Margaritas and Mistakes // Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, heavy petting, hickeys, making out, mentions of arousal etc. (part one)

Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to overpower your ability to function properly.

Warnings: So many, check the post for details.

More Than Words 🫶 // 8k

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, you're forced to ask your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

The Us That Could've Been 💔 // 5.7k

Summary: They say to get over a man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't sure why the idea of you doing just that makes him feel so bad.

Warnings: angst, unprotected sex, creampie, spoilers for season 8, mentions of Maeve, Spencer is emotionally illiterate etc.

Unhappy Holidays 👻🦃🎄🎆// 5k

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Flirting with the FBI // 7.1k

Summary: To catch a killer, you have to first out him on the FBI's radar. By hacking their systems and flirting with Spencer Reid, of course.

Warnings: Rough sex, Dom Spencer, bimbofication, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, use of slut and good girl, more in the fic warnings.

Spencer Reid x Reader SFW

The Lightbulb Moment // 4.8k

Summary: You want Spencer all to yourself for the first few months of your relationship and he's only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, you're two dumbasses who can't keep their hands off one another.

Just Hanging Out // 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

(Not smut but highly suggestive, read at your own discretion).

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy? // 2k

Summary: You're a teacher, and you have to call in one of your students' parents to talk about their recent troubling behaviour. It's more embarrassing than you thought when Spencer Reid shows up.

Series

That's What You Get // complete 💕

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise that one of the sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs Reid.

Genres: Fluff, smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters, happy ending.

Playlist: Me and You in 2024

Summary: One song fic a week throughout 2024!

Genres: Various, check individual chapters for specific warnings!♡

Answered Requests

(NSFW) Request inspired by Taylor Swift's False God 🙏// 2.2k

(NSFW) Request for a soft!Dom Spencer with cockwarming and breeding kink 💕 // 2k words

(NSFW) Request for Reader introducing vanilla!Spencer to a BDSM lifestyle ✨// 0.7k words

(SFW) Request for Reader kidnapped by unsub and saved by Spencer 💕 // 2.2k

(SFW) Request for pregnant Reader and Spencer who is an absolute fool for her 🌸 // 1.2k

(SFW) Request for shamelessly flirting with an oblivious Spencer 😊// 2k

(NSFW) Request for post-Maeve Spencer who uses sex as a coping mechanism 🫡//4.6k

(NSFW) Request for alt!sub!Reader meeting the team for the first time (and they totally think she's the Dom) 🤭// 1.5k

(NSFW) Request for CNC office sex with Spencer 🚫// 1k

(SFW) Request for Spencer finding out you knew Emily was alive 😿// 0.7k

(SFW) Request for training session with Spencer 🤼‍♀️// 1.8k

(SFW) Request for I Can See You inspired angst 🥺// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer making the reader beg for it ❤️‍🔥// 1.6k

(NSFW) Request for CNC with soft!Dom Spencer - shower sex 💦// 1.3k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Professor Reid doesn't know he's distracting the class 👓// 3k

(NSFW) Request for Sub!Spencer begging reader to dominate him 🫣// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Genophobic virgin!Reader ❤️‍🩹// 5k

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(NSFW) Request for possessive Spencer reacting to your little black dress 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Undercover with an "excited" Spencer 🕵‍♂️// 3.6k

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(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - munch! Spencer is obsessed with you 👅// 2k

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(NSFW) Request for Pillow fort sex with Spencer ⛺️// 2k

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(NSFW) Request for the morning after Spencer loses his V-Card 😶// 0.7k

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reiderrecommends #spencer reid fanfic #Masterlist #criminal minds fanfiction

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lukolathoughts · 5 months ago

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Dearest Gentle readers,

I have been a member of Tumblr for a while without posting a blog entry. I suppose I have been getting the lay of the land and trying to formulate my thoughts. As most of you know, I am a tarot reader on YouTube and I also share my thoughts on X. I am a Lukola through and through and no amount of bullying, intimidation, nasty comments etc. will deter me from my mission. The last few weeks my trolling comments have increased exponentially from what I can only assume are desperate Jakehole's, (apparently I am credited for making the term 'Jakehole' up, I actually have no idea if it was me or not, but I like it) trying to convince me that Nicola is with Jake and Luke is with Antonia. I will come to my thoughts on this in a moment.

I do realise that a public tarot reader, I put myself at risk to exposure and criticism from these types of people. I am fully aware of that. What I underestimate sometimes is the sheer vitriol they come with. I am an empath also and I absorb a lot of a energy, not just from the fandom, Luke and Nic and adjacents, but from my own life as well. I am a teacher and I am surrounded by a lot of people daily. I have always used my television shows as a coping mechanism to detach from reality and 'switch off'. I never thought this time last year I'd be sharing tarot readings on YouTube about a real life celebrity couple that I was barely aware of in January 2024. But here we are. Bridgerton season 3 took hold of my brain and injected some sort of magic crack into it and I haven't been the same since. Don't get me started on the press tour. I've never seen anything like it and it was honestly like a spiritual awakening.

But I digress, I have been reading for a few years and learning the tarot cards and their meanings. I have watched countless YT videos by other readers and I came into this fandom watching the OG tarot readers of the fandom. I do not see myself as any different or special, I just read the cards as they come out. I also repeatedly say 'this is for fun and entertainment purposes only, I do not personally know Luke and Nicola'. And the fact of the matter is I don't know them, none of us do. I do not follow them around all day like some weird little psychic Martha from Baby Reindeer. I merely read the energy of the cards and I observe.

Why I love teaching English so much for me, is there is never a right or wrong answer in English Literature. It is up to your interpretation and all about reading the subtext of what is really going on. Now you might call me delusional, but I have always had an uncanny knack for predicting who the murderer in a story is before the end of a novel. It's called critical thinking. This drives my husband mad because he is very black and white and for him 2+2 = 4. Simple as. For me, I'm like wait a minute, what if... My brain is like a whimsical, magical unicorn sometimes, but I always go with my gut and my intuition. I will NOT waver on my intuition because I believe it is stronger than my rational mind.

Ok, so here we go. In my opinion haters!! Nicola is not now or ever has been with Jake Dunn romantically. My readings tell me he sees her as mother figure and mentor. Jake is clearly gay and most likely in some sort of relationship with Dylan. I think the Jakehole ship is a dead, rotting corpse. Nicola and Jake have reached the end of their agreement where she provides him with networking opportunities in exchange for some possible PR diversion to take the heat off Nicola's real relationship. William Tell is out. Luke is home from Rome, there is no need for Jake anymore. I also get the feeling from my readings that Jake is tired. Nicola is tired and Dylan is doing his best to set the narrative straight. I do not need tarot cards for this, it's blindingly obvious. As far as I know, Jake has no straight male friends. It is extremely rare in UK culture for straight men to hang out with all gay men and feel secure about that. It's just the way things are. I am not saying Jake and Nic are not friends, of course they are and I won't begrudge them that. I think he has a lot of genuine affection for her, but he also sees her as someone who can get him places and opportunities which we have seen time and time again.

And now we come to Antonia. I know she is only 23/4 and young and whatever. I have taught students older than her. But I will be truthful and say I don't like her energy. I don't like reading on her. I don't trust her little dancing self. I did have some sympathy for her in October as I had big crushes on boys when I was young, I get it. Luke is hot. But that pasta video she shared in Rome (a video she could have got from anywhere and shared an hour after she had seen Luke had been there) by her was mean, malicious and intentional to hurt the fandom. Her flouncing around with a shitty red bag always implying she's in Luke's vicinity is also callous and calculating and she's shared so much pasta stories now, it almost puts me off eating it. Almost, I love pasta. The biggest takeaway for me is she was not with Luke this Christmas and NYE. It is well documented where she was. We do not not know where Luke was, but we do know Nic was spotted with a lovely tan at the WT premiere. Could Antonia be PR? I sigh, because I think it's more complicated than that. In my readings, I do pick up a delusional obsession from her in regards to Luke. But she is convenient to bring up when they need her. I know the haters will call me delusional for thinking this and as my husband would say if 2 + 2 = 4 then it's 4.

But is it 4? Is it so straightforward as that? My intuition is telling me no, it's not. We have had no sign of Luke being anywhere near Antonia since July in Sorrento when he jumped on a plane and left two days early alone. All Antonia has are literally pasta videos and photos, that I am convinced, enraged Luke. She is giving me serious Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction vibes.

Let's address the elephant in the room. The comment by 'Luke's mum' on her private FB account to a relative. I think it's bullshit. I have three boys and I'm telling you now I would walk through fire if anyone touched a hair on their heads. I will go to prison for my kids. If I was Luke's mum and some 23 year old dancer had systematically tried to ruin my son's career, and she did folks, I would not be writing on a public page outing her as my son's girlfriend. It is all too suspicious and convenient. I could speculate for hours on what has happened, but you guys have group chats and your own brains for that. As one ship falls, another one rises in an unexplained manner.

In conclusion, yes I do believe Nic and Luke are together and this is a very important time for them right now. The silence is LOUD for me. I keep getting the four of swords for Nic. She is resting and taking care of herself in the way that she should. Luke is in a besotted Emperor mode. All is good. Until Nic and Luke specify otherwise, that is what I am sticking with.

#lukola #luke newton #nicluke #nicola coughlan

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opbackgrounds · 5 months ago

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The Romanticism of One Piece I: Definition

Part II Full essay posted on AO3 here

“Romanticism is the star which weeps” —Alfred de Musset

One Piece is a Romance. It’s the title of the opening chapter as well as the first volume, and was liked enough by Oda that he recycled it for the first chapter and volume after the time skip. Sprinkled throughout the story Luffy and others will declare certain moments to be romantic. But what does that actually mean?

If you go to website for Mirriam-Webster and scroll down to the fourth definition, you’ll read that romance is “a: marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized

b: often capitalized : of, relating to, or having the characteristics of romanticism”

It’s this second aspect of romance that I want to focus on today, because while One Piece is imaginative, and emotional, and adventurous, the roots of the manga dig much deeper than these superficial traits and tap into the much bigger movement that at one point dominated the Western World.

As with many things, Romanticism is a concept that at its face seems quite simple, but the more you try to pin down specifics the more it squirms into something amorphous and difficult to define. In his lectures on Romanticism, Isaiah Berlin described it as, “the greatest single shift in consciousness of the West” before spending an entire hour of his introductory lecture trying to distill it down to its purest essence. In the Romantic movement we find our modern ideas of imagination, childhood, and sentimentality. Its influence dominated everything from politics, philosophy, poetry, literature, art, music and architecture. From the Romantics was born the Nationalism of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, which would lead to tragic results in the 20th. It spanned Europe and America, the Western world alight with hope after the French Revolution only to watch with horror as it was followed by the Reign of Terror, Napoleon, and the wars he brought to the rest of the continent.

Pinpointing dates is difficult, but for simplicity’s sake it’s easiest to put it as lasting from approximately the mid 1700s through the mid to late 1800s. As Romanticism was a pan-European movement, it didn’t hit every place at the same time. It swept from France through Europe and eventually America at its own pace, blooming and dying independently of one another, with various precursor movements such as the Storm and Stress era in Germany, as well as holdovers lasting well after the golden age ended, the last embers clinging on until the First World War. Romanticism picked up the local flavor of wherever it went, the Romantic ideals of France related but not identical to the Romantic ideals of Germany, just as the Romanticism of William Wordsworth wasn’t the same as the Romanticism of Lord Byron.

When attempting to define Romanticism, it is perhaps easiest to see it in what it was trying to push back against. As with every movement, the Romantics were in conversation with the past, in their case the Enlightenment thinkers of the 17th and early 18th centuries. The Enlightenment as a movement is just as difficult to pin down as the Romantics, but on the whole it said that there was one, specific way men should live their lives, that there was a formula for happiness and improvement of the human condition using reason, science, and an appropriate methodology. While the various Enlightenment figures all disagreed what that methodology was, for the most part they all agreed that it existed. It favored cold, hard logic, a celebration of science and of learning, and was hopeful for a future where humanity could better itself through its own effort by understanding the universe in which it lived.

The Romantics looked at all of this, and said…no.

There are other factors to consider when discussing Romanticism, such as the increase in urbanization following the Industrial Revolution and the political instability brought on by corrupt, crumbling monarchies and the revolutions they spurned, but in my mind this defiant no is the beating heart of Romanticism. It’s a philosophy that emphasizes the self over all, prioritizing feeling over reason and experience over logic. In fact, to the Romantic, there was no knowledge without feeling.

Institutions such as the church lost some of their power even as the Romantics became more obsessed with spirituality and the occult. The idealized, pastoral past of their beloved romantic ballads was yearned for even as revolts broke out against the monarchies that ruled in those stories of old. There was veneration of the child and the so-called Noble Savage, who were free from the corrupting forces of society and civilization. Freedom was the rallying cry, with abolition, women’s, and animal rights movements all stirring within this time period, but there was no greater freedom than the freedom of self. To do what you wanted when you wanted to do it.

There was a preoccupation with individual genius, and there was little that could bolster one’s career more than living fast and dying young. The Romantic world was one where death was frightfully common, with the increased density of the rapidly growing cities leading to frequent breakouts of disease even as populations boomed. Nearly half of children didn’t live to see their fifth birthday, and for those who did survive to adulthood, the political instability of the time made the future seem uncertain. Better then, to reject the all-consuming industry of the modern age and the cities that seemed to destroy more than they built in favor of spending time alone in the glories of nature and their own imagination, living as they pleased, beholden to no one but their own conscience.

You’ll notice in the examples that I quote that most are white men and most of these men were well-educated. It’s a simple fact that the opportunities they were afforded were different than women and people of color, and their voices were amplified as a result. While there’s been increasing scholarship in recent years to diversify the canon, and there’s good fruit to be found in that regard, it must be acknowledged that the worldview shaped by the most famous Romantics is limited by this singular perspective.

That being said, there can be a more universal application to Romanticism, and One Piece proves that. The defiant no to the binding chains of society and the enthusiastic yes of personal freedom is something that we all feel at one point or another, and it’s what makes up the core of One Piece. Romanticism is a cosmic wanderlust, the ability to poeticize everything both great and small, the neverending search for, well…that depends on the person. But the important part is that they do search and they do dream. And it’s that search that I want to explore in more detail as I dig into specific aspects of Romanticism, and how One Piece applies.

#opbackgrounds #the romanticism of one piece #romanticism #one piece

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that-smallinjured-bowylamb · 4 days ago

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♡He's My Man♡

Not my original idea, though... I really loved what @lemon-koii thought of and I was like "HE'S MY MAN BY LUVCAT???" When I tell you I screamed on the top of my lungs for this after seeing one of my favorite music playing...

If you're asking if I am still listening to this music while writing, yes. I have it on loop in the settings so I got it memorized.

Gender Neutral reader [<-if some of ya'll don't sing this just pretend, since for me? I'm a bad fucking singer, I love me some delusional readers🙏]

Genre: idk slightly creepy!reader? They sing like they killed their own husband but whateves. Romantic.

Involvement: Main cast [<-I'm going to include NPCs so if you see white texts with no color, that's probably scarabia NPC B or smth]

Tw: OOC because I want some lovesick fools, Mentions of poisoning [Kalim cover your ears], unhealthy obsessions, unmentioned death [<-maybe in the lyrics...], cussy, and yeah tell me if there's more I'm putting warnings first before writing this fic bc why not.

P.S. I'm going to open my asks later. And to add more, I don't know what singers do, but I do know that they pour their heart out for their songs, so I wanna put emotions on the reader, describing the feelings or smth.

The whole school was invited for a performance.

Why you ask? Oh, to secretly record the prefect singing one of the music they've heard in their world.

Does the prefect know? Let's say, kind of? Okay, no, not really. BUT what the prefect doesn't know won't hurt them, soo...

Housewardens and Vice-housewardens were invited as well as a few members in their dorms.

Riddle tried refusing because of his studies.

Ace convinced him because his boring ass needs some fun and needs to learn visually not only through literature.

Riddle agrees since it might be the first to hear prefect singing [<-let's imagine you're not that bad of a singer].

Deuce and Ace celebrates in victory, dragging along Trey [who baked sweets in case they get hungry yk?]

Cater is no where to be seen [no shit]

They all go to the PMC [Pop music club] where they find a stage set up with a spotlight, the room is quite dark, and some random ass person recording the whole thing, Savannaclaw got in here as well, and somehow included Leona who was just sleeping somewhere nearby, Ruggie looking for food [he smelled the sweets Trey made], Jack just chillin' with the rest of the first years [<-the ones he knows], Epel lowkey tweaking out after hearing Vil saying "behave" for the 150th time, Rook is making sonnets of how lovely this performance would be since you are going to be singing for the audience [and you are very scared because what happens if you voice-crack? That shit will make you kill yourself instead for the last performance bro 💯].

Sebek is over here yelling his heart out of this soon-to-be performance that hasn't even started yet, he was even shut down by his other dormmates, even Malleus was invited. Silver is snoring but is woken up by his dormmate that coincidentally has a UM that keeps him awake, Idia came in with his tablet because fucker is scared to step in the function, Ortho takes his place and carrying the tablet with him, Octavinelle is scheming after the performance cuz' they boutta witness a first time in forever.

Azul is patiently waiting, Jade is just smiling and talking to others about something, maybe a mountain fact or tips when hiking, Floyd is slowly getting bored while waiting so he starts to terrorize [tease] Riddle, while Riddle shouts at him, Trey plays peacemaker, Jamil is worried and darting around looking for Kalim out of habit, only to realize that Kalim is a part of the club so he relaxes, just a bit. Leona is secretly listening for something [obviously the performance].

Now in comes the lights turning off and everyone goes silent. Literally silent.

And a spotlight turns on the stage.

Voices.

"C'mon! I promise you, your music taste isn't so bad! First, we'll practice a few times in here, then, we'll show the entire world! I swear, it will go viral, trust me!" Laughed Kalim.

"He's right, [Name]. You should practice singing it in here." In steps Lilia [💋🎀].

Cater just grabs his guitar and does a little test with it before confirming it would go nice with the 'practice'.

"Yeah... I don't know if I should, like what happens if, I like, you know, crack my voice on accident?? Like bro, that'll be MAD embarrassing." "Nahh, you'll be fine! This is JUST practice. Trust me." Said Cater, and you side-eyed him.

Honestly, I think it's legal to slap people here... [sorry random thought]

You grab the mic and just stare at it. You're not sure if you're anxious, scared, or just nervous. This shit is giving you pressure.

"Relax!~ breath in and out!" Kalim chimed in.

You did as you were told, it kinda died down but that don't mean you don't STILL feel nervous. The room is literally dark as fuck. How are you supposed to know you are truly alone with them???

"Nobody would judge you here, it's just the three of us with you. Take your time." Lilia reassured, coaxing you into a false sense of comfort which you totally let your guard down.

☆~~———~~☆

Let's say you let your guard down, you grab the mic, turn it on [if it wasn't already], and of course, you teach them how the music sounded like. Kalim, for once, wanted to actually make it right as to not make it sound something your not familiar with, and tried syncing it to what you believed was how the music went. From the beats, to the chorus at the nearing end.

And so the music starts...

Late September in the city.

Everyone listens closely, wondering if it's a love song or a sad one. A song with meanings? Riddle thought.

The sky is grey, the air is sticky.

Riddle paused. What the fuck does that mean??? Trey paid no mind to it, maybe it's a metaphor, considering how much singers used to do that a lot in their lyrics.

Ace was snickering, so his bitch ass was pinched and a hand clasp onto his mouth before he could yelp [but the mic was loud so you couldn't hear him at all, okay slightly but you assumed something fell].

Deuce watches in amazement. Hearing you sing for the first time.

I keep falling in and out of sleep.

Insomnia? Leona thought, but scratch that, the lyrics said 'in and out' not fully awake, like something bothering the woman from sleeping or something? Must be such a nightmare to live like that.

Ruggie side-eyes someone who wouldn't like to be in a situation like that. (Leona)

Some guitar just playing within silence, it sounds sad, but it sounds a bit eerie not creepy, just eerie. Like the singer has something else in mind.

Letting the sun scorch the grass,

The flies are knocking on the glass.

Jamil cringed at that, why the fuck did you include that... Jade caught a glimpse of Jamil's disgusted face, he grins. But both can tell something is off with this music.

You looked entranced. Like you were detailing even the littlest of things in the moment.

But they're the only other friends I have. You see.

Malleus looks offended, what about him??? Then Lilia eyes him saying "It's the lyrics" Malleus somehow understood.

I need him so much, that it hurts,

I wish, he didn't have to go to work.

Oh? Jade thought, are you saying, you want a husband to stay by your side? Even, if they have to skip out their duties to provide? Hmm, but then again, keeping you happy by providing his attention to you does make you happy... but the problem is these other suitors...

The other boys are listening attentively, wondering if you're talking about someone in here.

I just lie and watch the ceiling fan turn,

He's my man~

We're hand in hand,

To hell and back,

And I'll love him like nobody else can!~

Not gonna lie... Idia thinks that this is some yandere traditional housewife with the way that the lyrics empathize "nobody else can"...

Prefect, is your world okay? Ortho js scanning the lyrics to find the meaning, but he needs to listen to it more to figure it out.

Riddle likes the tone of your voice, the emotion placed in it.

Rook thinks it's marvelous, pouring your heart into the lyrics where it voices out her beloved husband, do you want that type of husband, mon chouchou?

He's my man,

I've been damned,

No, nobody has to understand,

Me and my man~

Okay, so now Jamil side-eyes the lyrics internally, that SEEMS so suspicious. Prefect, you're not going to do what he thinks your going to do, are you?

As the instruments plays in a harmony where it's brooding, almost obsessively brooding, longing for someone that is already theirs, everyone starts to theorize on

What the fuck does this mean.

You literally look a bit eerie talking about 'your man' like, is it him??? He hopes [so] not!

Your voice trails off, like seeing your man whenever he walks into the room, look in a daze, you've memorized this in your heart, you stab it in if you had to.

I stay home and make his dinner,

Even though somehow he keeps getting thinner.

Now you got everyone worried, what the heck... Riddle is not side-eyeing the lyrics, no besides that, he's side-eyeing your expression. Please tell him your okay and that this is just a part of pouring emotions into a music that you totally don't relate in...

Please.

Trey is just concerned for you, WY are you singing this??? Maybe, it's just a song you like, despite the lyrics? Yeah, maybe.

Ace and Deuce looks at you like an escaped lunatic from a psyche ward [even though they should've been in there instead] Deuce doesn't mind but... what does 'keep getting thinner' even mean? Your literally feeding him, is he throwing it away??? Ace is getting justt a bit creeped out.

I wait, watching the washing machine spin round and round again!~

Npc B look at his friend, Octavinalle C whispering, "Maybe it's just in act... you know, the prefect hanging around with Vil?"

But Vil probably didn't remember you taking requests in acting, much more than good at it. Is this genuine? If it is, he'll need medical help to scoop your brain into a normal one...

Rook likes how creepy the vibe is, enjoying the show.

The instruments are taking a slightly intense turn, like madness slowly washing over them.

I NEED him so much that it hurts,

I wish he didn't have to go to work!~

Your voice sounded intense, in a softer way. Obsessively talking about a 'him', eyes fixated on 'him' [even if you're looking at no one], like it's your only thought process on keeping 'him' with you.

Everyone is recording silently, their streams blowing up by the second.

He keeps complaining that his visions blurred~

Okay. What the fuck, prefect. Leona is wide-eyed, deadass staring at the stage you were standing in, obviously not paying attention to the hidden crowd [which is, not that much crowded, if it was then you would've noticed right away. It's just a few NPCs], anyway this isn't about the audience. It's literally what your expressing in the lyrics, Leona is probs getting an eerie feeling from this.

Jamil looks with recognition, 'visions blurred' and 'keeps getting thinner' that couldn't be...

Kalim just ignores it, he knows it's a part of the music, you've explained it to him. It's a form of expression, he quite likely understood it. Just not the reason why it was expressed that way. Not like he wanted to know it anyway.

But he's my man!~

We're hand in hand,

To hell and back,

And I'll love him like nobody else can!~

Sis, that ain't your man, that's a test subject... thought Ruggie and Idia.

Trey looked shocked, if he's not wrong, it could've meant something about the wife being obsessed with her husband, yes? So if she is, and she's giving him food despite his lack of nutrition everyday... Oms.

Ace and Deuce was just catching up with the lyrics, the music sounds good.

Savannaclaw looked slightly intimidated with the way you're expressing this along with the lyrics about a wife.

Azul was paying attention to the possible meaning behind it, with an uneasy feeling writhing in his guts, Jade looked amused as if the music wasn't subtly hinting at a husband's death caused by a wife, Floyd was dead silent, paying attention to his shrimpy [whom he'd call [Name] from now on] and the lyrics. They don't seem to match [Name], that music is about obsession, blah, blah, blah, and [Name] doesn't do any of that! Unless they do...?

Malleus was paying attention to the lyrics mentioning the 'man', he seemed frail despite being fed, his eyes blurred with no reason, the wife's doing? Sebek was going to yell, Silver had a fast reflex into shutting him the fuck up before you performance is disturbed, solemnly attentive.

Idia is just wary of you bro what in the underworld are you even listening in your world ???? Ortho looks a bit concerned for your health, your emotions in his scanner seems a bit off...

Every NPC that was honorably invited was slightly hoisting up their phones to get a better look, until Vil slapped their hands down before you can spot it.

Rook was wondering what type of woman would do that to him if he were ever in your world instead. Would it be you?

He's my man~

I've been damned,

No, nobody has to understand,

Me and my man~

Yeah, this kinda adds up as to why you act so weird around your crush [or when you talk about your crush].

A violin plays for the 'romance' that blooms under delusions, it's like a message of sorts, a twisted perception of love. It's beautiful and fiercely loyal, but deadly and can backfire onto 'your man'.

He keeps having feverish dreams,

That he never ever leave.~

Oh, what a nightmare, Jade muses. But if it's you? That's different. What does he mean by that? No worries. Floyd is grinning, it's tempting to just sweep you off the stage and actually make you one.

Jamil is just concerned on why, out of all the music you could've picked in your world, it had to be this one.

Leona thinks the man did something wrong, but there were no mentions of what he exactly did wrong. Either the man was truly bad or the woman simply had lost her mind.

Ruggie thinks the woman doesn't actually have a husband and has perceived herself as one to her object of affection.

Jack doesn't know what to make out of this, it's so creepy and loving in a twisted way.

Azul probably thinks you know how to hide bodies.

Vil thinks you are acting, if you are he'll maybe invite you for practice, but if you aren't. Well...

Rook thinks this is amazing with how much it tells about how bordering obsessive the singer sounds, all while studying your expressions.

He wakes head aches, funny taste to his tea~

I want him to stay here forever.

He's happiest with me!~

Cause' he~

The instruments go slower, more intense than the last, the violin doesn't sound dramatic, it sounds frantic.

It bursts like an overwhelming sense of emotions. Sudden eruption of a chorus with Kalim, Cater, Lilia, and others who prior to joining in.

He's My Man!~

And I'll Love Him Like Nobody Else Can!~

He's MY Man!~

He's gone quite mad!~

Poor guy. Everyone thought, but some didn't even care, not when they weren't in his place :(...

No, Nobody Has To Understand!~

The instruments grew louder until the drums were heard, the last verse went solo, only them. No one else.

Me And My Man!~

The show went silent after the music stops.

Now, you were thirsty.

"Hey what the- you can't just leave without explaining what the fuck was that!"

Said a purple short boy.

Now you got A LOT to explain. [Even with some freaks].

The End♡~

The ending is ambiguous so you can imagine yourself either running away, or facing whatever they're going to throw at you, whether questions or objects, idk.

I hope you enjoy!~

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timdrakesbussy · 1 year ago

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Some of my™ Stardew Valley HCs

TW: mention of miscarriages

Emily listens to all kinds of music but despite not looking like it, she mainly listens to heavy metal. It's one of the thing that brought her and Shane's early friendship together. And because of that, Haley shares a bit of fondness to the genre that she enjoys Sam's band (but don't tell him. this will mess with her rep).

Sam is pretty educated when it comes to literature, and English was always his favorite subject when he was in school. He's the main songwriter of his band and while Sebastian could also write, Sam manages to be witty and clever with his lyrics. Other than storytelling through song, he loves his double and triple entendres. Suffice to say, he could get along pretty well with Elliott and it's one of the reason why Penny loves hanging out with him.

Ever since she was a child, Maru thinks that Sebastian is really cool and she wants to be like him one way or another. Of course, she still wants to be herself but Sebastian is just so damn cool. During her time at school, she made herself learn how to ride a motorcycle using a friend's bike because she knew Sebastian would never lend her his.

Elliott was from an esteemed family from a foreign land (just Stardew's equivalent of Europe tbh) and was a licensed lawyer until he stopped to be a writer. Needless to say, his family are not happy by this sudden decision. Not that he needs their opinion on the matter, he was pushing thirty when he made this decision.

Harvey was an ER doctor in Zuzu City until the incident™. He knew that with his line of job, he can't save everyone. However, he can't help but feel guilty and terrible afterwards. Which is why he has routine check-ups for the villagers, and if they can't visit him, then he will visit them. You cannot escape him because he will find you (affectionate).

Both Haley and Alex believed that at one point, they actually liked each other romantically. But when they had their first kiss together, they realized that they weren't meant to be. They have this deep platonic connection that even Emily doesn't really understand, but she's happy that her baby sister have someone she can rely on and trust for all her life.

Robin takes pride in her name even if her parents weren't supportive over her work at first. She have Sebastian share her last name, and when she married Demetrius, she hyphenated their surnames instead of just taking his.

Demetrius and Sebastian were close when he was a child. Sebastian was an overly curious and precocious boy and Demetrius was happy that he could share something with his stepson, their interest in biology. Although Sebastian was squeamish and even almost cried when he dissected a frog, he managed to calm him down. And even after their mutual parting as Sebastian grew older, he's the only one who knows what Demetrius' favorite animal is: moonlight jellies.

Jodi and Kent were teenagers when they had Sam. Jodi came from a highly conservative and religious family so they forced them to marry after Jodi gave them the news that she was pregnant. As they were teens, Kent took any odd jobs he could get in the city, from a corner-store clerk to a garbage man. Until he got offered into joining the military.

Pam was a trucker before she became a bus driver. In fact, she met Penny's dad in the business. But in her childhood, she was in multiple beauty pageants and even into her adulthood, she knows how to hairdo. She helped Penny with her hair since she was a child and hope that she could still do Penny's hair in her future wedding, whenever that is.

Alex's mom had multiple miscarriages before she have him, and that was into her ten years of marriage. She was beyond ecstatic with his birth that she immediately called her aging parents who also shared her happiness, they then invited her to the Valley a few days after Alex was born so they could celebrate in the Mullners' house. Lewis heard about the news and asked if they wanted to celebrate in the Saloon in which Evelyn denied because Clara wanted a small celebration with just her family.

Abigail is the only marriageable candidate to be born in the Valley. Sebastian moved in not long after Maru was born so he was close to her as he was the only child her age at that time. Penny moved in when she was seven with her parents until her dad left when she was ten. Haley moved in when she was ten years old while Sam moved in a year after. Alex often visited his grandparents but he officially moved in after Clara's death in his pre-teens. The rest moved in as adults.

Similarly to Alex, Shane only ever visited and stayed for a while in the Valley until he needed to take care of Jas. He wasn't close with his parents and they never tried to be anyways, Marnie is always the mother figure he has. So other than Marnie and Jas, the only people he considered as his family was Jas' parents. Her father, whom he met and befriended in college (as he was his roommate, before they mutually dropped out) and her mother whom he wasn't very close to at first until they both find comradery in bullying (affectionate) Jas' father.

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phoward89 · 1 year ago

Text

Based on this ask

Set 4 months before the 10th Hunger Games.

WARNING: Dark!Coriolanus, Spit kink, dry humping, slight degradation, fingering (f receiving), reference to stalking

The day of love, the ancient holiday of St. Valentine's Day, better known as just Valentine's Day for short, was vastly approaching. Rom-coms were clogging up nearly every station on Capitol TV, every grocer and sweet shop had large hearts full of candies on display, jewelry stores had diamond rings on display in the front windows, restaurants were being flooded with calls about holiday dinner reservations, and florist shops were bombarded with orders for roses.

February was the month of love and it seemed that everyone was losing their mind over it. But for different reasons. Couples were trying to find the perfect gift for their significant other while shop owners were trying to cash out on the commercialism of the holiday celebrating love.

You weren't a fan of the holiday, but why would you be when you've never had anyone give you anything on February 14th? You weren't anything special, just a girl that always has her nose in her books.

You were a bookworm, an impeccable student, and a good girl. Nobody notices girls like you.

You thought that nobody noticed you.

But, it turns out, you were wrong.

Your classmate at the Academy- a tall, skeletal thin boy with messy platinum curls and sparkling sky blue eyes had taken a liking to you.

In fact, he more than liked you.

The top student of the Academy was infatuated with you.

No, no, that wasn't it.

No, he was obsessed with you.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow was obsessed with you. He'd been watching you from afar for years, but now his obsession was growing to the point where he knew just watching you wasn't going to be enough anymore.

Coriolanus just had to have you.

He needed to make you his.

You were like a drug to him, he craved you and had to have you for his sanity.

So, since it was the month of love, Coriolanus Snow decided that he was ready to finally make you his.

How would he do that? Well, by being your secret admirer during love week of course.

Then on the day of love, he'd reveal himself to you; forever making you his.

On February 7th you walked into the Academy like you did any other day. You avoided the judgemental stares and gossiping from the snobs as you made your way to your locker. When you reached it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Or at least until you opened the metal box, only to reveal a white rose on the shelf above your stack of textbooks. Also, nestled under the rose was a note.

You reached for the paper, only to unfold it and discover that whoever wrote the note had perfect penmanship.

The flourish of the longhand was nothing, but perfect loops and dashes. The words were, as you quickly discovered, a poem.

Not just any poem, but a poem about roses by a poet from ancient times. The pre-Panem days.

Who would know that you enjoyed ancient literature?

“I see you received a white rose, Y/N.” Coriolanus Snow told you, seeming to appear out of thin air.

His locker was right next to yours, so you shouldn't have been startled by him. But for some reason, you were.

“Um, yea. Yea, I did.”

“Any idea who it's from?”

“No.”

“Well, then it looks like you have a secret admirer. Don't worry, I'll be on the lookout for you; tell you who they are if I learn anything.”

“You don't have to do that, Coriolanus.”

“Have you thought that maybe I want to, Y/N.” The platinum blonde countered, tilting his head in a way that made his curls rustle.

You forced a smile paired with a polite, but generic, “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Before he could say another word, you closed your locker and took off down the hall.

Coriolanus watched the swish sway of your hips as you walked away. His icy blue eyes glued to your ass.

Oh god, oh he wanted to take you from behind and smack your ass; make it jiggle.

Soon.

Very soon he'd make you his.

It's your destiny to be his because he always-

ALWAYS

-gets what he wants.

And what he wants most in this entire world is you.

Well, you on his rock hard cock, but that's besides the point.

The following day, you opened your locker to find a single white rose with another note.

It was a quote from an ancient Pre-Panem book. Romeo & Juliet by Shakespeare to be exact.

That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.

And then the day after that, you found a single white rose with a tiny chocolate ball wrapped in a red wrapper inside of your lock. Of course, once again, there was a note written in perfect flourish accompanying it.

Enjoy your chocolate on this sweet day, my darling rose.

You were about to put the note back into your locker whenever Coriolanus appeared at your side. He towered over you, so of course he saw the note in your hand along the presents your secret admirer left for you.

“I see you got chocolate today with your rose.” Coriolanus observed as you placed the note in your locker and pulled out your books for your first couple of classes.

Little did you know, Coriolanus stole what little money Tigris has squirreled away for the mortgage payment this month to buy you a single piece of candy. He was poor, so poor that he didn't have a pot to piss in, but he had to get you something to impress you.

And all girls loved chocolate, didn't they?

Well, he knew his Grandma’am loved chocolate. So, safe to say, he was hoping you'd like the chocolate. That the small treat would make you fall in love with your secret admirer.

With him.

Instantly.

“Yea.” You nodded, closing your locker. The platinum blonde continued just staring at you instead of making a move to unlock his locker. “The secret admirer struck again.” You stated the obvious as a way to clear the awkward air that was starting to loom around you and Coriolanus.

“I see that.” Coriolanus smirked. “Are you flattered by the gifts your admirer’s been leaving you?”

You mulled over that for a moment. Hmm…How did you feel about all the roses and little notes? “Well, it’s sweet. But I wasn't even aware that I'm likable so for somebody to keep leaving me roses and notes is a bit of a shock.”

Still staring at you, Coriolanus flashed a smile that was all pearly whites. “Of course you're likable, darling. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

“Have you seen half of the people we go to school with?” You asked, trying not to burst out laughing as the names and faces of your stupid and annoying classmates fluttered around in your head.

“Yes, well unfortunately we're surrounded by idiots that we have to play nice with so we can step on them as we climb up the ladder to success.” He dramatically told you, baby blues rolling into the back of his head, as he finally opened up his locker.

*Oh my God? Did you just say that?” You laughed, finding his remark amusing. You never knew that he had such a dark sense of humor. “If only we started talking years ago, then we could've been sitting at the lunch table judging everyone.”

“Oh, so you enjoy my company then?” he asked, pulling a book out of his satchel and placing it into his locker.

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Just maybe?” Coriolanus pressed, grabbing what he needed for his first couple of classes and packing it into his satchel.

“Sejanus likes you, so you can't be that bad.”

Coriolanus leaned over you, his eyes flashing mischievously, and his voice a low velvety baritone, “Oh, but you're mistaken. I'm a very bad boy, I just don't get caught being bad.”

It was right at that moment the first warning bell rang for the first morning class. That bell gave you an out in a situation that had quickly escalated. “The bell rang; we better go, Coriolanus.”

He nodded, only to say, “Call me Coryo, Y/N.”

“Okay, well, see you later, Coryo.” You told him before quickly taking off towards your class.

Coryo watched your backside, fantasying about spanking your ass while roughly fucking you, before taking off to his own class.

Every day was the same thing. You would receive roses and notes filled with poems and quotes from ancient Pre-Panem literature. And everyday Coryo would make a remark about it.

So, when Saturday rolled around, you were relieved that your admirer wouldn't be able to leave you anything.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Turns out, you were wrong. So very, very, wrong.

You were at your kitchen table, which has seen better days since the wood was worn, scratched, and chipped, eating some toast made out of stale bread, whenever your mother came into the kitchen. A bundle of 3 roses tied together with a ribbon bow paired with a piece of parchment in one hand and her daily morning paper in the other.

Oh no.

Your secret admirer struck again.

“You got roses and a letter addressed to you, Y/N.” Your mother told you, placing the items on the table. “Is there something you want to tell me about?” She asked, taking a seat at the table.

“I have a secret admirer.” You honestly answered, reaching for the love note while your mother unfolded her newspaper.

“Oh, how nice. Maybe he's rich.” She smiled, watching you unfold your note.

Of course she'd say that. But you understand why though. You go to school with a bunch of snotty rich kids while you're living hand to mouth in an apartment Corso. If it wasn't for your older brother, Rein, sending home his peacekeeper’s pay, well, you'd probably be out on the streets. Your mother just wanted you to have a better chance at life then she did; wanted you to marry a wealthy man that could take care of you. Get you out of poverty.

You can't fault her for wanting better for you. For wanting you to avoid making some of her mistakes.

You didn't say a word, just shrugged as you read over your note. You couldn't help but smile at the words written in that perfect looping, swooping, flourish that you've grown to adore.

These white and red roses I give to you are a promise of my affections towards you. Red roses symbolize love while white roses symbolize purity, perfection, and an untarnished new love. I have nothing, but both in my heart for you, my darling rose.

Your mother leaned over your shoulder, reading your note. “Seems like you've managed to snag the heart of the Poet Laureate of Dogwood Lane.” Your mother huffed, only to grab her coffee cup.

“I think it's sweet, mother.” You defended your secret admirer, placing the note down and picking up your tiny bundle of roses.

As you smelled the faint, sweet scent of the roses, your mother sighed, “With words like that, he's a poor boy.”

“Mother, don't act like that. It doesn't matter to me if my admirer's rich or not, as long as he's nice to me.” You scolded your mother while leaving the table and taking your roses over to the kitchen sink, so that you could put them in a tall glass of water.

Your family didn't have any vases. They were broken the night your mother received the news about your father's death. She grabbed every vase in the house and threw them at the walls with all her might, screaming and crying with heartbreak.

“Y/N, it's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor man. You remember that; it'll keep you from doing something stupid.”

But what if you wanted to do something stupid?

On Sunday you received another rose from your admirer and another note. It was a simple note, but it was sweet none the less. Of course, you put the rose into the water glass the other 3 were in.

And come Monday, you received another gift from your secret admirer. You asked Coryo if he had any clue who your secret admirer could be because you really wanted to meet them, tell them that you thought they were sweet. He told you that he knew, but would tell you the next day.

Valentine's Day.

Of course, he was going to be a troll and make you wait until Valentine's Day to find out what he knew about your secret admirer. Damn. He would.

So on Valentine's Day you walked out of your front door, expecting to make the walk to the Academy and ask Coryo what he learnt about your secret admirer, only to find him pacing the floor right in front of your apartment. He had something behind his back and he seemed to be, for a lack of a better word, nervous.

“Coryo, what’re you doing here?”

Stopping in his tracks and turning to face you, he smiled while pulling his hand out from behind his back. Extending a perfect white rose to you, he smiled, “Y/N, my darling rose, I've come to tell you that I'm your secret admirer. That I'd like to take you to the Valentine's Day dance at the Academy tonight.”

“You? You're my secret admirer?” You couldn't believe your eyes and ears. It was Coryo all along. How could you not see it? Before he could utter a reply you took the rose from him and smiled, “Coryo, I'm glad it's you.”

Of course you're glad he's your secret admirer. You enjoy his snarkiness and he's hot. He's tall, has broad shoulders paired with a small waist, and his platinum curls frame his angular face in a way that makes him look like a Greek god.

Before Coryo could utter a word, you threw yourself on him; hugging him. He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. Resting his chin on top of your head, he asked, “Are we going to the dance?”

“I'd like to, but I don't think I have anything to wear. Or at least anything that hasn't been worn one too many times already.” You admit, feeling a bit bad that you'll probably miss the dance because you don't have a slew of dresses to pick from.

Coriolanus understands where you're coming from. He too has the hard burden of keeping up a filet mignon steak appearance while on a cabbage and watery broth soup budget.

So, pulling away slightly so that he could use a hand to tilt your chin up; making your eyes lock, he told you, “I'll bring you home after school; my cousin Tigris can fix you up for the dance. I'm sure she'll have a suitable dress for you to borrow, since she's a remarkable seamstress that’s always making something.”

When Coriolanus brought you to his penthouse, you were shocked to find out that he lived in your building on the Corso.

He lives on the 12th floor in your building! Oh, how the universe has a funny way of fucking with you.

Coryo living in your building’s the reason why he became your low key stalker, watching you from afar for so many years. It's why he singles you out. Why he’s your secret admirer.

When you entered the Snow penthouse, you discovered that it was in poor shape. That he was poor, just like you were. That he was acting at school, acting like he had all the riches in the world when he didn't.

It should've bothered you, but it didn't. Coryo was just trying to survive being at the Academy with a bunch of rich snobs. What choice did he have, but to lie about having money. He has to blend in somehow.

Coriolanus was excited for you to meet Tigris, Grandma'am too, but unfortunately the penthouse was empty. His cousin left a note detailing that she took their Grandma'am out to run a few errands. She told.him roughly when they'd be back too.

Fortunately they'd be back in plenty of time to help you get ready for the Valentine's Day dance that Coryo wanted to take you too.

You thought that he wanted to take you to the dance because he likes you, but that was only partially true. Coriolanus wanted to take you to show you off. Stake his claim to you. Mark you as his own.

Once everyone in the Academy saw you on his arm, they'd all know that you belonged to him.

Coriolanus always did like showing off his most prized possessions. But, unfortunately, he doesn't have many of those these days. So, now that he has you right where he wants you, it's time to show you off.

But to do that he needs Tigris to shine and polish you. Make you look dazzling, like a diamond. But, since his cousin and their Grandma'am are out, having you be made over by his cousin’s magical fashion touch will have to wait.

Coriolanus decides that since he's got you all alone in his penthouse, he might as well act on his fantasies of fucking you.

And that's how you find yourself in Coryo’s room, splayed out on his twin sized bed in nothing, but your simple white panties as he sucked and nipped a spot below your jaw. His hands were on your boobs, massaging them roughly as he grinded his boxer clad bulge into your wet, aching core.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your hips in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ache in your pussy. “Coryo, please…” You whined, feeling the platinum blonde sucking harshly at a spot right below your jaw.

“Please what, baby? Please fuck you?” Coryo taunted huskily in your ear. His warm breath tickling your earlobe; sending a new rush of heat down to your wet center. “Hmmm?...” He hummed against your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone.

You placed a hand in his light blonde curls, only to pull his head up. Making his lust blown eyes meet yours. Biting your swollen, over kissed lips, you admitted, “I'm a virgin, Coryo. I don't know if I'm ready to go all the way yet, but I need you to touch me.”

Of course you were a virgin. He knew that. Coriolanus just wasn't expecting you to be hesitant about wanting to fuck him.

Damnit!

He didn't want to be a virgin anymore. He wanted to have his first fuck with you.

Okay, honestly, he hated people and would only be fucking you since you're his. After all the hard work he did wooing you with the secret admirer gifts and notes, he'd be a fool to try and find somebody else.

Coriolanus gave you a lopsided smile, only to stroke your cheek and confess, “I'm still a virgin too, my darling rose.”

Coriolanus Snow’s a virgin? But he's so hot. How is he still a virgin? Like, with his looks you thought he would've had a few hookups under his belt.

“Why?” You asked, curious eyes looking up into his icy baby blues.

“I'm too busy studying to do anything.” Coriolanus smoothly lied.

Truth was, he could go out and find somebody to fuck if he wanted to, but he was too busy watching over you from the shadows to do that. So, in fact, it wasn't studying he was too busy doing, but obsessing over you. Following you around whenever you went out. Even lurking nearby your apartment, in an alcove where you'd never see him, for the chance of sneaking a glimpse at you whenever you open the door to take out the trash or something.

Yes, he studied his subjects for school, but not with the same obsessive diligence that he studied you.

Trailing his fingers down your neck, until his hand reached the hollow of your throat, he smirked, “Plus, I guess I was waiting for the right girl.”

“Yea?” You ask, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. You couldn't believe your ears, Coryo just said, in so many words, that his wait was over because you were the right girl for him. That made your heart soar.

Coriolanus’ blue eyes sparkled and his plush lips turned up in a soft smile. “Yea.” He nodded, hovering over you. “We can wait until we're both ready, darling.” He offered, stroking the hollow of your throat. “I promise.”

And despite being obsessed with you to the point that he was literally your stalker, knew everything about you, and wanted to own you, he meant it. He wasn't going to push you into giving him your virginity. But that was because he worked too hard (because giving you a roses, notes, and a piece of chocolate for an entire week straight was hard work) to get you to notice him, trust him, and love him back to ruin it by pushing you too hard.

Coriolanus is a patient man, he can wait a bit longer to fulfill his fantasy of stuffing his cock into your tight cunt. At least he gets to fulfill his other fantasies with you. But, he hopes by summer he'll be balls deep inside your tight cunt.

He had an obsessive love for you and he wanted nothing more than to claim you as his. In every way possible.

And that urge to claim you is what spurs him on; what has him biting at your collarbone, soothing the teeth marks with a few laps of his tongue. The platinum blonde smirked against your skin as he felt your fingers tighten around his hair as little mewls left your mouth. It sends pride coursing thru his body, knowing that being marked by him turned you on.

Coriolanus wraps his lips around one of your nipples only to roughly tweak the other between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to let out a small, breathy moan.“Coryo…”

Your reaction to his ministrations caused him to grind his boxer covered bulge into your soaked panty covered pussy. He moaned around your nipple, the feeling of your wetness soaking his hard dick driving him crazy. He needed some friction to relieve his aching cock and by how you were frantically canting your hips up to meet his, you needed some relief too.

Coryo sped up his pace, only to roughly squeeze your tits while biting your nipple. You felt pleasure mixed with pain, causing you to loudly moan and claw at Coryo's back with your hand that wasn't tangled in his hair.

Letting your nipple fall from his mouth with a loud pop, he smirked, “You sound so beautiful when you moan for me, little dove.”

One of his hands trailed down your body, only to squeeze your hip. His thumb brushed against your hip bone as his hand, that was still on your boob, harshly palmed it. He stopped grinding into your core, causing you to whimper and buck your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to move again.

But he didn't move. Instead, his icy eyes stared straight into your soul as he asked, “I want to take your panties off; finger fuck you real good. Can I do that, baby?”

Could he do that? Of course he could. Didn't you tell him you wanted him to touch you before? Was he being shy or was he giving you an out? You didn't know, but all you knew was that hearing that he wanted to finger fuck you sent a fresh pool of wetness between your legs.

“Yes.” You nodded. Your voice was a desperate whine as you told him, “Please, Coryo. I need you so bad.”

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your lips. “Shh, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

He pulled your panties off, only to toss them over his shoulder. Your instant reaction was to close your legs, but Coryo placed his large hands on your knees, preventing your legs from closing. “Don't get shy on me now, Y/N.” He reprimanded you, lust blown icy eyes locked onto yours as his platinum curls framed his elongated face perfectly like a halo.

You couldn't tell him he was being serious or playful with his reprimand, so you just nodded.

His attention fell to your slick pussy. You were so wet for him. “That all for me, darling? Fuck, your so wet.” He groaned, gnawing on his bottom lip as he felt his already rock hard cock get painfully harder. God, just looking at your perfect, pretty pussy dripping and drooling juices just for him sent a possessive pride straight to Coriolanus' heart.

It gave him an ego boost knowing that he's the one to make you so wet. That only he can do that, make you needy and wanting for him.

Serves you right to be wet between your thighs because of him. God only knows how many nights he fisted his cock, worked up with need for you. It's only fair that he makes you into a needy wanton little whore for him.

“Yea, it's all for you.” You nod, letting your hands run over his chest. You can feel his ribs underneath his pale skin as you tell him, “It'll always be for you.”

Coriolanus gave you a needy open mouth kiss as he hovered above your body. The kiss was messy and took you by surprise, but it also turned you on. A feral look flashed in his eyes, which was more black then icy blue at the moment, before he grabbed your chin in his hand. Keeping you jaw open with his hand, he uttered the declaration of, “Mine, mine, mine.” Before spitting right into your mouth.

You felt the spit rolling down your throat, becoming one with you in an exotic way. Coriolanus’ smiled widely, showing too much of his pearly whites, at the site of you swallowing down his spit. “You're mine, my darling rose. All mine and I'll never let you go.”

Yes, you were all his. His personal little slut. His darling rose. His, his, his.

Coriolanus’ face hovered dangerly close to yours as he snaked a hand between your bodies. But, before he could touch you, you stopped him by grabbing hold of his wrist.

He gave you a startled look. Did you change your mind? Did you want to stop?

Fuck, he hopes not.

No, you didn't want to stop. Infact, you wanted him to take off his white boxers so that you could see his cock. You wanted him bare before you since you were spread out for him.

And you told him so.

And boy, oh boy, he was so happy to hear you say that.

Quickly, he stood up and pulled off his boxers. Seeing his large cock, that was at least 8 inches with veins running alongside it, you felt desire heat up inside of you.

“Can I touch it?” You asked as he knelt back on the bed.

“Yes, you can touch it. But after I'm done with finger fucking you. Okay baby?” He cooed, settling back between your legs and cupping your soaking wet cunt with his large hand. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, little dove.” Coriolanus told you before running a long finger up your slit.

A shiver felt down your spine at the feeling of him teasing you with his finger. You let out a ragged breath as his finger slipped into your tight pussy, only to languidly thrust a few times. You felt yourself grow wetter as he pulled his finger out of your wet hole, only to bring it up to his mouth and suck on it.

Coriolanus’ eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, “Mmmm…you taste so sweet.”

“Coryo, please.” You begged. His teasing was driving you crazy.

Deciding that two could play that game, you reached down with your hand and grabbed his hard cock.

“Fuck.” Coriolanus gasped as you experimentally ran your thumb over the leaky, red tip of his cock. His breathing was harsh as he said, “I got an idea. Think you’d want to try it?”

“What is it?” You asked, curious to hear this idea of his. You felt like you'd explode any minute now, so if he had a way to ease your aching cunt, then you wanted to know. Especially since he keeps getting distracted when it comes to fingering you.

Maybe he was nervous because he'd never finger a girl before, or maybe he was just a tease that liked to edge you. Who knows. But what you did know was that if you weren't touched soon then you were gonna go mad.

“Well, we’re worked up and I don't know how much more alone time we have, so I thought we could just grind together like we're fucking. But of course I won't put my cock inside, just rub it thru your wet folds.”

“Yes, yes, Coryo. Please, just make me cum.” You rattled out, feeling desperate. Hell, you’re at the point where you're tempted to just start playing with your own pussy to cum. That's how bad you needed to cum right now.

“Goddamn, baby, you're such a whiny little slut for me.” Coriolanus cooed, holding his cock and using the tip, oozing with precum, to rub against your clit in a teasing manner.

Well, it seems like Coriolanus Snow's the type that likes to play with his food before he eats it.

His metaphorical food. The boy's practically starving to death with nothing, but stewed cabbage and watery broth to eat. So, he doesn't play around with real food.

Hunger is a weapon; he knows that all too well.

But your lustful hunger for him is something that he uses as a weapon of sorts. He uses it, teasing and edging you, to make you beg to be his. Beg to be filled by him, just for a blissful release to satisfy the throbbing ache in your wet cunt.

Your wet cunt that’s hungry for his cock.

And by God, he's going to give you his cock.

Coriolanus stopped teasing your clit with his tip, only to roll his hips into yours, sliding his hard cock along your slippery wet folds. His fingers dug into your hips and yours dig into his biceps while you both let out loud, throat moans. The feeling of his cock sliding thru your folds was heavenly for the both of you.

With every movement Coriolanus made, you matched. Being the first time either of you have every done anything remotely sexual, your movements at times were sloppy and rushed. Frantic even. But it felt good.

The only sound in the room was that of your moans and heavy breaths mixed with the obscene sound of Coryo's cock slipping between your squelching wet pussy. Oh, the pressure of his cock rubbing against your cunt was delicious.

It felt better than any of the times you've fingered yourself, rubbed your clit, or humped your pillow.

Yes, dry humping Coriolanus was better than anything you've ever felt before.

“Feels so good, Coryo.” You mewled, clawing at him, feeling the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

“Yea.” Coryo huffed, his brow furrowed with sweat as he felt his cum heavy balls begin to tighten. Leaning forward, caging you in with his arms on either side of you, Coryo's breath ghosted your kiss bruised lips. “You feel close to cumming, baby? Huh, little slut, wanna cum?”

Nodding eagerly, you wrapped your arms around his back, scratching it in an attempt to bring him closer to you, as you let out a sharp moan. “So close. I'm so close, Coryo.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Coryo groaned, bucking his hips even sloppier and faster in a desperate attempt to make you both cum.

His fists are white knuckling his bedsheets while your nails rake up and down his back, attempting to anchor yourself as your release neared.

Groans and moans mixed with the wet, sweaty sound of skin slapping together and the loud squeaking of the old bed filled the air as you felt the rubber band inside of you snap.

You cum hard, harder then you've ever cummed in your entire time as a teenager. “Oh, Coryo. Coryo.” Tumbling from your lips in a sweet, moaning chant as your secret admirer continued to slide his cock between your folds.

The feeling of your cum, wet and flooding his dick, drove Coryo wild. It was better than anything he could ever dream of. Imaging how you feel when you cum during the nights he tightly fisted his cock doesn't even compare to the real feeling of your juices coating him, dripping messily down his dick and thighs as you squirt and soak the mattress beneath you.

Coryo's hips made one, two, three more tilts upswards towards yours before he’s burying his head in your shoulder and groaning out, “Fuck, darling. Fuck…”, as he cums, painting your pussy with ropes of his white hot cum.

Chest heaving as he pants to catch his breath, Coriolanus backs away from you, only to admire the was his cum decorates your glistening puffy pussy like fine pearls. Oh, if only he had a camera to take pictures of you. The site was so beautiful, so erotic.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N.” He complimented, his voice a breathy murmur as he settled himself next to you.

Turning you head to look at him, you smile. “Yea?”

“Of course, baby.” Coriolanus replied, a smile coating his lips as he extended his arm out in a gesture for you to tuck into his side. “You're the most beautiful girl in the world.” He declared as you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his torso. “You're my girl, yea?” Coriolanus asked, his icy eyes looking a bit vulnerable, as he held you close.

Vulnerable. Now that's something you never thought you'd say about Coriolanus Snow. He always seemed so confident, but right now while asking if you're his he seemed to emit some form of vulnerability. Subtle, but still in his baby blues.

“Yea, I'm your girl.” You confirm with a love struck smile.

Coriolanus relaxed when your words washed over him. He has nothing to worry about. You were his now. All the hard work he did being your secret admirer paid off.

Turning his head to look at the alarm clock in his bedside, he sighed, “We need to get dressed. Tigris and Grandma'am will probably be home soon.”

Grandma'am and Tigris welcome you with sparkling smiles and happy hugs when Coryo introduced you as his girlfriend. Tigris was excited that Coryo had found somebody while Grandma'am was elated that the daughter of the late Colonel Halvir (who served with and died with her son, General Crassus Snow, during the war in District 12) was her grandson's girl.

You're happy that the Snows accept your brand spanking new relationship with Coryo because you knew that your mother wouldn't. And you know that your older brother's too busy with his new officer's commission in 12 to care either.

Just like Coryo said she would, Tigris dolled you up in a dress that she made. She even did your hair and makeup for the Valentine's Day dance at the Academy. She made you look like a princess.

And everyone knows that a princess needs her prince.

And Coryo's your prince, giving you a white rose to pin on your dress. It matches the one that he had pinned on his label.

Coriolanus Snow proudly walked into the Academy's ballroom, showing you off on his arm.

Everyone will know that you belong to him. And when people ask how you got together you'll tell them about Coriolanus being your secret admirer during the week of love.

It sounds like a plot of a Capitol TV rom-com. But, unknown to you, your love story with Coryo would play out more like a true crime thriller.

Like an episode of Dateline.

Except that he'll never harm you. No, he's just the sociopath, narcissist, manipulative snake that destroys everyone's lives to make you the queen to his king.

His First Lady Of Panem.

But that didn't matter at the moment. All that matters is that right now you're happy with your secret admirer.

With your Coryo.

And he's happy to finally be able to be with you, because stalking you all the time was fucking exhausting.

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