#chaos sparkle au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairyysoup · 1 month

Text

it will come back

part two

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: As May Day approaches, you find yourself running into Eddie, and succumbing to his charms, more and more.

cw: smut, heavy petting, fingering, frottage, denied orgasm, public sex, getting caught, alcohol consumption (both eddie and reader), a bit of humiliation, teasing, tons of flirting, eddie munson's Big Meaty Claws, jealousy (by reader), eddie being a flirtatious shit all around, slight enemies to lovers beat here, some kind of historical fantasy period, fairytale au, descriptions of scars, mentions of abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master

a/n: Happy May! I wrote this in a complete stupor and woke up and it was almost 8.0k words, so there will be a part three. I also wanted to get this done yesterday, but that's not how the cookie crumbles. Alas.

The lyrics that Eddie sings in this are from a traditional English folk song, commonly called "As I Walked Through the Meadow." There are variations on the lyrics, but this is the version I used here.

MY WORKS ARE ALL 18+ MINORS DNI

The man from the creek is being thrown out of the tavern in the center of town.

You know because you’ve been watching since he went inside. Except, if anyone were to ask, you’d say you’re simply watching the ripples on the mud puddles on the dirt road in front of the building. They’re fascinating, you’d insist. They say you can see your future in them.

You’d noticed him going in as you were stepping out of the haberdashers. You knew it was him from the wine red of his blouse– it’s a rich color, like you’ve never seen on a garment worn by anyone in town, and certainly not by someone claiming to come from the woods. The last time you saw him, nearly a month ago now, you forgot to ask him where he got something so richly woven and colored, in such seemingly good repair. You contented yourself with a single lie: you didn’t want to know.

You also figured that you would likely never see him again. That this so-called Eddie Munson was probably better off disappearing back into the woods and staying there. You’d never seen him in town before, and you certainly didn’t expect to see him there any time soon. He doesn’t exactly fit in with the rest of the townsfolk; people who work the land, who own it, who sow it. His rich red wine doesn’t fit into the bland suedes and dull grays of your neighbors.

No– no, with his wild, curly hair and bright, rosy cheeks, he definitely doesn’t look like anyone who belongs in Havensfield. He belongs in a storybook. He belongs in a fairytale you tell to little children, to send them to sleep with something larger than life in their minds. Just like you haven’t been able to sleep a wink without thinking about him and his troublesome smile and sparkling eyes first.

It’s as if he has you under some sort of spell, unable to move on but remaining steadfastly in place with your mind only revolving around him. You figured it was probably best to spend the coin he gave you and get it out of your system, so maybe you can get rid of the one physical thing that reminded you of his existence.

But here he is, in the flesh and very alive, and being tossed into the mud puddle you had been gazing into, spraying droplets of dirty water off in every direction. A cacophony of laughter rings out from the open door of the tavern– a barkeep angrily wipes his hands on his apron, snarls something at Eddie, and disappears back into the building, the door slamming shut behind him.

The town has erected a maypole in the square for the May Day celebration in just a few days. The marketplace is normally hectic during the festival. Shopkeepers will set up their stalls, the place will be decorated with garlands of flowers, and for days at a stretch one can hardly get their errands done for the amount of chaos going on in the place. That’s why you did your shopping today, rather than waiting for the festivities to begin.

You didn’t expect this.

You haven’t moved from your spot in front of the haberdasher’s. You don’t know if you should– you look this way and that, wondering if anyone is going to approach him, or if everyone else instinctively gives him a wide berth. The people on the street continue about their business like they haven’t seen him, like he isn’t there. You wonder if it’s some unseen force of nature that keeps them away. Does some magic spell exist to make him undetectable to anyone but you? Or are you just the only one stupid enough to get close?

He just sort of lays there in the mud, staring up at the sky. You assume he’s drunk. Why else would he have been thrown out of the tavern? Drinking them dry, getting unruly, starting fights… Yes, you should go on about your business.

Your hand fists in your skirt, the color of barleycorn. Such a drab color when compared to his deep red, like the flow of blood from a wound. Just as you had feared, it draws you in like a moth to a flame. You lift your skirts and step carefully across the muddy town square, until your feet toe the edge of the puddle he lays in.

“Do you… need help?” you ask when you peer down at him. From this angle, his eyelashes fan across his cheekbones in long arches, fluttering like fairy wings.

“My Lovely Lady of the Creek!” He croons wistfully up at you when you pass into his field of vision. “We must stop meeting this way.”

“Which way is that?”

“With me on my back in a bunch of water.” He smiles at you treacherously, in that way he does. Like he’s privy to a joke that you’re completely unaware of.

“Well, are you just going to lay there like a dead man in the road? Or would you like help?” Your hands are on your hips, the small basket for your purchases wiggling precariously on your wrist.

“You really should be more discerning about who you offer to help,” he lectures as he heaves himself up to sit. Muddy water sloshes up towards your shoes, and you scamper back before they can get wet. “Lest I begin to get the wrong impression.”

“I don’t recall ever offering you help before,” you point out.

“Right,” Eddie says after a moment, his eyes sweeping along the road. He looks unsure, as if he doesn’t know what to ask for, if he wants anything at all. “You… could help me over to the well?”

Your eyes follow his to the well in the center of the square. You shrug, and then brandish your hand at him.

Eddie looks at it thoughtfully for a moment before placing his hand into yours. His hand engulfs yours in warmth, his long fingers stretching up and around your wrist. A flush bursts beneath your skin from where his touch hits, spreading up your arm and into your chest.

You’re going to catch fire, you’re sure of it.

Instead, you just help him to his feet, trying not to slip in the mud, yourself. Eddie staggers, sways back towards the porch of the tavern. You lunge forward to catch him before he can fall over again, and you snatch him around the waist without much thought. His arm plops down onto your shoulder, and your basket bats against his hip, the contents shifting inside.

You’re so close now. He smells like pine and whiskey, and his body is warm. So warm that you’re surprised he isn’t sick in bed.

“How much did you drink?” you ask him, your voice choked as you heave him towards the well. You don’t want to think about his body pressed against yours, his arm hot around your shoulders. He’s looking down at you with an impassioned gaze that you don’t want to match. You fear that if you look up into his face, you will.

“No more than usual,” he murmurs. His hand reaches out and grabs the stone ring of the well once you get him to it. He kneels on the step of it, starting to look a little green in the face.

“You smell like the tavern floor,” you tell him frankly, raising your hand to push his hair away from his face.

“Well, I was just laying in a bunch of piss and shit, so.” Eddie raises his head and gazes up at you, wide-eyed, when you press your hand to his forehead.

“And you’re much too hot,” you assess, watching his eyes flutter at your appraisal. “Don’t you dare get sick in the well. I have to drink out of that.”

“I need water,” he grumbles, and pulls away from your hand. He tries to stand, and fails.

“Stay,” you tell him firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. Eddie pouts, watching as you place your basket beside him and step up to the well to fetch him the bucket yourself.

Like a child who’s just been given a present, Eddie’s eyes fall to your basket. “What’s this?”

“My shopping,” you grunt with the effort of cranking the wheel to lift the bucket from the well.

“Ooh– stockings?”

You turn to glance at him, and see that he’s lifted the cloth from the basket to peek at the contents inside. He��s pinching your new stockings between his two fingers, pulling them out with a gleeful expression on his face.

You could kill him. “Put those back,” you hiss, letting go of the handle of the wheel. The crank spins backward, and down in the well, the bucket hits the water again with a loud, wet splash.

“Silk stockings, no less,” Eddie continues, ducking away from your swiping hand as he begins running the smooth hosiery over his knuckles. He seems to have gotten his second wind– no longer staggering, nor looking green in the face, he scampers around the well while you chase him. “Now how could a milkmaid afford such finery? It couldn’t be… no, I shant say–”

“Give it to me now,” you snarl at him, rounding the well after him. You hadn’t wanted him to see them– hadn’t wanted anyone to see them. It’s not something that you could have gotten yourself, on your own pay. The Master or Mistress would assume that you’d stolen the money, and punish you for it. Obviously, any stranger seeing them would be improper.

And Eddie… Well, he knows exactly how you got your hands on them.

“Could it be… a silver coin?” He giggles like an impish little sprite, his feet working faster than his mind. “Given to you by a handsome, charming, mysterious stranger?”

Eddie turns to look at you, holding the silken fabric up to his cheek to feel its softness. The sight of the gesture, him pressing his cheek against your undergarment, makes you see red.

“You little demon–” You lunge for him, but he jerks away, barrel rolling across the opening of the well somehow without managing to fall in. He lands on the other side with a noisy plop, laughing hysterically, and you continue rounding the well to get to him. “Your hair is unsightly and you smell like dirt and you’re as vain as you are vexing and I would rather try to climb the maypole than call you charming!”

“Well, you’re correct on most accounts,” he tells you, still trying to slow his laughter. Eddie lifts the cloth on your basket, still containing a bread roll and a new wooden comb, and begins carefully folding the silk stockings into a neat bundle. He tucks them back into the basket primly, while continuing, “But I would love to see you try to climb a maypole. Mine has been known to be good for such uses–”

“You’re despicable.” You snatch the basket away from him and step away from the well, turning your back to him without a goodbye.

“Maybe so,” Eddie replies from behind you. “But you’re still curious, aren’t you?”

You stop. You shouldn’t, but you do, and you know it’s a mistake the minute you turn and see him already standing, not swaying in the slightest, and beginning to crank the wheel of the well to fetch his own water.

With a scowl, you watch his arm work the wheel until the bucket rears up over the lip of the well, and he lifts it onto the edge. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, like he expected you to have walked away, and he smirks. “Ohhhh, she’s curious. You know what they say about curiosity.”

Your skin prickles as you’re uncomfortably reminded of your last meeting with Eddie. “You’re much too fond of your idioms.”

“They’re idioms for a reason,” he replies frankly. With the water bucket steady on the edge of the well, he pinchest the front of his blouse and begins untucking the tails from his trousers.

“What are you doing?” you snap, appalled, as he lifts the hem of his blouse to expose his belly.

He pauses, looking at you dubiously. “I have to wash my shirt.”

You bluster, “In front of the whole town?”

“Who’s looking?”

Who, indeed? You finally think to take in your surroundings, and you notice that the town square has cleared since Eddie was thrown out of the tavern. Aside from the occasional passerby, no one is lingering, and certainly no one is watching Eddie as he peels the muddy fabric from his skin.

“You’re the only person in this town who deigns to speak to me. I thank you for that,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “But you should know that it makes you a rose among thorns. That isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“How is that not a good thing?” you ask, feeling his eyes rake over you just before he pulls his shirt over his head. You see a flash of pale skin, and avert your eyes so swiftly it nearly makes you dizzy.

“Roses tend to be picked,” he tells you simply, as if it’s obvious. “Careful who you show your colors to.”

Your face heats against your will, while your eyes remain locked on the building across the way and not on him. At least, not until your curiosity wins out, and you steal a glance at him.

Eddie dunks his dirty blouse in the bucket, splashing water down onto the stone step at the base of the well. The muscles of his arms flex with the work, and his hair spills over pale shoulders, rosy at the collarbones. He has pictures drawn on his skin with black ink– mythical creatures you learned about as a child, which denote power and magic. Surrounding the images on his skin are scars, old enough that they’ve gone pale, but their raised appearance indicates that he’s seen his fair share of danger. Hair trails down his chest and to the curve of his stomach, then disappears beneath the line of his trousers. Your eyes trace the trail of it, lingering on his waistband as you wonder how far down it goes.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he glances up at you. You immediately rip your eyes away, but it’s too late. He’s already seen you looking– seen you staring.

Eddie grins, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “If it pleases you to look, then look.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking,” you say, with more than a hint of pride, turning your nose up a bit for good measure.

“Of course,” Eddie muses, a wicked smirk still on his face. “And neither was I.”

He meets your eye with a heated gaze that makes goosebumps break out across your skin. His eyes are two black coals, burning at you from just a few feet away. They slowly move up and down your body, until he sets his jaw and turns back to the bucket. He lifts the red blouse from the water and wrings it out, casting droplets of water down his forearms.

You watch them travel along his pale skin, your eyes tracing the blue veins and sinewy muscles of his arms. And that’s when you notice it– the cloth tied around his wrist.

It’s pale pink. It has a slight brocade pattern to the weave. It’s one that your Mistress had no use of, and when she decided she didn’t want the cloth for anything, you took and dyed it yourself with rose petals, and turned it into a blanket for your bed.

It’s the same cloth that you tied to the injured leg of the wolf in your dream, all those weeks ago. But it wasn’t a dream, or it couldn’t have been– the end of that very same pink blanket is still frayed from the tear of the fabric.

“Where did you get that?” you ask him sharply, marching forward. He startles, drawing back just a bit, his eyes glancing you up and down in alarm.

“Get what?” he says coolly, though his manner doesn’t reflect his tone. He’s backing away from you, holding up his hands like you mean to attack.

“This.” Far too bold for your own good, you snatch his wrist in your hand. Eddie gazes down his nose at you as you yank his wrist up near your face, twisting until the pink brocade glints in the overcast light of late April. “Where did you get this cloth?”

“In the woods,” he says simply.

“This is from my bed,” you hiss at him, your eyes narrowing as your hand tightens on his arm. Beneath his overheated skin, his pulse pounds against your fingers. You feel it like the beating of a thousand drums. “I don’t believe you. Where did you get it?”

“I told you,” Eddie repeats slowly. “I found it hanging from a tree. Thought it was pretty, so I kept it.” His face betrays no emotion now, almost strategically so. Where alarm once was, there is nothing. No hint of hesitance, or mischief, or cunning. Just a blank slate that you have no way of reading.

Your eyes flick between his face and his arm, trying to connect the dots. That’s when you notice the mark as well– among the otherwise pale, older scars that riddle his torso and arms is a long, jagged gash on his bicep. It arcs across his skin and appears to have been from a deep wound. It’s raised over and scarred, but still bright in color. New.

You’re wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s improbable that the scar on his arm is the one you patched on the wolf a month ago. You refuse to believe such things; you don’t believe in wolf-men, in fairytales, in silly superstitions.

You release his arm. You still don’t believe him– not when he so quickly went from being startled, to suddenly showing no emotion at all. You don’t trust him in the slightest. It seems to you like he’s hiding something, but you don’t know what. You don’t believe he’s anything other than a man. You can’t honestly say that you believe he’s evil, or that he means you harm, but you still wouldn’t lay your life down to fend for his honor.

And that cloth. You would bet your life that the fabric wrapped around his wrist came from your bed, dyed by your own hand, tied around the wounded leg of a wolf on the last full moon. But you can’t dispute that what he says is true. So you step back, and you fix him with a steely-eyed gaze that you know would make even the roughest of men shake in their boots.

“Good day, Mr. Munson,” you say, and he looks surprised that you even remembered his name. “I hope that I never see you again.”

“Making a wish like that is unwise,” he replies mildly, turning back to the bucket that he has perched on the rim of the well. “Unless you have a coin to toss in the well for it. Silver, maybe?”

Your cheeks burn hot, and you turn away from him. He infuriates you so much. You can’t recall a time when a man affected you so badly.

“Right. Because you spent it,” he observes, taking your silence as a quiet relent. “I’ll sleep well knowing that my coin was spent on a pair of beautiful stockings. Excellent craftsmanship, by the way. The weave is immaculate. Feels like spun gold.”

“Go to Hell,” you mutter, finally turning away from him, for good this time.

“As long as I know you’ll think of me when you wear them,” he tells you as you walk away, “I’ll die a happy man.”

You pause. For a moment, you think of turning back to him, telling him to shove that exact thought down his stupidly pretty gullet. But you don’t. Thankfully, you have the reserve and the self respect to set your shoulders and leave him there, rinsing his soiled blouse there on the edge of the well.

You still didn’t ask him how he got a blouse so fine. You doubt that he would tell you the truth even if you did. All you know is that he stays with you, haunting you, rolling through your mind the way he rolled across the mouth of the well, until your hand lands on the gate to your Master’s property.

You can’t afford to have him occupying your thoughts. You can’t afford to be so distracted– you don’t even want to think about what may happen if the Master learns that you’re on your way to being smitten with someone. Someone young and beautiful and, from what you can tell, not running a farm with indentured servants on it.

And when exactly did you go from wanting him to disappear into the woods, to being smitten with him?

On May Eve, you get just enough of your chores done for the Mistress to not find any excuse for you not to attend the festivities. With your hands tight on a woven basket, you set off with a group of young milkmaids from down the lane, bearing torches, to collect flowers from the meadows and woods.

Bringing in the May is one of your favorite customs, mostly because it’s practiced by the young people of the town. You don’t have to worry about being watched by the town elders. There’s an air of being chosen by someone; the more popular girls in town get flowers laid on their doorsteps in abundance. You’ve never been left flowers, but each year you hold out hope that someone, anyone, will leave them for you. A gesture– you’re wanted.

There’s music in the air. Groups of young men and women laugh and dance, and the meadows are dotted with the little blooms of fire at the ends of torches as flowers are gathered. You’ve already indulged in a certain amount of floral spring wine and honey cakes, lulling you into a sweetly tipsy, giggly mood. There’s magic in the air– you can taste it in the humidity, the moonshine, the salt of sweat and earth.

“There aren’t enough flowers in the meadow this year,” one of the girls in your group complains, tromping through the high grass.

“This isn’t the only meadow in Havensfield, Victoria,” says another.

“I’ve seen more growing by the trees,” you offer, holding out your basket for one girl to toss a few measly primrose blooms in.

The other girls stop. You look around in the low torchlight at the appalled expressions on their faces.

“You can’t just… go into the woods,” the one named Victoria objects. “There’s… there’s fairies. And wolf-men.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes while the other girls balk. “You can’t honestly tell me that you believe those old wive’s tales. You know the elders only tell those stories to keep us from going into the woods to fuck.”

A few snickers rise up with the smoke from the torch. “It’s true, I saw Katherine Plack sneaking through the woods with Scotty Raker two nights ago,” says a short girl beside Victoria, nodding sagely.

“And what were you doing in the woods, Hyacinth?” the girl holding the torch says, slugging Hyacinth on the shoulder.

The girls dissolve into laughter, while you suck on your lower lip and gaze toward the trees. It can’t be that dangerous, if Eddie claims to come from in there… somewhere. You imagine a cozy little cottage in the woods with a well beside it, tucked away, hidden from town. You imagine him chopping the wood to make it, himself. You imagine his lean frame and strong hands holding an ax, the drawings on his skin highlighted in the filtered sun through the trees as he swings the blade–

“I’m going to go see,” you announce abruptly, your voice nearly cracking. You’re nodding to yourself, looking like an idiot while you fumble to pick the basket up and set it on your hip. “Yep. That’s what I'm going to do. You all can stay here if you want.”

“But, there’s no light,” Victoria insists, pulling her hair back away from her face with a condescending expression.

“Moon’s almost full, I can see just fine,” you snap back. Honestly, what does it matter to her if you go into the woods? “I’ll be back.”

Hyacinth calls something about “girding your loins” after you, but you’re too far away to really pay it any mind. The grass grows taller by the trees, and you hop over the creek into a wide bed of bright yellow marigolds. They wiggle in the slight spring breeze, lit with just enough moonshine for their color to show even in the dark.

“Beat that, Victoria,” you mumble as you set the basket on the ground. Methodically, you begin picking them, choosing the biggest blooms, the ones with the most immaculate petals. You’ll decorate your small cabin with them, and fashion garlands for the town square with the rest.

As you wander over to another bed to collect some more blooms, you hear singing, following the tune being played by the pan flute across the meadow. It’s an old folk song that most of the people in town would know, and you hum along mindlessly as you pick the flowers at your knees.

“As I was a-walking to take the fresh air, The flowers all blooming and gay, I heard a young damsel so sweetly a-singing, Her cheeks like the flowers in May.”

It’s a young man’s voice, coming from somewhere in the trees, low and rich, and quiet enough that you don’t think it’s meant to be heard by anyone else across the meadow. Tipsy, you smile to yourself, not thinking to look for the source of the voice, but just appreciating the sound as it travels on the breeze.

“Said I, ‘Pretty maiden, and how came you here, In the meadows this morning, so soon?’ The maid she replied, ‘Why, to gather some May, For the trees they are all in full bloom.’”

As your fingers stroke along soft flower petals, humming along under your breath, you glance over your shoulder towards the meadow, where flaming torches dance like woodland spirits in the night. Laughter follows the music and the raucous cheering of the other groups of May-goers, dancing and collecting their own greenery and flowers.

The rich, velvety voice filters through the trees, ever quieter, but even closer than before. You look up just in time to see the source of the voice move just beyond the treeline, and then he appears, leaning against the trunk of a great pine, close enough that you can see the deep wine red of his blouse, and the wicked smirk on his lips.

“I said, ‘Pretty maiden, shall I go with you Through the meadows to gather some May?’ ‘Oh no, sir,’ she said, ‘I would rather refuse, For I fear you would lead me astray.’”

You could swear that Eddie’s eyes glow nearly red at you in the moonlight, his teeth sharper than you’ve ever seen them as he grins at you. The lace at his collar is untied, disheveled, falling open to reveal one of the inked pictures on his skin and his dark chest hair.

“Climb any maypoles today, princess?” he asks you after a moment of your staring at him, like you’ve seen a ghost.

The question sets your skin aflame. You sit back on your heels, giving him a caustic expression, despite the way your heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s the eve of May, your lurid mind thinks, tracing his outline among the trees. Anything could happen.

“I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again, Mr. Munson,” you retort, imagining that he won’t be affected by your words in the slightest.

He isn’t. “Ah-ah, you said you hoped that you wouldn’t. But you didn’t toss a coin in the well, therefore, your wish was never going to be granted. Rules of nature, sweetheart.” He wags a finger at you. “And enough with that ‘Mr. Munson’ business. You remember my name, don’t you?”

“Eddie,” you say quietly, not sure why you feel so shy when you do. Probably because, up until now, you’ve been firm in your false belief that you’d never give him the time of day. It seems it all depends on whether or not you’ve seen him shirtless, first.

“Good girl. I knew you were paying attention.” Eddie smirks at you then, sowing the seeds of your detriment right there. He stands poised, and then bows low as he says, “So, pretty maiden, shall I go with you through the meadows to gather some May?”

You consider quoting the song right back to him, but you figure that it’s probably what he expects you to do. So instead, you sigh and shrug your shoulder at him. “As long as you promise not to crush them in your big meaty hands.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open in shock, an impressed smile curling his mouth up at the corners. He barks a laugh. “That’s not how the song goes.”

“Well, the song ends with them kissing and then getting married in the morning,” you point out, with a roll of your eyes. “So, forgive me for not adhering to the lyrics.”

“Also, my hands are not meaty.” He smirks at you ruefully, his face half bathed in moonlight. He leans towards you, “I’ll tell you what is, though–”

“If you’re about to mention your maypole again, I’m leaving,” you snap, glaring at him in the dark. He snickers, but says nothing, instead preferring to start gathering marigolds. “Just how did you manage to find me again, anyways? There are hundreds of people wandering the meadows tonight. How is it that you keep managing to run into me and no one else?”

“Oh, I can sniff you out in a heartbeat, princess. It’s one of my many talents.” The flowers are dwarfed by his hands– his long fingers pinch the stems delicately, offset by the size of the silver rings he wears on them. You admire them, watching them glint in the moonlight, the tendons in his wrist flexing and his skin pulling tight over veins and knuckles. The heavy metal clicks as he works. You’re about to comment on them, when you watch what said fingers are doing with the flowers.

He takes one, and loops the stem around another, creating a loose knot that lets the tails sit alongside each other. He repeats the process slowly, building a chain of bright marigold blooms, while he hums idly and shoots you a heavy look from beneath his lashes. “Ah. So you’re not afraid to look, now. That’s good to know.”

You tear your eyes away. The tips of your ears burn with embarrassment at having been caught staring, yet again. “Have you any shame?”

“Not a hair of it.”

Eddie holds up a finished crown of flowers, grinning at you. He places the circlet of blooms on your head, and as he draws back, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“And I crowned her my Queen of sweet May,” he sings at you, more of a coo than truly carrying a tune. “The most beautiful one in all the land, of course.”

“From princess to queen,” you muse, trying not to show how quickly your heart is melting. “I’m sure you must think that endears you to me.”

“I’d like to think so,” Eddie admits, leaning ever closer to you. You can see the reflection of the moon in his eyes, glinting vaguely red– you can smell honeyed wine on his breath. His voice drops even lower in register, until it’s just barely above a whisper. “I hope so. Tell me I’m wrong, sweetheart.”

“I think,” you murmur just as quietly, letting your eyes drop indulgently to his parted lips. They’re so plush and inviting, they’re right there. You need only let yourself bend an inch and you could kiss him. You breathe in, “I think…”

Your hand falls softly to the basket of flowers beside you.

“I think your hands are egregiously meaty.”

You lift a handful of marigolds and smash them into his mouth, making him splutter and fall backwards. You cackle, flinging yourself in the opposite direction, scrambling up to run away. You swear you got some of them in his mouth; you can hear him coughing and spitting them at the same time as he laughs.

“I’ll get you for that!” You can hear him leaping up to chase you, and the prospect makes your heart pound in your chest, your blood rushing hot beneath your skin. You’re sure that it will be easy for him to catch you– you’re hoping for it, really.

You duck between the pines and into the trees. “Come sniff me out then, if you must!”

You hear his laugh from behind you, almost sounding dark and menacing. Your hair stands on end, but your feet carry you through the trees, running even though you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning.

His feet pound the earth behind you, his laughter dancing on the breeze and combining with the music from the meadow. Beyond the trees, your contemporaries dance and make merry with the coming of summer. Here, in the woods, you run from some indeterminate end– one that you have an inkling of, like the barest traces of a memory, but you can’t quite make it out yet.

Eddie’s hands snatch you by the waist, and you yelp. Heat bursts beneath your skin where he touches you through your bodice, whirling you around until your back hits the trunk of a tree.

Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding, chest heaving. Eddie is so close, and the air around you buzzes with energy and magic, as if the very trees themselves were singing.

“You little minx,” Eddie muses, his voice rumbling low like thunder. “Just need me to chase you, is that it?” His eyes truly do shine red, you don’t think you’re imagining it– each time they catch the light of the moon, or a torch burning far off in the meadow, you see a glimpse of that subtle iridescent red of a forest creature in the dark glinting back at you.

“I think you’re a spirit,” you whisper, the words light and airy in your throat as you try to regain your breath. “I think you’re one of the Fey. You can’t be real.”

Eddie has you caged in against the tree– one hand on the trunk beside your head, one on your hip. You don’t want to be anywhere else. “Oh, I’m very real, sweetheart. Shall I show you how much?”

His forefinger traces the line of your cheekbone, down the side of your face, to your jaw. You want it bad. You want him and anything he’ll give you– throw you to the ground, take you as prey, the lot of it. You won’t be married in the morning, but tonight all things are possible.

You turn your face and drag your lips across his knuckles, half-gone in your desire. You barely even register the look on his face; eyes wide, lips parted in awe, like he’s never seen anything like you before. Like you confound him as much as he confounds you. A match made in heaven.

Eddie catches your jaw in his fingertips, holding you like you’re made of glass, and he crashes down into you. He tastes of cherry wine, as rich and deep as the color of his blouse, which you fist in your hand to tug him closer.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips. It falls like a sigh into his mouth, and his hand tightens on your hip momentarily before gathering your skirts. The fabric flutters as he pulls at them, tugging them up just enough to disappear beneath the hem.

Your breath quickens. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you think, Oh fuck, this is really happening.

Eddie’s finger’s pause on the breadth of your thigh, just above your knee. His forefinger strokes downward, passing over your garter strip and feeling the weave of the silk before he cracks a self-satisfied smirk at you.

“Nice stockings. Get them recently?”

Your eyes narrow with false gravity, your nose scrunching. “I’ll kill you.”

His smirk stretches into a grin, and he scoffs a little laugh that flutters across your lips. It feels like a kiss. “Dying between the legs of my beautiful Queen of May sounds like a good way to go, actually.”

His hand drags hotly up your outer thigh, and the touch nearly burns you to your core. Eddie’s thumb presses against the skin just at the juncture of your leg, and you press your lips together to bite back a moan from coming out. Everything between your legs is tense, and pulsing, and turning feverish the longer he just pets at your skin and tugs your leg up to rest against his hip.

His fingertips dig into the curve of your ass and the moan escapes you; high pitched, needy, embarrassing. You’re hot all over and you feel like you might die if he doesn’t touch you– you have a mind to tell him so, too, when Eddie dips his head and bites at your earlobe.

He dips his finger between your folds, tracing one forefinger up the seam of your cunt, and you swear you could nearly scream. Flesh that is too hot and too sensitive bursts alive with feeling. His finger is drenched, your legs shake just from one touch. Is this what it always feels like?

“Oh, baby,” he coos as you whimper into his neck. His lips move slowly along your skin. Each move of his finger, just teasing you gently, dragging so slowly over your clit that your back arches and you keen long and high. “That’s it. This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You let out a pitiful squeak, nodding your head like you may explode rather than answer. He strokes you firmly and then gently, watching your face, studying your expressions. It’s so much and it’s not enough, not nearly enough to settle the throbbing in your core.

“Please…” It’s the only thing you can come up with, the word bubbling up out of your throat before you can make it make sense. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what?” Eddie tilts his head. His pale skin nearly glows in the moonlight, the red in his eyes shining for a split second. “Please… here?”

His finger circles your entrance, prodding but never quite dipping in all the way. It’s just enough to make you see stars, just enough to turn you nearly insane.

“Oh my God,” you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders and gripping at his neck.

Eddie hums, letting you feel the gentle touch for a few more seconds before it’s gone. You could cry. There are tears in your eyes– you could sob, throw a tantrum. You don’t think it would make him change his mind either way.

“My hands are too big, though, aren’t they?” Eddie shakes his head, mirroring your pout in a condescending manner that makes you want to smack him. Then he cracks a smirk, and you know he’s just being mean. “Mhm. Big and meaty. Too much for a sweet little thing like you. I wouldn’t want to break–”

You snatch his wrist through your skirts and bring his hand back between your legs. No preamble, no begging– this time he hisses, and you sigh with relief as you grind down onto not just his fingers, but his entire hand.

“You’re not disappearing on me this time, Munson,” you nearly growl at him. Your tongue lavishes his skin, his long neck providing just the right amount of area for you to indulge in.

“I would have stayed,” he gasps out when your teeth find a particularly tender spot under his jaw. “I’d have stayed if I knew you wanted me to.”

“I want you to,” you say, and you wonder if you’ll regret it in the morning. But the morning seems so far away right now, and his hand feels so good between your legs, and you don’t quite understand how you could regret anything that makes him look at you like that.

“Don’t– You can’t talk to me like that,” he whispers, and his eyes shine like rubies in the night as he gazes at you in awe. “You should know better than that.”

You do know better. But still, you tell him, “Stay,” and it’s like a dam has been broken. You know that you’ll never get rid of him now, and you don’t really want to. You want him to make a home in your chest, right against your heart. You want him to always touch you like this. You want him to always look at you with that same reverent gaze, like he’s just looked upon divinity.

Eddie crowds between your legs and his hand leaves you, but his thigh remains in its place. His leg presses tight to your core, the rough fabric of his trousers not nearly as warm as the touch of his hand, but just as erotic. You rock forward mindlessly against his thigh as he takes your face in his hands– one wet with your arousal– and kisses you breathless. His lips move over yours softly, and then passionately, until you take all that passion and feed it back into him twice over.

You lose track of time. The stroke of his tongue against yours, your hands in his hair, his firm thigh between your legs, all brings you to the edge of oblivion. You squirm against him and he chuckles against your lips. He knows what you want. He’ll give it to you, you know it, you know that he will–

And then a twig snaps. Someone calls your name just through the trees, and then, fucking Victoria breaks through the bushes just in time to see you jump and squeal, having to clutch at Eddie’s shoulders to keep from falling over when he spins around to see who intruded on your precious moment.

“OH! I’m so sorry– I thought–” Victoria fiddles with a long lock of her hair, twisting it idly before tossing it over her shoulder. You’re sure you look disheveled, with Eddie’s crown of marigolds slowly unweaving itself in your hair. It’s obvious to her what you’d been doing– Her eyes rake up and down Eddie’s frame, standing halfway in front of you like a shield, his chest heaving, a dark spot on his trousers where his thigh had been pressed between your legs. “Well, you said you were going to be back, and we thought you’d gone missing…”

“I was in the middle of doing something,” you tell her bluntly.

“Understatement,” Eddie mutters under his breath, and you knock your elbow against his back.

You ignore him. “I thought you didn’t want to go into the woods?”

“Well, that was before we thought you… disappeared.” Victoria looks from you to Eddie. “Who’s this?”

“Something.” Eddie grins at her, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight breaking through the trees. “Sorry I stole her away from you. We were actually just having a fascinating conversation about when it’s appropriate to disappear– you could join us if you want?”

Eddie glances over his shoulder at you, and smirks a bit at the expression of complete and utter envy on your face. You don’t want anyone to join. You don’t want to share him. You want him all to yourself. You want to grow on him like ivy until no one can see him but you. You want to hold him close to your chest and keep him there for eternity, and then some.

“Oh, no, I–” Victoria blushes. She half-turns, like she wants to run away from the conversation entirely. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve collected all the flowers we need, so… we’re going back to town. You can stay… if you want.”

You want to throw a fit.

She ducks back into the bushes quickly. Eddie is quiet for a moment, listening to her footsteps through the grass, before he turns to you.

“You were jealous,” he teases, leaning towards you with that stupid self-aggrandizing grin.

Your face grows hot with anger and embarrassment. “You did that on purpose.” You shove him bodily, so that he stumbles a bit to the side, and he snickers. “I can’t believe you. She could have said yes to that.”

“Nah, she was too bashful. I knew she wasn’t gonna take me up on the offer. She wandered into something she wasn’t ready for.” Eddie leans up against a tree, smiling at you with a more resigned expression now. He looks you over, like he wants to burn the image of your kiss-bitten lips and rumpled dress into his memory. After a moment, he meets your eye again. “You should go. Get some sleep before the festival tomorrow.”

“But I–” You flounder. You just made so much progress, and now you’re just back where you began. You shouldn’t be proud about it now– not after he nearly took you to pieces with a single touch. Not when you can still feel the sharp edge of an orgasm pressing at your core, wanting to force its way out but with no way to get there now, and every look at him makes it press that much harder. “You know what– I don’t even know what I expected.”

You march off towards the tree line. You have to find your fucking flower basket. You have to go and make garlands and slap together some bouquets for the festival tomorrow. You have to pretend like you aren’t dying inside from the disappointment.

“Princess.” You turn to him. He isn’t smiling anymore, he just looks disappointed as well. He glances up at the moon, and then back to you. “It’s a full moon tomorrow. Best not to go near the woods, okay?”

“Don’t tell me you believe in those stupid wolf-man stories, too,” you snap, beyond aggravated.

“Just promise me,” Eddie bites back, his eyes shining dangerously in the moonlight. “Promise me that you’ll stay in town. Don’t come near the woods. Drink, be merry, have a good time.”

“And you?” You feel a bit humiliated and desperate, vying for his time and attention– but you want it. You want it, you want him, more than anything, but you have a feeling you won’t be getting what you want, yet again. “What about you?”

“I’ll find you,” he says firmly, and then lowers his eyes. Softly, he amends, “I’ll always come back to you.”

#i'm inordinately proud of this one uhh #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #werewolf!eddie munson #werewolf!eddie #werewolf!eddie munson x reader #stranger things #roses*

370 notes · View notes

thelovelyruin · 8 months

Text

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖘.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : choso has had a crush on you for oh so long.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, oral sex, praise, love, teasing, fingering, edging, (emotional choso lmao).

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 5.5K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from white roses by charli xcx.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it, if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Maybe my only light, don't you recognize you're the only one I want?

Choso knew for a while now that he was in love with liked you. How could he not? Not when you’re always sparkling in every room you walk in, and all he wanted was for you to be his firecracker. It didn’t go unnoticed that guys on campus practically throw themselves at you, acting like dogs whenever you wore a particularly short skirt or a tight top, he knew cause he was looking too. Unfortunately for him, you pretty much had him in the friend zone. To be fair, it’s not like he’s made a move yet, so how were you supposed to know? Well, that didn’t stop you from referring to him as a mutual friend while talking to other people. Now, the one person who did know he liked you was his brother, Yuuji.

“Dude, you better tell her before she gets a boyfriend, then you’re really gonna be hurt.”

“Shut the fuck up, Yuuji.”

“C’mon, you know I’m right.”

And he was. When Choso caught wind that you had a thing for Megumi, (which was debunked because he made Yuuji ask you and you told him no), he pretty much wanted to throw up. Not that Megumi was a bad guy or anything, he was your best friend after all, and Choso was just related to Yuuji, who was Megumi’s best friend. His proximity to you was short, while Megumi and you talked all the time. He started thinking about what it would be like to be that close to you, inhaling your scent, seeing your smile when he spoke to you, the way your chest moves up and down when you breath. Then, he realized that kinda made him sound like a fuckin’ weirdo, so he stopped.

Now, he was in hell a bus with a bunch of other people in your friend group, headed to the mountains for a ski trip. It’s not like he didn’t like your friends or anything like that, it’s more so jealousy that the only thing he’s ever been able to say to you is a measly, hey, when Yuuji introduced you to him. That and Megumi and Todo were arguing, about what, exactly? Women. Megumi expressed that he wasn’t picky, which was the catalyst for Todo telling him he has to take what he can get cause he’s so stand-offish. So, now they were going back and forth about Megumi’s ability to pull. And, it was giving Choso a damn headache.

“Hey there, Choso!”

Cold like ice, petrified, lovin' what you're doin' to me.

Choso nearly shit himself the second he turned to his left and you were sitting in the seat with him.

“Um, hey.”

He hated himself for how awkward he sounded. He was too worried about the fact that you never really talked to him, but that was his own fault really. All the times he’s gotten the opportunity to talk to you, walking around campus, parties, and he’s never taken the chance. So much so, Yuuji came to him and asked if he had something against you, which sparked the conversation where he told Yuuji he actually had feelings for you. Then came Yuuji’s antics.

“I know you’re chillin’ over here by yourself, but I wanted to come say hi!”

You looked around the bus, seeing the chaos running amuck.

“I’m sorry about them, Yuuji told me when there’s too much going on, it kinda bothers you, but I can totally get them to shut up, if you want.”

He was gonna fuckin’ kill him. Now, his mind was boggling. What else had Yuuji told you? Lord knows he couldn’t keep his damn mouth closed, for all he knew, Yuuji had went ahead and told you he likes you.

“He said that huh? What else?”

“He also told me that you’re a little shy, but you warm up once you get more comfortable! If there’s anything I can do to help you out, just let me know, kay?”

He was scorching at this point. Why the fuck would he tell you that? As much as Choso wanted to give Yuuji a piece of his mind, his brain wasn’t really working. Because now, he was able to get a good look at you. Pink tinted lip gloss that accentuated your already pretty lips, and that perfume you were wearing, you smelled like a piece of strawberry cake. And he wanted a damn slice.

“Do yo mind if I stay back here with you? I’d rather not go up there and hear them bicker.”

“Uh, um…sure.”

You were infectious. He could feel himself practically light up when you asked him that, you wanted to sit with him? He must be dreaming and he knew he was when he saw you begin to take off your jacket.

“Know it’s cold outside, but this jacket is just way too hot for this bus. Hold it for me?”

Choso obliged immediately, the jacket served as a cover for the tent growing in his pants. Of course today of all days, you wear a v-neck shirt, your tits practically spilling out the fabric and talking to him. If he was hearing things correctly, they were begging him to free them from their captivity. He quickly snapped out of it when you began resting your head on his shoulder.

“Gonna take a nap, kay?”

This was gonna be a long fuckin’ ride.

White roses in the snow, never let me go.

When you guys got to the lodge, Choso exhaled deeply, removing his headphones and preparing for a long day. He had wanted to take a nap on the bus, but all he could think about was your pretty little head on his shoulder, and how it might be the last time. So, he relished in the moment, sighing when you stirred awake. You turned and gave him a little smile, followed by a yawn as you reached for your jacket. Everyone began to walk out of the bus, you were shortly behind, but you forgot you left your purse in the front row of the bus. As Choso walked up behind you, you were about to panic.

“I can’t find my purse anywhere! Did I leave it somewhere else?”

You began to check under the seat, giving Choso a front row view of your ass, stretched out by your insulated leggings. You were driving him crazy. The drive up was already enough for him, but now your ass perked in the air? He was practically edging himself. He knew he probably shouldn’t be looking, but he was mesmerized as you shifted around looking for your-

“Looking for this?”

You jumped up, looking at Megumi holding up your bag. With the assumption that you’d probably forget it, he went ahead and grabbed it to meet you outside the bus.

“Ooo, thanks Megs! You know you could’ve told me you had it!”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry bout that.”

With that, you grabbed your bag from him and smiled, proceeding off the bus. Choso was stuck, still in awe, but as Megumi was walking off the bus, he shot him a menacing look. Had he caught Choso staring at your ass? Probably. Shit, was he gonna tell you? Choso panicked a bit but took a deep breath and took his exit off the bus. If Megumi was gonna tell you, he deserved it, he had no business looking at you like that. But fuck, was it hard.

Lyin' in your bed and movin' slow, takin' off our clothes, givin' you it all.

Everyone piled into the cabin, which was pretty damn nice for a vacation rental. Everyone had a room fortunately, and there was a hot tub out on the back patio. While the girls went to find their rooms, the guys stayed behind to help with bags. As Choso went to pick up his and a black suitcase that was closest to him, Yuuji intercepted him. With a wink, Yuuji handed him a bubblegum pink suitcase.

“A gift, for you.”

Choso rolled his eyes at him and took the bag, still upset with him for the things he told you. Walking through the halls, he looked for your room, wondering if you were still walking around. When he couldn’t find you, he sat your suitcase down in the room at the end of the hallway, seemingly empty.

“Why thank you, kind sir!”

He turned to see you in the doorway, giving him one of those bright smiles. You looked around confused for a bit, like you were looking for something. Then, Megumi walked into the room with his bags, and of course, your makeup bag. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Megumi shot Choso a confused look that said what the fuck are you doing here?.

“Sorry Megs, this room is off the market!”

“Oh no, whatever will I do? I’ll go find another room, but here, you forgot your makeup case.”

“Awe, we can share the room you know!”

Choso cleared his throat, causing the two of you to look at him. Him and Megumi were both obviously taken aback by your offer, causing you to chuckle at them.

“Awe, I was just kidding, duh! Megs, if you sleep with me, people may get ideas. Promiscuous ideas.”

You gave him a smirk and laughed at his flustered reaction. Choso had to contain himself. You had blatantly friend-zoned Megumi, right in front of him. Then, there was the look of defeat on his face that made Choso nearly jump for joy. Not that he was praying on his downfall or anything, but seeing Megumi lose this little game made him pretty damn excited.

“That goes for you too, Choso! Things like that are how rumors start.”

Now, Choso felt like shit. And it didn’t help that Megumi was now smirking at him with a look that said welcome to the friend-zone, bitch. It’s not like Choso got the idea that he would be sleeping with you, but it didn’t feel very good that you dismissed the possibility altogether. Even more reason to carry on, there was no chance he was admitting his feelings to you now. After that, you kicked them both out, preparing for a day at the lodge.

All I need is you and me alone. Love is like a rose and baby, let it grow.

Once you guys were done at the slopes, it was evening time. Everyone had decided to cook for dinner. Much like a potluck, all of you made something with ingredients you brought from home. Nobara’s pasta salad was pretty good, and Inumaki’s onigiri wasn’t half-bad, but the best thing was your brownies. A little known fact about Choso is that he loves sweets. That’s why when he tried your brownies, he nearly scarfed the whole thing down. You got the perfect texture, rich and fluffy with a decadent chocolate. You noticed him eating one and walked over, a blush on your face.

“So, how do you like them?”

“They’re delicious.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Yeah, good job.”

You were beaming now, so proud of your baking. Choso felt really good, satisfied in the fact that he made you feel that way. Maybe he wasn’t always a fuck up.

“Hey, we’re about to do spin the bottle! You two playing?”

Maki had walked up to ask you, a slight look of annoyance on her face, it was obvious she wasn’t interested in playing, probably dragged into it by Nobara. But, that all changed when she saw the optimistic look on your face, her dread turning into a smile.

“Uh, duh! Sounds fun, you’re coming right, Choso?”

It’s not like he had much of a choice, because before you even finished your sentence, you were dragging him over to the living room. He didn’t really wanna play, but damn, he was happy you were touching him.

“So, we spin it and whoever you land on, you have to kiss. Sounds good? Okay great.”

Mai hadn’t given anyone a chance to answer the question, cause to be frank, she didn’t really care. All of you sat in a circle now, couch and chairs moved back to accommodate everyone’s seating arrangements. Choso sat next to Yuuta on the opposite side of the circle, while Yuuji sat between you and Megumi. At least Megumi wasn’t sitting next to you. Mai crawls over and spins the bottle first, landing on Todo.

“Hell no.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means hell no! I’m not kissing you.”

As her and Todo sent killer looks at each other, Yuuta went ahead and spun the bottle, landing on Maki, who was blushing like crazy. Everyone knew Yuuta had a thing for Maki, but it was a surprise when Maki kissed him back. After cheers and howls from the others, they sat back in their positions. You went up and spun next, Choso staring at the damn bottle like he had the powers to stop it. It landed on Megumi. Choso nearly lost his shit, I mean, was the damn universe against him? Yuuji raised his hand, a look of concern on his face.

“Uh, Mai, I don’t think she wants to kiss her best friend, that would be kinda awkward.”

“Well, spin again.”

Yuuji, you fuckin’ saint. You give Megumi a playful pout, while he looked like someone’s sad puppy. Crawling up to spin again, Choso held his breath, mentally preparing for who it would land on next.

“Oh!”

He couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. The bottle had landed on him. You give him a sultry smile, crawling over to him and kissing him firmly on the lips. He nearly died in that moment, high on the adrenaline pumping through his body from the feeling of your lips on his. You pull away and smirk at him, crawling back to your position on the floor, earning some whistles and claps from the others.

“You know all you had to do was kiss him on the cheek, right?

“Yeah, but I wanted to make things exciting!”

Oh, Choso was excited alright. All the way down to his-

No one knows the secrets that you know. Come on, pull me close, lay me in the snow.

After playing a few more rounds, Yuuta and Maki got a bit tired, calling it a night. Yeah, right. At that point, someone got the idea it would be fun to go out to the hot tub, which you happily agreed to. Choso couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Sitting in the hot tub with Megumi and the others was the last thing he wanted to do, retreating to his room. That is, until there was a knock at his door.

“Choso, you’re coming out right? Where’s your trunks?”

Choso was about to die, and you were killing him slowly. When he looked at you, he didn’t expect you to be wearing such a revealing bikini, one of those with the triangle tops and thong bottoms. He nearly short circuited when he saw how pretty your tits sat in the cups, rubbing together a bit more due to your lean on the door. It didn’t help that you were fucking pouting again, giving him that look that said you weren’t gonna take no for an answer. And you looked really damn good in pink.

“Uh…yeah, sure.”

“Yay! Hurry up and get changed, I’ll wait out here for you!”

With that, you sat down on his bed, tits bouncing from the gravity shift. He could’ve sworn he was high, but damn it, he had to keep it together. He swiftly grabbed his trunks from his suitcase and went to the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him. For a moment there, he considered relieving himself before having to sit with you half-naked beside him, but there wasn’t enough time for that and it would also be really fucking wrong.

After putting on his trunks, he opened the bathroom door, you still waiting for him patiently. When you saw him, your eyes went wide. Choso was not the type to walk around shirtless, but he knew he couldn’t get into the water with a shirt on. It’s not like he was bad looking, just less built than someone like Todo, so in turn, he was convinced he was mildly unattractive.

“Ooo, Choso, nice abs!”

Who was insecure? Not him, never. Your validation was all he needed to be in better spirits, loosening up a bit as you guided him through the house. Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi were already in the hot tub. Much to Megumi’s surprise, you were holding Choso’s hand as you walked out onto the patio, and Choso could swear he could see the smoke shooting out of Megumi’s ears. As you got into the hot tub, Choso took a seat next to you, clearly fighting the temptation to stare at your body again. Yuuji started talking about some thing that happened back at school, but he couldn’t pay attention at all, why? Because, thankfully, you were still holding his hand.

I know you can feel it.

You'll be mine every night, I'm tryin' to effortise you're the only one I want.

Everyone had long since gone to sleep, the clock showing 1 AM now. Choso had been tossing and turning all night, just couldn’t stop thinking about the day. It was the most he’d ever interacted with you, and it was making him nuts. The way you touched him, spoke to him. Respectfully, he was in love with you. Tensed, he decided to go out and relax on one of the chairs on the patio.

Hold me tight, Marlboro Light, lovin' what you're doin' to me.

He brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, inhaling the smoke like a breath of fresh air. Laying back, he put his arm behind his back, allowing himself to decompress.

“That’s a bad habit, ya know?”

You had come out on to the patio, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts that were practically underwear. He brought his hand to his face wiping down, preparing to fight his boner for the umpteenth time today. You walked past him, taking a seat on the chair next to him and taking the cigarette. To his surprise, you smoked it, inhaling softly and blowing out.

“Thought it was a ‘bad habit’?”

“A habit I never denied having.”

You put your lips around it again, Choso in a trance. He didn’t even care that your sticky lipgloss was staining the filter, all he could think about was how good they would look around his-

“So, you don’t talk much. Why’s that?

“Not really much to talk about.”

“Nonsense, there’s always something to talk about.”

The cigarette is finished now, Choso sitting it in the ashtray. You stood from your chair, walking to the door and waiting for him. He stood up too, noticing how cold it had gotten, following behind you into the living room, fireplace crackling with a light fire.

We're gonna melt down, gonna disappear into the sun.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Like, about how we can finally warm up in here.”

You sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, patting the floor beside you, signaling Choso to sit with you. Like a fish to water, he came down and sat, looking between you and the fire.

“So, what are you studying?

“Um…Pre-Med. I wanna be a phlebotomist.”

“Like blood and stuff? How cryptic!”

You playfully jab him, talking for what seemed like forever on all sorts of topics, music, movies, memories. Every thing you said made him fall more in love with you. Your enthusiasm in the way you spoke about your interests, god, he wished you talked about him like that. Eventually he became more and more comfortable, relaxing a bit.

“So, wanna talk to you ‘bout somethin’.”

“What’s up?”

“A little birdie told me you were crushin’ on me, is that right?”

Yuuji was a dead man. Choso locked his jaw and stared down at the floor. This was it, this was the end. He knew damn well you were out of his league, he couldn’t even compare to the guys who approached you. Guys like him don’t pull girls like you, shit, at this point, he had something in common with Megumi. Unrequited love for you.

“Um…I…uh… yes.”

“Is that so?”

You looked him in his eyes now, getting a bit closer to him. He swears he’s gonna combust, your face is so close to his, god, if he had any balls he’d make a move on you right now. He nodded and sighed, ready for the influx of humiliation.

“Yeah, I like you. A lot, actually.”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

The fuck did you just say? He was hearing things, has to be. There was no way you were implying he make a move on you, but when you brought your hand over his and gave him that sultry look in your eyes, he knew exactly what you meant.

Gonna burn down together, like fire, we can't get enough.

“Fuck it.”

Choso slammed his lips on to yours, so high on life that he nearly comes undone at the feeling of your hand crawling behind his neck. You start to lean back onto the rug, Choso climbing on top of you, claiming your mouth as his as he begins biting your lower lip. And when that makes you moan softly, he swears he was gonna fucking lose it. He moves down to your neck now, kissing and sucking the skin there while your fingers run through his hair. Can’t help but leave hickies all over it, now that he’s got you, he wants everyone to know you’re his.

We're tied like white roses, you know we're never comin' undone.

As he comes down your neck, his lips find their way onto your chest, licking the skin of your breasts as his hand comes under your shirt to massage your tits. Isn’t it his lucky day? You’re not wearing a bra. Choso’s imagination runs wild for a second there, thinking there was a possibility you were braless because you intended to fuck him, but it was an incomplete thought as he brought your shirt over your head. Back on you immediately, he took a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling on the bud, obsessed with the light moans and whimpers he was pulling out of you. Sucking all over your chest, he was running on lust and adrenaline. Kissing his way down your stomach, making you arch your back a bit, he found his way down to your shorts, taking them down slowly as he kissed the skin around your pelvis. He hit the jackpot. You weren’t wearing any panties either, and to make it better, you spread your legs for him, your lower lips inviting him to indulge.

'Cause I wanna stay forever, I know that you're the only one, only one.

“Wait, what if someone sees us?”

Choso is a bit frustrated now, interrupting him sucking the skin of your thighs. He nearly told you he didn’t fucking care, but when he looked up at you, there was that damn pout again. Swiftly, he scooped you up as you scrambled to grab your clothes before anyone found them. Hoisting you over his shoulder, you giggle a bit as he carries you down the hall and into your room, ensuring no one could hear you from all the way down there. After closing the door and locking it, he sat you on the bed, laying you out and opening your thighs so he could continue is mission. That had you chuckling, which was interrupted by you moaning his name as he took your clit into his mouth. He was a man starved, exploring pandora’s box for the first time. The sweet, sweet treasure he’d been waiting so long for, you exceeded his expectations. He was dedicated, sucking the bud in and out of his mouth and massaging his tongue against it in a circular motion. God, did it feel good, your fingers were pulling at his hair, you could swear it was gonna rip out. But he didn’t care. You could’ve killed him right now, but your pussy was already killing him. Especially when you got wetter and wetter, which Choso decided he wanted to explore before the main event. With two fingers, he brought them into your pussy, feeling your walls stretch around them. He was self indulgent, pumping them in and out of you, curling his finger up to hit that spot that was obviously very effective. He’s heard you say his name over twenty times now, each time you say it his dick is aching more and more. You were being so good, arching your back as he took all you could give, making you feel things you’d never felt before. You’ve had your fair share of lays, but Choso was surely the best so far. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, whimpering as you rub your pussy on his lips. He was going crazy, his tongue working on its own at this point, fucking in and out of you as his thumb rubs your clit. And he wasn’t ashamed to moan as he ate you, he wanted you to know just how much he enjoyed it, how grateful he was. With one particularly hard suck, you came undone all over his lips. God, you were an angel, back arching off the bed as you pulled his hair, bringing him up to kiss you and kiss you he did. He was hungry now, continuing to finger you as you cracked from overstimulation.

“God, Choso, please.”

White roses in the snow, never let me go.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what you meant. That’s why he immediately went to work, stripping himself of his pijama pants and top, leaving just his boxers, which he was currently freeing his dick from. Now, Choso wasn’t the thickest guy around, but what he didn’t have in girth, he made up for in length. That’s why you looked in anticipation as he pumped his hands on it, taking some of your cum to saturate it before slipping inside of you. He’s died, thats it. He’s in fucking heaven. His brain can’t even comprehend the way you feel, almost upset with himself he hadn’t made a move on you sooner, knowing he could’ve been putting his dick inside you a long time ago. But none of that mattered now, not when he finally found himself all the way in.

Lyin' in your bed and movin' slow, takin' off our clothes, giving you it all.

Your moans, they were becoming too much. Choso wasn’t selfish, not at all, but the way you were sucking him in, he was tortured, waiting for you to adjust to his size. He was gonna do whatever he could to make this good for you. He didn’t even care about cumming himself, as long as you cum again, he’d be complete.

“You ready, baby?”

“Yes…please…fuck me.”

And with that, he let go. All resolve he had to not rush into things? Gone. Asking you to be his girl first? Gone. He was fucking you, here and now, and you were loving it. You bring your hands up to rub his back, pulling him in closer so you could kiss him, moaning into his mouth as he fucked you. God, you were addicting. He was doing anything he could to hear you say his name, singing him a lullaby that would be etched into his brain forever. All of a sudden, you bring your legs up to wrap around his back, locking him in place to fuck you deeper. That was Choso’s breaking point. He fucked you like he was insane, he swore you two would fall into the mattress. And you? You were so fucked out you were speaking what sounded like it was supposed to be his name. He brought his lips down to kiss you again, feeling the vibrations from your throat of you whimpering in pleasure.

“You like that baby?”

“Yes, Choso, so much.”

“You’re killing me.”

Choso had no thoughts, so focused on the way your pussy sucked him in and out, feeling like it was made for him. You were wrapping around him like a warm blanket, and he was addicted. He saw it when your lips parted to moan out louder, and as much as he loved the way you reacted to him drilling you, he had to bring his mouth up to your ear.

“You gotta be a little quieter, princess. Can’t have everyone hear how good you feel.”

He had gotten a bit cocky now, knowing he was about to make you cum again. It was so obvious, the staggering of your moans, your nails in his skin, your tits pressing against his chest from arching your back. Your whimpers sounded more like begging now and it was sending him over. He felt himself about to cum, but he had a mission to complete first. He brought his thumb up to rub your clit, making you squirm uncontrollably.

“Choso, I’m…I…”

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

You couldn’t even answer, too busy focusing on every motion of his thumb, like watching every stroke of a paintbrush on a painting. Unfortunately for you, he needed that validation.

“Let me hear you, baby. Am I making this pussy feel good?”

“Yes, Choso, fuck!”

With that, he rubbed your clit even faster, bud sensitive from the second orgasm approaching.

“Wanna feel you cum for me, kay?”

Fuck, you were a good listener. In seconds, you came all over his dick, body jerking as you felt the ripples of your orgasm consume you. You swear you’ve never came that hard before, and Choso was reveling in it. The way your pussy was spasming around his dick, he couldn’t hold it much longer.

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside!”

All I need is you and me alone. Love is like a rose and baby, let it grow.

That was it. With another thrust, he spilled himself into you, heart and soul. God, was he in love with you, even more so that he unlocked a new part of you. His orgasm felt like an eternity like his body was giving him triumph after waiting so long to have you. And when it all came crashing down, he dropped beside you and laid on the bed. It was instinct, wrapping his arm around you to lay on his chest, panting from the fatigue settling in after fucking you the way he did.

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, Choso instead running his hand over your side, eyelids getting heavy. You shuffle a bit, turning you body to rest on your arms, looking up into his eyes. He was preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. What if you only wanted to fuck him? To be fair, you never told him you liked him back, and when he realized that, he felt himself go back to his typical nervous state.

“So… did you like it?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Good, um, glad I could make you feel good.”

You give him a confused look, like you were expecting him to say something else. He shook a bit, intimidated at the way you stared at him. The result? Word vomit.

“Look, I don’t know if you, uh, like me…you know like-”

“I do. Have for a while now.”

His heart skipped a beat, stomach doing backflips. He couldn’t believe it, he must be dreaming.

“You, uh, what, I-”

“Surprised you didn’t know. Everyone else does, even Megs. Sadly for him, I’m crushin’ on you. I mean, why else would I agree to kiss you? Or hold hands with you? Or not say anything when you shamelessly stare at my tits?”

You had a damn point. He felt stupid now, again, wishing he would’ve said something sooner.

“Can…um, do you…shit, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

No one knows the secrets that you know. So come on, pull me close, lay me in the snow.

The next morning, Choso wakes up before you. You were like an angel, sleeping and breathing softly under the sheets, still laying on his chest. Begrudgingly, he pulled off of you, needing to piss and have a smoke. When he finished in the bathroom, you were still sleeping, and the last thing he wanted to do was interrupt. So, he quietly put his clothes back on, walked out the room, closing your door softly. He walked down to his room and jumped at the sight of Yuuji at his door.

“Choso, you motherfucker, didn’t think you had it in you!”

I know you can feel it.

♱ the song used in this story is white roses by charli xcx. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

440 notes · View notes

soulaires · 7 months

Text

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 7 Evil Exes ™️ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

main pairing: Aaron Warner x f!reader

synopsis: Aaron Warner is not sure about many things, but he is sure as hell that he can be a better boyfriend than your exes.

content warnings: modern au, jealous Aaron Warner, bisexual reader, hinted one-sided rivalry (if u squint enough), use of y/n, profanities, making out, kissing, playgirl!reader, swear words, pining, slow burn..

« words: 17,899 (I know. I KNOW.) ┇ao3┇wattpad┇ reblogs appreciated! »

🪩:: voicemail; read my other aaron warner fics here.

authors note: It’s finally here!!! Please let me know your opinion or what you think about this!! Love you alll 🫶 I suggest reading it in ao3 btw, it’s much more easier imo andd not beta read sorry.

PRESENT. (2040)

Aaron Warner Doesn’t Get Jealous. (Or that’s the lie he keep telling at himself for the past few years)

He’s not really someone who got jealous, I mean, what would a man like him be jealous of?

Jealousy, in Warner’s meticulous worldview, was an emotion akin to unruly chaos. It required an admission of vulnerability, an acknowledgment that something, or in this case, someone, held the power to disrupt the carefully constructed equilibrium of his life. It was a sentiment he considered beneath him, beneath the carefully honed image of composure he projected to the world.

He was Aaron Warner, unflinching and composed. Jealousy required acknowledging vulnerabilities that he refused to expose. He has always prided himself on his unyielding control, the ironclad grip he maintained on every aspect of his life.

Yet, there were moments, like the one he was currently experiencing, that threatened his carefully constructed facade.

The party was in full swing, the atmosphere vibrant and charged. Laughter and music filled the air, and Warner stood amidst the throng of people, a glass of whiskey in hand. As he stood in the corner of the room, glaring daggers at the scene of you and kenji dancing in the middle of the dance floor, Warner could not deny the storm of emotions brewing within him.

He took a sip of his whiskey, his refined taste for the finer things momentarily overshadowed by the fire igniting in his chest. He had been observing the situation with detachment, or so he had tried to convince himself.

Yet, each chuckle that escaped your lips, every shy smile directed at that interloper, seemed to slice through his veneer of indifference like a dagger. Warner’s green eyes narrowed as he watched you, dissecting every nuance of the encounter. He saw the way your hair fell just so across your shoulders, the way your eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. And then, there was that touch – innocent, yes, but it still sent tendrils of anger curling around his heart, grip tightening around the glass cup.

“You alright there, Warner?” A voice chimed in, interrupting his train of thoughts. It was Nazeera, her observant eyes noticing the situation.

“Perfectly,” he replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you.

Nazeera followed his line of sight and smirked. “Ah, I see. Jealousy does not suit you, Warner.”

Warner’s jaw clenched. “I am not jealous.”

Nazeera raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Jealousy requires emotions, which you find terribly unrefined. But as you stand here, glaring at the sight of poor y/n and kenji who’s unwittingly— or should I say unwillingly caught your ire, I’d say you are feeling downright murderous.”

Warner’s irritation flared. “I assure you, I’m simply observing. Run along.”

Nazeera chuckled knowingly. “Right, observing with the intensity of a hawk about to swoop down on its prey.”

Warner’s eyes flickered to her, irritation now can be seen at his face “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely” she replied, her grin widening. “But don’t fret, Warner. Jealousy happens to the best of us, even those who pride themselves on being unemotional”

Aaron only huffs in response. He took another sip of his whiskey, his gaze drifting back to you. Nazeera only watches him with amusement.

“They were supposed to be broken up,” he said, breaking the silence and now looki— no, glaring fire and daggers at Kenji.

“And why do you care?” Juliette Ferrars appeared, arms linked in with none other than Adam Kent who is smirking, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding in his eyes.

Nazeera smiled mischievously. “Yes, Warner, why do you care?” Aaron rolled his eyes taking a long gulp of his whiskey.

Why did he care?

Aaron Warner really had nothing against your past lovers—He simply believed that they all don’t deserve you and that he thought that he would fit in so much better in their place.

He could be a better boyfriend than all of them.

You see, You had what Aaron Warner liked to call 7 Evil Exes, except some of them were not really evil and some of them were not really exes. but that is what he likes to call them and a secret he clung to in the privacy of his mind.

Nazeera Ibrahim.

New Years Day Party, Circa 2035.

It was New Year’s Day, Aaron’s father had forced him again to come to a party with his business partners to celebrate.

As he entered the ballroom where the teenagers who were also dragged along by their parents were hanging out, Warner heard you and nazeera's loud, booming, and obnoxious laugh.

Recently, there hadn’t been a time when Aaron was with Nazeera that you weren’t accompanying them. And perhaps, if Aaron did not have such a terrible time making friends, he might not have ended up spending as much time hanging along with Nazeera Ibrahim.

The opulent ballroom was ablaze with twinkling chandeliers and a sea of elegantly dressed individuals. It was the kind of event that drew the city’s elite, where the power plays of the wealthy and influential were disguised behind smiles and clinking glasses.

Aaron Warner, however, had always found such gatherings a tiresome spectacle. Tonight was no different.

“Double A,” a voice chimed in, it was none other than Kenji Kishimoto. Warner hated that nickname and most especially kishimoto. “Upset that your rival is not giving you any attention?” He teased. “Go away.” Warner replied as he took a drink to his wine.

“In case you haven't noticed, this is a party – a gathering designed for enjoyment, y’know.” Warner only rolled his eyes in response , “I’m aware. Get out.”

“What’s with the face, sour patch? It’s New Year’s Eve, are you really starting your year with a brooding face? How boring”

“Go. Away.” He warned. Kenji only huffs in response as he leaves.

“Oh look who we have here,” you suddenly said behind Warner. “What are you doing here at the corner?” You stated. “None of your business.” He replied, bored.

“You are no fun, Aaron.” Oh God. “Fun might not be my forte then.” Warner said, sarcasm visible to his voice.

“You chat like a full-on adult – did you clock that?” You mumbled. Clearly not sober, you speaking to him and being ‘nice’ kinda give it away.

“Why aren’t you out there having a blast with us?” you prodded Warner’s arm. ”Why? You all seem to be enjoying yourselves just fine. Nazeera is,” Aaron murmured to himself.

“You do realize that we consider you a friend too, right? It is not just Nazeera.”

“When was the last time I spent time with you without Nazeera around?” Warner said, harshly. “I am not your friend, l/n.” He continued. “Oh, definitely not. But you are the biggest asshole I know.” You said teasingly as you laughed.

God. He kinda hates you.

“Oh, why thank you” Warner replied as he gave you a mocking smile. You only roll your eyes in response and leave, which is a dismay to Aaron.

He had been content in his corner, a place where he could observe without being observed, where he could distance himself from the shallow conversations and frivolous indulgence.

But his decision to leave his little corner had now made him an unwilling witness to a scene that mirrored a teenage sleepover rather than a high-society event, now he was an unwilling witness to the spectacle unfolding, a circle of friends, a bottle spinning, and raucous laughter as it determined the next victim.

It was all so juvenile, so beneath him. He didn’t care. No, he really did not. He exhaled a silent sigh, his eyes scanning the crowd. That’s when he saw you – a flash of mischief in your eyes as you joined the circle.

A mix of anticipation and amusement danced across your features, and for a moment, Aaron found his gaze inexplicably drawn to you.

The bottle pointed at you, and you met his gaze with a mix of anticipation and mischief. He couldn’t help but notice how your smile was brighter tonight, your eyes alight with the shared secrets of the game.

The bottle spun, slowly losing momentum before finally settling.

Nazeera.

The bottle had chosen Nazeera Ibrahim, and Aaron could not help but feel his gut tighten. Nazeera, with her quick wit and unapologetic charm, leaned in and brushed her lips against yours. The room erupted into cheers, the celebration of a simple, harmless act. Aaron downed the rest of his whiskey, his facade barely holding as he looked away.

He did not care. No, he really didn’t. It was a game, a meaningless gesture, and his rational mind understood that. But as he watched you and Nazeera exchange a knowing smile, a spark of anger flared within him, and he was left grappling with an unsettling truth he refused to acknowledge.

The room's energy was infectious, intoxicating, and it stirred something within him he had long suppressed. He downed the rest of his whiskey, its warmth barely soothing the tension in his chest.

___

The party continued, the spectacle of the game morphing into a dance of bodies and laughter. Aaron moved through the crowd with his usual grace, exchanging pleasantries and polite smiles. As the night waned, the festivities evolved into a more intimate gathering. Aaron found himself once again near the circle, his eyes discreetly observing.

His attention was drawn back to you – your laughter, your smile, the easy camaraderie you shared with those around you. And that spark of anger, the one he had tried to suppress, grew stronger.

The noise seemed to fade around him as he stood there, his thoughts a tempest of confusion and contradiction. He had been adamant that he did not care, that he was above the trivialities of the game. Yet, as he looked at you, a realization began to crystallize.

It was not about the kiss.

His internal debate was disrupted when Nazeera approached him, her gaze sharp and perceptive. ”What's eating at you, Warner?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, his features carefully composed. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

She chuckled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something’s bothering you.”

He met her gaze, his voice firm. “It’s none of your concern, Ibrahim.”

She leaned in, her voice a whisper that held a hint of teasing. “You know, it’s okay to be bothered by something, even if you pretend otherwise. You don’t fool me, Aaron Warner.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Aaron to wrestle with the turmoil within him. He moved to a quieter corner of the room, his thoughts a tumultuous storm.

He didn't care. He couldn’t care.

That was the narrative he had woven for himself. But as he stood there, surrounded by the fading echoes of laughter and celebration, the truth began to claw at him.

The anger he felt wasn’t directed at the kiss itself, but at the fact that he had been forced to witness it.

Yeah, he definitely does hate you.

PRESENT.

Warner would not lie; there was a point when he disliked his friend.

It irked him how she was always stuck by your side, hated her for being your first kiss, hated her for the fact that she kissed you, hated her.

And he also hated you for being all nice and friendly, making him feel like he belonged like he’s included, but then turning around and acting like he did not exist. It made him think you chose Nazeera over him in some weird way.

The memory of it was a bitter pill to swallow. Now, he’s watching as Nazeera wrapped her arms around your waist, your laughter intermingling with the music, kishimoto no longer in sight.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as Nazeera’s touch lingered, her fingers grazing your skin.

Then you turned around, your arms snaking around Nazeera’s neck, hugging her from behind. The sight of your intimate embrace, the way your top lifted to reveal a hint of skin, stirred something in him that he could not quite name. He looked away, his irritation magnified by the laughter of Juliette and Adam, who were thoroughly entertained by his discomfort.

“Hey, Warner, you’re missing quite the show,” Juliette teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He forced a half-hearted smile, his gaze avoiding the dance floor. “I’ve seen better.”

Adam chuckled, clapping a hand on Warner’s shoulder. “Come on, man, don’t be such a killjoy. Live a little.” Warner only shoved his hand from his shoulder making Adam and Juliette laugh.

Their voices fell deaf on his ears as his attention was drawn back to you and Nazeera. The two of you seemed lost in your own world.

Warner pressed his lips together, his gaze fixed ahead with an air of annoyance. Even though Nazeera was this kind of ex-but-not-really, he still saw her as one of them. It was not jealousy, not exactly, but Nazeera’s striking resemblance to you made things pretty complicated. You and Nazeera seemed like two sides of the same coin on occasions.

Warner could not help but entertain the thoughts that he might have been a better choice for a first kiss – not that he was particularly yearning for that, though. Kissing you? no way, that would be way too crazy. It was completely out of the question. That was just a wild and outlandish notion, but…

Aaron Warner sure would have been a better first kiss.

But that’s only his own personal opinion. He genuinely has no real interest in it, none whatsoever.

He didn’t really care about you anyway.

Zayden Knox.

Is meeting someone just once and deciding that you already and absolutely loathe them too early? Because Warner was and had already decided he hated Zayden Knox. And if he had to endure another moment in his company, he was fairly certain he might spontaneously combust.

Zayden Knox. Your first Boyfriend. Tall, platinum blond, rich, narcissistic, undoubtedly entitled, and worse, he was dating you. Warner was going to vomit.

Warner could not fathom what you saw in him, what qualities Knox possessed that could warrant your affection? You guys had completed a month of dating – a month that felt like an eternity for Warner.

Aaron scowled as he recalled the incident when Zayden had deliberately taken the seat next to Warner, claiming he wanted to meet your 'cousin'. Cousin.

Warner had left the scene without exchanging a single word.

That was the moment he had decided to loathe Zayden Knox with a burning passion.

The infuriating part was that Zayden had nothing to do with Warner’s feelings for you. It wasn’t a matter of jealousy, or wanting to be in Knox’s place. It was the simple fact that Zayden grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

If Nazeera was a mirror image of you in some respects, Zayden was the polar opposite. He didn’t share your interests, your values, or seemingly any of your virtues.

Warner had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes whenever Zayden spoke, which was far too often. Zayden's conversations were self-centered topics that Warner found utterly infuriating.

Worse yet, he had heard Zayden mock the very things you enjoyed with an air of superiority that made Warner’s blood boil.

He literally did not care about what you liked and even trash-talked the stuff you enjoyed. Knox was shallow and annoying, he seemed like the last person you’d click with. So, the big question was, why did you pick Zayden Knox? Warner could not wrap his head around it.

What the hell had led you to choose someone like Zayden Knox as your first boyfriend?

That was the question Warner couldn’t answer, the puzzle he couldn’t solve. He had witnessed you laugh, engage in meaningful discussions, and show kindness to those around you. Zayden, on the other hand, seemed to be the embodiment of insincerity.

He can be a much better choice.

He can be your first boyfriend yet you have chosen someone who can’t even listen to you talking about the things you adored. Maybe that’s why every time he saw You and Knox in the hallways you guys were kissing and not talking.

___

Halloween Party, Circa 2037.

The Halloween party was in full swing, the mansion adorned with eerie decorations and the air thick with laughter and music. Aaron Warner, His costume was a nod to his own enigmatic aura – dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, reminiscent of the dark, powerful figures from classic films.

It was as if he had embraced the idea of embodying his own enigma, using it to further distance himself from the joviality around him. He stood near the grand staircase, observing the masquerade of guests with his signature air of detached amusement.

He had begrudgingly agreed to attend this event, knowing that it was an opportunity for him to judge rich people’s choice of clothes. His attention, however, kept gravitating towards the entrance, his gaze settling on the crowd as the guests flowed in.

And then he saw you, (with Zayden Knox beside you, which Warner has completely ignored.) a vision of mischief and charm, you entered like a phantom, a vision of allure and danger wrapped in an enigma.

The black dress clung to your curves, the fabric flowing like liquid silk with each step she took. The dress itself was simple in design, yet its effect was anything but a slit up at your thigh, a dagger can be seen that it’s attached to your thighs, a fake gun was holstered at your side, a prop that lent authenticity to your costume of an assassin. Your hair cascaded down your shoulders in loose waves.

The corner of his lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk – he had to admit that you had a talent for making an impression.

As the night wore on, he found himself content with his role as an observer. People mingled, danced, and indulged, all while he remained the enigmatic figure lurking in the shadows. He could feel their gazes on him, curious and speculative, their conversations likely rife with speculation about his motives and intentions.

The clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of chatter formed a backdrop to his thoughts, and he did not notice when you approached. It wasn’t until your voice cut through the noise that he turned his attention to you, his expression a mix of mild irritation and genuine intrigue.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the formidable Aaron Warner,” you purred, your tone laced with both taunting and undeniable magnetism.

He arched an eyebrow, a rare hint of amusement ghosting his features. ”And here I thought Halloween was a time for costumes, not insults.”

You chuckled, your laughter infectious even in the midst of the lingering tension. “Oh, but Aaron, don’t you know? Insults are my specialty, no matter the occasion.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn into the banter, “and here I was, hoping for a break from the usual.” He shot back.

“Well, I couldn’t help it. Are you trying to blend into the darkness tonight?” you quipped, your tone laced with a playful challenge.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze meeting yours, “you could say I’m embracing the ambiance.”

“Well, you’re certainly nailing the brooding loner aesthetic.”

Warner resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his lips quirking into a half-smile. ”I’m touched by your assessment,” you only smirk in response. “Why don’t you go run along now.” He continued, more of a statement than a question.

You gasped dramatically, a hand pressed to your heart in feigned hurt. “Wow, eager to get rid of me, Warner? I’m hurt. I thought we had something special!”

Your sarcasm was like a well-practiced melody, each word dripping with playful mockery. You even went so far as to dramatically wipe away non-existent tears from your eyes, the theatricality of the action earning a faint smile from him.

“Never, love.” his tone laced with a mock seriousness that matched your theatrics. You chuckled in response, pink blush coloring your cheeks. Huh. Cute.

“I’ll stay here for awhile, it’s suffocating out there.” you said.

Warner’s eyebrow arched slightly, “Won’t your date miss you?” there’s something in his tone that you couldn’t quite understand.

You met his gaze, ”If I cared about that, I would not be here.”

What? Warner raised an eyebrow, curiosity now visible to his face, “Touché.”

There was a charged silence between you, the tension hovering in the air. The air was heavy with an unspoken tension, a weight that seemed to settle between you as if begging to be addressed. The world around you continued to swirl, the party continued with fancy extravagance that sharply stands out from the complicated feelings brewing underneath.

Finally, Warner turned to you, putting an end to the silence. He blurted out, “Why are you dating Knox?” The question escaped him without restraint.

“What? Why?” Your response seemed defensive.

“He is… just nothing like you,” Warner shrugged dismissively as if he didn’t care. And he didn’t, at least that’s what he believed.

You looked at the landscape beyond the open window, nibbling on your lip. “You know, my friends have been saying the same thing,” you admitted cautiously. Then you turned back to him, looking deeply into his green eyes. Oh God.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

“I don't like Zayden, not at all,” you finally said, your voice a blend of confidence and vulnerability. There was a quiet honesty in your words, a confession that seemed to hang in the air like a delicate secret.

Warner's brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on you as he processed your words. ”Like you said, he‘s not really my type.”

The uttered and unspoken meanings of the words hovered between you. Warner’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he’d been trying to solve.

“oh.” he managed, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and realization. “Then why are you dating him?”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw something in your gaze – a flicker of hesitation, a glint of regret. “Everyone around me is dating, and it makes me feel like I’m falling behind, and Zayden was right there and... I don’t like him at all.”

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like Zayden Knox. Well, now it all made a lot more sense.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his usually sharp mind suddenly feeling a bit scattered. The revelation hit him with an unexpected force, stirring up emotions he hadn’t anticipated. It was strange how he felt relieved.

“You're dating him because you felt pressured,” Warner summarized, his voice quieter than usual, laced with an understanding that bordered on empathy.

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. “Mhm. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but it's true. I thought if I had a boyfriend, it would make me feel like I'm on the same page as everyone else.”

Warner studied your profile, the soft curve of your features illuminated by the gentle moonlight. “I understand that feeling,” he admitted, his tone almost hesitant. “The pressure to conform, to fit in. It’s a powerful force.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “You do?”

He offered a small smile. “Perhaps more than you think. People always assume certain things about me, and sometimes it’s easier to just play along.” There was a shared understanding between you now, a connection that went beyond the surface.

Warner took a deep breath and spoke with a sincerity that surprised even himself.

“Y/N, you are not falling behind,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You’re not defined by whether or not you are dating someone. You are young, you’ve got time with you. Besides, love is not just romantical, you can find love in everyday things. It's okay to want and crave it but just because you don’t have it right now doesn’t mean there is something wrong with you.”

Your gaze held his, a mixture of gratitude and contemplation shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Aaron.” He only offered a small smile in return.

“You should get back.” he pointed back to the ballroom.

“Right, they must be finding me right now.” you replied.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” You smiled at him and winked. You winked at him. You winked. Good god.

Not a week after that, you broke up with your first boyfriend.

Zayden Knox was the ex that Warner forgot about the most, to be honest. It was not that he didn't notice the end of your relationship; it was just that Zayden seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by other exes that have captured Warner's wrath far more significantly.

Really, anyone would make a better first partner, maybe even him. Warner believes he’d be a way better choice for your first boyfriend, honestly.

The first ones aren’t always all that great, but they have the potential to be, if Aaron Warner was your first.

Astrid Rhodes.

Valentine’s Day, Circa 2038.

Valentine's Day had dawned, and a sense of whimsical romance filled the air. In the heart of someone's abnormally giant garden, a mini tea party event had been set up. The lush greenery and delicate blooms formed the perfect backdrop for the occasion. As the sun's warm embrace bathed the garden, laughter and chatter floated on the breeze.

Among the attendees was Aaron Warner, a figure that commanded attention without seeking it. He entered the garden with a nonchalant stride, his sharp gaze sweeping across the scene. The air was filled with the delicate clinking of teacups and the gentle hum of conversations. But amid the crowd, what managed to escape Warner's notice initially was you.

There you were, sitting on a blanket spread out on the grass, amidst the vivid colors of nature. Your lips were locked in a kiss with a raven-haired girl. The sight hit Warner with an unexpected intensity, igniting a sensation he was quick to suppress.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” a voice spoke behind him, Juliette ferrars. Warner turned to find Ferrars at his side. Her knowing gaze bore into him. Warner stayed silent, a deliberate choice to avoid admitting that there might be a connection between him and you. He grasped the reality that acknowledging it would trap him in that emotion, and he was determined to avoid that outcome. So, denial it was.

“Is that what you two always tell yourself?” Another voice joined in, it was Nazeera. Of course it had to be her. The question took Warner and Juliette completely by surprise.

Warner and Juliette exchanged a glance, bewildered by Nazeera's statement. They turned to follow her gaze, only to realize that she was now looking at you and the raven-haired girl.

“Her name is Astrid Rhodes,” Nazeera informed them, her tone matter-of-fact. “They’ve been seeing each other for about a week now, but trust me, it doesn't carry any weight.”

“I didn’t ask.” Warner's retort was sharp, laced with a hint of sass. Ferrars only scoffed. what?

Nazeera, however, remained unperturbed by their reactions, her gaze still fixed on you. “Y/N is simply exploring something with Rhodes, an experiment of sorts. Nothing serious.” she said as she ignored Warner completely.

Juliette sighed in defeat.

Oh. oh. Jesus Christ.

“You like her?” Warner shot Juliette a look that ferrars can’t comprehend as he questioned her.

“And what about it?” Ferrars replied, as she raised her eyebrows, taunting warner.

“Oh, come now, Ferrars. Don’t pretend you don’t understand the significance of such a question.” Warner responded.

“Significance? Please enlighten me, Warner. I'm all ears.” Juliette said, looking rather annoyed. Warner only ignored her, leaving the scene as he sat on a chair in the less crowded space. Unfortunately for him, Ibrahim and Ferrars have followed him, taking seats beside him. So, God help me.

“I only like her. It’s different from being in love with her, nazeera.” Ferrars stated as she sat in front of him, nazeera scoffed, “sure, j” Ibrahim remarked, clearly not believing ferrars. “I’m being serious! I don’t love her, I can’t.” Ferrars defended herself, stupidly.

“Are you saying you've never felt anything remotely close to affection, Ferrars?” Warner retorted, “Oh, please. Don’t make this about me, Warner. We’re gonna discuss your sudden fascination.” Ferrars declared.

“Fascination, you say? I think you’re giving yourself too much credit. It's called observation.” Warner uttered coldly.

Juliette snorted, “Of course, because watching someone with such intensity is purely an observational exercise.”

"Exactly. Just like observing a laboratory experiment," Warner countered, “You know, with variables, hypotheses, and unexpected outcomes.”

“Ah, so y/n is an experiment now? What’s next? Are you going to write a research paper on her tendencies?” Juliette retorted quickly.

Warner chuckled, “Perhaps a series of articles, titled ‘The Curious Case of Y/N L/N’”

Before their jabs could continue, Nazeera intervened, her presence a stark interruption to their exchange.

“Could you two save the investigative journalism for later?” Nazeera quipped, a knowing smile curving her lips.

Warner and Juliette scowelled, both momentarily taken aback by Nazeera’s interruption. It was as if she could sense the undercurrents of their conversation.

“Something tells me you have more interesting things to discuss,” Nazeera continued, her gaze flickering toward you and Astrid Rhodes, who were still engrossed in their own world.

Warner’s jaw tightened slightly, his thoughts a tangled mess. Nazeera had a way of cutting through pretenses, of bringing the truth to light in a way that was both disconcerting and strangely refreshing. Juliette sighed, her defiance momentarily giving way to resignation.

“Why Don’t you tell me something about Rhodes so that I can properly despise her.” Juliette’s voice cut through, laced with a mix of bitterness and curiosity. Her words hung in the air like a challenge, Nazeera’s lips twitched, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With a nod, she leaned back, ready to unravel the tapestry of Astrid Rhodes’ reputation.

“Ah, Astrid Rhodes,” Nazeera began, her tone carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation. “A name that triggers a range of emotions in anyone who’s had the displeasure of crossing paths with her.”

Juliette’s eyes bore into Nazeera, the desire for information evident in her gaze. Warner’s interest was piqued as well. Ibrahim keeps talking about Rhodes for the past few minutes.

Apparently, Astrid Rhodes is an absolute nightmare.

After Warner survived Zayden Knox’s awful personality and relationship with you, you started dating someone who’s a hundred times more annoying.

Astrid Rhodes. Hell, you never learn do you? It’s clear that Rhodes is not really a good choice to have someone as significant other. She was Toxic, Manipulative, gold digger, and most importantly a cheater. She has multiple allegations of cheating on her past lovers, which she constantly denies. Jesus Christ.

Warner entered a vacant room to get away from everyone for a moment, he was overwhelmed with everything. He saw the door swung open, finding you entering the very same room, you locked eyes with him, shocked.

“Hey, Aaron.” You greeted, taking a step in front of him.

“Hey yourself.” he replied, a smirk tugging his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, while inspecting the room.

“To avoid everyone talking to me, they keep hovering over me. What about you?” Warner asked back, looking around the room.

“Taking a breather. Everyones being a bitch.” you replied, smirking down at warner.

“You know, You’re not as invincible as you think, Warner. One day, you’ll be knocked off your pedestal.” you added as you watched him stepping closer to you, the proximity between you both electric.

“And you think you're the one to do it?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the challenge in his eyes a dare you could not resist. “Watch me.”

His lips curved into a wicked smile, a glint of something more in his gaze. “Perhaps I will.”

“You know everyone keeps comparing me to you, it’s getting annoying, really” you suddenly said, starting a conversation so it won’t be awkward.

“Oh yeah?” Warner said, smirking. His eyes on you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Yeah—God, I hate you.” you muttered

“Say it again.” he countered and you feel like you are going insane. Oh My god.

“Would you love me to whisper it in your ears?” You teased back.

Warner was speechless. Aaron warner doesn’t get speechless—yet here he is. A comfortable silence settles between you two, The tension between you two crackled like electricity. As your teasing reached its crescendo, a moment of silence suddenly settled over you guys. The heated exchange had given way to an unexpected pause, and your eyes met his. In that unguarded second, the tension shifted from amusement to something else entirely.

“Aaron?” you questioned, noticing his silence.

“You gotta stop doing that.” he mumbled.

“doing what?”

Saying things that makes me want to kiss you.

Silence.

Warner found himself drawn closer to you, a gravitational force he couldn’t resist. The background noise faded into a distant hum as he closed the physical gap between you and him, only a meter away. The playful glint in his eyes had transformed into something more primal, more intimate. He’s now looking at your eyes then to your lips.

God, He wanted to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you over and over again. Hell, he was going insane. Do people normally lose their mind like this?

He couldn’t fight again. He couldn’t. If you kissed him right then and there he wouldn’t be able to do anything but kiss you back. And he’s afraid that he won’t be able to stop.

So Warner did the imaginable. He cupped the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. With that, he cupped your cheeks, green eyes drawing to yours, he shooed some hair strands from your face.

Aaron can’t breathe. It’s like you have stolen every oxygen he has.

You put your hands to his waist, and it was over.

So, he kissed you. He kissed you. Without warning, without permission, without thinking. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else. He had to grab back the breath you were holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.

The kiss began to get more heated as he grabbed your waist and pulled you in close. Your hands wandered his back as he grasped at you. He kissed you and you kept kissing him back. Before giving you a calm kiss on the neck, Warner’s mouth lingered over your skin. He might even taste your skin. In his case, it was needed.

He needed to do it, and he was not going to leave the room until he had. He deepened his kiss by wetting your flesh. With the knowledge that it would leave a mark, he sucked and held it between his teeth.

It was also what he longed for since it was his only opportunity to be with you. With every whisper and every plea that you made for him, he felt the skin of your throat vibrate.

After a while, you guys pulled apart, stunned looks visible to each other. He saw the mark on your neck and he couldn’t help but feel proud about it. A hickey on your neck. And it was him. Aaron Warner who had done it.

He had tasted your skin.

Warner opened his mouth to speak but he quickly closed it, unable to form some words to his mouth.

“Aaron-” You started but Warner was quick to shut you up by raising his index finger.

“Don’t say anything.” he told you with a sorry eyes and he left.

He fucking left.

___

Never before have you experienced being so entirely consumed by a kiss. Suddenly, the void that existed between the two of you ruptures into a whirlwind of sensations. Warner’s heart skips its rhythmic beats; his hands desperately pull you closer, attempting to erase any remaining distance.

The taste of you on his lips is a revelation, making him aware of a profound hunger that had been gnawing at him. Though there have been previous kisses, none have ignited him with such an all-encompassing fire. The passage of time becomes a blurred concept—perhaps it’s a fleeting minute, or it could be an endless hour.

The only certainty is the memory of that kiss, the gentle caress of your skin against his, and the realization that, even without prior knowledge, he has been longing for this very moment throughout eternity.

Kissing You is like getting struck a million times by lightning. The way our lips initially brush before melting together has a thrilling intensity. His ears are able to hear the beat of your heart.

His stomach’s begging fire keeps burning hot and boldly, seeping through layers of muscle radiating heat off his skin. It burns inside him like a forest fire and radiates the aroma of sin and the sanctuary.

In contrast, every breath taken by you; the person whose lips taste like sea salt and fresh snow causes his lungs to fill with water, causing him to be drowned helplessly.

As consuming as it is, Aaron Warner’s primal desires carve a divide between you and harsher traits. He becomes a pristine canvas under your touch, molded by your influence, and he has never been this close to God before.

He knows a religion and God has no use to people like him, but God, you are a temple and He is a sinner in need somewhere to worship.

He feels your soul entangle and untangle an endless cataclysmic cycle as both of your tongues engage in a wedding dance, sending him to the highest of highs and sending him drifting

down,

down.

Down into a glorious drop.

He is sent into a stupor by your hands because they are destitute and devouring. His desires, deceitfully sweet, stain his clothing with sin and sweetness Warner welcomes the waves with all the lightning, fire, drowning, and heaven-and-hell he can muster despite the waves getting rougher and calmer with each passing minute.

Aaron Warner is at your mercy.

___

Weeks goes by since the kiss happened on Valentines day, warner has found himself thinking about you than a normal person would be. Now, he’s strutting down the hallways of the school and then, he sees You and Astrid Rhodes. She was sucking at your neck. He tightened his lips and left the scene quickly.

However, he couldn’t help but believe Astrid Rhodes wasn’t worthy of tasting your skin.

No, not at all.

___

Warner have decided to hate Astrid Rhodes with burning passion. The way she always flirt with other people despite having a situation-ship with you, the way she have always used your name in her needs, the way she asked for your money, the way she manipulates you, the way she mock you behind your back and the way that she always swear in every word she ever uttered. It’s like she’s a kid who learned a new word that she keeps using.

Praying for Astrid Rhodes’ downfall is not enough, he needed to participate in it.

So, Warner took things into his hands.

As Astrid’s accusatory words sliced through the charged atmosphere, Warner’s gaze remained unyielding, a calm facade masking the tumultuous storm beneath. Her reaction was expected – after all, he had just confronted her about something he had witnessed, something that had ignited the flames of his determination to expose the truth.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Warner!?” She shouted at him, voice rose with anger. “You are fucking crazy, stop making up things you fucker” Rhodes continued. Warner has caught her making out with someone, and apparently Rhodes did not take it well when he told her that he’s going to tell you of what he saw.

“Does that make you feel better?” Warner said, bored eyes clear on his face.

“Excuse me?” Astrid furrowed her eyebrows.

“Cursing. Is it an essential component you can’t live without? The constant repetition of those crude and vulgar language in every sentence you utter is truly unbearable.” Warner’s voice speaks so confidently as he towers over Rhodes, whose eyes filled with rage.

“You know, Y/N does not like people who swear a lot. I’m sure she will break up with you sooner or later, no doubt.”

The palpable tension in the room hung heavy, almost suffocating, as Aaron Warner faced Astrid Rhodes with an intensity that matched the burning passion he felt within. There was no denying the ire that had taken root in his heart, festering with each of Astrid’s actions that grated on his nerves like sandpaper against his skin.

Astrid’s eyes sparked with a mixture of fury and defiance, her nostrils flaring as her fists clenched at her sides.

“Oh, so you're the judge of what's insufferable now?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “Is that your new role in this little drama?”

Warner’s expression remained unflinching, his gaze piercing through the chaos of their exchange. “It’s merely an observation,” he replied calmly. "And observations tend to highlight patterns. In your case, it’s the pattern of manipulation, profanity, and disrespect."

Astrid's eyes blazed with a fire that matched her fiery words. “And why the fuck do you care, Warner? It’s not your life, your relationship, your problem. So, fuck off.”

Warner's lips curved into a knowing smile, a spark of challenge in his eyes. “Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken, Astrid. It has become my problem when it involves someone who’s… family’s close to mine.”

The air between them crackled with tension, his words hanging in the space between them like a charged current. Astrid’s posture wavered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she straightened herself, her defense mechanisms snapping back into place.

“Y/N doesn't need you fighting her battles, Warner,” Astrid retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. “If she hasn’t noticed your chivalrous efforts by now, maybe it’s time to accept that you're not the hero she’s been waiting for.”

Warner’s gaze remained unwavering, his voice tinged with a mixture of resolve and frustration. “Maybe it’s time for you to understand that genuine care doesn’t require fanfare, Rhodes. And maybe it’s time for you to grasp that the person you're manipulating and using deserves better than this.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and disbelief, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “You don't know anything about us, Warner.” Warner leaned in slightly, his voice a low, deliberate murmur. “I know enough to see through the facade. I know enough to recognize when someone is taking advantage of someone else’s kindness.”

Astrid's laughter was bitter, a sound that resonated with a hint of desperation. “You’re so damn self-righteous, aren’t you? Acting as if you’re the hero of your own story, here to save the day.”

Warner’s expression was unyielding, his words measured and unwavering. “I’m not here to be a hero, Rhodes. I’m here to ensure that someone isn't being hurt by someone who claims to care about them.”

The silence that followed hung thick in the air, a poignant reminder of the tangled emotions and complex dynamics at play. Warner’s gaze never wavered, his stance unyielding as he awaited Astrid’s response.

Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and resignation.

“You’re deluded if you think you can change anything, Warner. Y/N will see through your charade sooner or later.”

Warner’s lips curved into a rueful smile, he laughed incredulously, making Rhodes look stupid. “That’s so much coming from you, hypocrite.”

As his words flew out of his mouth, the room felt heavy with the weight of tension. Astrid Rhodes stormed out after that.

___

A day after that, Warner heard a commotion outside the library, he heard a shout that he knew who the owner was as he had received the same one just yesterday, Astrid Rhodes. As he entered the common room, Warner got greeted by Astrid Rhodes shouting profanities, rude things, and accusing you of cheating on her. Warner couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Rhodes has the nerve and audacity, doesn’t she?

Choosing to remain inconspicuous, Warner settled into a quiet corner where he could observe the unfolding drama without drawing attention to himself. It seemed the entire room was aware that Astrid was weaving a web of lies, yet they were captivated by the scene as it played out. Glancing up at you, he noted your bored and unamused expression, flanked by friends who were shooting daggers at the girl.

“How could you fucking do this to me!? After all we’ve been through! You are so fucking unbelievable!” Rhodes shouted as she sobs at her hands.

Warner heard a few murmurs beside him.

“Damn she’s committed to this act, isn’t she?”

“Best actress goes to Astrid Rhodes!”

“Nah, this is wild. She have the fucking audacity it’s funny.”

“Do she expect everyone to believe her bullshit this time”

“She’s so bad at this shit. I’m out”

“People like her give theater kids a bad name.”

“Kudos to her for having the fucking nerve to pull a stunt like this ‘cause I would never”

“I’m done with you! We’re done, y/n. I’m never seeing you again.” Rhodes added, she has also added a few more insults and vulgar words. She looked at you expecting an answer.

Warner saw you sighed and put both of your hands to your lap as you stood up,

“Are you done with your theatratics now?”

You question with a monotone voice, laughter can be heard from few people.

Astrid only stared at you bewildered and ran outside the room while shut the door harshly. Everyone is now laughing while they gossip about what just happened.

“Alright, Show is over, everyone!” Kishimoto shouted.

Warner comes out of the corner, taking a step to you, “y/n?” He called out. Warner was sent with a curious look from everyone. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “care to join me outside?” You nodded as you followed Aaron Warner outside to go to the field.

“Well, that’s quite a funny show.” He started, you laughed at his statement.

“Yeah, we’ll, I’ve been expecting it, really” you said while laughing.

“Congratulations either way, you’re finally free from that psycho.” He said, green eyes looking at you once again, amused.

“Oh why thank you, dear.” You replied with the same tone he used.

“Honestly, I don’t know how she thought that would work,” you said with an incredulous shake of your head. “It was like watching a bad soap opera.”

Warner chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling. “I must admit, she’s not exactly the most convincing actress.”

“She should probably stick to other pursuits,” you added with a teasing grin.

“I agree. Perhaps she could take up interpretive dance or something equally entertaining,” Warner replied, a playful glint in his gaze.

You both shared a genuine laugh, silence then took over the air as you guys settled in a particular tree, you both took a seat to its shadow.

“Sooo…” you started, awkwardness settling the air.

Warner laughed at this. A smile took over his face and then you stopped laughing, noticing something in his face. Dimples. Aaron Warner has dimples. Oh sweet Jesus.

Warner took notice of this, “what’s wrong?” He asked. You shake your head as you drag your finger to poke at his dimples. Warner froze at this action, you took away your finger from his cheek as you looked away for a moment, feeling embarrassed.

“Sorry. Just noticed your dimples. It’s cute.” You started with rosy cheeks painted on your face.

“Yeah?” He asked smugly. Oh god this egotistical man. You only hummed in response.

Silence took over once again.

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened on Valentine’s Day?” You started once again. Warner however visibly froze at this.

“Listen, y/n, I apologize for my action, really. It was a mist-“ before he could finish his sentence you cut him with a question.

“Do you regret it?” You asked. Warner looked hesitant for a second before he opened his mouth.

“No. I didn’t.” In fact, he would do it over and over again if you would let him.

Warner opened his mouth to apologize again but you once again cut him off but this time, by kissing him.

You have kissed him. You have kissed Aaron Warner. You kissed him. And you keep kissing him.

Everything is now shattered.

Warner was surprised with this but he then went with it.

You then climbed up to his lap as he pulled you closer to him, hands now at your lower back and to your waist.

As your lips journeyed down the curve of his neck, Warner experienced a sensation akin to hot wax trailing over his skin. The heat of your touch left an indelible mark on his senses, searing a path that he longed to be etched into his very being. There was an urgency in his desire, a need for that imprint to be imprinted with a fervency that matched the fire igniting within him.

Every brush of your lips felt like a deliberate touch of molten heat, the intensity of your movements branding him in a way that transcended the physical realm. It was as though your touch held the power to carve a mark into his very soul, to leave an impression that would linger long after the moment had passed.

Warner's thoughts raced, the pounding of his heart matching the rhythm of your explorations. He found himself craving the sensation of your touch, yearning for it to leave a lasting reminder of this shared intimacy. He wanted more than just a fleeting connection – he wanted a testament, a symbol that would endure even when the fervor of the moment subsided.

In that instant, he realized that this was more than just a physical exchange. It was a declaration, a silent plea for permanence, a desire to mark this moment in a way that words could never encapsulate. The sensation of your lips against his skin was both an offering and a promise.

As your lips continued their descent, Warner surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotions surging within him. He allowed himself to be consumed by the heat of the moment, the fervent desire for a mark that would transcend the boundaries of time and space. He craved the sensation of your touch, the imprints of your presence on his skin serving as a tangible reminder of this shared vulnerability.

And as your lips met the juncture where his neck met his collarbone, a surge of longing coursed through him. He wanted this mark to be a testament to more than just physical desire – he wanted it to encapsulate the layers of emotion that had woven themselves into their complex dynamic.

In that moment, as your lips lingered against his skin, Warner felt a mixture of vulnerability and strength. He surrendered to the intensity of his desire, allowing it to consume him in a way he had never thought possible.

You both stayed like that for a while, not until Kishimoto's voice was heard calling your name from a distance. When you both pull away you guys have a red face and we’re breathing heavily.

As you walked away, Warner was left with the lingering heat of your touch, the mark you had left behind serving as a testament to the moment they had shared. And as he traced the invisible imprint with his fingertips. What just happened?

___

Week later, Astrid Rhodes got expelled from the school. The reason? No one knows.

Not long after that incident, Warner heard the most horrid thing ever known to a man the moment he heard that you began your very long and confusing on and off relationship with Kenji Kishimoto.

God damn it.

Juliette Ferrars.

You and Kishimoto broke up once again for the second time this year, a month in from your break up, you have a new girlfriend. The same can also be said from kishimoto.

He remembered very well that it was the day on March 21st when you announced your relationship with Juliette Ferrars. Juliette Bloody Ferrars. Juliette Perfect Ferrars. Your newest girlfriend.

Juliette was really a step up from Rhodes, everybody could agree on that.

Ferrars was gorgeous, ambitious, confident.

And she was extremely smart, Juliette Ferrars was the dream of any parents for their children. You even had taken her to meet your parents.

____

Juliette Ferrars Birthday Party,

May of 8th, Circa 2038.

The night was alive with the promise of celebration as he made his way to Ferrar’s birthday party. The stars above were scattered like diamonds across the velvety canvas of the sky, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and laughter. The venue glowed with twinkling fairy lights, casting a warm and inviting glow that welcomed all who approached.

As Warner walked up to the entrance, the sounds of music and chatter grew louder, creating a vibrant backdrop for the festivities. The door swung open, revealing a scene of merriment. Colorful decorations adorned the walls, and a table groaned under the weight of tantalizing treats and a towering birthday cake.

Warner stepped into the vibrant atmosphere of the party, the lively energy wrapping around him like a warm embrace. The chatter of friends catching up and the clinking of glasses created a harmonious symphony that echoed through the room. Balloons in a riot of colors hovered above, swaying gently as if dancing to the rhythm of the music.

As soon as he entered, he saw you.

Amidst the lively crowd, Warner’s eyes were drawn to you. There you were, amidst a whirlwind of movement, dancing with none other than the birthday girl, Juliette Ferrars. Your smile was a beacon of pure joy, radiating the kind of happiness that could light up the entire room. Warner’s heart seemed to skip a beat as he watched the two of you move in sync, the laughter on your lips infectious.

Juliette, with her graceful movements, complemented your dance perfectly. It was as if the two of you were lost in a world of your own, the surrounding party fading into the background. As soon as you twirl Ferrars around, you kiss her and when you pull away, you guys laugh, you look around the room and you’ve caught a familiar gorgeous green eyes. You smiled At Warner, about to wave at him but Ferrars caught you in another kiss.

It hit him like a knife to the heart. He hoped his face didn’t express the disappointment he felt.

Why does he feel like this?

He doesn’t care. He should not. Aaron keeps thinking the same dialogue over and over again in his head. He doesn’t care. He really didn't, So, he found himself in a mini bar drinking his bitterness away.

The soft glow of the bar’s neon sign beckoned like a warm beacon on a cool evening, the gentle hum of chatter and clinking glasses creating a comfortable backdrop. The air was thick with the aroma of various drinks, and the low murmur of conversations of the other guest beside him.

Settling onto a barstool, Warner ordered another one of his preferred drinks and watched as the bartender expertly mixed it. The clinking of ice cubes and the sound of liquid pouring were oddly soothing. God, he’s dru—no, just tipsy.

As Warner took another sip, a presence approached the bar. It was Ferrars. Hell, what would she want from him now? Parade her win? She slipped onto the stool beside him, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, well, fancy meeting you here.” Warner only hummed in response that made Ferrars scoff. He heard her ordered a drink for herself.

“Why don’t you join us outside, Warner? Instead of just sticking yourself in this bar.” Ferrars started as she took a sip of her drink after saying those words.

“This party is boring.” Warner said, plainly.

“This is my birthday party.” Juliette deadpanned.

“Oh, right.” Warner only received an eyebrow raise in response, expecting something from him. Hell.

“Happy birthday.” Warner said with a sarcastic and plain tone.

“Wow. Okay. Thank you.” Juliette says, “My lo—y/n talked about you.” Ferrars continued. Warner had caught the slipped up of the pet name. My love. Hell, Warner is gonna vomit.

“Only good ones I hope.” He replied as he took a sip to his drink.

“She told me The Camping Trip incident.” Juliette says as she laughed, recalling the story that you have told her.

Warner was surprised. “Oh that,” he chuckled, the memories flooding back. “We practically lived on marshmallows and terrible ghost stories.”

Ferrars laughed, her expression a mixture of fondness and amusement. “And that time you guys got lost in the woods, and you were convinced that you all were in some kind of Blair Witch scenario.” Warner scowled in response.

“Hey, it was dark, and those trees all look the same!” Warner reasoned. Juliette only laughed harder.

“Didn’t you try fighting a bear? Surely you can’t reason that stupid action.” She says as she looks at Warner, challenging him.

“I was young.” Warner defended himself. Juliette only hummed as she drank her glass.

“You were young and stupid, Aaron.” The next voice that sounded through the kitchen made Warner’s heart stop for a moment. Warner saw Ferrars go to you to link her arm through yours.

He needs another drink.

“Was I?” He countered with a smirk.

You laughed in return, mirroring his smirk.

“My darling, shall we dance? It will be midnight soon. My birthday would end in like 30 minutes.” Juliette said, looking between You and Warner with a frown.

“Oh, sure, love,” you kissed her lips and led her back to the party. Warner felt himself breathing again when you were out of sight.

____

In a matter of moments, Warner found himself aimlessly wandering through the sprawling house, Laughter echoed in the halls, intertwined with the gentle strains of music.

Every door he passed seemed to hold a couple engrossed in their own world, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sheer display of affection in hoping to discover a new vacant bathroom that wasn't occupied by overly affectionate couples lost in each other's company, as the party started to wind down, Warner found himself outside Juliette Ferrars room.

He was not intentionally eavesdropping, but the voices from inside were hard to ignore.

“It’s just... it’s complicated, okay?” your voice sounded frustrated.

“And I get that, but it feels like you are not fully here with me,” Juliette's voice responded, a blend of hurt and concern woven into her tone.

“And the way you looked at—” Juliette's voice trembled, and her words came to an abrupt halt, as if she were struggling to contain her emotions. Aaron paused, his gaze settling on the partially open door of Ferrars' bedroom.

Warner found himself in an inadvertent state of eavesdropping, his guilt mingling with his intrigue. The words exchanged between you and Juliette were raw and real, and he couldn't help but listen, drawn into the unguarded exchange.

“Juli, it’s not what you’re thinking,” you softly said.

“ Is it not?” she said. You guys were in the middle of the room, fighting if that is not clear enough.

“I thought-” she choked a bit. Voice trembling.

"Juls-"

"No, baby," Juliette responded, her tone unwavering, your emotions laid bare. “We were... I thought—“

A heavy pause followed, and Warner could almost feel the weight of the conversation. Warner hears ferrars sighs.

“you even let me met your parents, and I remember thinking that our future seemed fucking promising..”

“We still can—We still have that future.” you insist, determined.

Juliette let out a pained laugh.

“No, we don’t, because you have never looked at me the way you looked at him tonight.” Juliette’s voice trembled, revealing a vulnerability she rarely displayed. But despite that, she delivered the line harshly.

Warner's brows furrowed as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Who were you and Juliette talking about? He couldn't shake off the curiosity that gnawed at him, urging him to understand the source of your conflict.

Is it Kenji Kishimoto?

Warner’s curiosity got the better of him as he strained to hear the conversation. You guys were arguing about some 'him' , but the details were hazy. He couldn’t help but wonder who that ‘someone’ was.

“Please, just listen-” your voice was soft, a plea laced with frustration.

"You're not dishonest, my love," she interjected, her tone adopting a more tender and sweet quality. "Just tell me you prefer me, you choose me, you love me more than you love him. If you can, I'll put it all behind us. I will forget about it."

You went dead silent.

The silence that followed your response was deafening. Warner could practically feel the tension in the room, the unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. It was as if a connection had snapped between you two, leaving behind a void that neither of you knew how to bridge

“I’m so sorry,” you finally whispered. The weight of your words is palpable.

Juliette sighed. Expecting the answer, Warner can see her holding down the sobs.

“Let’s just enjoy the rest of the party, shall we?” Ferrars voice was tinged in sadness. “We can talk about this later. Let's have a last dance.”

He swiftly turned away from the door, his steps quickening as he made his way down the hallway. He needed to retreat, to give you both the privacy you deserved. Warner got away quickly to the bathroom

Inside the bathroom, he washed his hands, his gaze lingering on his reflection in the mirror. Confusion knitted his brows together as he replayed the fragments of your conversation in his mind.

Were you guys talking about kishimoto?

The thought struck him like a jolt. Could it be that you were struggling to move on from him? The image of Kenji, charismatic and charming, filled Warner's thoughts, and he couldn't help but question the impact he had on your relationship with Juliette.

Is it because you just couldn’t get over him?

If you broke up with Juliette Perfect Ferrars because of Kenji Kishimoto, did anyone else have ever stood a chance with you?

Did he-No.

Warner wouldn’t think like that.

He should not care. It doesn’t concern him.

Warner shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea as he dried his hands. He refused to entertain thoughts that would only lead to unnecessary doubts and insecurities. But deep down, a nagging curiosity lingered—a curiosity that would drive him to madness and insanity.

Days later, Warner learned from Kent and Nazeera that you and Juliette had ended your relationship.

Few weeks after that revelation, news reached him that You and Kenji Kishimoto had gotten back together.

It was clear to him that you always gravitate back to kishimoto.

Killian Déicides.

The cycle has repeated once more—You and Kishimoto have broken up. Again. And months later, you have gotten yourself a new boyfriend. Killian Déicides.

It was the longest you had been apart from Kishimoto, nearly five months—not that Warner was counting.

During this period, Kishimoto had found himself a new girlfriend in the companionship of Nazeera Ibrahim, ushering in a new chapter of his own. The pairing had managed to raise eyebrows and ignite conversations, sparking intrigue among your shared circle from other people.

Apparently, you were okay with this. Which is something that surprised Warner. I mean, your ex-boyfriend is dating your best friend? And you’re fine with this? Ridiculous.

From a distance, he observed with a tinge of bitterness as you and Killian forged a bond. Every shared laugh, tender touch, and exchanged glance felt like a jab to his chest. The narrative of your relationship unfolded before him like a story he wished he could tear apart, but all he could do was watch as it progressed, unable to rewrite its course.

As he observed Killian, a critical eye analyzed his character, highlighting his perceived shortcomings and fueling his bitterness.

He hates him. Hates the way Déicides can feel your laugh against his lips, hates the way he can rest his forehead to yours and gaze to your eyes as much as he wants, hates that he can make you shiver from his touch, hates him.

Warner didn’t know why it bothers him so much, why it bothers him the way déicides whisper sweet nothings to your ears or the way he has you secured in his arms. It’s ridiculous.

Valentines Day, Circa 2039.

The day had draped itself in an air of romance, as couples nestled close to one another, entwined in the celebration of love. It was Valentine's Day, a day that Aaron Warner typically avoided with fervor. Yet here he was, standing alone on the terrace by the garden, attempting to escape the saccharine atmosphere that permeated the place and some insufferable couples. (you and Killian to be exact.)

From his point of view, he could see the couples—some nestled on the couches, the field, library, others dancing under the soft glow of string lights. It was an annoying sight.

He leaned against the terrace railing, gazing out at the garden below. The sun cast a warm sheen over the blossoms, giving the scenery a dreamlike quality. The peace and quiet were a welcome respite from the relentless cheerfulness that had filled the school’s interior.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The soft pad of footsteps interrupted the stillness, and a voice spoke up from behind him.

"Valentine's should be about going out and making out with some strangers, y'know."

Startled, Warner turned to find you standing there, a small smile playing on your lips as you joined him on the terrace. The surprise of your presence coupled with the lightness of your words momentarily rendered him speechless.

You stepped closer, your eyes scanning the garden as if searching for those elusive strangers "I mean, why waste it on being alone here when there are so many intriguing strangers out there for you to kiss?" Your tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in your eyes.

Warner couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, his usual guard momentarily lowered in your presence. "I suppose you have a point," he conceded, allowing a smile to tug at the corner of his lips. "But then again, I've never been one for making out with strangers."

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a warmth that wrapped around his heart. "Fair enough," you replied, your gaze now focused on him. "So, what brings you to the terrace on this fine Valentine's Day?"

Warner glanced out at the garden, then back at you. "Just needed a breather," he admitted. "The whole lovey-dovey atmosphere inside was starting to feel suffocating."

You nodded in understanding, your eyes softening as they met him. "I get that," you said. "It can be a bit overwhelming, can't it?"

"More than a bit," Warner replied with a rueful smile. "But I suppose it's all in good fun for those who enjoy it."

You leaned against the terrace railing beside him, your shoulder brushing against his lightly. "True," you said, your voice quiet. "But sometimes, it's nice to have a quiet moment away from it all."

Warner couldn't agree more. As he looked at you, bathed in the soft glow of the sun’s warm light, he realized that this quiet moment with you was the best part of the day. He had always admired your ability to see beyond the surface, to appreciate the simple moments amidst the chaos.

A comfortable silence settled between you and him, broken only by the distant strains of music and laughter from inside. Warner found himself stealing glances at you, his heart aching with a longing he had buried deep within himself.

Finally, he couldn't contain it any longer. "You and Killian seem happy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your gaze turned to him, and you offered a small, genuine smile. "We are," you replied. "He's been wonderful."

Warner nodded, his eyes tracing the delicate features of your face. "I'm glad," he said, his words carrying a sincerity that surprised even him.

You looked at him for a moment, a knowing expression in your eyes. "But…" you prompted, your voice gentle.

Warner hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "But…?" He urged you,

”There are moments when I can't help but wonder what it would be like if things were different.”

You met his gaze steadily, your eyes filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored his own. "I know what you mean," Warner said softly.

The admission hung in the air between them, unspoken yet understood. Warner's heart swelled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Could there be a chance for something more, or was this moment destined to remain a fleeting glimpse into what could have been?

As if sensing his turmoil, you reached out and gently touched his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. The connection sent a jolt of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe," he said, his voice barely audible,

"Someday, things will be different."

You nodded, a sense of peace washing over you. “Someday,” you agreed, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

Together, you stood on the terrace, bathed in the soft glow of the sun, sharing a quiet moment that held the promise of something more—an unspoken hope for a future where the timing was right and love could flourish without barriers.

Until,,,

Warner's heart sank as he heard Killian's voice in the distance, calling your name. He watched as you turned around, your smile brightening as you waited for him to join you on the terrace.

In that moment, all of Warner's hopes and fantasies of having this day with you, just you, were shattered.

He had allowed himself to believe, just for a brief moment, that maybe this Valentine's Day could be different. That perhaps he could have had a chance to be the one by your side, sharing this quiet, intimate moment with you. But reality had a cruel way of reminding him.

As Killian approached, his arm slipping around your waist, It was a feeling he had grown accustomed to, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

You introduced Dèicides to Warner, the two men exchanging polite greetings. Warner forced a smile, concealing the tumult of emotions swirling within him. He couldn't let you or Killian see how much this moment had irritated him.

Warner watched, a pang of knife hitting him as you and Killian shared a tender kiss. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the intimate moment between the two of you.

"Why do you keep kissing me?" you asked, breaking the kiss and gazing into Killian's eyes.

"Because I love kissing you," Killian replied with a soft, affectionate smile.

So do I.

Damn me, So do I.

Warner thought, his mind betraying him in that vulnerable moment.

He felt a pang of aching, a surge of bitterness, but above all, he felt an overwhelming longing and desire.

Oh, what a person he has become.

I don’t want you to see who I have become. It’s bad, my love. It’s so bad.

He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way. You were with Déicides now. Warner turned away, his fists clenched at his sides, as he fought to suppress his emotions. He needed to remind himself that he should not care. It’s none of his business.

Warner excused himself, citing the need to rejoin the festivities inside. He couldn't bear to stay on the terrace any longer, not when it was now tainted with the knowledge that he would never have this day with you alone.

As he retreated into the dining hall, the sounds of laughter and celebration seemed distant and hollow. Warner found solace in the shadows, cherishing the bittersweet memory of that fleeting moment on the terrace—a moment he had desperately wished could have been his, and his alone.

For a moment there, Aaron Warner really thought he’d have this day with you. Only you.

He’s proven wrong yet again.

A month had passed since Valentine’s Day, Warner had done a pretty good job avoiding you and your boyfriend. But despite that, Warner couldn't help but notice the change in your relationship. He observed the way your interactions had shifted, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit quite right. There was an undercurrent of insecurity in your touches, and the kisses that once landed on the lips were now exchanged on the cheeks. Your stolen glances lacked the usual warmth and affection, replaced by something more guarded.

The change in your dynamics didn't go unnoticed by the people around you. Whispers and rumors began to circulate throughout the school, with everyone speculating about what had gone wrong this time. Even Kent, who rarely spoke to either you or Killian, had developed his own theories, all of them far from the truth.

Warner found himself torn between the desire to reach out and ask if you were okay and the understanding that he had no right to intrude on your relationship with Killian. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that twisted in his chest when he saw you with someone else, even though he had no claim over you.

One day, as he was walking through the school courtyard, Warner overheard a group of students discussing your relationship.

"I heard they've been fighting a lot lately," one girl said, her voice hushed.

"Really? What about?" another girl asked.

"I don't know, but it's not the same as it used to be. They used to be so lovey-dovey, and now they barely even hold hands," the first girl replied.

Warner continued walking, trying to drown out the conversation.

It annoys to hear others talking about you, dissecting your relationship as if it were a gossip column. But he couldn't deny that he was also curious about what had caused the shift between you and Killian.

A week later, news began to spread throughout the school like wildfire: Killian Déicides had transferred to another school. The reasons behind his departure remained a mystery to most, but the end of your relationship with him was clear. The whispers and rumors that had once surrounded you and Killian now shifted to the breakup, and it seemed like everyone had something to say about it.

Aaron Warner couldn't ignore the news, even though he had been trying to keep his distance. It was impossible not to feel a mixture of sympathy and concern for you, knowing that you were going through a difficult time.

One evening, as he was wandering the school grounds, Warner found himself drawn to the astronomy tower. It was a quiet and secluded spot, far away from the prying eyes and gossip of the other students. He climbed the steps and pushed open the door, finding you standing by one of the telescopes, gazing up at the night sky.

You looked up as he entered, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Warner's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, and all thoughts of staying away flew out of his mind.

“Can I hold you close?” He quietly asked.

You blinked once, twice—thrice, it takes a full seconds to process what he had said.

“Oh, I’m so—“

“Of course, you can.”

Now, it’s his turn to blink. You laughed at the sight.

Warner simply walked over and enveloped you in a warm, comforting hug. You buried your face in his chest, and he could feel your tears dampening his shirt.

You didn't say anything, and neither did he. You don’t have to say anything. You know Warner is also fluent in silence as much as you are.

He didn't need to ask what had happened; the news of Killian's departure had spread quickly, and he could only imagine how you must be feeling. Instead, he held you tightly, offering silent support and understanding.

After a while, when your tears had subsided, Warner gently pulled away, his hands resting on your shoulders. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of concern and compassion.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, your voice barely more than a whisper. "No, I'm not."

Warner nodded, his expression filled with empathy. He didn't press for details; he knew that sometimes, all you needed was someone to be there for you. He reached out and wiped away a stray tear from your cheek.

"It's okay not to be okay," he said gently. "And you don't have to go through this alone."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and it warmed his heart. Warner knew that he couldn't fix everything, but he could be there for you in this moment of vulnerability.

As you both stood in the quiet of the astronomy tower, Warner continued to offer his support. He listened as you talked about your feelings, your frustrations, and your uncertainties about the future. He didn't offer empty reassurances or quick fixes; instead, he let you express yourself, knowing that sometimes, that was all you needed.

After a while, Warner spoke up “I mean, who needs him anyway?” He said, trying to make the atmosphere lighter.

To be fair, Aaron’s perspective on you and Killian’s break up are extremely biased because he only heard one side of the story.

“Yeah, fuck him and his stupid excuses. I don’t need him anyway.” You agreed as you laughed with warner. Dimples.

If you ever fall to your knees, you are sure Nazeera would be there to kneel beside you.

If you get lost in the woods or drowns In the ocean, you are sure that Juliette and Kenji will do whatever it takes to find you and bring you back to the surface.

And if you return to Aaron Warner with a broken heart, you are sure that he will piece them back together with his bare hands—even going out his way to fill in the gaps with his own.

“Right,” he mutters as he watches the whole sky through your eyes. “You have me, at least.” Warner added.

“No,” you correct Aaron, “thank all the gods I have you. Always.”

___

3 weeks after that, You and Kenji Kishimoto have gotten back together.

You always come back to kenji.

You always come back to kishimoto even when you have other (better) options.

Kenji Kishimoto.

PRESENT.

Out of every Exes you ever had, Aaron Warner, has always found himself praying for Kenji Kishimoto’s downfall more.

It was messy. Warner knows it. Hell, even the parents know that you and Kishimoto have a complicated relationship. You guys would break up and then boom, months later you guys are back together.

It was an annoying sight. In all 3 years you and kishimoto are together, there would be no year where you and him have never broken up then getting back together after a few months in.

Kent and Ferrars have decided to join the dance, leaving Warner on his own. Warner quickly found a couch he could sit on. He’s now reading some magazines that were on the table.

“Warner, fancy seeing you here,” a voice drawled, its arrogance evident even in the casual greeting.

Warner’s eyes flicked up from the magazine he had been pretending to read, meeting Kishimoto’s gaze with a thinly veiled look of indifference.

“Kishimoto.” Warner greeted.

Kenji leaned against a nearby wall, his posture casual and infuriatingly confident. “Please, Don’t let me interrupt your reading session, blondie.”

Warner closed the magazine, his patience waning.

”What do you want, Kishimoto?”

Kishimoto lips curled into a smug smile, his gaze holding a glint of something that irked Warner.

“I just thought we could have a little chat.”

Warner's eyes narrowed, his tone terse. “I highly doubt we have anything to discuss.”

Kishimoto chuckled, unfazed by Warner’s obvious disdain. “You know, Blondie, it’s fascinating how much you seem to dislike me.”

Warner's jaw clenched, his voice icy. “How Observant of you.”

Kenji's smile widened, his amusement unwavering.

“Tell me, is it because you’re jealous? You know, you’ve never been one to shy away from competition.”

Warner’s restraint wavered, his temper simmering beneath the surface. ”You’re sorely mistaken if you think I see you as competition.”

Kenji's expression shifted, a flash of something that seemed almost like amusement mixed with genuine curiosity. “Then what is it, Warner? Why do you hate me so much?”

Warner’s gaze hardened, his voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “You have nothing to do with me, kishimoto. My opinions on you are of no consequence.”

Kenji's gaze held Warner's, the unspoken tension hanging heavy between them. With a sigh, he took a seat in front of Warner. “You’re not very good at pretending, you know.”

Warner's brows furrowed in confusion at the unexpected statement. “Pretending? What are you talking about?”

Kenji leaned back, his posture relaxed. “You can't stand the fact that we've got a history, can you?”

Warner's irritation flared. “History? You mean the endless cycle of dramatic reunions?”

Kenji chuckled. “Exactly. And you hate it, don't you? You hate that there's a part of her life that doesn’t revolve around you.”

Warner's frustration grew, his voice edged with a sharpness. “You're delusional if you think I'm hung up on that.”

Kenji's gaze never wavered, his tone softening slightly.

“You love her.” Kenji said, more of a statement than a question.

Warner laughed with the absurdity, “I’m not in love with her,” he said, “Don't read into things you know nothing about.” Warner Added with a mockery tone.

“Oh, I know more than you think.” Kishimoto said with a smirk.

“Do you ever shut up?” Warner countered back, as he leaned back at his chair.

“Not when it comes to you, asshole.” Kishimoto shot back as he copied Warner's previous action.

“I’m not in the mood to play games with you, kishimoto.” He warned.

Kishimoto only laughed, “are you ever?” He mused making Warner roll his eyes, “besides it’s not a game, it’s just facts.”

“Your interpretation of facts is seriously twisted,” Warner hissed, his voice edged with exasperation.

Kenji's lips curled into an infuriatingly smug smile. “Deny it all you want, but deep down, you know it's true.”

Warner's green eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Just stay out of my way.”

Kenji's laughter echoed off the walls. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“You're pushing your luck, Kishimoto,” Warner warned through gritted teeth.

Kenji's gaze remained steady, unyielding. “Or maybe I'm pushing your buttons.”

Warner's patience was wearing thin. “You're not as clever as you think.”

Kenji's grin only widened. “Oh, I'm clever enough to see through your act.”

“I have no act, just disdain for you.”

Kenji's retort came quick and smug. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Their words clashed like swords, each one determined not to back down.

“Are you ever serious?”

Kenji's tone held an undertone of mockery. “Why so serious, Warner?”

“I'm warning you,” Warner growled, his patience on the edge.

Kenji's eyebrows lifted playfully. “Are you now? What are you going to do about it?”

“You're impossible.”

Kenji's lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “Impossible to ignore, maybe?”

Warner shook his head in disbelief. “Why can't you just leave me alone?”

Kenji's smile remained infuriatingly intact. “Because I enjoy getting under your skin.”

“You're deluded.”

Kenji's expression turned contemplative. “Am I? Or am I the one who's seeing things clearly?”

Warner's frustration was nearing its peak. “Enough, Kishimoto.”

Kenji's voice dropped slightly, a glint of something more sincere in his eyes. “So you understand what I'm trying to say?”

Warner's response was sharp, laced with a mixture of irritation and disdain. “I understand you enough to know I don't like you.”

Kenji's grin was unabated. “And yet, here we are, having a lovely chat.”

Warner's patience was dwindling, his words laced with finality. “Just go away, Kishimoto.”

Silence.

Kishimoto's laughter rang out as he playfully positioned himself by Warner's side. Despite Aaron's attempt to evade, Kenji's agility won out. With a swift movement, Kenji caught Warner's chin, tilting his face in the direction where you stood.

“How about admitting that y/n might have feelings for you?” Kenji quipped, his tone light but suggestive.

Warner didn’t have to admit it. Because he already knew.

Warner shooed Kishimoto’s arm as he leaned himself in, still looking at you.

This, however, did not go unnoticed by kenji.

“I’m not in love with her.” Kenji recalled warners words to his head, but he saw it in warners eyes, the way he looked at you (like right now) it was full of admiration and devotion.

“Aaron is just a friend, kenj” Kenji Remembers the way you assured him, but he saw the way you looked at your feet and turned your eyes away from him to hide the truth.

Everyone could see it. Kenji can see it.

The way Aaron Warners name rolled off your soft lips like a sweet honey,

The way Warner looked at you like it’s his first time seeing the sun,

The way your name rolled out of his tongue as if it’s a prayer.

Full of devotion.

Kenji is sure that Warner could make a religion out of the way your name sits on his tongue.

Kenji’s thoughts were abruptes by Warner who now stood up and clearly went to the terrace.

Of course, Kenji followed him.

“You need to leave me alone.” Warner exhaled.

“Nah, Let’s talk.”

“We already did.”

“Not enough. Let’s talk about you and y/n’s making out sessions.”

Warner froze, he’s surprised. Of course kishimoto would know.

“y/n always tells you everything, huh?” He breathed out.

Ah, of course, you slipped out of his arms, opting instead to trail after Kenji. The plan was to fill him in on the recent exchange – a typical move in your playbook. After all, you and Kenji had an established rhythm: breaking up only to inevitably find your way back together, rendering the current situation a temporary blip on the radar.

That was the pattern, until the next breakup.

“Only the things that actually mattered, I assume,” Kishimoto responded, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness. “You know, Honesty is the key to a good and healthy relationship.”

“You guys are far from a healthy relationship.” Warner told kenji.

“And you think you guys have?” Kenji shots back.

“We don’t have any relationship.” Warner uttered.

“Could have.” Kenji's voice turned softer, almost a whisper.

The words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning.

“You were supposed to be broken up.”

A sly smile curved Kenji's lips. “Ah, you would love that, wouldn’t you, Warner?”

Halloween Party, Circa 2039.

3 years. 3 long years. Where You and Kenji were in an on and off relationship. Never so long together, let alone apart. And Aaron Warner couldn’t understand how. How Kenji saw you with other people when you guys were broken up and was fine with that. And how he managed to be with other people with you just right there.

It was messy. He knows it. Things got complicated when Kenji decided to date a friend of yours, but that cooled down.

Warner now found himself in a hallway, once again, eavesdropping on You and Kishimoto’s fight. He didn’t mean it to be in this kind of situation but here he is.

“I’m tired, y/n.” Warner heard Kenji’s voice coming from inside the room. Warner was silent so as not to disturb the couple and also because he was very curious to know what was going on between them.

“It’s the same fucking talk all over aga—”

“And you don’t think I’m not tired too!? ” you cut him off, shouting. You guys were silent for a while, the tension was thick, it was almost suffocating him. So, Warner left.

Hours later, Warner found you on the terrace, your gaze lost in the starry night. He leaned against the open door frame, the soft glow from the terrace lights casting gentle shadows on your face. He smiled warmly at you.

"What's on your mind, dove?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle you.

You turned your head, surprise flickering across your features before a smile graced your lips. "Things," you replied simply, though the weight of your unspoken thoughts was evident.

"Can I join you?" Warner asked, his voice gentle.

"Always," you replied, your smile growing warmer.

Warner stepped out onto the terrace, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He settled beside you, both of you gazing out at the peaceful night sky.

"You look miserable," he observed quietly.

You chuckled softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I feel like it, too."

Warner couldn't help but laugh along with you. "Well, I'm here to keep you company, for what it's worth."

"Thank you, Aaron," you said sincerely, your eyes filled with gratitude.

"Of course," he replied, his gaze never leaving you.

There was a comfortable silence between you, the tranquility of the night providing a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

The evening air was cool, and the stars twinkled in the night sky as you and Warner stood on the balcony, the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party below drifting up to you. It had been a night of celebration, but now, in this quiet moment alone, it felt like the perfect opportunity to speak your mind.

"Aaron, can I tell you a secret?" you finally ventured.

"Always," he responded, his tone warm and reassuring.

You took a deep breath before continuing. "Me and Kenji have been broken up since June."

Warner was hardly surprised by your confession. He had observed the signs, the strained interactions between you and Kenji. Yet, hearing it from your own lips somehow made it feel more real.

"Me and him decided not to tell anyone because we know everyone is getting tired of our bullshit," you continued, your voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecating humor.

Warner shifted his gaze to the starlit sky, his thoughts racing. He wanted to say something comforting, something that would ease the burden you were carrying, but the words eluded him.

"It's nobody's business," he finally said, his voice gentle yet supportive.

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from your shoulders.

"Soon enough, you guys will get back together. You always do," Warner replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

You sighed, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. "That's the problem. I think we are done for good. Finally hitted the rock bottom."

Warner shifted slightly closer to you, your faces now mere inches apart. The soft glow from the terrace lights illuminated the anticipation in both your eyes.

"Aaron," you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. "Kiss me."

"Kiss me, Aaron Warner."

Time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes, the tension between you palpable. But Warner, paralyzed by his own uncertainty, remained frozen.

A few seconds later, you both heard Kenji's voice calling out your name from a distance. Warner reluctantly moved away, a mixture of longing and regret in his eyes.

"Your boyfriend's here," he said, his voice strained.

You nodded, swallowing the disappointment that welled up within you.

At the moment, you achingly wished for him to just please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving you. But of course, Warner turned and walked away, leaving you on the terrace, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered desires.

As you watched him go, you couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if he had kissed you, if you had both taken that leap of faith. But for now, the timing was not in your favor, and you were left with the lingering ache of what could have been.

As Warner walked away, he harshly bumped into Kenji, not looking at him or saying sorry. He had made a decision, not a smart one. But he had made a decision and he’s already regretting it.

After the Halloween party, by Christmas, you and kenji Kishimoto are officially back together. Again.

You will and always come back to him.

Even when everyone thought (even him) you were never going to come back to him, you did. You always do and will.

___

PRESENT.

As Warner recalled the memory, he couldn't help it but echoed Kenji's question to his mind.

You would love that wouldn’t you, Warner?

“Very much so.” Warner finally admitted.

“Ohh fucking finally. Now, tell me why? What’s the reason?” Kenji dared to ask as he teased him, pushing his buttons more.

“Because none of you all deserved her.” Warner said what he had been swallowing all these years.

Nazeera didn't deserve to be your first kiss. Zayden Knox didn't deserve to be your first boyfriend. Killian Déicides didn't deserve the time he had with you. Surely Astrid Rhodes didn't deserve to have touched you. Juliette Ferrars, who didn't even fight for you. And Kenji fucking Kishimoto, who had you again, and again, and again. And as always, he without fail let you slip through his fingers.

“Wow, okay,” Kenji smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Do you think I'm the one who's breaking up with her? Most of the time, it's always the other way around. If someone is breaking someone's heart, it's her, not me,” he continued, exhaling a puff of smoke. “I'm serious. It might look like I'm the heartbreaker, but it's really her. I'm not trashing her or anything.”

Warner was taken aback. None of this made sense. Could it be that a year ago, on this very day, you had wanted more than just a momentary distraction because you missed Kenji? You had wanted him, and he hadn't wanted you back. He had let you slip away, just like those he had criticized and hated.

“No,” Warner muttered, struggling to find the right words to defend you even though he knew deep inside it was right. He will always be ready to defend your honor, and always ready to reshape the reality of if you were in the wrong just so you can always be right. That’s what he had been doing for the past years.

Kenji took another drag from his cigarette, considering Warner's words. “Anyway, Y/N and I are done for good. We really can’t keep doing this for another year,” he said, his tone solemn.

"Really?" Warner asked, his heart racing in his chest.

Kenji nodded. “Yup. This year was the worst of our relationship, even though it was the one we spent the most time together.”

Kenji sighed, reflecting on your and his relationship complicated history. “I think we've always found comfort in each other, you know? It's like the memories and the time we spent with each other are what we really hold onto, not our relationship. But despite that, we'll always care for each other.”

Kenji gave a knowing look and added, “Nothing will change that.” He said as if it’s a warning to Aaron.

Warner couldn't help but ask, "Why now?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Kenji took a final drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. “Because we need to move forward, to let go,” he said, shrugging. “Because she's finally ready to fight for you, That's what I came to tell you.”

Warner's eyes widened, disbelief washing over him. "We have nothing to fight for," he replied, although it was a lie.

Kenji smiled knowingly. “You should admit it, Warner. If not to Y/N, at least to yourself.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Warner alone with his thoughts.

"Damn him," Warner muttered under his breath, a mix of frustration and longing in his heart.

Aaron Warner.

PRESENT.

He despised them all, there was no denying it. That's what it had come down to.

He acknowledged that the sensation churning in the depths of his stomach was a mixture of hatred and jealousy directed at your former partners. It had apparently been festering there for an extended period, steadily intensifying, and waiting for him to acknowledge it, or for him to stop pretending. It was time for him to face the truth. He was head over heels in love with you, and the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

That he, Aaron Warner Anderson, was completely, foolishly and totally in love with you.

One year ago, on this very day, he had possibly squandered his chances with you. He couldn't help but wonder if he had allowed himself to kiss you that night, could it have altered the course of our lives? We might have celebrated a year together today, an entire year with you.

Warner shut his eyes tightly, just as he had done on that fateful night. He knew better than to dwell on the past, to chase shadows that had long slipped through his grasp. It was a futile endeavor.

His infatuation with you had started when he was just fifteen. He had witnessed your first kiss with one of his friends, and ever since that moment, an empty feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach.

When you had started dating Zayden Knox, Warner couldn't fathom why you had chosen him. He found Zayden shallow and irritating, far from the ideal partner for someone as exceptional as you.

Astrid Rhodes, in Warner's eyes, was entirely undeserving of your presence. He could hardly stand the thought of her sharing the same air as you.

Your on-and-off relationship with Kenji had only intensified Warner's inner longing and turmoil. You broke up countless times, only to reunite even more frequently. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that drove him to the brink of insanity.

Juliette Ferrars, kind and lovely as she was, could not escape Warner's disdain. The sole reason for his animosity was that she had been your girlfriend.

Then there was the matter of Killian, who had never truly desired you, yet had somehow managed to possess you. That had stoked the fires of Warner's resentment even further.

But most of all, Aaron Warner, despised himself. He was utterly foolish for not realizing his feelings for you sooner. He loathed himself for pretending that he wasn't in love with you for more than six agonizing years.

With each passing day, the emptiness in the pit of his stomach grew, a void that could only be filled with one thing—action. He had become his own worst enemy, too afraid to confront his feelings.

It was time for Warner to face the truth. He couldn't continue this way, allowing the hatred to consume him. It was time to break free from the shackles of his own fears and let his feelings be known.

But how? How could he convey this whirlwind of emotions to you? How could he bridge the chasm that separated them, a chasm of his own making?

Warner found himself wandering through the memories of those moments he had witnessed you with others. He remembered the first time he saw you kiss someone, the way his heart ached as he watched from the shadows.

And then there was Zayden Knox, the one he couldn't stand. Warner couldn't fathom why you had chosen him as your partner. He had always believed you deserved so much more.

Astrid Rhodes, a name that brought a sour taste to his mouth. She had never deserved to bask in your radiant presence. Warner had always felt she was unworthy of you.

Kenji, the source of endless heartache. Your on-again, off-again relationship had driven Warner to the brink of madness. The constant separation and reunion had been a torment he couldn't escape.

Juliette Ferrars, a kind soul, but Warner couldn't help but find flaws in her when it came to her being your girlfriend. He couldn't shake the irrational jealousy that reared its head whenever he thought of her.

Killian, who had never truly valued you, had held you in his grasp. It was a wound that festered, fueling his resentment.

And then, in the midst of all these emotions, Warner realized the crux of the matter. He was the one he despised the most. He had let fear control him, and in doing so, he had let you slip through his fingers.

As he contemplated his inner turmoil, Warner knew that he had to find a way to confront his feelings. He couldn't let his love for you remain a silent, unspoken truth. The time had come to break free from the grip of his own insecurities and tell you how he felt.

Warner couldn’t keep this hidden any longer. The weight of his unspoken affection had grown unbearable, and he needed to act. He had to find a way to communicate his love for you, and he couldn't let fear stand in his way any longer.

His heart aches for words he never had a chance to say. He had to find you, to speak to you, to lay his heart bare.

After what felt like eternity, he spotted you across the room. You were engaged in conversation with nazeera and juliette., your smile lighting up the room. Aaron could not tear his eyes away from you, captivated by your presence.

With determination, he wove his way through the lively gathering, his eyes never leaving you. The chatter around him faded into a distant hum as he approached.

Finally, he stood before you, and you turned to him, a warm smile curving your lips. The party continued around you, but in that instant, it was as if everything had come to a standstill.

”Y/N,” Aaron began, “Can I have a talk with you, please?” He asked you, his request hung between the both of you.

You watched him, your eyes filled with curiosity. “Of course, Aaron. Let’s find a quieter place to talk.” you suggested, your voice soft and encouraging. You knew there was something on his mind, and you wanted to hear it.

With a nod, He took your hand, and together you navigated your way through onto a terrace that overlooked the city. The noise from the party gradually faded, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the night.

As you stepped onto the terrace, the city’s twinkling lights spread out before you, creating a breathtaking backdrop for your conversation. You found a secluded corner and settled.

He took a deep breath and locked eyes with you. “Y/N,” he began again, his voice steady, “Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, and a flashback came into your mind.

The words hung in the air, a heavy pause that seemed to stretch on. The party continued to surge around you, but at this moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Always,” you said, your voice filled with warmth.

He took a deep breath, his words heavy with emotion. “I’m in love with you.”

“Aaron.” you said.

“I am,” he said. He was staring at you. “I love you. I have been trying to find a word that is something deep and coherent to represent my devotion to you. I wish there was something better than I love you. I really love you. And I want to find out what that means together.” He breathed out.

"Aaron." You said again. Not knowing what else to say.

“And If home is a person, I’d gladly rush at the end of every day to you always, towards you. I carry your name everywhere I go, even when you are not around to hear it called. I recite it like a prayer. You are excruciatingly tender and it happens to be the only language I speak besides devotion,”

Warner reached up to your chin and made you look at his eyes,

"Those eyes spoke to me long enough in a way words could never translate and God knows how I was breaking apart."

You are speechless. Absolutely speechless. You don’t know what to say, you looked him straight into the eyes.

He said it. Aaron Warner finally said it. After those years, he finally told you. And God, he loves you in the same way we’ve drawn meaning from stars placed conveniently beside each other and established faiths out of constellations. Aaron Warner badly wants to carve your name out of stars.

The confession hung in the air, a profound declaration that reverberated through your soul. You reached out and gently touched his hand, a silent reassurance that you were there with him.

But before you could reply, he interrupted you. “Please,” he implored, desperation clear in his voice. “Please ask me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you asked, “Ask you what, Aaron?”

His eyes pleaded with you, and he stepped closer. “Ask me again to kiss you,” he said, his desperation visible to his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his words sank in. You had long wondered about his feelings, and now he had confessed his love. But his plea for you to ask him to kiss you revealed the depth of his desire. You could see the depth of his longing, the yearning he had held back for so long. It was a silent plea.

The world seemed to hold its breath as t And then, The city's lights shimmered in the background as you leaned in, and your lips met in a passionate, heartfelt kiss. It was a moment of surrender, a union of two hearts that had been entwined in secrecy for far too long.

Aaron is still panting from the intense kiss, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as he stares at you with a love-struck gaze.

You reach up and gently caress his cheek, feeling your own heart fluttering as you look into his eyes.

He smiles softly at you and leans in to press his forehead against yours, still feeling overcome by the passion and intensity of the moment.

“You have been driving me to madness, my love.” He says.

“Oh please, I haven’t even been around you enough to drive you mad!” You defended.

“The idea of you then.” He said, as you reach for another kiss.

“Mhm, no more evil exes..” Warner whispers.

“What?” You confusedly asked but was shut down as Warner pulled you in a kiss.

A few moments later, you share a small giggle together, feeling the tension dissipate into a calm but blissful state.

It’s over. He finally won.

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

+ @reminiscentreader @mrswifeyscoleman @kaileyn-everdeen @marlygee @hazzassmirk @myloveforreading @khaleesihavilliard @etheriaaly @reapers-lover @corpsedoll777 @dahliawarner @addiessblack @i-amtitania @timhalamet @butterfly-lover @scarz-xo @rippahwrites @elijahssuit @s0urw00lf @rifran @iamsatansoul @tqrgvryen

If you wanna be added to my official A.W. Tag list plz lmk!!! 💗

#reader insert #shatter me #shatter me series #aaron warner x reader #aaron warner #aaron warner x you #aaron warner anderson #kenji kishimoto #nazeera ibrahim #juliette ferrars #Adam Kent #original characters #fem!reader #pining #oc x reader #riewrites 🫀

422 notes · View notes

doumadono · 2 months

Note

Hello, hello, I'm so so happy for you ❤️ And I'm glad I'm able to celebrate your milestone with you 🎊

As for the request, I want a cone with a little scoop of mint-vanilla ice creams topped with maple syrup! I want to ask for a coffee shop quirkless au with Bakugo

A/N: thank you so much, sweetie! Your support means everything ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

Every time you walk into the coffee shop where Bakugo works, he feels a rush of excitement. Your presence brightens his day, and he can't help but smile when he sees you.

He'd always notice you from afar, your gentle demeanor standing out amidst the hustle and bustle of the café. As you approached the counter, he'd feel a strange flutter in his chest, something he couldn't quite explain.

You always order the same thing: a large cappuccino and a carrot pie. Bakugo has memorized it by heart.

You have a habit of sitting in the same corner of the café, studying while enjoying your coffee and pie. As you settle down with your books and papers, Bakugo can't help but steal glances at you while he works behind the counter. Your dedication to your studies impresses him, and he secretly admires your focus.

Your voice, when you place your order, is like a soothing melody to Bakugo's ears. It cuts through the noise of the bustling coffee shop and calms the storm raging inside him. He finds himself looking forward to those brief exchanges more than he cares to admit.

Sometimes, when the shop isn't too busy, you engage in small talk with Bakugo as he prepares your order. It's nothing more than idle chitchat, but to Bakugo, it's a precious moment of connection amidst the chaos of his daily routine.

Despite being just a customer, you have a special place in Bakugo's heart. He cherishes the little interactions you have when you place your order, relishing the chance to exchange small talk with you.

On one particularly hectic day, as Bakugo prepares your usual order, he catches himself stealing more glances than usual. The sight of you engrossed in your studies, a faint furrow between your brows, stirs something within him.

"Here's your cappuccino and carrot pie," Bakugo says, his tone softer than usual as he hands you your order.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a smile. "Thank you. You always make the best cappuccinos."

His heart skips a beat at the sound of his name on your lips. "Yeah, well, it's my specialty," he replies, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth spreading through his chest. He's puzzled. What's going on with him?!

Later that day, as you're about to leave, Bakugo gathers his courage and stops you. Summoning every last ounce of courage, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath, approaching you. "Hey, before you go, I was wondering if I could ask you something," he begins, his heart pounding in his chest.

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity shining in your eyes. "Of course," you reply, your smile encouraging him to continue.

Bakugo takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then blurts out the words that have been on his mind for weeks. "May I have your name?"

You turn to him with a smile, and your eyes sparkle with warmth. "It's Y/N," you reply sweetly, offering him a smile. "And yours?"

"It's Katsuki," he tells you with a little smile dancing in the corners of his mouth. "You have a very pretty name. It's nice to finally know who I'm making all these cappuccinos for," he jokes, a genuine smile gracing his slightly chapped lips.

You chuckle softly, slowly packing your things.

"Well, Y/N, would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?" He asks before reining in his boldness.

You pause packing your books into your bag and gaze at his face for a moment, staying quiet.

Bakugo feels his cheeks flush beet red and his heart race. Why is he acting like this around you?!

Finally, you nod, smirking slightly. "Do you like manga?" you ask instead, catching him off guard.

Bakugo nods. "Yeah, I do, especially something with some decent action."

"So I'd love to chat about the new "Chainsaw man" issue over a cup of cappuccino," you reply, grinning. "How about tomorrow after your shift? What time do you finish?"

He tells you when he finishes his shift, and you bid farewell to him before leaving the cafe.

Bakugo can hardly believe his luck. Not only does he finally know your name, but he also has the opportunity to see you again tomorrow, and on a private level this time! He realizes that he wouldn't have it any other way.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugo headcanons #bakugou headcanons #bakugo angst #mha headcanons #barista bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x y/n

242 notes · View notes

crispy-art-on-fire · 3 months

Text

Since I don't know how much I'll get done with infection au this is where I'll say my ideas (if I can endure typing enough).

Start! In the beginning no one knew what happened. Discord seemed to regress out of nowhere to his old ways only... slightly off. Going place to place spreading chaos with no clear goal in mind and no longer responding to anyone.

By the time the main six decided to turn him to stone Ponyville, Canterlot and the Crystal Empire was already breached. The 'disease' spread quickly before any symptoms arose.

When the first afflicted were identified it became clear something was very wrong and quarantine was enforced. However the lack of knowledge how it's passed on made the original quarantines ineffective.

When stage 3 afflicted came no one was prepared for it. The rules changed and the remaining unafflicted had to go into hiding as the situation became uncontrollable.

Safe zones were established in Ponyville and Crystal Empire but Canterlot fell as Luna was one of the first afflicted trying to go into Discord's mind. Spreading it to Celestia. It's hard to tell how much time has passed since then since the day and night cycles are erratic at best.

Twilight is head of research of the affliction, trying to figure out how it develops in hope to cure it. Applejack and Rainbow Dash help with keeping quarantine the best they can and bring newly afflicted to Twilight to further study.

The people that knew Discord seems to bear some resistance to the affliction. Only Fluttershy is confirmed immune, though those afflicted tend to avoid her subconsciously. She has been put as the guard to the safe zone in Ponyville, looking more tired by the day.

Pinkie Pie is able to deal with stage 2 and 3 afflicted the best as her creativity in fun activities is endless and so is the one scouting outside the safe zones most of the time. However she and Twilight disagrees about the treatment of afflicted ponies. Pinkie Pie being convinced that they should be treated as friends that wants to have a party instead of patients.

Rarity after Discord's defeat left, leaving a letter to Twilight to be wary about extended contact with the afflicted. They're not immune like Fluttershy and she's sorry for whoever she is when they find her. Her whereabouts are unknown for now. Sweetie Belle has tried to rally ponies to find her but Applejack won't allow the Crusaders outside the safe zone.

#my art #mlp #mlp infection au #mlp infected au #my little pony #twilight sparkle #rainbow dash #rarity #fluttershy #pinkie pie #applejack #Enduring Chaos au #discord

196 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 3 months

Text

My Date With the President's Daughter

part one: Blue Bunny

prompt: your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 6.3k+

note: a little Disney Channel throwback in the title anyone?

warnings: use of Irish names that DO NOT dictate race, more Mafia antics, short smut / interrupted smut (you'll see), NSFW i think, mature content, cursing, chaos and violence, weapons: guns and knives, blood. dead bodies, reader's a Daddy's Girl, abrupt ending, slight angst, more hurt and comfort i guess, author still has no idea what this plot is - revoke her internet access.

The theme of the gala that night was inspired by the Palace of Versailles; regal, royal, glittering and so very, very gold. It was held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the entire building rented out in preparation with three different caterers and expensive bottles of alcohol being served. The gala was THE place to be - most people vying for an invitation, everyone who was anyone in attendance; dripping in designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry that sparkled in candlelight.

Every single year for the past 25 years, your legendary father hosted a large charity event that your mother was project manager of - meaning she chose the themes, decor, and the invite list. Only elite persons (both in the public and private eye) with deep pockets were invited, knowing they'd cut a large check if they wanted your father to stay out of their business territories. So, in honor of the richer-than-rich attendees, your mother used grand and golden decorations; creating a tastefully regal atmosphere for those who didn't actually have a drop of royal blood in their veins.

You father, Fallon, meaning "leader" in the ancient Celtic language, looked as handsome and dapper as ever; his tux dry cleaned, steamed, ironed, and tailored, paired with clean and shining dress shoes that had a bright red sole. His hair was slicked back, tattoos on his neck visible from the swept-back style.

Your mother, Maeve, whose name meant "she who rules", looked like she had just walked off a runway. Her dress hugged her slender and impressive figure, the material shimmering under the soft lighting. Her heels were high, hair pinned off her neck to show off bright diamond earrings that matched the thin chain of glittering gems around her collarbones, the sparkling tennis bracelet, and the absurdly large wedding ring on her finger. Her face was lightly painted with make-up, always a woman who didn't need much - if any at all. You prayed to age as gracefully as she.

Your brother, Oisín - pronounced [Oh - Sheen] - meant "little deer"; a cheeky but shy lad at the ripe age of 10. He wore a matching tux as your father, and had an emerald broach pinned on his lapel to indicate he belonged to your family. His au pair was supposed to be watching him so you could mingle with donors, but Oisín didn't stray from your side; a wee hand holding the material of your expensive dress on your hip to keep himself from getting lost.

The gala was crowded. Large event room stifling, requiring the air be turned on. Perfume assaulting the senses in a clash of scents.

The trademark "cha-ching" sound effect echoed in your mind as you shmoozed a few guests into their donations; impressing your brother by how easy you made it look. You thanked each donor with a pretty smile and fluttering lashes, floating around the room to meet other investors; giving them your family's charity's mission statement and explained where their money would go. Most of the people in this room were seedy criminals - similar to your father - and the other few were corrupt politicians who were nestled in the criminal's pockets.

By no means was the night boring, but this was work for you; all business, no pleasure.

The decor your mother chose had a lot of glittering gold details; a few imported busts and statues, an entire wall full of sculpted grass to mimic the Palace's own garden designs; artwork hung in thick, intricate frames, bright crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The event hall was specifically chosen for the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculpted shrubbery planted around the room; banquet tables covered in white cloth and chairs made of white plush - complimenting the detailed golden accents. It was gorgeous, you were impressed by your mother's attention to detail.

You wore a dress made of fine silk, the pretty green hue complimenting your skin tone; hair left down, pinned at the sides, showing off the dangling, expensive earrings your father gifted you on your 18th birthday. You, too, wore heels that forced you to walk taller and with calculated steps; rimmed eyes darting around to ensure there wasn't any shady business transpiring. But when surrounded by people who made their living by being sketchy, it was hard to clock each and every movement; being why your father had hired a very specific (and loyal) security service.

With several checks in hand, you visited your father's banker, a mute man named Bradley, and handed them over for safe keeping; your brother able to practice his sign language. Bradley was happy to reply, your entire family versed in multiple languages, and showed the young lad his process of collecting and documenting the donations. After tallying your new checks to the grand total, he used British Sign Language to inform you and Oisín of the updated tally generated so far.

"Why does Daddy need to do this?" The young lad asked, holding your hand tightly; not being a fan of social interactions - especially to this magnitude.

"To keep business moving squeaky clean," you answered softly, smiling at a few who passed you. "Money makes the world go 'round, don't it?"

He sighed, "Do we know all these people?"

"We do, they're Daddy's associates," you nodded, "and you best believe, they all know us. See, one day, you'll learn their names and what businesses they provide, how Daddy keeps them all employed."

Oisín looked uncomfortable, wondering, "Are they dangerous? Like the guys that came for Christmas?"

You came to a halt around the edge of the room, caressing his head while being careful not to muse his hair out of place. "They're all dangerous, in their own way, yes, lovie. But," you lowered into a squat so you could look your brother in his eyes, "you'll learn, Daddy's much more dangerous. So, we host events like this t'keep everyone happy and in line, you see? It's a power play."

He nodded, glancing around the room of adults. "Do I have to stay the whole time, though? Mommy said I could invite Darrel and Kevin - they're over there," he pointed towards one of the round tables, two of his classmates laughing with their mothers standing off to the side. "And I'm hungry!"

"Oh, you're a hungry lad, is it?" You smiled, watching his head bob. "Well then, in that case, we should feed you, huh? C'mon," you straightened and offered your hand, which he took gratefully. "We'll get yah fed, sweetums, and you can hang with your friends, yeah?"

"Daddy won't be mad?"

"No, I'll tell him you did really well tonight, helping me collect donations," you winked, leading him to one of the catering tables. You made up his plate with different options, carrying it to the table his friends, Darrel and Kevin, were sat at.

The boys - who looked adorably dapper in suits and bowties - greeted your brother happily; letting you set his plate down and greet the mothers kindly to thank them for their attendance that night.

"Oh, Miss!" Your brother's au pair, Lisa, hustled up to you, "I'm so sorry, I lost track - "

"No, no, 's fine, you're all right, deep breath, love," you assured, squeezing her upper arm. "Having a good night so far?"

"Oh, it's magical, Miss, innit?" She beamed, looking around in wonder. "Never been before despite working for your family all these years, I'm grateful for your mother's invitation tonight."

"Oh, we're very happy to host yah, sweetheart," you smiled. "But, uh, you mind keepin' an eye on Oisín for me? I've gotta work a bit more. He just wants t'hang with his friends, think he's a bit tired."

"Of course," she rushed.

"I'd wager you can take him t'bed after Daddy's speech, hmm? I know he'll want Oisín here for that, at the very least."

Lisa agreed, mingling with the other mothers as you pecked Oisín's head and told him to behave, that you were gonna go back to working the gala; which he at least acknowledged before being sucked back into a card game with Darrel. You didn't mind the blow off, liking the idea that he had as normal of a life as possible - a farfetched idea considering your father ran the bloody Irish Mafia and all. He's attended three different schools since he started his educational career, so you were content to leave him with his friends; letting boys be boys.

After making another deposit to Bradley, you visited one of the modern and unique glass bars (one of three stations) while feeling somewhat dejected by the night's missing guest. But speak (or think) of the Devil and He shall appear.

"You weren't kiddin' when you said your family goes all out for events like this. Jesus fuckin' Christ," a familiar, accented voice crooned; a body saddling up to the bar beside you. You first saw his hands clasped together on the bar, recognizing the golden rings and single bracelet, smirking as your eyes lifted to meet that of Aaron - or Tangerine.

"You're late," you mused, locking eyes with the bartender and holding up two fingers; indicating you now wanted two of the drinks you ordered, him nodding.

"Sorry 'bout that, love, yeah, no, Lem and I got caught up in somethin', had ta deal, then get cleaned up for yah. Figured you wouldn't want us walkin' in here with blood on us."

"You'd be right," you hummed, red painted lips stretching in amusement as you both casually leaned on the glass bartop with your forearms. "Doesn't matter, you're here now - thank God."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not like previous years," you admitted, sending a glance over your shoulder at the group of milling socialites. "Since Daddy inducted The Agency, some traction's picked up believe it or not. Seems like a lot of people like the idea of contract killers for hire and investing in the Black Market. Seems like you lot really up the ante, don't'cha?"

"Ah," he smirked, "you're welcome, then. Happy t'be of service."

"I'll only thank you when you make a donation to the cause."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, you got anywhere private for me to write a check, then, love? Can't have anyone knowin' I'm charitable, got a reputation to uphold, know what I mean?" Then he leaned in real close, lips ghosted against your ear and making a shiver shoot down your spine, "C'mon, doll, 's been 3 weeks since I've seen yah."

"I know," you sighed, "but we've been busy tonight. Plus, Daddy would kill you - like, actually kill you - 'cause he's listed you specifically for me to stay away from."

"And yet, here you are, naughty girl, huh? Disobeying orders?" He smirked and put a space between you for the sake of appearances, two glasses of whiskey set before you. "Your Daddy's been preoccupied all night, love - don't think he'd even notice if we pop out for a bit. 'Fraid to admit but if I don't get you alone soon, I might actually lose my shit, darlin', honestly."

"Aaron, sweetheart, my family is hosting this event and we're responsible for collections," you deadpanned, but smirked, "'s a bit inappropriate to abandon such an important night by sneaking off."

"Can't tell me you're not tempted."

Now, you full-on grinned, "I didn't wear panties for a reason."

"You fuckin' tease," he growled over the rim of the crystal glass. When he tasted the whiskey, he hummed in shock, looking at the amber liquid, "Fuck me, that's nice."

"My family may or may not own several distilleries. You're drinking an exquisite, 15-year ol' whiskey, love." You took your own sip, casting another look around the room, finding your brother first, still with his friends before locating your parents. They were pleasantly distracted by an ambassador, making you grin at Tangerine, "C'mon."

"Hey?" He wondered, quickly setting his half-drank glass down as you snatched his free hand to quickly lead him away. He smirked and casted a look over his shoulder, instantly meeting Lemon's eyes - finding him laughing at the pair of you, toasting his drink at his brother in impression as if he knew what you two were up to.

Thanks to Thomas the Tank Engine, Lemon definitely knew what you two were doing - being excellent at reading people.

You lead your lover out of the event hall, checking up and down the empty hall and missing the way one of the security guards clocked your escape. You lead Tangerine into the large, private, unisex bathroom; shoving him against the closed door and instantly latching onto him in a deep kiss.

He was fully prepared, catching your hips; hissing a breath in through his nose, releasing a gentle moan out of sheer relief. When you pulled back, he grinned, "Got no idea how much I fuckin' missed yah, darlin'."

"Missed you more," you whispered in a rush, arms wrapping around his neck as he simultaneously began backing you up. It was a hungry kiss; heated, passionate, teeth clanking from impact, both attempting to make up for lost time. Ever in-sync, both your mouths opened to push your tongues against one another; exchanging saliva and the taste of expensive whiskey.

"C'mere," he panted after having backed you into the sink counter, seizing hold of your silken hips and hoisting you upwards. Your mouths were never far apart, joining together once more now that you were sat at a vantage point. Your hands shoved his navy blue suit jacket from his shoulders, it being set aside to the other end of the counter while you worked on his belt. "Never goin' this long again," he mumbled into your kiss, pushing the material of your dress up to let your legs spread wider in accommodation. Your lover rushed, "Jesus, fuck, feels like forever, don't it?"

You nodded as his hands pushed under the bunched material to grip the plush meat of your thighs; giving a gentle massage before sliding them higher until he met your bare hips. The cold counter bit into your exposed flesh.

"Oh, fuck me, you really didn't wear panties?" He groaned, glancing down as he lifted silk from your lap to catch a glimpse of your bare cunt - ready to greet him.

"Had a feelin' you'd show up, you just can't stay away, can yah?" You smirked, cheekily licking his lips as his belt clattered open. "Thought you'd might appreciate it," your chuckle was swallowed by his moan as the zipper of his trousers sounded almost shrilly to your over heightened senses. "Just need you close, so fuckin' close, please, missed you, baby - "

"No idea how much I've missed you, love, fuckin' hell," he rushed, reaching into his briefs the moment you had loosened the waistband of his tailored trousers to take hold of his cock. "This ain't gonna be nice an' easy, love, yeah? All right?" He checked, feeling you slide to the edge of the counter.

"Didn't think anything else," you grinned, gasping lightly when the head of his cock swept up and down your slit. "Plenty of time for that later, just need you fuckin' close - closer than close."

"Feel how fuckin' wet you are already? Goddamnit - "

"All for you, baby, c'mon, don't tease - "

In a single motion, Tangerine sheathed himself in your warmth, grinning in mischief, "Huh? Sayin' somethin', weren't yah, doll? Go 'head, finish your sentence, 'M listening."

You only chuckled, hands holding his neck and bicep in vice grips to keep yourself anchored as close as possible to him. "Three weeks without yah, and you wanna provoke me?" You whispered, feeling him begin to thrust in agonizing movements.

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't, huh?"

You chuckled breathlessly - gasping when, suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. You were facing that way, looking up from Tangerine's shoulder, only to discover your worst fear. "Holy shit! Daddy!?" You squeaked, Tangerine jolting and cursing in a hushed tone as he instantly yanked out of your wet warmth.

"Oh, you betta be fuckin' kiddin' me," your father seethed. "The fuck is goin' on here!? What the fuck are you goin'!? Who the fuck is that - is-is-is that who I think it is?" He growled, your lover fumbling to tuck himself away and pull his trousers back together - not moving from between your legs in an effort to preserve your modesty. But he had turned slightly to give your father a glimpse of his face, making your Daddy snarl, "Oh, bloody fuckin' hell! You serious? Fuckin' Tangerine, is it? You lost your mind, girl!?"

"Daddy, please," you warbled nervously, tears of anxiety gathering.

"Get the fuck out here - now! Boff of yah's!" He commanded in a roar, stepping out of the doorway.

"Oh, holy fuck," Aaron breathed, latching his belt and looking at you with wide eyes. "Well, was nice while this lasted, huh? Gonna miss yah, pretty girl - "

"The fuck are you - "

"He's gonna fuckin' kill me, sugar," Tangerine frowned, your dress falling gracefully into place when you slid off the counter. "Your father's gonna fuckin' kill me, Goddamnit," he pulled his suit jacket back on. "Think I can make it out that window?"

"He already knows it's you, runnin' now won't help," you sniffled, shaking your head and moving for the still-opened door. "You didn't think to fucking lock the door? Jesus fuck, Aaron..."

He followed after you, meeting your father in the empty hallway outside where the gala was in full-swing. He looked enraged, jaw clenched and wide eyes ablaze, looking the both of you over in disgust. "You out of your bloody mind you stupid girl? Huh?" He demanded, "I told you - very clearly - you weren't to fuckin' see him again."

"Daddy - "

"And this is how I find out? Huh? That my daughter doesn't respect my authority or listen to my words? How the fuck do you think people would react to that? They see you disobeying and get the idea to do the same."

"I'm not yours to command - "

"You're my daughter!" Fallon barked in anger, "My only fuckin' daughter, which means, you are, indeed, mine to command - just like everyone else in this fucking organization! You understand? My word is law - "

"This isn't just some petty fling, Daddy, that I'm engaged in to pass the time! I'm in love with him!" You blurted out, eyes widening when you heard your own words and watched your father's face fall.

"Beg your pardon?" He seethed slowly. "Have you gone mental? Finally fuckin' lost it? Huh? You must be outta your Goddamn mind if you think you love this silly fuck! He doesn't love you back, Y/N, you're just a coveted prize because you're my daughter - it's a thrill to men like him! Women like you, you're just trophies! There's no authenticity - "

"With all due respect," Tangerine interrupted boldly with anger lacing his words, "but you've got it all wrong, sir. Your daughter is the most important person t'me - outside my bruva, of course. She's not a trophy to collect, she's not a dainty object for me to store onna shelf - she's not a notch on my belt. But you're right about one thing," his arm extended around your waist, "she is the most coveted prize - but that's because of who she is, not who her father is. She's my prize, yeah, because she's the end goal men search their whole lives for and for whatever reason, she fuckin' chose me. I consider it the greatest honor - "

"You got some fuckin' nerve, don't'cha?" Your father growled. "You know what, lad? Since it's evident my daughter doesn't take me seriously, maybe you'll be smart enough to heed my warning. You leave her the fuck alone or - "

"I can't do that, sir," Tan refused, "'cause like it or not, I'm mad for her. Absolutely stupid for her. I love your daughter past words, don't even think I've ever loved someone 'cause bein' with her feels so fuckin' different in comparison.

"That so?"

Tangerine nodded, other hand shoving into his pocket to toy with the cool metal of golden brass knuckles. "There's nobody in this world like your daughter, sir. Bein' in love with her is like euphoria, yeah? Makes me think back and realize how wrong I was about my feelings for anyone else 'cause of how I feel for her. I say there ain't no way I've ever loved anyone else 'cause I've never felt this way before - I've only felt this type of love with your daughter. Yeah? She's fuckin' everything to me, so, with respect, I can't stay away. I won't."

"Yeah? Yeah? Fuckin' fine. All right, sure, let's see if The Agency has anythin' t'say about this, huh? When I pull the plug on this deal, I'll be sure to tell your employers why and let them deal with you for ruining this business partnership."

"Daddy," you gasped, rushing when he turned for the event hall's doors, Aaron following swiftly. You caught the metal doors when your father yanked them open and strode into the room, doing your best to catch him before he did anything too rash. "Wait, wait, Daddy, please, just listen, listen to me - I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Didn't mean for what? Me findin' yah fuckin' in the bathroom like a desperate whore?" He snarled over his shoulder, the thick crowd slowing him.

"Well, yes, but I also didn't mean to fall in love with him! All right? But you know better than all of us that it's not a choice, it just happens! Look at you and Mum - "

He rounded on you, Tan at your flank, opening his mouth to scold you when something caught his eye behind you. You didn't have time to question him as rapid shots filled the air, a telltale sign of an automatic gun being fired in the crowded room. You flinched slightly, Tangerine instantly grabbing your waist to cover your body with his; turning to locate the threat, only to discover a gaggle of men in all black wearing ski masks and duffel bags on their shoulders.

"Friends of yours?" Tan snipped at your father, keeping you low as the crowd shrieked in panic - all trying to escape, still being shot at. This caused the seedy individuals with guns to take a stand and shoot back at the intruders, creating mass confusion and limited advantages.

"Bruv!"

"Brian," Aaron panted, people bumping into one another as they panicked in a flood of bodies. He looked down at you and then to your father, Fallon, only to find blood blooming under his white button up. "Oh, fuck," his eyes widened, gunshots still sounding, "right, we gotta move - can deal with everything else later. Here, here, here," Tangerine plucked a cloth napkin from a nearby table and shoved it over your father's wound to help staunch the bleeding.

"They got the doors, mate," Lemon shook his head when you noticed your father's wound. Luckily, it didn't appear to be in a fatal location, his hand holding pressure as the security detail were being gunned down. "The fuck do we do now?" Lemon asked over shrill shrieks.

"What we do best," Tangerine answered, pushing your father into action and brandishing his gun. "Stay close - "

"I'm not leaving without my wife and son!" Your father growled.

"Lem!"

"On it," he agreed, disappearing into the swarm of people.

Your lover kept you close, shoving through the crowd to lead towards a set of heavy metal doors. Several men stepped in your way, Tan sneering, "Right, fuck this." He opened fire.

You squeaked in shock when a different body tackled Aaron from the side to knock him out of sight, your father keeping a hold on you as straggling bodies dropped around you. "There he is!" You heard over the confusion, locating a set of men surging towards you.

There was nowhere to go, leaving you to physically block your father in a bid to protect him - not needing to when Tangerine intercepted the two threats. He didn't have his gun anymore, lost in a stampede of feet on bloody marble floors, opting to use his fists and brute strength against the robbers. The brass knuckles helped.

You had to admit, it was the perfect night to attack considering how much money Bradley was keeping track of. Plus the fact that everyone's guard was down made tonight the perfect opportunity for marauders to act against your family.

However, in a sea of confusion, you were separated from your father's side; losing him amongst the people and feeling a tight hand seize your upper arm. "I got the daughter!" The man in a ski mask informed through the visible comms system. "Moving for the south wing, bring the van around t'the alley."

"Aaron!" You begged, trying to wrangle free but discovering your strength was nothing compared to the 6'3'' goon's. "Aaron! Aaron, please! Help!"

"Shut the fuck up," the man snapped, backhanding you and never releasing his grip. A single trickle of blood oozed from one nostril as the man's ring split your bottom lip. "Fuckin' move!" He barked at you in a thick accent, "Move, bitch, let's go!"

"What do you want!? Please, just - just tell me! I can give you whatever it is - please! Fucking let go!"

Another enemy joined you, sneering, "Oi! The fuck you doin'? Don't damage the goods, fuckin' idiot, we gotta keep her in decent shape for the ransom! Fallon ain't payin' if his daughter's been assaulted - "

But a gunshot boomed and the other man's body jolted before falling flat on his back - dead with a hole in his forehead. You tried to capitalize on your captor's shock, unsuccessful, feeling blood splatter on your back from a different fallen body. You saw your father under the wing of his security, his own gun being used in defense, begging, "Daddy! Daddy, help!"

The one night you don't ensure your thigh holster's filled, of course this happens!

Fallon was only able to watch as Tangerine fought his way up to you struggling in the bulky man's grip; impressed when one contract killer engaged another. "Oi!" Tan barked, "Hands off my girl, yah fuckin' lunatic!" He threw several punches, the goon forced to release you to defend himself. Fallon watched as Tangerine waited until you were freed and a step to the side before opening fire again - killing the man who dared touch you. He realized that Tangerine had waited until you were clear to take the shot - feeling impression plant in his gut. Yet there was no time to dwell as intruders circled him.

"Oh, my God!" You whimpered, bodies left in growing pools of blood; your dress dragging in the tacky substance to paint abstract swirls on the shining floor; trying to avoid being swept up in the streams of panicking people. Your name was barked, another hand grabbing you, but this time, it was Lemon - sprayed in enemy blood.

"C'mon, doll, I got'cha!" He promised, being engaged by another robber. You sobbed in shock when an arm caught you in a headlock and forcefully drug you backwards; heeled feet scrambling in an attempt to keep up and avoid falling over.

"Lemon! Please! Fuck's sake!"

Breathing was hard to do in a headlock, dancing black spots blurring your vision slowly and your heart hammering in fear. A machine gun sounded again. The bicep tightened, dramatically limiting air.

"Fuckin' get off her, arsehole!" Recognizing Aaron's voice was a sheer relief, gasping for air when the arm constricted around your neck released suddenly. However, the momentum made you stumble to the ground at the same time for the goon's dead body to drop right next to you. His wide, dead eyes stared unseeingly at you, forcing a shiver down your spine and for your stomach to knot.

"Jesus Christ, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," you panted, scrambling when blood spread closer.

"C'mon, love, c'mere, c'mere," Tangerine grunted, hauling you to your feet and protectively keeping you to his side. Being in front of you now, you could note the blood on his button up, how the robber's own punches had bruised and bloodied his face; figuring you looked somewhat similar. "Right, listen please, need yah t'do somethin' for me, love," he kept a sharp eye out for other threats as he tugged up one of his trouser legs. He pulled out the gun strapped in the holster, handing it to you with the instruction, "Shoot first, answers later. Yeah? Hey?"

You nodded and accepted the weapon, unlocking the safety. "I have to find Mum and Oisín," you worried, men and women screaming as the brutal fight continued.

"Just stay close, love, 's fuckin' madhouse - FUCK!" He snapped, aiming and firing at a man racing for you two. "C'mon, we gotta move, gotta get you out of here - right to the fuck now - "

Your gun sounded, Tangerine watching another robber drop only feet away. He pushed you through the people, both with your heads on a swivel; working in tandem to clear the banquet hall of robbers and direct survivors to get out. Your curly-haired boyfriend held one of the robbers by the neck and repeatedly punching his face into a pulp after the other man had attempted to snatch you, too.

Nobody came remotely close to you again, not when Tangerine was on guard; protecting you, defending you, killing for you. The skin on his bare knuckles had split open, but Tangerine didn't even notice; he just moved on to the next threat.

Soon, the gunfire ceased, leaving a ringing in survivor's ears, and after a quick look around the room, Tangerine confirmed the threats were all eliminated - but so were several guests of the charity gala.

You gasped in guilt, hand slapping over your mouth when you nearly tripped over Lisa's body; bullet holes shredding her flesh.

"Bruv," Lemon panted, approaching the two of you and making Tan flinch. "Woah, hey, easy, 's just me," he held his hands up, your lover sighing in relief and keeping you sheltered behind him. "You two good?" Brian asked, sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"You hit, love? Hey?" Tangerine looked down at you, keeping one arm around you and his body at a protective angle. "Shit, your face - your fucking face, sweetheart, look at me, look at me, lemme see," he frowned, holstering his gun to take both your cheeks in his hands and look for other injury.

"I'm okay, promise I'm not hurt," you panted, hands trembling. "Are you two?"

"I'm good," he nodded, eyeing Lemon. "Yeah?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," Brian confirmed, "but I got some bad news. Looks like they got the banker. I can't tell if they made off with the money or not."

"They couldn't've, we only accepted checks tonight," you explained. "No cash, no assets to steal."

"Take it that's not public knowledge," Lemon sighed. "Probably thought they could rob y'all blind in one move, thinkin' tonight would have cash donations."

You sniffled, "You seen my family?"

"Uh," Lemon looked around, nodding, "yeah, your dad's over there."

Peering around Tangerine's form, you located your father slowly stalking around the room; taking note of the dead bodies left behind, survivors clearing out into the hallways. Fallon made his way up to you three, your voice trembling, "Daddy? You all right? Where's Mum and Oisín?"

"They're safe, with the paramedics," he reported, instantly taking you in his embrace. "Ah, fuck, lost sight of yah in this mess, had me worried, girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah," he whispered, caressing the back of your head, "don't apologize, you ain't do nothin'." He took a breath, keeping you caressed to his shoulder, "Gotta admit, felt a helluva lot better knowin' your man had your six." You pulled back slowly, watching your father sigh and nod at the Twins, admitting, "Thank you for protectin' my daughter, don't know how t'repay yah."

"Wasn't nothin' to it, sir," Tangerine assured, adjusting his suit jacket, "just wanted to protect my woman."

"I saw," he nodded. "You boys okay?"

"Yes, sir," Lemon nodded, Tangerine doing the same.

"Very good... Then I think I owe you an apology," your father told Tan, shocking you - not knowing the last time you ever heard you father admit to an apology.

"Not necessary, sir, I understand," Tan deflected, skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, blood dabbed around from the robber's fists, "I'm just relieved your family's safe."

"No, listen, I was wrong," Fallon admitted, "sayin' all that shit to you - about you. You know, makin' my assumptions, goin' based on rumors. You've got a bit of a reputation, I was just tryna protect my daughter from gettin' her heart broke." He sighed, shaking his head, "Can protect her from damn near everything - except the complications of her own heart; the woes of a relationship."

"I understand, sir."

"But seein' you tonight, fightin' for her, fightin' to get back to her... I was wrong," Fallon sighed, offering his hand. When Tan shook it, your father offered, "For what it's worth, you've got my permission to... Continue whatever this is. Any lad willing t'put themselves in harms way for my girl is all right in my books."

"I appreciate that," Tangerine sniffled, meeting your eye and smirking slightly. "Your daughter means a lot t'me, swear I won't make yah regret givin' us your approval."

Fallon sighed, nodding, "Yeah, all right, good. 'Cause she's precious to me, you know? I'll fuckin' gut you if you hurt her."

"I believe it," Tan sighed, a single twinge of nervousness to his tone, "but you don't gotta worry, sir, right, 'cause last thing I want is t'hurt the woman I love. She's precious to me, too."

"Right, good, uh, well... Thank you, both, for helping tonight. Would've been a fuckin' bloodbath without yah."

You frowned, gazing around the marble floors, "Still a bloodbath, ain't it? Half our men are dead, several investors... Daddy, who the fuck were these men?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out," he growled, his surviving personnel taking note of the event-room-turned-battlefield, slowly starting to move bodies. Little known fact: the hotel had an industrial size furnace in the boiler room - somewhere your father could burn bodies without the police being tipped off.

"Th-They said something about a ransom," you told the trio in a trembling tone, "about ransoming me back to you, Daddy. Said you wouldn't pay if I was injured, so they shouldn't rough me up."

"Hey," Tan whispered, pulling you into his side securely, "don't gotta worry 'bout that - know there's nowhere for anyone to hide you that I wouldn't find."

Fallon actually liked that sentiment, watching you nod and for your lover to hold you securely and placing a kiss to your forehead. So, he asked, knowing the answer, "Can I trust you to take care of my daughter, lad?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't make me regret this."

"Not in this lifetime, sir."

"Good. I'll find you lot in the mornin', get gone."

After a brief reunion with your mother and brother, learning they were uninjured and safe, you boyfriend finally opened the door to the hotel room you two had been assigned. Lemon was right next door, and when you entered, your luggage was left on the bed for you both. It was quiet as you both cleaned up and prepared for bed; silent tears trickling down your cheeks, mind replaying the night's events over and over and over... Like a never ending nightmare.

In the shower, you sat on the floor with arms tight around your knees, Tangerine sitting with you as warm water cascaded; cocooning steam around you. Blood washed off in waves of pink, circling the drain; your boyfriend gently massaging your body with a washcloth, discovering a scattering of injury - some still open and weeping. He was forced to blink back tears when your neck revealed a significant bruise; considering it a reminder of his failure to protect you, not knowing you felt the direct opposite and knew, if he hadn't been there, things would've been much, much worse.

When you joined Aaron in bed, the silence continued. Your heads laid on plush, stark white pillows; on your sides to stare at one another with hands clasped together between you. No words were needed, no explanation or thanks necessary, neither feeling the need to speak on what happened that night. Tangerine let go of your one hand, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek and jaw, fingertip tracing soft lines; shuffling closer to rest his cut forehead on yours.

In the dark of the room, over the sounds of the humming air conditioner unit, Tangerine whispered, "I love you, doll."

"I love you, too, Aaron. Thank you for... You know, tonight... All you did."

"You being safe, in my arms, is enough thanks."

"I-I'm glad you were here."

He nodded in agreement, "So am I. Don't know what I'd of done if I wasn't - if I had t'hear about this later... If they had succeeded in snatching you. Might not have been able to forgive myself."

"Good thing we don't have to know." Your eyes danced between his, admitting, "I don't think I want t'go without you, love. I don't think I feel secure unless you're with me."

"Yeah?" He smirked slightly, "That your way of sayin' you wanna spend more time with me?"

"Might be my way of sayin' I wanna spend all my time with you," you whispered, tears glazing your eyes. "And Daddy approves, so we don't have to sneak around anymore, right?"

"Right, get yah all t'myself," Tan agreed softly. "We'll talk in the morning, sweetheart, yeah?" He stretched slightly to peck your lips, encouraging, "Get some rest, Bunny. 'S been a helluva night."

Tangerine made you feel safe, he protected you and killed for you - so while you were unsure how sleep would find you when your mind was plagued with replaying chaotic memories from that evening, you let yourself relax.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

172 notes · View notes

talkdutchtome · 10 months

Text

You Should Have Said No Chapter One

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . should've said no- taylor swift )

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

series masterlist . . . available here )

“And Pierre Gasley is the winner of the 2023 Monaco Grand Prix”

Pride encapsulated your heart, finally taking a breath after holding it for what seemed like the last few laps of the race when your fiancé had overtaken Max Verstappen on the 70th lap of the race.

You watched him celebrate on the podium with Charles and Max; seeing him take his second ever first place trophy brought tears to your eyes. You two were childhood sweethearts so you had been with him since the beginning of his career and seeing him now win the most prestigious race on the calendar, the one he had dreamed of winning since he was a child, you couldn’t think of anyone who deserved it more.

“I’m so proud of you Mon amour” you exclaimed as soon as he entered his drivers room where you were waiting for him, your arms wrapping around him, planting a congratulatory kiss on his lips. He kissed you back passionately, you could see in his sparkling blue eyes how much this meant to him. All the tireless training, strict dieting and time away from the people he loved the most, finally paying off, finally meaning something. He picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, like muscle memory having have been in this position thousands of times before, you face buried in his neck sticky from the champagne inhaling his scent, smelling the cologne you had watched him put on this morning. You felt him breathing in your scent too, nose buried in your long hair, smelling like the Apple shampoo you had been using since before you had met him, the familiar fragrance calming his racing heart.

“Mon chéri, I did it. No, we did it” he whispered in your ear. You were alone in the room but the intimacy of him talking lowly in your ear made your stomach flutter.

You found yourself in the hottest club in Monaco that night with a good portion of the grid, celebrating the three men on the podium. You were never a person interested in clubbing, usually letting Pierre go alone. Your anxiety of overly crowded places being triggered by the dark rooms filled with hundreds of drunk party goers. But today was his night, you couldn’t not be there celebrating his big win. Sat around a table in the VIP section with Pierre, Max, Lando, Charles and his girlfriend, you felt acutely aware of the swirling pit of anxiety in your stomach but you persisted, wanting nothing more than to celebrate with the love of your life. Pierre had his arm lazily draped around your shoulders, engrossed in a conversation with Charles about the race, Max and Lando were talking to two girls who were gushing over them, Lando relishing it in whilst max shuffled awkwardly in his seat, clearly not wanting the girl sat next to him to be rubbing her hands all over his arms and chest. You smiled to yourself, observing that Max was more than likely acting as a wingman for the young British driver. Looking away to reply to a question asked to you by Charles’ girlfriend, you missed the longing gaze Max gave you.

Hours past and as the club closing time drew near, you became increasingly more tired, just wanting to go home and spend the rest of the night alone with Pierre. Lando’s voice interrupted your train of thought “Everyone’s up for the after party after this right? No need for this party to end” he said taking a break from sloppily kissing the girl sat next to him. You looked up at Pierre, trying to gauge what his thoughts on the proposition were. “Hell yeah” he spoke smiling ear to ear. Feeing your heart sink, knowing that your wish of getting some well needed alone time with your fiancé was now no longer going to come to fruition, you whispered in his ear, telling him that you weren’t feeling great so you would like to go home but that you didn’t expect him to come with you, wanting him to make the most of his celebrations.

“Okay Mon chéri, are you sure? I don’t mind coming home with you if you’d prefer” he whispered back to you, smiling at his selflessness, you planted a soft kiss just below his ear. “I’m sure”

Clambering in the Uber with Charles and his girlfriend who had also decided to call it a night, you gazed out the window watching as the picture of Pierre, Max, Lando and the two girls getting smaller as the car drove away. You waved timidly through the windows, putting on a smile, even though you would have preferred Pierre to come with you, you knew that he had been working so hard and deserved a night to blow off steam.

Falling asleep almost as soon as your back hit the mattress of your shared apartment, you slept undisturbed until you heard Pierre come home. He tried his best to be a quiet as he could coming in, but his drunkenness made that difficult and you stirred, half awake and half asleep as he got into bed. Not awake enough to say anything to him, but awake enough to cuddle into him, you breathed in his scent again, subconsciously noticing that he smelled different to how he normally did, but your brain foggy with sleep didn’t think too much of it.

Your 9 AM alarm rolled around far too quickly, tiredness and a light hangover made your head pound but wanting to stick to your daily routine you pushed through it. Planting a kiss on Pierre’s sleeping head before walking into the bathroom. You spent an half an hour in the shower before you put your make up on and placed a painkiller on your tongue, the headache finally getting the better of you. On your way to the kitchen, you peaked your head into the bedroom, giggling at the sight of your sleeping fiancé still snoring away. In the kitchen you turned on some Taylor Swift and began to prepare breakfast for Pierre, placing bacon in the oven, you began to get to work on making a pancake mix until you heard your phone ring, interrupting the song that was currently planning. For some reason unbeknownst to you, you felt your stomach sink, like you almost knew whoever was phoning you was about to tell you some bad news. Shaking the thought away and dismissing it as your anxiety you picked up the phone and saw that the person phoning you was Max Verstappen. Your eyebrows furred for a second, unsure as to why Max Verstappen would be phoning you. You two had never really been friends, just friendly acquaintances. Chalking it up to it likely being something to do with Pierre having lost something at the after party and Max wanting to return it, you swiped your thumb over the screen, accepting the call.

“Hey Max what can I do for you?”

You heard a shaky breath come through the speaker.

“Hi Y/N, do you have a second to speak? There’s something I need to tell you” you heard the Dutchman say his voice shaking as he spoke, causing the sinking feeling in your stomach return, only more prominent now.

“Uhh yea..” there was a silence as Max willed himself to break the news to you, not wanting to tell you but knowing that you deserved to know.

“Max what is it? Please just-“ you managed to squeak out before being interrupted by the voice coming through the phone again.

“Pierre, he.. well he.. After you left Sophia, one of the girls who was sat with me and Lando”

He paused but your mouth was too dry to be able to fill up the silence, you let it linger before he began again

“Well she started to get closer to Pierre, started flirting with him, and he well he didn’t stop her. He started flirting back. I tried to speak to him, I was going to tell him to stop, to remind him why he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing but he disappeared and I couldn’t find him. Or her.”

Silence filled the air again, tears starting to fall down your face, feeling like your entire world was crashing down, silently preying that Max had nothing else to say, that he was not about to go where you knew he was going with this conversation.

“They eventually came back, together. They were both very disheveled and Sophia’s dress was on inside out. They.. I’m really sorry Y/N. I hate to tell you this but you deserve to know”

Silence filled the air again before a loud sob from you took it’s place. You heard Max breath on the other end of the line, waiting for you to say something, anything. You hung up not wanting Max to hear you cry.

You sat down at the kitchen table, tears streaming out of your face freely, and placed your hand over you mouth, not wanting Pierre to wake up hearing your cries, you couldn’t face him, not right now. Maybe Max is lying, or just mistaken, thoughts flew through your mind, desperately looking for something to cling on to, anything. Memories of last night flashed through your head, Pierre smelling different, but he didn’t just smell different, he smelt like Marc Jacobs Daisy; a fragrance you did not own. You began to sob harder, now struggling to breath you were worried you were going to pass out. The breakfast you had began to make lay forgotten until you heard a shrill alarm fill the house, it was burning and it caused the fire alarm to be set off. You tried to raise to your feet to stop the food from starting a fire but you couldn’t move. It was like you had forgotten how to walk.

You heard footsteps approaching in the distance, Pierre came running through, awoken by the alarm trying to find out what on earth was happening.

“Mon chéri what happened what are you doing?” He questioned you, approaching the oven before turning it off and removing the charred food from within. You said nothing. You did nothing. The chair you were sat on faced away from him and you didn’t make the effort to turn around, not wanting to see his face.

“Y/N? Hello? Is there a reason you were about to let the building burn down?” He questioned walking toward you, his hands finding your shoulders as he stood behind you. You flinched at his touch. The touch that an hour ago you would had relished in.

Pierre’s brows furred at your flinching, before walking in front of you. Worry washing over him when he saw your face, red blotchy with mascara tears streaming down it.

“Mon chéri what on ever is wrong?” He spoke in a panicked voice, before attempting to pull you in for a hug. His worries getting more intense when you resisted the hug instead of melting in his arms like you usually did.

“Don’t call me that.” Your voice was no more than a whisper but it was the loudest thing Pierre had ever heard. He looked at you, expressionless. You knew, he didn’t know how you knew but you did.

“Is that what you called her last night?” You spoke again questioning him.

His heart sank and he was completely stuck, he had no idea what to do, pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about or be honest and work on damage control. He flicked between the two options, truly unsure what to do. But in the time it took him to decide the decision had been made for him. An innocent person wouldn’t have paused like that, an innocent person would have looked confused, not guilty.

“Y/N..”

“Don’t Pierre, just don’t bother.”

“Please Mon chéri let me explain.” He pleaded, although he wasn’t exactly sure how to explain.

“Ok Pierre, explain. Explain why you slept with another woman whilst I was sleeping in our bed waiting for you to come home” you spat, the sadness in your voice replaced with venom.

“She was all over me. I was drunk. You left and went home. It was one moment of weakness. She isn’t the one I want, you are.” He spoke, tears welling up in his eyes.

You scoffed at his excuse, or excuses rather, he seemed to just throw everything at the wall to see what one would stick.

You began to speak, to tell him to leave and never come back but he continued.

“Please forgive me Y/N. I love you so so much. She was all over me and I was missing you it was a moment of weakness you have to forgive me” he pleaded, repeating his words from before.

“You missed me so you slept with someone else?” The question left your mouth before you had a chance to stop yourself.

He was taken aback by your bluntness.

“Yes, uh no I mean no” he stumbled “I didn’t mean for it to happen, I wasn’t thinking”

You rolled your eyes, about to reply with another scathing comment but the venom and anger left your body in an instant. Replaced with an unbearable sadness. You wanted so hard to believe what he said, to forgive and forget and carry on with your life as normal, to marry the man stood in front of you just like you had agreed to all those months ago. But you couldn’t, even if you could find it in your heart to forgive him, things would never been the same again.

“Please just leave, I can’t do this anymore.” You spoke as you stood up and began walking away from him.

“Mon chéri please-“ he began but when you looked back at him he could see the heartbreak in your eyes and he simply nodded before walking to the door. His hand reached for the door handle, ready to let himself out when your voice broke the silence again. You didn’t want to ask, you weren’t even sure you wanted the answer but you couldn’t not know.

“Was it worth it?” He looked up at you, shame in his eyes. “Was she worth this?”

He sighed gently and shook his head “No Mon chéri. She wasn’t. Nobody would be” he looked at you, waiting for you to say something, anything.

You looked at him, the man you had loved for more of your life than you hasn’t and did the last thing he expected you to do. You let out a very low very soft laugh.

“Then you should of said no”

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen #formula 1 #max verstappen smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #max verstappen x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x oc #max verstappen x ox #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fanfic #fanfic

646 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 4 months

Note

Could you do a Virus AU Fluttershy concept?

Yeah, sure! If anyone knows a better way to have the virus start... let me know!

Infection order for the AU can be found here

Previous - Twilight Sparkle

Next - Applejack

Yandere Virus! Fluttershy Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Love virus/Yandere virus AU, Love potion/spell gone wrong, Manipulation, Forced affection, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Mentions of blood/violence, Overprotective behavior, Forced relationship attempted.

Fluttershy, according to the poll, is the second pony to be infected.

This is surprising as the pegasus mostly spends time with her animals and Discord.

Twilight is the first infected, having been afflicted with the virus by trying to make a love spell/potion.

Or at least... that's a vague explanation for how everything starts.

Poor you is immune to the virus due to having the love magic cast on you.

You have no idea what's wrong... but other ponies find you irresistible.

This is obviously not Twilight's intention, she may have already felt a crush towards you and wanted you to fall for her, regardless on if she was yandere behavior.

But instead of making you fall in love... others fall in love with you... including Twilight.

Fluttershy probably gets infected due to you running to her for help.

Discord may be immune due to his chaos magic, but Fluttershy is not.

The pegasus is shocked when you come knocking on her cottage door.

She opens the door only to see you shaking and terrified.

In fact... does she spot blood on your coat?

Are you injured!?

Fluttershy wastes no time dragging you inside to tend to you.

She quickly grabs medical supplies and gets to bandaging your damaged skin.

She quickly asks what happened and you answer with fear in your tone.

Supposedly Twilight has gone rogue.

Some sort of experiment made her act weird towards you.

When you visited her she came at you with a violent yet possessive behavior.

You barely escaped her, which was the reasoning behind your injuries.

You fear Twilight is still looking for you... so you came to Fluttershy for help.

The pegasus... such a kind soul... promises she'll help you as best as she can.

Unbeknownst to her she's already fallen for the virus.

Fluttershy offers to have you stay with her in her cottage as you heal.

Discord may be the first to notice something wrong with Fluttershy.

The pegasus seems oddly protective of you when you express fear of Twilight.

Well... that's mostly normal.

But soon Fluttershy is leaning against you and nuzzling into you.

You feel fear envelop you when she wraps a wing around you or tries to kiss you at times.

Slowly but surely the virus takes its toll, causing the normally kind pegasus to become possessive over you.

She begins to lose control of herself.

When you're all healed... you thank her and say how you're going to get help before anypony else gets hurt.

But why should you get help?

You have her to help you.

You begin to realize your mistake of coming to her when Fluttershy starts blocking the door.

After all... you came to her for help, right?

If you go out there... Twilight could get you.

Neither of you want that, do you?

So... stay at her cottage...

She'll take good care of you.

Forever.

You end up having to get Discord to help you or sneak out.

If not... Fluttershy plans to restrain you in her cottage.

Can't have you getting yourself hurt, right?

When you manage to break out of her cottage you kick into your adrenaline once again.

You can't go to the library... you can't go to Fluttershy's home...

So you choose another destination...

You make your way to Sweet Apple Acres... in hopes neither Twilight or Fluttershy will follow you.

#yandere my little pony #yandere mlp #yandere mlp virus #yandere virus mlp #yandere fluttershy #yandere virus fluttershy #yandere infected fluttershy

167 notes · View notes

darlingdarkly · 5 months

Text

New Year, New You Part 3

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.7k Words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes

Part 2, 4

The next day is what you can only describe as controlled chaos. The office is a whirlwind of papers, people and pieces of presentation sent to and fro across the building. Maureen in marketing needs approval from Mark in finance who’s busy balancing the budget for this year and the spreadsheets from last year. Sharon has been on the phone for Three. Whole. Hours. trying to make sure the prototypes will be ready before noon tomorrow.

Tom called in sick and Mrs. Magna told Nancy to tell him that if he doesn’t show up today to never show up again. Period. That was ensued by a thirty minute yelling match between Nancy and Tom that ended when you gently took the phone from Nancy’s white-knuckle grip and told Tom if he didn’t come in you’d personally shove your foot up his ass.

Tom was in the office fifteen minutes later, quarantined in the conference room with his laptop, a growing mountain of crumbled Kleenex and very, very, grumpy. The day dragged on and on and while people who had finished with their portion of the project headed home for the day you stayed, even after your piece of the pie was secure, because at the end of it all you knew it fell to Nancy to review and review and review the final product for any mistakes and you weren’t about to let her do it alone.

As you worked, you caught up with each other, not having time to really talk since the white elephant party over a week ago. “So how was break?” You asked as you filed away two early projection models in their appropriate folders. She sat cross legged in front of you, stapling documents together. “It was nice, mom came this year, and I thought it would be a lot more barbaric but it actually was very civil. I'm proud of them for working out their differences. The way it went down last year I was still cleaning fruit cake off my ceiling a month later, remember?”

You giggled together because you did remember. That was Nancy’s Christmas reunion debacle from the previous year. You hadn’t been there but you did drop by to help her clean up and have a little wine. A bottle and a half in you both were too drunk and giggly to climb the ladder and scrap the candied fruit and cake from the ceiling.

“What about you? Did you go see your parents?” You smiled and answered. “Yeah they’re doing good, they said to tell you hello by the way. My brother too.” And the side eye she gave you was hilarious and aggravated all in one. “What? He still asks about you.” She rolled her eyes and restacked the papers in her hands. “Well he can stop.” You laughed as she shook her head. “He’s still got a crush on me after all this time.”

“Yes! He’s obsessed! I don’t know why you won’t go for him, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone anyways.” She scoffed at you. “I am not dating your brother. Not after what he did.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Nance, you can’t still be on that.” She looked offended. “After we both nearly drowned at the lake that summer. You remember, he practically pulled me under!”

You laughed remembering. “He was trying to save you!” She laughed with you and pushed on your arm. “Yeah well he sucked at it. We both nearly died.” You both were in fits of giggles at this point, papers nearly forgotten in the glow of your memories. “Besides, how do you know I’m not seeing anyone?”

Your eyebrows raised at this. “Ohhh, something to confess?” She looked up from her work, eyes sparkling. “You know the guy that moved in across the hall?” You did. You both had run into him one day coming back to her place for a drink after a Saturday outing together. “You mean Mr. Dark Eyes, the one who came over and fixed your window for you?”

She practically beamed. “That’s the one. He asked me out for drinks tomorrow night.” You waggled your eyebrows at her and she laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.” It was your turn to give her an accusatory look. “It’s absolutely like that Nancy! He’s into you. I can see it! I think you should go for it, I’m glad for you, it’s time you got a little action.”

She picked up the stack she’d finished stapling and set it to the side, beginning another. “You and I both. I mean it’s not like you’ve been seeing anyone either.” You paused, thinking of Johnny. You wouldn’t call it seeing someone, but there was something between the two of you, it was momentary, your lapse in response but enough for her to notice and immediately catch on.

“Oh my god, wait. You have been seeing someone haven’t you?” You immediately refuse. “No.” “Bullshit.” “Seriously! It’s nothing.” And she wouldn’t stop until she’d pried it out of you so you began recounting your encounter at the gym, leaving nothing out.

“You’re fucking with me.” You shake your head. “No, I’m serious. Just like I told you.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “He legit did all that?” You nodded and she smiled. “I think you should go for it.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” She nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s totally into you. All that weird shit just means he’s obsessed. Is he hot?”

You immediately nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s strong and tan. He’s got this pretty white smile and dark hair. I knew he was a personal trainer the minute I saw him.” She hummed approval. “Definitely go for it.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t know, we'll see where it goes.”

The sun had long descended past the horizon, but you had it done. Two hundred and fifteen pages of statistics and sales projections that concluded the project. You both cleaned up the papers and put everything away. She turned to you when the elevator had stopped at the ground floor and the cold night air chilled you as the doors opened. “Wanna go out for a drink, I know I sure could use one.”

You shook your head. “I’m beat, I’m going home, eating and sliding into bed.” She nodded in understanding. “Don’t forget your homework.” She winked at you mischievously and giggled as you let out a frustrated groan. “I’m thinking about skipping it.” She shook her head. “Better not, with what you’ve told me so far it seems like there’d be consequences.” And she was right, who knew what kind of thing he’d cook up if you slacked out on it. You said your goodbyes and headed home.

You find yourself in front of your door, mentally exhausted. You slide the key in the lock and feel it give as you push the door open and walk into the cool interior of your home. Flipping the lights on you drop your purse and jacket on the couch and head for the kitchen. It’s been a long day and you hadn’t even had a chance to go grocery shopping this week but you’re pretty sure you at least had a couple of eggs left in the fridge.

If all you could manage was a few scrambled eggs before you did your homework and fell into bed then so be it. You’d eat better tomorrow. You open the door on the fridge and are immediately taken aback by what you see. It’s fully stocked. There’s a whole pack of water bottles on the bottom shelf of your fridge. The chiller drawer is packed with spinach, sweet peppers, broccoli and carrots. There’s deli meat and boneless skinless chicken breasts, a few types of cheese and a new gallon of milk. Individual packs of yogurt and gatorades in all different flavors.

You open the door on your freezer to find a few more frozen packs of chicken breasts, pounds of lean hamburger meat and sausage. Rushing to the cabinets you pull them open and find low carb tortilla wraps and bread, granola bars and some kind of chips called “Veggie Straws” that you’ve always seen on the shelf but never tried.

As you turn around you finally notice the bowl of fruit on your counter. How could you have overlooked it walking in? Bananas and apples and oranges, all ripe and fresh. You didn’t do this. Either you were losing your mind and key moments in your life we’re missing like puzzle pieces lost or someone had been in your house.

Your eyes widen, breath hitched. They could still be in the house. You turn around and survey the space around you, the dark comforting tone had a queer eerie feeling setting in around the edges. The corners and shadows leering with the unknown. Nothing looked out of place or was missing, but what kind of a person came into a home to stock the fridge and leave without taking anything?

You checked the doors, the windows, no broken locks or pried open hinges, no immediate signs of forced entry. Your shoulders stiffened when the realization hits you, it takes your overworked mind a moment to remember but there it was. Your gym bag, you were nearly certain you had closed it but it was open when you opened your locker to change. Johnny.

You grabbed your purse and pulled your phone out, flicking through your contacts and hovering over his name. You momentarily waver between calling him or the police. What were you going to say? Yes officer, my home has been broken into. Did they take anything? Well, no. The opposite really. What did they leave? Groceries. Lots of them, stocked my whole kitchen with fresh meats, veggies and fruit. Yeah, we’ll get right on catching the ever elusive grocery fairy, ma’am. Top priority, don't you worry.

You started the call and he answered on the second ring, tone light and cheery with enthusiasm. “Bonnie! How was work?” You skip the pleasantries. “Do you have something to tell me, Johnny?” And you don’t know why you expected him to take the matter seriously.

“Aye lass, I did think about ye all day, sometimes with mah cock in hand, how’d ye know?” His response momentarily scatters your thoughts to the wind but you take hold of them once more and push on. “What? No! Johnny, have you been in my house?” He laughs, actually laughs. “Oh that. Yeah, did you check the fridge?”

Your brow furrowed in frustration, of course he doesn’t see it as an intrusion instead of some kind of regular thing. “Johnny, how did you get into my house?” You sit down in a chair and what he says makes you bolt upright again. “Easy, hen. I just made a key.” You’re pacing now. “You made a key to my house! How?”

And he says it casually like he’s explaining how to tie a shoe or giving someone easy directions. “I went into yer bag, found yer keys, pressed it into a mold and had one made. Simple really.”

“You can’t do that Johnny.” He interrupts. “S’alright Bonnie, I’m yer personal trainer.” There it is again. That phrase, like it’s the simplest thing to understand in the world, normal even. He’d picked you out, told you he was going to train you, you didn’t exactly protest and now anything was fair game, including crossing every single kind of boundary you could have and making copies of the keys to your home so he can come and go as he pleases.

“Besides, yer fridge was empty. What were ye gonna have fer dinner?”

“None of your business. And what if I don’t know how to cook? Did you think about that Johnny?” And this seems to be the first real thing to give him pause. “Yer right, lass. I didn’t even think about that. I’m about five minutes away, I’ll be right over.” Your eyes widen in panic. “No Johnny! Don’t come over!”

“S’alright lass, it’s really no trouble. I’ll be right there.” The last thing you needed was him showing up at the door. “No! Johnny I’m serious, don’t.”

He’s quiet for a moment and it feels long, you almost expect a knock at the door, even though he couldn’t possibly be there that fast, unless of course he was lying about being five minutes away and was actually right outside the whole time, or even in the house still.

“Alright. I won’t come over on one condition.” You grab for it, ready to agree to anything that will keep him from showing up. “Yes, anything.”

“I want ye tae FaceTime me while ye do yer homework.” And you’re almost relieved with the simplicity of it, but there was an underlying unease that you couldn’t shake, what was he up to? You answer slowly when you can’t come up with a good reason to say no. “Ok, I’ll call you back.”

But before you can hang up he interjects. “No. Don’t hang up, talk to me.”

“Talk to you? About what Johnny?” You start to look around the kitchen for what you’re gonna have, if he’s making you talk to him the whole way through it then it’s better to get started now. “For starters, How yer day was.”

It starts slow, your relinquishing of the accounts of the day, but as time went on and you kept talking it all just came to the surface. The stress of the day, the brutal meticulousness of it, and he made it so easy, he was so attentive, listening and responding, asking questions and letting you vent it. He even laughed so hard when you told him about threatening Tom that you couldn’t help but laugh with him, bent over in front of the stove as you let the stress bleed out of you.

It felt good, right even, like something you'd been missing out on, a key component you hadn't realized you’d been without for so long. And you found a peculiar twinge of adoration for him in the bottom of your heart, like tea leaves spelling out your heart's true desires, whether you like what you read in them or not, there they were.

You sat down to eat and he told you about his day as you ate. It was much more appetizing than a plate of scrambled eggs, you had to admit. You nearly choke on a cherry tomato when he tells you he missed you. “It’s only been a day since you last saw me Johnny, you can’t miss me.” And is there longing in his voice, or just your tired mind playing tricks again? “Aye, but I did.”

There’s a momentary pause, a space of uninterrupted silence, pregnant with things unsaid. You finally break it. “Well, I’ve got dishes and then I’ll do my homework.” What he says next makes you smile, and you’re glad he’s not able to see it. “How will I know ye’ll call me back?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll call you. If not, you'll be pounding at my door, won’t you?” You can hear the smile in his response. “Better believe it, lass. Call me.” And he hangs up.

You quickly finish up your dishes, change into something comfortable, just a tank top and shorts, and prop your phone up. Pressing the call button on Johnny’s name in the contact list you see the screen go black as you wait for him to pick up. Your image is reflected back at you in a little square in the top right of the screen and you use the time to adjust your hair and pull the hem of your shorts down lower to cover more of your thighs.

His face pops into frame and he’s smiling ear to ear and you ignore the eruption of goosebumps on your arms when you see it. “Hi, lass” You back away from the screen and into the open space you’ve made in your living room to do your exercises. “Hi Johnny.”

“God yer beautiful.” And you feel your cheeks heating under his compliment. “Stop it, Johnny. Let’s crack on.” You see him sit back on his bed as he responds. “Alright lass. Start.” So you do, starting with the sit ups. You don’t have him there to hold your feet so you slide them under the couch to hold you steady as you do the exercise. He talks you through it, counting for you so you can focus on just your movements, keeping track of your pauses in between sets so they’re evenly spaced and consistent.

“Good lass, now yer toe touches.” You rise and face the camera, bending down with legs straight as your fingertips brush your toes. “Good, just like that.” And each line of praise is like a shot of vodka, a shock of ambrosia to your system, intoxicating. You know he’s looking down your shirt with each rep, but it’s a thrill you find exhilarating instead of embarrassing for once. Halfway through he has you turn around so he can make sure you’re not dipping at the knees.

You do the first one and he groans, quiet but you still catch it. You call over your shoulder and ask if he’s ok and he clears his throat, voice full of audible gravel even in his one word response. “Aye.” You finish and all that’s left is your lunges and stretches. You bend your knees and step into the first lunge, one leg at a time til you reach your goal of ten.

You’re finished and you turn to face the camera, you see he’s laid down on the bed, eyes intense and holding yours even from the small screen of the phone across the room. “Stretches now, lass.” He sounds out of breath and you wonder what you’d see if he flipped the view to his back camera.

You sit on the floor, legs V’d and begin to stretch them wider and wider. You curse your decision for shorts and blame it on being tired and not thinking it through. You know the crotch of your shorts is pulling taut against your pussy, barely covering your panties as you stretch further and further. You start to strain, little puffs of breath and groans escaping your lips as you widen your stretch. “Hold it, bonnie.” And you do just as he asks, holding it against the potent pain accumulating in your calves and inner thighs. “Just a little more, doing so good fer me.”

You hold it for another five seconds and he finally lets you release. You’re breathing heavily as you draw your legs back together and if you aren’t mistaken you think you can hear his labored breathing as well. “Johnny.” His voice is thick with strain. “Aye, lass.”

“What are you doing?” His smirk is devastatingly handsome as he speaks. “Nothing yet, lass.” You feel emboldened and press your luck, eyes connected with his as you command him. “Flip your camera Johnny.” His eyes hold yours raptly for a few seconds before he does as you ask and the shot flips to his chest and legs lying on his bed. He’s got a dark blue comforter and you can see in the frame a pull up bar and a few weights on a rack in the corner, just what you’d expect but the first thing to catch your eye is the raging bulge in his gray sweats and your breath hitches as his hand comes into view, wrapping around the base of the stretched fabric and adjusts it to better accommodate his length.

“See what ye do tae me, hen?” You do see, you can’t look away as his hand squeezes himself through the cloth cage. Your mind, overworked and fried is trying to get you to say something, anything, but the only thing that will compute is his name. “Johnny.”

“Get up and sit down on the couch, lass.” His voice holds a tone of gentle authority, you could probably protest but you’re tired and trying to swim against the current of what your body wants is a task you’re not up for at the moment, so you give in and let him command you.

You sit on the couch at first, eyes still glued to where he’s fisting his cock through his clothes. “Sit back, hen and spread your legs.” You do sit back but you don’t spread your legs, at first. “Come on, bonnie. Jus’ like we practiced.” So you do, not as wide as you would when stretching but enough to give him a view and the tingles of anticipation thrumming through you has you on edge, like you’re standing before a cliff and about to jump, there’s no going back from this.

He groans and you watch with keen eyes as he pulls his sweats down until he’s just in his boxers, the same dark blue shade as his bed spread. “Ye wanna see more, lass?” He’s tempting you and it’s working, you do wanna see more but it’ll come at a price. “Yes.” He wraps a fist around his cock and you shift uncomfortably as your panties dampen. “Take yer shorts off.”

You sit up and tug your shorts down your legs, feeling dirty but heightened as you do, like you’re liberating something inside yourself even you don’t quite understand. He hisses air through his teeth as he spots the wet patch quickly growing and soaking the gusset of your panties.

He pulls his boxers down and his cock springs up into view, finally free and it makes you bite your lip. He’s thick and has length to boot, a good seven inches of it guessing by the comparison of his hand up against it.

There’s a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair spreading out from the base and you can’t help but moan as he wraps his hand around it and begins to tug lazily. His voice is husky and deep when he speaks.

“So pretty, hen. Are you that wet all fer me?” And you’re beyond words so you just nod, eyes glued to the way he tugs on himself. He curses under his breath and your pussy aches from the lack of stimulation. You snake a hand down your chest, descending toward the pain, itching to relieve the tension. “That’s it, lass. Let me see ye touch yerself fer me.”

So you do, just overtop of the fabric, a roll of your fingertips overtop your clit, enough to make your head tip back and moan blissfully. “Good girl.” You look back up to see him working his shaft in earnest, firm grip and steady movements. You feel emboldened by his reactions and lean forward again to rid yourself of the cloth barrier. He stops and watches as your pussy comes into view for the first time.

“Steamin’ Jesus. Fucking gorgeous.” He resumes his movements as your fingers settle over top your bare clit and you start to rub tight little circles over it, just how you like. “Show me Bonnie, show me just how you like it.” The sexual tension between the two of you, the stress of the day all come to a head and you reach down to spread your wetness up and around your clit, moaning low and sultry as he watches you play with yourself.

You reach your other hand up and squeeze one of your breasts through your top and look back up into the screen. Watching him pick up the pace, making fast even strokes over the tip of his cock with each movement. The motion of his hands, the way his tip disappears into his fist and reappears with each pass is mesmerizing. You can feel the beginnings of an orgasm building and it just drives you on as you think about coming in front of him for the first time.

Your fingers pick up speed and your moans rise in pitch as he talks you through it. “Mmm such a bonnie little pussy. I wanna see ye come for me lass. Can ye do that fer me? Come nice and hard fer me?” You suck in a deep breath as you work your body into a frenzy, pinching a nipple between your fingers as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

You look up to see him vigorously stroking his cock. His breathing is heavy and loud through the speakers and you wonder if he’ll be loud when he comes. You’re close and even though he’s not even in the same room as you he can tell, spurring you on. “That’s it hen. Just like that. Do it. Cum fer me.”

It’s all it takes to send you spiraling. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and succumb to the pleasure. You let out a long drawn out moan as you do, body tensing as you pant and writhe on the couch in full view.

You look up when he calls your name, watch as his strokes quicken and shorten and then all at once he’s coming undone, legs tensing and white hot cum shooting from the tip of his hard cock. It arcs through the air before landing in spattered lines across his thighs. The guttural yell that falls from his lips as he does is loud, just as you’d expected and you wish you could feel it, the rumble of his chest when it sounds.

You’re both breathing heavily and coming down when it hits you, the post nut clarity. You just had very raw, hardcore phone sex with a man who made a copy of the keys to your home, came over without you knowing while you were at work and invaded your personal space.

You’re ashamed and a little sickened by what you’ve just done. Quickly closing yourself off from view you snatch your panties and shorts from the ground and redress. “Fuck, lass. That was fucking amazing.” You’re already working on damage control in your mind, blocking out the experience, no matter how much you enjoyed it, it was wrong.

“No Johnny. It wasn’t.” You can see him switch the camera around and he’s way more relaxed now, smile a mile wide on his face. “Aye, it was. Cannae wait tae see ye, tomorrow.”

You don’t even know if you’ll show up now, how could you after that? It was just a mistake you told yourself, a tired slip up, absolutely a one time thing. You close your eyes and when you open them he’s looking at you and you swear you can his adoration for you swimming in them. “Go to sleep, lass. I wanna see ye tomorrow at 4:30.”

You say nothing and hang up. It’s very late before you fall asleep that night, debating whether or not the consequences of not showing up tomorrow are something you can afford to risk. If you don’t show up he could just pop into your house at any time. It’d be better to just show up and act like nothing happened, that was the key, just brush it under the rug and hope he’ll do the same.

You’re nervous about it all day at work, and you know Nancy knows something is wrong but you insist everything’s ok. You’re too ashamed to tell her about any of it and she relents and leaves you alone but she knows you’re lying. When four o’clock hits you’re out the door, won’t be able to stop this frenzied state of mind until you can clear things up with him and make things go back to normal.

The next day when you walk in the door and sign in he meets you at the desk and before you even have a chance to say anything he’s on you, lips crashing into yours in a passionate and very explicit kiss right in the lobby of the building surrounded by patrons and gawking onlookers.

He doesn’t even give you room to breathe let alone get a word in as his body presses up against yours and he grabs ahold of the back of your neck to keep you locked against him. When he pulls away you’re shell shocked and silent. As he pulls you against him and walks you further into the building you know things have taken an irrevocable turn.

#cod x reader #soap x reader #dark!johnny #dubcon #dark fic #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod #cod soap #twdubcon

251 notes · View notes