#i'm sorry. i can't. i love him. and i didn't even addressed all that there is to address lol so. yeah :)

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

After The End

Pairing: Bucky x Reader/former Steve x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: idk... there's lots of arguing and resentment

Genre: mostly angst some fluff here and there

Summary: It took you ages to put yourself back together when Steve chose to stay in the 40s, what happens when he comes back two years after

***

Life after Thanos was hard. Watching some of your closest friends disappear was not something you would ever be able to forget. Especially with those of you that were left scattered around trying to patch up what could be saved. Those five years were hard, but harder still was having almost everyone you loved return only to lose others. If you had known that beating Thanos would mean losing your boyfriend you might not have tried so hard. It's selfish to think that way, you know it is but you had a whole life planned with Steve, and being heroes you knew there was a chance you wouldn't get to see it through but losing him like this was- almost too much to bare. All he had to do was return the stupid stones to where you'd gotten them from to save the universe. It was supposed to be simple and there was something soul shattering about him choosing not to return to the team, to you. He took the stones back and then he stayed. Chose a life with Peggy that was never his rather than the life with you that he already had. It was agony, for months you were heartbroken. But you got through it. You mourned that life you envisioned, you mourned him, and while you'll probably always love him, you refused to let his choice destroy you. And you considered yourself lucky because Bucky was there for you through it all. On nights that were really bad, Bucky would stay with you even if you were up all night.

You aren't entirely sure when it happened, even now, looking back on it you can't pinpoint the moment late night conversations and afternoons completing chores became... more than that. You guess in spending so much time together you started to see Bucky in a different light. You'd always cared for him but what happened with Steve seems to have created a level of closeness you didn't expect. That first night that you kissed him was unexpected even to you. You'd been talking about nothing of consequence, he was lying on the floor of your room while you were in your bed, both of you staring at your ceiling for the most part. There was a lull in the conversation so you said the thing that had only clicked for you the week before at that point.

"I can't believe I let myself feel inadequate for so long." You sighed. You'd convinced yourself, for weeks, that Steve leaving was because you weren't enough, and only now were you coming to your senses about it.

"I'm sorry." Bucky had whispered it so quietly you almost thought he wasn't talking to you.

"You're sorry? For what? You didn't make him leave." You scoffed at him.

"For letting you feel less than perfect."

"Come on Buck, that's not on you." You'd rotated onto your stomach with a chuckle at his words. He'd cracked one eye open to look at you when he realized you were staring at him. Before you let yourself think about it too hard, you had leaned over the edge of your bed and kissed Bucky. It was quick and a bit awkward because of the angle but you made sure not to shy away from his surprised stare after.

"Did you just-" Bucky didn't even finish the question.

"Yeah. I guess I did." You'd smiled slowly watching a slight pink warm Bucky's cheeks.

You wish you could simply say 'and the rest is history' but that makes it seem like things were way easier than they were. It wasn't a smooth transition by any means. That night neither of you spoke for far too long, and when you could muster up something to say it wasn't to address the rapidly growing elephant in the room- it was to dispell the tension. You and Bucky spent two weeks dancing around the subject before he finally asked you if you were even ready for another relationship after Steve. That's when it clicked, why he'd been avoiding it in the first place, he was considering the possibility you were rebounding. Understandable concern but nope. It had been months, almost a year actually, since Steven had left. You knew you were in a place to begin again and you wanted to do it with Bucky.

Now the rest is history. You've been together ever since. About a year and a half at this point and you can't remember the last time you were this happy. The two of you meshed so well you can't believe there was a time you thought your future was with another man. You smile to yourself as you think about it while working on a painting. There's a knock at the front door that you almost don't hear.

"Y/n can you get the door? I'm in the bathroom!" Bucky shouts.

"Oh shit, of course!" You put down your brush and head to the door. You can't describe the shock that gripped you when you open the door.

"Steven." You blink at him.

"Hey. Nat- told me you'd moved. Luckily she uh, had your new address so-" He trails off with a shrug.

"Look not to- sound rude or anything, like I'm glad to see you, I think but, what are you doing here?" You ask.

"I thought- I thought I knew what I wanted but I got it wrong. I got it so wrong. My life- my happiness, it's here. With you." Steve steps towards you and you instinctively step back, placing a hand up gently to indicate your boundary.

"Hang on a second Steve. Just because your plan didn't work out doesn't mean you can just waltz back into my life like nothing's changed."

"Y/n! Who's at the door?" Bucky's voice calls from inside.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." You call back.

"I- didn't realize you'd have company." Steve mutters.

"Oh I don't. That's-" Before you can explain, Bucky's asking something, now walking over to join you at the front door.

"So who's this unbelievable surprise guest of-" Bucky's hands drop from where they were just about to settle on your waist when he finally glances out your door. "Steve." He says stepping back.

"Told you, you wouldn't believe me." You toss over your shoulder.

"Hey pal. Long time no see." Steve says. You can't tell if he's totally put it together yet but the strain in his voice tells you he at least knows something's changed between you and his best friend.

"I'll say. What happened to growing old with Carter?" Bucky asks, stepping around you to half hug Steve and offer a shoulder pat.

"I realized that- wasn't the life I wanted. I mean it was once upon a time but, not anymore. Things have changed." Steve shrugs.

"I see." Bucky nods.

"Well, Steve you're welcome to stay here with us while you- get back on your feet in the 21st century! Right Buck? Or I can send you over to Sam, he's back in Louisiana with family right now but I'm sure he'd love to see you too." You say.

"Oh, yeah, we can set him up in the extra room although- your art stuff is in there, did you want me to move it into my office or should I put it in your room?" Bucky hums.

"Do you have space in your office? Cuz I definitely can set it up in my room-"

"There's tons of space in my office." Bucky shrugs before you can finish. Steve clears his throat and you turn your attention back to him.

"Sorry to interrupt your- logistical discussion about all this, I j- I didn't realize you two were living together." Steve says.

"It's been two years. Like you said, things have changed." You say.

"You haven't told him?" Bucky looks at you.

"Well in my defense I was about to when you walked over here and the conversation kinda pivoted." You say.

"Okay well, do you want to do it or should I?" Bucky asks.

"I mean I don't want to but- it should be me, yeah." You mutter.

"Okay, can we stop doing this sidebar thing you guys are doing? Tell me- what exactly?" Steve asks. Bucky's hand settles comfortingly against your back, it's out of Steve's line of sight and you appreciate it greatly.

"Bucky- Bucky's my partner." You say.

"In the- you go on missions together sense or the 'my girlfriend is dating my best friend' sense?" Steve asks.

"It's been two years Steve-"

"So you replace me with my closest friend?"

"No. I moved on and yeah it was with Bucky but that was by chance it wasn't about you at all. Don't make it personal."

"You just happen to move on with my best bud? It feels pretty personal." He scoffs.

"Okay! Let's settle down. Steve, if you're gonna take our offer to stay I will show you to your room. Nat has some of your things at her place, the rest of it is in a storage unit. I'll take you down after." Bucky interrupts the would-be argument by changing the subject. You step out of the doorway to let Steve walk in as Bucky tugs him along.

"Why are my things at Nat's?" Steve asks.

"Well some of the more valuable things y/n held onto for a while but when she didn't want to keep them around here anymore we gave them to Nat to look after until we came up with a better plan since we didn't wanna leave them in a storage unit we'd barely go to." Bucky explains as the pair walk further into the house. You can't hear Steve's reply as you walk into the kitchen to regroup. Letting him stay here is going to make shit so weird. You sigh to yourself, with any luck he'll get on his feet pretty quickly and this will only last a couple of months. You can do a couple of months.

The first few weeks are, tense. You're not sure if Bucky is as aware of it as you are but your house is awkward and quiet most hours since Steve showed up. It's like most of your routines have been disrupted and you're not sure which ones are best left for after he's gone. Right now you're on your balcony with a cup of tea. When you glance over the ledge, you see Steve trudging into view. You watch curiously to figure out what he's doing, not even realizing Bucky's snuck up behind you until his arms settle around your waist.

"Penny for your thoughts my darling?" Bucky asks.

"Things are weird. Maybe I shouldn't have offered to let him stay here." You frown.

"Don't be silly. You wouldn't be you if you hadn't offered." Bucky chuckles.

"Sure but- now I'm worried I've put us- put you in an uncomfortable situation." Bucky spins you around to face him. His hand comes up to the side of your face, fingers grazing your cheek softly.

"I'm fine. Are you uncomfortable with him being here? Because I can suggest he spend some time checking in with the others if you'd-"

"No, I don't want to kick him out. I just- I don't want you to lose him because of me." You say taking his hand in yours kiss his knuckles.

"If 70 years and Russian brainwashing couldn't destroy our friendship I think we can make it past this." Bucky winks at you. You glance over the balcony again in time to see Steve toss some wood at a growing pile.

"What is he doing? Why is he piling wood?" Your eyebrows scrunch up.

"You can just ask him you know." Bucky muses.

"It's not harming anyone. I don't need to know." You shake your head.

"You wanna ask don't you?"

"It's just strange." You say fighting a smile.

"Just ask." Bucky laughs leaving you to your tea on the balcony. A moment later you let your curiosity get the better of you and lean against the metal railing of the balcony.

"Steve hon, what on earth are you doing?" You ask him.

"A tree fell, so- I'm breaking it down into firewood."

"Stevie it's August, we're not using the fireplace." You shake your head with a laugh.

"Better safe than sorry." He shrugs.

"You must be incredibly bored." You muse.

"No, I just like to be prepared." He says. "Alright, I'm a little bored." He adds with a sigh after a moment.

"Well if you need something to do- I was catching up with Nat the other day, she said a couple of the tenants in her building moved out for whatever reason, you should talk to her about applying." You tell him.

"I'll give her a call." He squints up at you.

"Good." You nod heading back into the apartment. That's honestly the longest conversation you've had since the day he moved in. Usually, you spend all day avoiding him- or he spends all day avoiding you- you're not sure but you don't speak really, except you make a point to ask him about dinner, if he has plans, or if he'd like to join you and Bucky. You're a good host, but you don't talk to each other much. Not that you expect any different, you were together for six years and he up and left but he's back now- and things are not what he thought they'd be. What else could be said honestly?

You actually don't mind the silence between you two, because the day Steve decides to break that pattern brings forth the worst conversation. The type you've been dreading since the moment he appeared at your door. You're cleaning around the apartment and Steve offered to help, first you worked in silence, just the music from your speaker filling the air until a particular song came on. One you played for Steve once that he immediately fell in love with. It became your song. You only recently stopped associating the song with him but you forgot it was in this playlist otherwise you would've picked another one.

"You still listen to this song?" Steve asks. You keep your back turned to him as you wipe down the coffee table.

"Of course I do. I knew the song before- it was, ours." You say.

"This is the first time I've heard it in a while." He muses.

"Duh the song didn't exist until the 2010s." You scoff.

"Yeah I guess that's- that's true. It's strange though, that awareness of what's to come."

"Yeah that's why most of sci fi warns you not to go time jumping."

"You clean with different products now." Steve points out. You're not sure what he's trying to do here but you are in no mood to dance around awkwardness with him.

"Scented products are easier for Bucky. He says plain bleach  smells too sterile." You mutter. It's Bucky that buys most of the cleaning products anyway, but he always buys citrus stuff.

"It's not easy, you know, seeing my best friend with the love of my life every day." Steve says after a stretch of silence. At this, you turn to face him, trying to stifle that frustration bubbling inside you.

"You left me. Left us. Not the other way around Steve. You don't get to complain about us having picked up the pieces." You tell him.

"I still love you, that's not something I can just pretend isn't there." He says.

"And I love Bucky." You shrug.

"Not me?"

"It doesn't matter." You shake your head.

"It does."

"If it mattered to you at all you would've never left." You grit out.

"So say it." He says quietly.

"What?"

"Tell me you don't love me."

"Steve-"

"Say it. If what we had is truly all in the past for you tell me you don't love me. That there's no place in your heart for me and- I'll move on."

"This isn't fair." You shake your head.

"No?"

"No! You got the life with Peggy that you thought you wanted. You abandoned me. Now you're asking me to choose you when you didn't choose me. How can you expect me to do that?"

"I'm choosing you now!"

"And I've chosen Bucky. I wanted the world with you. All you had to do was come back to me. And you didn't. It's too late now Steve. You needed to choose me two years ago."

"You still haven't said-"

"I don't love you. That's what you want to hear? You lost me the day you chose not to come back. I shouldn't have to spell it out for you. I chose Bucky, yes. But you-" Deep breath. "If you can't handle me and Bucky together in our home then- maybe you should go stay with Sam or Natasha." You say. You're not going to argue with him.

"Are you kicking me out?"

"I'm offering you an alternative- because, I will not be choosing you. Not now, not ever again, you had your chance and if you can't come to terms with that, if it's too difficult to be around reminders that you fucked up and I kept living life without you then by all means don't destroy your mental health staying here. You have other friends."

"How can you expect me to just- pretend what we had means nothing? How can you pretend it means nothing?"

"I'm not asking you to pretend shit. I also am not pretending it means nothing I'm just aware of the reality that it's over and that's something you need to come to terms with because you left and Bucky made me feel alive again when your leaving nearly killed me. It's been two years, did you think I would simply be waiting indefinitely for you to decide I was worth something to you again?"

"Wait a second you have always been worth something to me. You've always been worth everything." Steve frowns.

"You don't get to say that! You don't abandon people that are 'worth everything' to you. You chose someone else and that's a choice you have to live with." You say, your finger practically in his face. The sound of the apartment door opening disrupts your anger enough that you step back.

"Hey guys- did I miss something?" Bucky frowns looking between you two even though you've already stopped back over to the coffee table. Bucky's quick to come to your side, scanning your face for any clues as to what's going on, although he heard the last bit of what you said as he was coming down the hall. "Baby?" He coaxes gently, his fingers stroking against your side.

"I'm gonna go to Sam's for a little while." Steve grits out.

"Feel free to stay there." You clip before you can stop yourself. Steve's footfalls pause for a moment at your words but he doesn't respond before eventually he trudges out the front door.

"Feel free to stay there?! What... happened while I was out?" Bucky asks with a disbelieving chuckle.

"He has... a lot of nerve." You force out through clenched teeth.

"You're gonna have to give me more details than that so I can understand what's wrong doll."

"He just told me how hard it is to watch his best friend with the 'love of his life' every day. The love of his life that he left to be with a woman that lived and died without him. He asked me to choose him. Because after two years I'm supposed to still love the man that left me. Because it's not enough that he almost destroyed me the last time. Because for some reason he thinks I'd rather be picked two years too late."

"He's hurting."

"Yeah well, so was I. Two years ago. He'll live. I did." You shrug. Bucky pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he gently sways you both back and forth. You lived through hell that day you realized Steve chose a life with Peggy. You'd be damned if you ever let that happen again.

***

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

[byechristopher]

soooo it’s ur biggest fan here 🤣! so idea. chris is a hockey boy. i need something angsty or something

also a fluff idea reader is a dancer and chris is hockey player and reader has a competition the same place chris has a tournament. and it’s just them supporting each other

although just do what ever you want but hockey chris>>> i feel like you’d do him justice

Jealous guy.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.

Author's note: I worked hard on this because it's for my biggest fan. You know I love my angsty shit, so I took your idea and combined it with mine. I hope y'all like it. 🤍 Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Ps. I'm the kind of bitch that gets all giddy and shit when Chris says "my girl" in my OWN FIC. Okay.

Warnings: not really a warning but mentions of fighting and a lil bloody lip. Mwuah. Didn't proofread, sorry!

[ YOU ]

"Okay, and what the hell do you want me to do about it?" I almost scream, turning around to look at Chris.

He was fuming, to say the least. His hair was messy, he didn't have a shirt on but wore his usual gray sweatpants. His glare was deadly.

"Uhm, I don't know, tell him to not send fucking flowers to OUR apartment?!" he shouts, throwing his phone on the couch. The irony in his voice is more than evident.

I couldn't believe it when I saw it either Honestly, I never expected him to go to such lengths. Despite being just a co-worker, he's become a relentless presence in my life. Whether it's showing up everywhere at work, bringing me coffee, or bombarding me with emails – it's relentless. The boundary crossed when he managed to find my address; literally searching for my goddamn address and sending me flowers? That is wild. Of course I told Chris about it, but he acts as if it is my fault this psycho found our address.

"I don't even know his phone number, Chris! How would I ever know that he'd search for the address and send me flowers?" I sigh, still very angry.

"I'll beat the shit out of him, I swear.. the game starts in less than an hour, fucking hell.." he says, checking his watch, "how the fuck am I ever going to play when I'm like this?"

I don't reply to him – he really makes it sound like it's my fault and despite my initial enthusiasm for the game, it's waned due to his blame game. Still, I don't want to come off as a heartless bitch, especially on the eve of his crucial match. So, I grab my phone, wallet, and keys before heading over to him.

"I really hope you win." I whisper, placing a soft peck on his cheek before exiting the bedroom and shortly after, leaving the apartment.

[ CHRIS ]

She left. Fucking hell. I always do bullshit like this – I can't keep my big mouth shut and now she's not even coming to the game. I really needed her in this one. But that is my own fault.

In the quiet solitude of our apartment, I try to prepare for the upcoming game; amidst the dim glow of our living room, I meticulously don my team jersey, each movement an attempt to shift my focus. Taking a moment, I inhale deeply, trying to be as calm as possible before the game.

With a determined resolve, I grab my gear, the familiar scent of the hockey bag triggering a surge of adrenaline. As I step outside, the crisp evening air hits me, momentarily clearing my mind. The journey to the rink is a silent contemplation, the distant echoes of the city fading as I immerse myself in mental preparation.

Arriving at the arena, I feel the familiar anticipation. The ambient sounds of the crowd and distant echoes of skates on the ice envelop me, grounding me in the moment. I exchange nods and greetings with teammates. The locker room door creaks open, revealing the sanctum where emotions are set aside, and the game becomes paramount. Amidst the hum of chatter and the clatter of equipment, I sigh; I really want her to come. I still have hope, although I doubt it. The tension lingers as I tighten my skate laces, and Jake, my teammate and friend, notices my distraction.

"You seem off, Chris. Everything okay?" Jake asks.

"Yeah.." I look up at him, and he seems like he already knows, "..just had a big fight with my girl before I left. Can't shake it off," I confess.

Jake pats me on the shoulder. "I understand, man. I wish I could say something but you gotta leave it behind for now. We've got a game to win. Sort things out later."

On the ice, rival players almost immediately target me, seeming to be aware of my vulnerable state; it must be that fucking expression of mine. I can't hide it. During the first period, a smirking opponent skates by, taunting, "trouble at home, Chrissy? Should focus on that instead of the game." he smiles.

Enraged, I retaliate with a forceful check, earning myself a penalty, "keep your temper in check, Chris!" warns the referee.

In the penalty box, I mutter under my breath, "I can't fucking believe this."

As the match progresses, rival players intensify their attempts to provoke me; we've played with those fuckers before, and if anyone has seen me in a game, they know very well the only thing that can affect the way I play is her. Undeterred, I channel my anger into my plays, determined to win this goodamn game while internally wondering if she came to see me after all.

In a breakaway, I find myself one-on-one with the opposing goalie. With a swift deke, I send the puck into the net, equalizing the score. The crowd erupts, and my teammates cheer.

Rival players persist in their attempts to get under my skin. During a tense moment, an opposing forward sneers, "look, your girlfriend's probably enjoying the show. Make sure to not embarass her again."

After that, I almost lose it, and in a heated moment, a rival defenseman delivers a high stick to my face, splitting my lip. Blood drips onto the ice as I stumble backward. The referee signals a penalty, but the damage is done.

Undeterred by the bleeding, I clench my fists, "you think that's going to stop me? You fucking coward!" I almost scream to make sure that fucking asshole hears me.

The game continues, and during a power play, I push through the pain. I charge towards the net, ignoring the throbbing pain in my lip – the only thing on my mind is her and making her proud.

Fueled by a surge of anger and determination, I respond with a spectacular goal that secures the lead for my team. I skate past the jeering opponent, acknowledging the crowd's cheers.

As the final buzzer sounds, signaling our victory, I finally spot my girlfriend in the stands. My heart beats faster. A mix of emotions plays across her face, and I realize the significance of my performance. It's like no one else is around, just us and that is the only thing that matters. I keep eye contact with her, even when my teammates are cheering for me and I smile, even with that bloody lip – she smiles back and I want to kiss her so bad.

[ YOU ]

When I saw Chris' bloody lip, I almost lost it – the restraint within me, resisting the urge to jump in and shove my fingernails into that asshole's eye sockets, is beyond words. I was well aware they were deliberately provoking Chris; his simmering anger was very evident. The recklessness in his gameplay during the initial stages of the game made it even more obvious that he was more focused on what they said than the actual game.

I kept yelling his name at the top of my lungs, unsure if he could hear, but I desperately wished for his victory, especially after that intense fight. Witnessing him wince from the pain now and then, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

As he scored the decisive goal and secured the victory, I couldn't contain my excitement, jumping up and down. It brought back memories of our younger days when I always cheered him on during his games.

When all of this was over and I just stood there, I could see him looking at me. His gaze finally finds me in the midst of the crowd, and my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest. Everything else fades away, leaving only him in my line of sight.

I notice all of the team leaving, probably going to the locker rooms and I quickly head to the exit door.

In the dimly lit corridor outside of where the locker rooms are, he finally comes outside and spots me waiting there, my expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"Hey," he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of both excitement and apology.

I look up, meeting his eyes, "hey," a subtle smile playing on my lips, "you played amazing out there."

Still trying to catch his breath, he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, keeping me close for a while. We are not saying anything, I just hold him close, my fingers buried in his sweaty hair.

"Thank you so much for coming." he whispers.

"I would never lose any of your games. Even when you're being an asshole." I smile, which I am sure he can hear when I'm speaking.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to put the blame on you. I just.. I am fucking jealous. I don't want any other guy near you." he keeps his voice as low as possible.

"Shhh, I know. Let's take care of that lip first and then you can apologise to me all you want." I pull away but he doesn't let go of course – I cup his cheek and take out some tissue that I keep in my bag for emergency with my free hand. I gently pat the skin, trying to clean the blood as much as I can without hurting him.

His eyes soften, "seriously, baby. Thanks for coming. I always play better when you're cheering for me."

I look up at him, my gaze softening as well as I cup both of his cheeks now, "I know. I am so, so proud of you. You were amazing, as always." I whisper, leaning in to play the softest kiss on his little wound.

"God, I love you." he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me close to him.

"I love you too."

[burstinn]

OBSESSIVE

Obsessed! König x Male! Reader

Warnings and notes:

You have been kidnapped

No proofreading again lazy writing

Bad German/ some words are translated

Mentioning that you are just an ordinary guy that works in a cafe. Lee mao

You had a breakdown and are now unresponsive to König. Though the breakdown is not mentioned you are unresponsive now.

"Du bist mein Mann"

König would whisper in your ear, slowly caressing your face lovingly. He didn't care if you cried or screamed, he didn't care if you denied your love for him.

You are his Husband.

And you would learn that soon, you better learn it soon.

He would leave you in his basement for God knows how long. He hid you down here ever since.. He took you..

°°°

You are a normal man really. You work at a small Cafe inthe suburbs as an asisstant manager. You go to the grocers every Friday. You would greet the old lady to help her with her chores everytime you could.

You had a routine, you had a normal life.

Until he came, König he called himself.

"Ahh.. E.. Es Tut.. Mer.. I'm sorry are you closed?"

Though he looked and sounded intimidating, His eyes looked very.. Meek and nervous when you first met him.

König was wearing all dark clothes that day, a hoodie and mask covering his face. His towering figure over the counter almost scared you off into saying 'yes we're closed'. Maybe you should've just said you were closed. So you wouldn't be in this situation. Locked up under this house.

"Oh! No no don't worry! You can order don't worry. You can be my last customer"

You could only see a small shine of happiness and relief in his eyes when you said you were still open. You should've just told him to fuck off..

It was already tiring to clean the equipment and floors and after making his order you had to reclean in again. Past work hours. You should've left hours ago. But you decided to be nice that day... Why.

"I'm sorry.. How much should I pay?"

"It's okay, it's on the house.. You can have your order for free"

You smiled at him.

And that's when he would come over to the cafe.. Every time. He almost became a regular.

But König had strange breaks in between.

It would be 2 weeks, 6 months, 3 months, and 1 year.

He would never explain why, but you shouldn't really ask.. It's none of your business anyway.

You would simply put on a smile at him everytime, cheerily greeting him and already asking him if he was gonna have his same order.

Hell, you even just saved a room for him. A corner in the store, it's obvious by his first meeting he was an anxious man. And you felt for him so everytime maybe to ease him a bit.

You would always strike up a conversation. Even if he doesn't answer, you would talk.

And he eventually did start engaging in conversations. Slowly but surely he would become more lively around you.

He would ask you would answer, you would ask he would answer as well. It was good.

You even had a reason why he had strange long breaks in between visits to the cafe. Apparently, he is a Colonel of a military. What an interesting man, knows how to shout orders but can't speak properly when ordering something?

It was good. Life was good.

You had known König for long enough that you have his number, know his address and know everything about his simple interest.

So does he, even something simple you mentioned he would know. Even if you didn't remember you said that. It impressed you.

He would send you gifts even when he was still in his job in the military. One time he walked in wearing his uniform. Imagine your surprise when it was König, all wide eyed and mouth agape.

"Oh.. Hi! Uhm.. What's your order?"

"Hallo! I'll have my usual, bitte"

"... ", " König..?"

"Ja? Ich bin König!"

"OH MY GOD"

It was funny, he would even do it at times.. But it was obvious he would only do it just to tease you or make fun of you or something.

You would visit his house at times, funnily he would still cover his face around you.. Even though you were friends for like 7 or 8 years?

He even taught you some German.

You'd hang out with each other out of work if König or you had matching schedules to even hang out.

So you guys both plan ahead, never missing any hang outs. Lest one of you got an emergency call.

°°°

It was nice.. Simple.

You got a new friend, and you had a routine life.

All of that stopped when you got a text from König that he would be gone to the military for a few months. Of course you were saddened by that of course you sent your sad faces and good lucks.

Making your way to work, getting bombarded with customers. And annoyingly, having to fix a machine by yourself while you tell the rest of the employees to go home for the night. Really it just decided to break when it was way past the time to get home? Having to stay over work time once again really ticks people off. Especially when you don't get paid for your overtime.

Atleast the whole place was clean. You just needed to fix the machine, and it took about... You stayed there for 1.5 hours trying to fix it. Fucking dammit, An angry smashing of the plates and tables was an order but you were to tired to do any of that. Instead you make sure everything is in check before closing the lights, getting your stuff and locking the place up.

Fucking finally. You can go home and rest..

Walking your way back should've been simple, you should've been safe this was a tight knit community. Everyone knew everyone, even new comers. No one would try anything but you had to be the one.

All was well til you felt gloved hands grab you from behind. Shoving you hard against the ground, covering your mouth as they blindfolded you and gagged your mouth

Someone should've heard you, especially when you managed to slip away and ran for a few miles before getting caught again. Being dragged back to the dark..

"Bitte, es tut mer leid.. It's okay"

Imagine the betrayal, you stop struggling looking behind you to see your friend. Dragging you to his car and shoving you inside.. Not before tying you up. All the while apologizing and trying to explain something.

Not like you were listening, all that mattered was the fact you were being kidnapped by your best friend.

°°°

"Leibing, I'm back"

2 clicks then loud thuds coming from the stairs as he makes his way down to the makeshift room König prepared for you. A bed, a small bathroom, a small kitchen with all the supplies you needed. No knives, König was smart enough to think you would try to kill him.. But worse yourself. He can defend himself easily from you.

Especially that one time you managed to break off a piece from the cabinet and trying to stab him.

He made sure to lock you down here longer.

He's not a monster though. He knows you have a system to do things so every twice a week he would bring you outside. Monitored.

If he was out on his job, he would just open a makeshift window for you to bask in the sun while he was away.

He would always stock your food, even giving you snacks.

He gave you a T. V, books, magazines, small toys and games to keep yourself entertained.

He bought you new clothes, he brought you gifts from his travels.

"Liebe? Are you hiding?"

Peek around the corner. There you are. You're curled up in a ball. Tired and emotionless as usual.

"You haven't been sleeping again, have you?"

He walks over to you, wrapping you in his arms

" Ich liebe dich so sehr.. You know that right?"

"It's why I did this.. es ist für dich"

You don't answer

You stopped answering just a few weeks ago

König missed your old personality, where was the cheerful you? The one who would strike up the conversation first.

But König knew why, He knew the consequences way back when he planned on doing this.

He planned this for so long to have you.

He could live with the changes, He could live with the fact that you probably hate him now.

Stockholm Syndrome was his hope of you loving him back, but he knew it would take a while. He can be patient, he waited long enough.

He cupped your face, lifting up his hood slightly to give you a loving kiss.

You stopped fighting back as well.

"Ich kann auf dich warten"

[the-great-ladyg]

Did someone notice in the new Somerton's video that he didn't adress any of the misogyny or transphobia accusations? Like, yeah, he said "people say I hate women but that's not true" and only that. And he also addressed the misinformation, in which we can include the misgendering, but he still didn'h fully talk about this even when those accusations were, along with plagiarism, the most talked about on the internet.

This dude didn't give any reason for why "he doesn't hate" women or trans people, it truly was a "source: dude trust me" and Somerton expects us to believe him, when no, he threw shit on women in every chance he got, he showed transphobia in many times for no fucking reason other than he's got something against women and trans people.

And he also didn't address any of the racism people has pointed out since a long time, but more specially since HBomberguy and Todd's video. This dude only focused on plagiarism, and even that he sucked at since he implied it was an accident. How can you plagiarize on accident?, you have to write, to read, to check what you're doing, he read and Nick's scripts, he must have noticed the copying and still left it with no citation. He said he loves investigating and reading, then he must notice the copying, yet he also said he "didn't notice", like this dude can't recognize he did this on purpose, it was all "an accident".

Also, he just tried shifting the blame, placing it on Nick or, again, like it was an accident and he didn't mean to it. Somerton knew what he was doing, all of us are taught at school, specially college, that plagiarism not only is bad, it it diminishes the quality and credibility of the person that stole those words, it can get you expelled or fired, and let's not forget the people you're hurting by stealing from them, and this case the people whose experiences and words were stolen. Somerton is in a more privileged position than many people in the LGBTQ+ community since he's a cis white man, and yet he decided to attack this way many POC and trans people, not only he stole their words, but he also used racist and transphobic rhetoric, he misgendered, he erased sexualities and put all of us on the same box of "cis straight white women".

"I wanted to make my channel a safe space", yeah, sure man, like saying all the negative things of an MLM media is straight cis women's fault, or misgendering, erasing the bisexuality of a woman or changing "trans" for "queer" is going to make to make your channel a safe for queer women and trans people.

I just deep down know he won't change at all, maybe except for the citations, but we must expect he'll continue being a misogynist racist transphobe dumbass that will keep ignoring this accusations and using the homophobia card.

I really feel sorry if he truly felt so bad he harmed himself and ended up on an hospital, if that's real I hope he gets better and never gets to that point again. Maybe I'm naive, but I want to believe this is not a tactic to manipulate us to forgive him, but... idk, I just expect anything from this man that has used the homophobia card to protect his ass from any criticism.

But talking by myself, as a genderfluid AFAB person who consumes and creates queer content and felt so insulted by his racism, his misogyny and transphobia, and noticing how he avoided the topic, I don't accept his apology and hope he disappears from the internet before he can do any more damage.

[taasgirl]

say something pt 1.

summary: although playing for the same club, pedri and y/n cannot stand the thought of being around each other. enemies to lovers for all my girlies out there - i got u

a/n: not proofread and all in english + more installments coming soon!!

"I told you I can't go out." Salma hadn't stopped bothering me about some party with the men's team. I had so much school to catch up on.

"Come on don't be a party pooper. You study every night and train every day." I spun my chair to face my laptop. "Seriously Y/N, it's only one night." Rolling my eyes, I continued writing my paper.

I had been at university for the past year or so, while simultaneously playing football. For Barcelona. I know, pinch me moment. But I was so determined to graduate high school, and get a degree. I wasn't going to let anything stop me.

Even if it was my dream profession.

The coaches and staff at Barcelona were very understanding, however they weren't too happy when I had to leave training early for lectures.

But I guess I make up for it, I'm the league's top goal scorer, currently on 21 in 9 games. A feat slightly unbelievable to my lecturers and classmates - they think it's insane that someone 'famous' would even bother with university, but I love journalism. Something about writing is so me. Especially topics that I love.

"Don't be a bum Y/N." Truth is, I really wanted to go, but I had already agreed to help one of my classmates with some work.

"I'm supposed to be studying with Alex." Salma instantly spun me around. "The hot one?" I didn't respond.

Alex and I had our fair share of flirty kisses and almost intimate moments, with Salma being our first and only 'fan'. Seriously her words not mine.

"Well bring him then. You two should loosen up. Literally everyone will be bringing a plus one." Now that would actually be a good idea, but he seemed like he really needed my help, and lucky for me, he didn't want to bother me so it would all be through facetime. I could study in the comfort of my bed, in my pyjamas.

"Sorry Sal, you have fun but I'm staying back." She scoffed, this happened a lot, she'd invite me, I'd reject, and then say, "You look really hot though."

"Wait so what did you write about?" I would be lying if I said this wasn't awkward. We had hooked up a few times, and yet each time we spoke to each other it was just as awkward as the last. The term 'friends with benefits' was definitely not applicable to us.

"Umm, mine's just about some of my teammates. You know, sports injuries and that sort of stuff." He smiled when I spoke.

"It's so cool knowing you." Awkward silence soon followed. "Hey uh, I'd really like to take you out. To dinner maybe? You know, when you're not busy being a professional and all that." Well I can't really reject the guy who's made me orgasm multiple times.

"Yeah sure. I'm sure we could go out after class one day." Yeah I was not going to go out with him.

After a few hours of studying with Alex I got a call from Salma. "Hey Alex, I'm getting a call, I'll message you later." Hanging up our facetime, answered Salma's call.

"How's hot boy? Have you fucked yet." She was slurring her words. Definitely off her face drunk. "Hey is this Y/N?" I replied to the voice, one of a man's. "Listen we need you to come pick Salma up, she's drunk." The boy on the other side of the phone said it almost annoyed.

"Who is this?" Immediately he replied, "Pedri. Now can you hurry? I'm sending over the address." The notification popped up on my phone, she was at a club downtown.

"I can't." Pedri didn't speak. I knew him from our minimal media interactions, but other than that, he had a reputation as a dickhead fuck boy. "What do you mean you can't?" Because I was so preoccupied with school and work, I never had the time to get my license.

"I can't drive, I don't have a license." I could almost hear him roll his eyes.

"Are you serious? How do you expect her to get home?" He was clearly pissed off. "Maybe be a gentleman and drive her home?" He groaned, obviously unwilling to do so.

"Don't put her in a cab. Drive her home, here I'm sending you the address." As soon as he received my message through Sal's phone he hung up. What a dickhead.

After about fifteen minutes, I heard loud banging at my door. Rushing over, Salma practically fell in my arms. "Y/N you won't believe the night I had." She needed to sleep, we needed to be at training by 6 tomorrow for fitness testing. I have no idea why she'd pick tonight as the time to get wasted.

"Thank you Pedri, I'll see you tomorrow." As I went to shut the door, he stuck his foot in, pushing the door wide.

"So I leave a party with beautiful women to drop your lightweight friend off, and you don't even offer me a glass of water?" His tone was condescending, as he followed me through our apartment.

"Yeah well, sorry for ruining your night." As I helped Salma into her bed, he leaned on her doorframe. "You know usually when I take a girl home it doesn't end like this." He smiled, that kind of dickhead-fuckboy smile. I didn't respond, walking under his arm as I made my way to the front door. I opened my wallet and handed him €10. "For the petrol, now please leave." I pushed the money against his chest as he scoffed. "I don't need your money." He looked me up and down. "See you later Y/N."

Salma and I successfully made our way to the Barcelona grounds, a round of water and plenty of bread slowly sobered her up.

"So how was your date with sexy classmate." I smacked her lightly. "Awkward as fuck. You'd think that someone who's seen me naked plenty of times would know how to talk to me, but I guess not." We walked past the front desk. "Morning. And it wasn't a date, just a study session."

Making our way to the changerooms, I made eye contact with a certain somebody. That certain somebody came over to us. "What do you want?" He looked at me puzzled, in a dismissive way. "Oh I'm not here to talk to you." He diverted his gaze to Salma. "You were quite the partier last night." She smiled at him, I have no idea how.

"We gotta go. Bye Pedri." I pulled Salma away from him. "You're literally gay stop making eyes at him." She looked at me as we sped walked through the hallway. "Doesn't mean a girl can't look." I rolled my eyes. I can't take this girl seriously sometimes.

By the time we had made it out to the field, everyone could tell that Sal was hungover. She wasn't hitting anywhere near her top speed and was very slow at our reaction training games.

Jonatan pulled her aside, and soon enough, she was escorted inside by our assistant coach. "Bring it in girls." I stood next to Lucy as Jonatan began a speech.

"It has come to my attention that there was a party last night." The girls began looking around at each other. "And I understand that you are young and want to have fun, but when alcohol or even drugs are involved, it becomes a problem for the club." Lucy looked down at me.

"I need you to all be aware of what you're doing. You are professional footballers, and now is not the time to be partying let alone drinking." The girls started to whisper to each other.

"And I especially need you to look after the kids here. They're young and vulnerable. If you see them in a less than ideal situation, you need to help them out." Jonatan didn't raise his voice, one of the reasons why he has been my favourite coach. "Now get back out there."

Training was tense, and by the time we had arrived inside Salma was lying on one of the physio beds fast asleep. "Sal are you alright?" She groaned, covering her face. "Lucy said she'd drive you home, but I really need to get to class." I gave her a quick hug before I headed for the showers and prepared myself before class.

It's hard being a student-athlete, or an athlete-student depending on how you look at it. As I left the building I saw Gavi standing outside.

"Hey Pablo." He turned around, immediately hugging me. Gavi was my first friend here in Barca when I joined the academy, and although we haven't kept in contact as much, I still consider him one of my best friends.

"Looking good Y/N. You off to school?" I nodded, signalling to my laptop bag clutched in my hand. "You're seriously the hardest worker I know." After a short conversation a car pulled up to the kerb. A short honk alerted us.

"Get in Gavi. Y/N." Hey, at least he didn't dismiss me. "Can Y/N come, we just need to drop her off at the uni. It's down the road." Before I could reject Gavi's idea, Pedri spoke up. "Yeah no. Come Pablo." Gavi didn't get in the car.

"Seriously Pepi, let her come with us. It'll be a short trip." Soon enough, Pedri agreed, unlocking the back door for me.

Pedri didn't speak the entire ride, and even though it was short, I felt completely unwelcomed. By the time we had arrived on campus, Pedri drove right to the communications building. I thanked him, and stepped out of the car.

As I began to walk away from the car a familiar voice called out to me. "Y/N wait up!" Alex ran up to me, and immediately pulled me in for a hug. I could feel Pedri and Gavi's eyes on me, the car hadn't moved.

"Thanks for the help last night." We walked into the building together and found our seats.

After a boring three hour lecture, I quickly made my way down to the exit. "Y/N wait up." I spun around, facing Alex. "Is now an alright time to ask you to lunch?" I could help but blush. Now normally I would've politely declined, but I am so unbelievably hungry, so I agreed.

"As long as you're driving I'm up." He smiled and brought me to his car.

"I told you that class boy was your guy!" Sal yelled at me after being dropped home by Alex. "When you aren't preoccupied by the dick-"

"Yuck don't say that Sal!"

"It's true, see he's a good guy. Hot too."

I pushed a pillow to her face. She was really too much sometimes. We were sat on the couch, relaxing until it was time to sleep. She was telling me about this incredible girl from last night when I heard a knock on the door. I got up and answered it. To my surprise Pedri was standing there.

"Uh, um you left this in my car." He handed me over an unfamiliar plastic bag, but after a quick look inside, I could tell that it was my sports bra and socks from training.

"Oh yeah, um thanks." We stood there awkwardly in the frame of the door until Salma came up. "Left them in his car huh?"

Pedri immediately tried to speak but his mumbles were cut off by Salma. "Leaving your clothes in one guys car and then going out with a different guy the same day is truly boss energy." Pedri looked at me concerned.

"He and Gavi drove me to class ok, so let's get inside. Thank you Pedri, I really appre-" "Come in Pepi! Take a seat." Salma cut me off and ushered him in. Looking down at me, he made his way to my seat on the couch.

"You know what guys, I'm actually gonna head to bed." Salma pouted at me. "Come on, it's only for a few minutes." I shook my head and went into my room, grabbing my clothes so I could take a quick shower.

By the time I finished my shower, I could still hear Pedri and Salma talking. I wrapped a towel around myself and made my way to my room. That was of course, until I bumped into him.

"Maybe look where you're going next time." He said to me, a look of disgust plastered on his face. "Get the fuck out of my house." He laughed.

"Yeah cause this two room apartment is a house. You seriously need to get a life." I pushed past him, opening my door. "Oh and maybe you should try and be welcoming for once. God knows it'll do you a world of good." I slammed the door after hearing his comment. I have no idea why I even gave him the time of day.

He's such a piece of shit. I'm literally a university student who also happens to be a footballer - a women's one at that. I have no choice but to live in a shitty apartment with my teammate. I don't have the type of money he has.

pls let me know if you like this! i'll update as often as possible and pls give me some requests! i'll write about anyone (m+f)!! thank you!

part two!

[lucysgraybird]

modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 2 here, part 3 here

notes: this is not set in panem -- if you're looking for a vibe, think harvard/uchicago/any of the old-guard, upper echelon US universities. i have another part in the works that i'll post tomorrow or thursday. also i promise that they both have some crazy in them . It will appear in later parts

“Please remember that I cannot accept late work for this essay,” your professor says as everyone packs up. “The deadline is the deadline for work for the semester, so everything has to be submitted by then. This includes any outstanding work you might have.”

She shoots a look at a boy in the front row when she says that, and he bows his head.

“Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll see you all Monday.”

You shove your laptop in your bag, sling it across your body, and make a beeline for the exit. This is your last class of the day and you have no intention of spending any more time in a lecture hall than you have to. Just as you're about to leave the building, someone catches you by the shoulder and pulls you back.

“Excuse you,” you mutter, turning to see who would do something so…well, to put it diplomatically, bold.

There stands a boy with a shock of hair so blonde it's nearly white and eyes so blue they're nearly translucent. It would be eerie if he didn't wear it well: angular and bright, it's like he's been carved from the purest block of ice. His pale features are offset by the rich ruby of his sweater. He looks royal, though you'd think a prince wouldn't go around grabbing girls by their arms.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I've been wanting to talk to you for weeks, but you always fly out of the building and I didn't want to miss you this time.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

God willing, not about some group project that had slipped your mind. You're so careful about organization, but sometimes things slip through the cracks.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“Who are you?”

His eyebrows (the only dark thing on his face) twitch, and you wonder if he's so arrogant as to assume you'd know who he is. He doesn't say anything, though, just extending a hand to you.

“Coriolanus Snow. Pleasure.”

You shake his hand, finding the official-ness of it a little odd. When you open your mouth to introduce yourself, he stops you.

“I realize this is going to sound…odd, but I do know who you are. You're the only person I listen to in that insipid class.”

“Oh.”

Because honestly, what are you supposed to say to that?

“Let me take you to dinner, please,” Coriolanus says. “At least for the conversation.”

Your pause must spur him on, because he continues, “And you're gorgeous. Honestly, you caught my eye before you even started speaking, and then…well.”

He's very forward, but it doesn't come off as desperate. He carries himself with such a confident air that if he hadn't tried to be suave, it would've been more awkward.

You allow yourself to be flattered, offering him a soft laugh. His poise must be a front, at least a little, and you can put up a façade too.

“Why, thank you, Coriolanus. I'd love to go out with you, but I'm so busy with finals coming up…”

This is partly true – you're taking the maximum number of credits your advisor would let you, which is over the credit load the school has set, so you have a good deal of work to do. However, you're not above playing a little hard-to-get, especially if you are interested in the person. Half the fun of a hunt is the chase.

“All the more reason to go out. I know a spot if you're free tonight – one more bit of fun before hitting the books?”

“What kind of fun, Mr. Snow?”

“Well, we'll see where the night takes us, if that's a yes.”

It can't hurt, right?

“It's a yes. I'll text you my address?” You extend your phone to him, a delicate smile gracing your lips.

“Perfect,” he says, putting in his number. “I'll pick you up at 7:30. Wear something nice.”

“Where are we going?”

“A surprise, but it's very classy. You'll love it.”

You can't wait to look this guy up when you get home. “I'm looking forward to it. See you tonight."

“See you tonight.”

—

“Classy” is an unhelpful dress code, you're discovering. It refers to such a range of places, so you're left to take a guess and hope you don't make some sort of grave faux pas. You're limited in being overdressed as a university student, so you select the nicest thing you brought from home. It's a wine-coloured dress that skims just the middle of your calves, with a cowl at the neck and a sweeping back that shows a tasteful (yet tempting, you hope) amount of skin. With a thin necklace and some earrings, you could fit in at most “nice” restaurants that would be appropriate for a first date with a nigh-stranger.

At 7:25, you slip on your coat and heels and head down to the lobby of your apartment building. Something tells you that Coriolanus has a tendency towards extreme punctuality, so you'd rather not keep him waiting a moment.

Just as you suspected, at 7:30 exactly the silhouette of a tall man appears at your door and your phone buzzes with a text.

Coriolanus Snow: I'm here.

When you open the door, he is, indeed, there, holding a bouquet of white roses and wearing a red vest and slacks with a white dress shirt. He is nothing if not coordinated, you suppose.

“Ah,” he says. “Hello. These are for you.”

It is a lovely gesture, and it garners a genuine blush from you while you accept the bouquet. “Thank you. They're gorgeous. I didn't even know they made white roses.”

He offers his elbow to you, which you accept. Though it's odd, there's something sweet about his anachronistic nature. You, like any college girl, have had many a bad first date, and it's pleasant to have one with a man who is, at the least, polite.

“My grandmother grows them. I dropped by and picked these up on my way here. You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you. I wasn't quite sure what to wear because I don't know where we're going, so I'm glad I chose well.” You glance over at his outfit. “We match, sort of.”

“So we do.”

He smiles in a way that's almost indescribable – it's not quite aloof, though it has some of the same calculation behind it. It actually feels incredibly personal, and sets your heart racing. Why this boy gets under your skin the way he does – the way no one has before – is something you have yet to discover.

Your walk with him ends at a black car, for which he opens the back door and allows you to climb in before following you. A scan of social media earlier had turned up tragically few results, and every single thing Coriolanus does makes you more curious about him. He settles next to you.

“So are you a polisci major, or are you just taking the one class?” You ask, unwilling to let silence be for more than a moment.

“Polisci and philosophy,” he replies. “My goal is law school directly after college, and then politics.”

“I should've guessed,” you say.

“Oh?”

“Not in a bad way. Just…you're very smooth. Well-spoken, attractive, all of that. You'd do well in politics.”

The corners of his lips turn in a slight smile. “You think I'm attractive?”

You laugh. “I certainly do, Coriolanus. I do have standards, you know.”

“Then I'm very glad I'm meeting them. Are you looking to do politics too, then, or…?”

“Honestly, not right now. I think I might stick to academia for a while. I don't have the stomach for pandering that you have to have for politics.”

“It's my least favourite part, honestly. I did some work for a senator last summer and the endless word-parsing drove me insane. No one ever says what they mean.”

“Right. The image of it all is fun, though. Like playing a character. But you don't have to do politics to do that.”

Coriolanus nudges his knee against yours. “Are you putting on an image for me right now?”

“A lady never tells. Are you putting on one for me?”

When you turn, he's a lot closer than you expected. You can see the spires in his irises, like cracked moonstones, and can smell his cologne: whiskey and spice and something woody, clean.

“You'll just have to find out,” he says, his voice low in his chest. It's said as a secret – there's no one else in the car, but it's as though if he says it too loud the leather of the seats might remember. These words were for your ears only, the rumble meant to coast across just your skin, and you shudder.

[the-ace-with-spades]

The year is 1995 and Mav disappears off radars on a mission overseas. He's declared MIA and then when satellite pictures of an F-14's wreck show up, declared KIA.

It's a hot August evening when Ice opens his front doors to see a Navy officer with a precisely folded flag in his arms and a JAG lawyer with a suitcase full of documents. Baby Goose should be already sleeping upstairs, preparing for their planned camping trip the day after.

Ice lets them in without a word.

They walk past the living room where Ice had been checking their tent for rust, straight to the kitchen table. They don't sit down.

"On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Navy—"

"Spare me the bullshit."

He's still holding the flag, letter on top of it, seal unbroken.

"Why are you even here? I'm not his—" Loved one. Ice was just—there. A close friend. A wingman. It doesn't matter whether he loves Mav or not, he will always be just someone in his life, not his loved one. "I'm just his best friend."

"Commander Mitchell stated this address as Bradley Bradshaw's main residence during deployment."

Jesus Christ. He can't—Bradley. What was he going to tell Bradley?

"Commander Mitchell's sole beneficiary is Bradley Bradshaw, and since he's a minor, we need to execute his will alongside our condolences." Bradley lost another parent. And all he has left is a will. "You've been named as Bradley Bradshaw's legal guardian if Commander Mitchell was—unable to take care of him."

"He's never told me that."

He didn't. Not even a word. He knew Mav had a will, they all did. But he never thought enough to make sense of the details.

It couldn't be Ice. He couldn't exist on paper in Mav's life or in Bradley's life.

"You can refuse—"

Ice phases out the words that come after — Mav can't be gone, Mav couldn't have left Bradley to him, Mav couldn't have thought he would be able to care for Bradley alone, without Mav's help and guidance. He couldn't have left them both there with broken hearts.

Ice doesn't believe this. It can't be true. If he stares long enough, the two officers in front of him are going to disappear and he will get a late night call from Mav from the ship and will wake up Baby Goose so they could chat and—

"Ice, I know I should be asleep but can we check if we got enough jars for bugs? I really want to—"

Ice finally comes back to the surroundings.

Bradley stands in the kitchen door, noticing the two people in there, in uniforms. "I'm sorry, sirs, I didn't know—"

At that exact moment, Bradley notices the flag and the unopen letter. He can see it nice and clear — his face falls and he doesn't look at anything but the goddamn flag and the stupid letter made on behalf of the President.

Ice stops breathing. "Bradley—"

"No," he says, shaking his head, so quiet. "Not again, no—"

Before Ice can say anything, Bradley is running back up the stairs.

[fayes-fics]

Mrs Bridgerton

Mrs Bridgerton Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Your ex-husband craves you in a way you had no idea about until one fateful call...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, explicit language and thoughts, dirty talk, sexting, sex tape, masturbation, pregnancy kink, smidge of breeding kink. Mentions of marriage, divorce, pregnancy, custody, parenting, heartbreak, emotions. Bit angsty maybe? Not sure.

Word Count: 4.3k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill from January here. (tldr summary: ex-husband Benedict can't stop thinking about you) Nonny, I changed up a couple of details of your ask; the porn he watches is your old sex tapes from when you were married. Also, he doesn't call once he was spent; he accidentally calls very much in the act ;) I hope that is okay. Guys, I have no idea what this is; sorry. Thanks to @colettebronte for checking I haven't completely lost it and @eleanor-bradstreet for the gif used above. <3

“Mrs Bridgerton!.... Mrs Bridgerton!” A teacher calls out across the playing field as she jogs towards you. It takes you a few seconds to realise she is indeed addressing you. It's been a couple of years since you went by that name—almost a ghost from the past at this point.

“Ah, actually, it’s Ms y/l/n now,” you correct as she draws closer. “I’m, well, I’m divorced from Emilia’s dad,” you explain somewhat apologetically.

“Oh, I am so very sorry! I'm new here. I just asked her if her parents were here, and she pointed you out.”

“No, no, it’s okay. It's an entirely fair assumption to make,” you placate, shielding your eyes from the sun to catch Emilia's gaze and give her the thumbs up at the end of the grassy running track.

“Well, I just need one of you to sign this permission form for the trip to the Science Museum next week,” the teacher states, thrusting a clipboard towards you.

“Oh certainly, no problem,” you assure, taking the proffered pen and signing on the dotted line she indicates. You know how excited Emilia is about that upcoming trip, even though she insists on going to the museum with you or her father at least once every few months.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

You just nod as another teacher brings them all to the starting line with a blast from their whistle, and your focus shifts entirely to cheering on your five-year-old daughter in her first school race.

-----

He knows you haven't seen him, and he doubts even Emilia has clocked him, wearing a baseball cap pulled low as he is. He deliberately keeps a low profile when you arrive. He is here to see Emilia on her first sports day. Only that. Or so he keeps telling himself.

But then he sees you, and something in his stomach knots hard. It’s been more than two years, and still, every time, it floors him. A few months after your split, he took to using Eloise as the go-between for your shared custody arrangements and has never stopped. Since then, he has not seen you in person, too cowardly to face you. His biggest mistake was letting you go.

You met in your late twenties at a party hosted by mutual friends, and that night, he knew his life would never be the same. Something about the connection was instant and electric. He had the best sex of his life, right there in a spare room of a party. Both drunk and foolish, you didn't use protection. So it was only a few weeks into your burgeoning relationship when you found yourselves staring dumbfounded at a blue and white stick that would alter your lives forever. You married quietly two months later at the town hall, with just a few family members and close friends attending, neither of you wanting a big fuss. It was a big gamble in many ways, but you were both willing to try, crazily in love and filled with a youthful optimism that can be so blinding.

All was well until parenting a newborn drove you both to exhaustion and beyond. A wedge grew between you, even as your beautiful daughter developed into the best miniature version of both of you, with his beauty and your brains. You tried to make it work. But bickering about petty things and distancing became the only constant in your dynamic. Part of him had hoped Emilia would be enough glue to hold you together, but it was too much to pin on a small child. Just after her third birthday, he watched his world crumble as you tearfully packed up your possessions and took the light from his life with you.

And now. Now it's a regret that haunts him every day. Replaying the mistakes he made over and over, the ones that meant you slipped through his fingers. Too preoccupied with his career frustrations and plagued by chronic lack of sleep to realise the damage before it was irreparable. He knows now, too late, that with a little more effort and compromise, perhaps you would still be together as a family. He certainly never stopped loving and desiring you.

So when the teacher calls out Mrs Bridgerton, his heart almost stops beating and, to his shame, there is a stirring in his jeans. God, he wishes that was still your name, so much so there is a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches you correct the teacher in an endearingly accommodating way. A large part of him wants to leap up and grab you, lift you into his arms, beg that you use the name again. His name. But he doesn't; he just lingers in melancholic reverie, recalling with perfect clarity how it felt to push the white gold band shakily onto your left hand as you recited your vows.

Then with a sharp nearby whistle blow signifying the race start, his focus is pulled back to why he is here. His little wonder, the centre of his universe. Emilia Bridgerton. The most beautiful person on the planet. 

“Go, Emilia!!” he shouts, transfixed as his little girl moves out ahead of the pack, unthinking of anything but supporting his baby girl.

-----

Your head cuts to the side, and you freeze. You would recognise that voice anywhere. And how many Emilia’s can there be in the race?

He's not looking at you; his whole focus is on the field, but you can't seem to look away. Not even to watch your precious daughter. You haven't seen your ex-husband in more than two years. Using his sister as a go-between just seems like the best way to deal with your residual guilt about leaving him. But now? One look and your insides feel like you are falling down a chasm, lungs suddenly too small for the breaths you need to take.

Time seems to slow like molasses as you observe him. He’s wearing a baseball cap, almost akin to a disguise, but you can see underneath it that profile that still makes your heart flutter. Too much, really, considering you are exes. But his beauty was never the problem; it was part of the reason you always stayed. Those soulful eyes would draw you back every time. Those eyes that now haunt you daily, the Bridgerton genes far too strong not to override all of yours. Emilia is the prettiest little female version of your ex-husband you could ever imagine, and it's both your greatest joy and your greatest pain point, living with a growing reminder of the person who still owns your heart regardless of how much you might wish otherwise.

Looking back now, leaving him was an impetuous decision made from a place of utter exhaustion, not able to see a way out of the treadmill your lives had become at that time. But pride stopped you from admitting perhaps you made a mistake, serving divorce papers before you could think too hard about it. He didn't contest and agreed to all of your terms of custody without a fight. You didn't ask for spousal support; you earned more from employment anyway, most of his income coming from his trust. You never loved him for the Bridgerton name or fortune; in fact, sometimes, it felt like you loved him in spite of it. 

And now, one look at him, and you are breathless and in a complete emotional and, yes, physical quagmire. Your body yearning for him, your traitorous brain supplying image after tumbling image of intimacy, the likes of which you have never known before or since—warm bodies wrapped around each other in ecstasy, that velvet voice pleading with you to come with him, for him, always so eager. It makes your chest heave so hard you have to look away to regain composure, doing so just in time for the universe to seemingly return to normal speed, as you watch Emilia cross the line, victorious in her first-ever race. 

You cannot help it; you leap up and cheer too. And she looks over, beaming and jumping up and down. Running towards you and throwing herself into your arms as you kneel with a huge grin.

“Mummy mummy mummy!!” she peals excitedly, her breath gusting hard into your ear. “I did it! I won!”

“I know; well done!” you exclaim, rocking her happily in your arms. “You did wonderfully!!!”

“Did I see Daddy?” she asks, craning over your shoulder. You tense and swivel yourself to follow her eye line, but where he was standing just moments ago, there is now just an empty patch of grass.

“Oh, I don't think so, my love; it was probably someone else’s daddy who looks similar,” you suggest, the lie feeling odd on your tongue, It's obvious he doesn't want to be seen, and a part of you is grateful to avoid an awkward meeting. Emilia is still scanning the crowd, unconvinced by your assertion. “How about an ice cream from the van over there?” you offer cheerily, wanting to distract her from looking too hard for him.

“Okay!” she chimes happily, squirrelling a warm little hand into yours and pulling you towards the pedestrian gate. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy a navy blue Jaguar pulling out of the other gate and know without a doubt it was him.

-----

He couldn't do it. He thought he could, but he feels the weight of your stare and has to leave. The minute Emilia crosses the line, he gives a little victory punch and takes off. Not able to face you. So much of him wants to, but the gutless part of him apparently resides in his leg muscles. Before he knows it, he is in his car and pulling out onto the West London streets, not daring to look back. It's not his day to pick up Emilia; that's still two days away. He would not want you angry for overstepping the agreement you have in place.

As he pulls up at a traffic light, his phone pings a match on the dating app Anthony bullied him into downloading last week. The temptation to fling his phone right out the window is strong. The idea of being with someone else, especially after the tumult of seeing you today, just feels wrong. 

The only person he has slept with since your divorce was the second biggest mistake of his life. Someone he met at a bar celebrating Colin’s last birthday after too many whiskeys. A close enough facsimile to you that, through the haze of alcohol, he let himself be seduced. The lizard part of his brain somehow convinced it was you, even as she rode him in a way that chafed. Nothing like the way you moved, positively undulated, on his cock. Regret clung to his skin, the fug of hangover already kicking in as he watched her wordlessly re-dress and leave almost immediately, never exchanging numbers. He never saw her again. The fact he called your name as he came was probably the majority of the problem.

The only thing that stops him from flinging the phone is all the history it contains. Pictures of Emilia growing up from a tiny infant to now. But also his text exchanges with you, that increasingly he finds himself scrolling back through on self-indulgent nights, back to when things were good, and you would send each other little notes of love interspersed with sexting that; even now, he can barely read without getting hard. Unable to resist, as he waits for the light to go green, a dozen or more quick thumb flicks upwards on the thread for your previous number, and he finds some of his guilty pleasures.

8 March, 3:25 pm

Y/N: You had better plough me over the kitchen table when you get home xoxox

4 April, 5:02 pm

BB: Tough work day, need you, babe

Y/N: How’s this, daddy? 

Y/N: [photo of your naked glowing, slightly rounded pregnant body]

BB: Fucking helllllll, I am one lucky man

Y/N: Come home, fuck me, daddy

BB: You need to stop calling me that…

Y/N: Why? I am literally pregnant with your child.

BB: Yeah, and that’s why it's so wrong…

Y/N: Just get here, pls. I am so fucking wet….

He is pinch-zooming on the photo, head tilted, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth… when a car horn makes him jump, the phone slipping from his grip and falling onto his emergent hard-on. 

The traffic light has turned green. 

With an apologetic nod in the rearview mirror, he drives off, shaking his head, knowing it’s probably very wrong to be looking at pictures of you, his ex-wife, and wanting to fuck you so bad that his foot leans heavily on the accelerator. His blood pumping hard, already knowing he will be taking himself in hand the minute he gets to his place.

-----

Emilia is happily smushing the cone of her 99 ice cream in her little fist as you walk the few streets to your sister's place, where you left your car earlier. She has kindly agreed to let Emilia stay tonight and have a sleepover with her cousins. 

Later, you have your first date since your divorce, and you’ll probably need the rest of the late afternoon to psych yourself up enough to go. You've already cried off so many matchmaking attempts that you had to say yes eventually, just to stop the incessant badgering from all angles. Strangely, this one is Eloise’s doing, and you are still slightly weirded out that your ex-husband’s sister is engineering your first date in more than seven years.

Waving goodbye a few minutes later, you slip into your car and sit for a few deep calming inhales, trying not to think of how much Benedict stole your breath earlier. Some part of you thinks maybe you just imagined him there, a fevered mirage, your subconscious telling you to cancel this stupid date idea and stay home with your two best friends, Ben and Jerry. But then Ameila seemed to think he was there too, and honestly, it feels like you don't know what to do about anything anymore. 

-----

He wastes no time, flinging aside the cap, tossing his car keys onto the hallway table and sprinting upstairs to his bedroom, only pausing to insert his noise-cancelling earbuds and discard his clothing.

He is already leaking a little when he throws himself onto the bed and fists his cock with a groan. His other hand is hovering over the play button on the video he definitely knows he shouldn't be watching, hidden in a nondescript folder.

Your soft giggle tickles his eardrums as the video jolts to life. It's one he shot of you on his phone on your honeymoon—it’s one of his favourites lately.

“Bennnnn,” your voice a teasing murmur as the screen fills with a glimpse of your breasts, his hand trying to take a sweeping shot of your body as you writhe underneath him, both of you buried in a soft glow under a tent of sheets wrapped around your bodies.

His own younger self chuckles loud in his ears, behind the camera as he is, both of your breaths loud as the movement becomes more pronounced.

This is him fucking you and filming it. The camera pans down, and there, almost too tough to see in the grainy low light, is his cock surging into you; the shot is never still enough to see in full detail.

Somehow the lack of clarity makes it more of a turn-on. Benedict whines low as his hand moves in a firm motion, jerking hard, losing himself in reminiscence of what it is like to be buried inside you, your scent, younger you panting hard, pleading quietly for him.

His hand speeds up, and he gasps as the video grows more urgent, the noises so loud right in his ear. He can hear the delicious sound of your wet cunt around his shaft, and it's like a sense memory, that viscous heated cling he can never forget.  

“Ben, oh god Ben, you are so good, fuck me harder,” younger you moans loudly on the video, and both Benedicts, the old and new, couldn't resist that siren call.

“Y/n, oh god, give me your all, y/n,” Benedict growls, screwing his eyes shut, just relying on the auditory experience of the video now. 

But not realising with his slurred speech; it's just given his phone a command…

-----

You are driving towards your place when your hands-free car display lights up with the last name you expect.

Benedict.

Your stomach plunges. Just like earlier when you found yourself staring at him and reimagining so many things you know you shouldn't. You reach over and click the little green button to connect the call, heart in your mouth.

“Ben?” you say his name softly, almost timid. Worried about what it might mean after that strange non-encounter less than an hour ago.

The noise that greets you makes every hair stand on end. It's a throaty groan. He seems to hiss your name, and all you do is frown as your car speakers vibrate with the sound.

“Ben, are you okay?” you check.

“Oh god, I am more than okay, baby,” he growls, and every inch of your body is rioting. “Just please, please don't stop, fuck you feel so good. So tight and hot. I want to live inside you,” the words panted, desperate.

Your foot slips hard on the pedal, and you almost crash into a damn tree. 

-----

Your voice sounds different in his ear, and there is a background hum that wasn't there before, but he is so close to something so intoxicating he doesn't think to open his eyes and check the video.

“Talk to me,” he pleads low, knowing you on the video won't respond but somehow still wanting to talk to you regardless, “tell me how you feel.”

There is silence and then a slight shaky exhale. 

“Ben.”

“Yes, yes, yes, say my name,” he pleads, leaking over his own knuckle as his hand becomes a frenzy on his cock.

-----

You pull over, quaking. There is only one reason he uses that tone. That's his bedroom voice, and fuck if it doesn't make you as weak now as it did back then. You can only assume his phone has accidentally dialled you while he is what? Masturbating? You flush so hotly at the very thought, and yet you can’t school what you say next. Your treacherous libido taking command of your lips.

“Are you touching yourself for me, Ben?” you breathe, and your clothing suddenly feels too tight, too hot.

Your speakers vibrate your seat as he groans loud and lewdly, and it's a beeline straight for your clit, now throbbing insistently against your car seat.

“Yes baby,” he moans and now, in the background, you can hear it, a slight slapping sound, his cock passing through his fist. 

Your pussy clenches instinctually, and you feel a heavy pull, a depth charge of lust. Your lips tingle with the thought of kissing him, running your mouth over his body, wrapping around that cock you remember so well.

“I want you to come for me, Ben,” you plead, a hand straying down between your thighs, scarcely believing what is happening, what you are doing so brazen, parked up on the street mid-afternoon on a Wednesday.

“I will; oh god, I'm going to come so hard,” he snarls. “Do you want it inside you?”

Your fingers glance your clit over your yoga pants, and the heat is overwhelming. “Yes, Ben,” you pant, “inside me, give it to me, give me more of your beautiful babies.”

What you are saying is taboo. And so truthful you don't think to censor it. You would bear as many children as he wants to fuck into you. Still, even now.

“But you are already pregnant with my baby darling,” his voice taking on a softer edge, more wistful, “and you look so, so beautiful.”

You freeze.

“Benedict?” you say quietly.

“Yes, my love,” he purrs.

“Who do you think you are speaking to?” your ask is awkward, screwing your eyes shut, your hand moving away from the apex of your thighs. Suddenly mortified, perhaps it's not you that he thinks he is speaking to after all. Oh shit, did he get someone else pregnant? The panicked bile rises until he sighs the following words.

“Y/n, my wife, my life. God, I miss you so much. I know this must be a fever dream; I know we didn't talk like this in the video, but fuck if it doesn't sound so real,” he ends so wistfully.

“What video?” your question is slow, a weird weight on your chest that is your heart pounding out of control.

“Our honeymoon, darling,” he moans, and you can hear he is still masturbating, although slower-paced now. “When you let me video us fucking. I watch it so much these days that I'm surprised it's not worn out. And yet I can't not; every time I fuck my fist, it's to you.”

“You watch us? Every time you…?” your hand clutching your chest now.

“Yes, my love. I miss you so so much. I should never have let you go. You are my angel, the love of my life, the mother of my child and the only person I ever, ever want to fuck.”

The confession knocks your whole world off its axis. And you crave him. The feeling is so utterly all-consuming you struggle to take your next breath. You have to go to him. You have to see him. It's not even a choice not to. Every fibre of your being needs him.

“Ben,” you murmur, “don't come for me yet; I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” the hope in that gasp makes you lightheaded.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I miss your cock so much.”

You scramble to throw the car into gear and pull out into traffic. You are about a minute's drive away or less if he is home. Something in your movements so very urgent.

“Tell me what you are doing,” you whisper, trying your best to pitch the ask just the right level of seductive as you race down the road, turning into his street.

“I’m fucking my fist,” he moans, “but I wish it were you, my love.”

“I'm almost there,” you pant, pulling into his driveway with almost a squeal of tyres. You grab your phone and jump out of your car, crushing the handset to your ear as you run up to his front door and punch in a code, hoping it's still the one he uses. The crest of victory is palpable as the lock beeps and relents, the door popping open.

“Keep stroking yourself gently,” you order as you close the door and start to disrobe as you bound up the stairs.

“Y/n…” his voice is suddenly tremulant “this…. This isn't a dream, is it?”

“No, Ben, it's not,” you breathe, and you are down to your underwear as you skid into his bedroom, panting.

His eyes are wide with shock as you stride across the room, his cock still in hand and utterly naked; he looks just as delicious as the day you married him.

“Hello, Mr Bridgerton,” you purr.

“Y/n,” he stutters, and it's everything—surprise, desire, hope, relief, yearning and ardent.

“Call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you shoot back, and the responding noise he makes is so utterly feral you almost orgasm without so much as touching him.

-----

Eight months later

“Emilia, not there,” Benedict chuckles good-naturedly.

“Then where daddy?” her pout turns epic as she hands the offending item to him. “You do it!” she huffs.

“Okay, hold still,” he laughs and slides the small tiara into her hair. “See? Just perfect,” he opines, dropping a kiss onto her chestnut tresses.

“I look like a princess!” Emilia exclaims proudly, twisting to look into the mirror.

“Yes, you do,” Benedict concurs. “A pretty princess bridesmaid.”

“The prettiest,” you agree from the doorway, and both heads turn around and greet you with mouths that gape open.

“Oh, Mummy, you look like a real princess!” Emilia gasps, running towards you and giving you a quick hug before skipping out of the room gleefully as her grandmother Violet calls her name from downstairs.

“You look breathtaking,” his tone full of wonderment as he slowly gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving you. “But isn't it bad luck for me to see you like this?” he adds with a flash of concern.

You move towards him, and him towards you, drawn together. “I think we’ve had all the bad luck we are going to have,” you smirk, very much enjoying the sight of him in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. “At least I hope so, seeing as we have this thing to deal with,” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to your five-month bump.

“Thing? Darling, I thought we agreed; his name is Henry,” he sighs in mock indignation, his large hands skating around the swell of your belly, his lips warm on your temple.

“When did I agree to that name?” you frown amiably.

“Last night,” he responds silkily, right into your ear now.

“Oh no, you can’t possibly hold me to that,” you decry. “Anything said when inside me is null and void, Mr Bridgerton; you know I can barely remember my own name at that point.”

His rich chuckle vibrates against your whole body. “Well, let me remind you….”

“I’m listening,” you sigh, eyes closing as you sway into his hot neck kisses.

“It's Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles. “Or it will be again in about an hour.”

“I can't wait”, you whisper. “Say it again.”

“Mrs Bridgerton,” A dark, slow tease. 

You are almost late for your own (second) wedding just downstairs.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus

[carakook]

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

"Please don't slam the door in my face. Please just let me talk to you for a bit, I promise I'll behave."

→ Chapters list ←

⚘2. Wild Flower

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Y/N attempts to cope with the end of the affair and stay firm in her decision to go no-contact with Jungkook. Jungkook, however, is a fucking mess, and it has barely been a few days. He is going insane. He knows this is for the best... but he also knows they both deserve closure. Y/N especially... she will never fully bloom without it.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 2K+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (no smut, but it is talked about), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of toxic masculinity, mentions of arguing, let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter two! This one is a bit short, but the next chapter will be much longer, this chapter is meant to give some context to their past and how things ended up this way. I truly hope you like it, and chapter three will be out shortly.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Over - Lucky Daye (y’all this one is important, fits the vibe so well)

♪I bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

That weekend, you’re in shambles.

Hundreds of missed texts and calls. All from him. All tempting you to run back to him like you always do. But you haven't answered. You can't, and you won't.

His texts range from saying things like,

"I'm sorry. Can we please just talk?"

"Now you're leaving me on read? What the fuck?"

"I'm going crazy. Please talk to me."

"I want to hate you right now. Fuck."

"I do fucking hate you. I regret you."

"That was a lie, I could never hate you, I love you, so fucking much. I don't regret anything with you."

"You haven't blocked me and I can see you reading my messages so I'm not gonna stop until you answer me."

"Fuck wait, don't block me, please don't."

"Please Y/N."

It stopped there. The last plea and you left it unanswered. Because with each message he sent, even though you didn't text him back, you sent a tiny piece of your heart his way. He just doesn't know it.

If you weren't hurt, you'd find this entire thing so fucking amusing because, clearly, the man is losing it. He's acting like a desperate teenager who is overly attached to his girlfriend. Like a lost puppy. A man-child who's too persistent for his own good. So cute.

Except for the fact that you're not his girlfriend. You're his mistress, and oh fuck, that label leaves such a dirty and disgusting taste in your mouth.

He would never address you as such. As a matter of fact, as you're laying on your couch drowning in your own self-pity and a bottle of cheap wine, he remains in his second apartment, thinking precisely the opposite.

Thinking about the fact that you were never a mistress. You were so much more. As fucked up as it sounds, you were more than his wife is to him currently. He's never felt so loved, but also never loved someone so damn hard. You own his soul, and he's panicking at the thought that he'll never get it back. You've run away with it and refuse to let him in enough to steal it back.

But the thing is, he doesn't want it. He wants you to have it. If he could, he'd wrap it up in the most expensive wrapping paper, decorate it with stickers and bows, and hand it to you. But you stole it; you didn't give him the chance.

You didn't mean to. Fuck, you didn't want it. You don't even realize how much he loves you. You refuse to realize it because it'll only make it so much more painful. It's easier to believe that he loves his wife, not you. That he'll stay with his wife, not you. That he'll be happier with her, not you. It's so much easier because, despite the bitter pain in your heart, your one wish out of all of this is his happiness and well-being.

You know nothing about his marriage. Jungkook realizes this now. He never intentionally kept his marriage from you, but it was so easy to just forget about it when he was with you.

Because he wants to forget.

He once loved his wife and thought for sure he would never love anything or anyone more than her. They were young and in love, married each other while they were fresh out of college like dumbasses. He was a lovesick boy with her. He thought she was the prettiest, most precious thing ever to exist.

Until things changed.

After college, she changed. She has always been more mature, ever since they first met. But she created this power dynamic between her and Jungkook; she saw herself as more than him. She started looking down on him because of his choice of career... because of his choices in life in general.

One thing about Jungkook is he listens to no one. He's a selfish man in some ways and does not give a shit about anyone's opinion. But she was his wife. So it created some tension when she expressed she didn't want him to be some indie photographer; she wanted him to do something better with himself. She wanted him to try and make it big, like some sort of Hollywood hotshot working for celebrities, because he damn sure has the talent.

But he wanted something much more simple. He just wanted to take pictures. Of anything, everything, for anyone. He told her he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't waste his years of college to do something he didn't want to do. He didn’t drown himself in student debt to end up unhappy. Regardless of the money, he just wanted to capture the beauty in other people.

He has his own little business, and it does well. So well that his wife could stop working if she wanted to and continue living her lavish lifestyle. He's one of the most loved photographers in Seoul, but that's all. People enjoy the fact that he's humble and keeps things simple while providing them with photography skills that you can't get anywhere else.

His wife doesn't like this.

She wants more. Always wants more.

It was the first time he denied her wishes.

And it was the first time he realized that maybe this woman was not what he had thought she was all the years he had been with her.

The dynamic switched quickly. He went from lovesick puppy to stray dog, constantly feeling like he didn't belong with her, like he didn't have a place with her anymore. But he married her, dedicated several years of his life to her, and didn't wanna leave her. Marriage is hard sometimes… surely they could overcome it.

That’s what he thought, anyway. But as time went on, it became clear that this wasn’t just a rough patch. God, he fucking wishes so badly that it was just a rough patch.

The one thing that made him start thinking impulsively was the bomb she dropped on him shortly before he met you.

"No, Jungkook, I don't want kids. Not now, not ever, so drop it."

"Woah- what? We've talked about this before baby... I don't understand. What changed your mind?"

"You. I'm content with what we have, and I don't want to focus on some mini-Jungkook running around and causing chaos in my future. We're fine as we are."

That was the day that he realized, holy fuck, I don't love this woman anymore. This isn’t just some rough patch. She is not the woman he fell in love with years ago… maybe she never was.

Because he had the same thought but the polar opposite, her words stung him in a way he'd never felt. He has always imagined a mini-her running around, and it made him swoon. It made him feel so many warm fuzzies inside. But she clearly didn't feel the same. And the fact that she would view a child made by them both as a nuisance just because it was his? That broke his heart.

Kids have always been such a huge deal to him. He loves them. He is a huge kid himself. He's always wanted to be a dad one day and always imagined it would be with his wife. He used to fantasize in college about it, about his little babies running around while he made his little family breakfast; she knew it, too. She knew he wanted kids, and she always fed into these fantasies, adding onto them and making them seem real and plausible.

But it never was real. It was all an illusion to keep him under her leash.

She never wanted kids. She just wanted to keep him.

And he knows that now. It makes him sick.

After that conversation, he quickly put up barriers with her. Although he couldn't bring himself to divorce her, he distanced himself. And she didn't even notice, which is what gave him the confidence to pursue you.

He just wanted to feel something. He couldn't even touch his wife anymore. Couldn't even get hard by her. And she humiliated him for it. She made him feel like he was broken and gross. Dirty. It's similar to your feeling but in a completely different context.

And she wasn't willing to help, either. He had tried to confide in her, be honest, communicate. He tried to work it out, wanted to find ways to make it work, wanted to be able to touch her again. He offered couples counseling and maybe a doctors visit to make sure his junk wasn’t broken like she swore it was. But the moment she saw he wasn't hard for her like he always had been? She, too, put up her walls. She distanced herself and never mentioned sex again. Hardly even looked at him in such a way.

He wouldn't doubt if she was cheating, too. In fact, he knows in his gut that she started cheating on him way before he did on her. He doesn't have the balls to confront her either, considering he feels he's the reason for her straying away. He can't give her what she needs. He feels like he's not good enough for her. For anyone. Not even for you.

It's a mess.

So that night he saw you at the club, dancing with your friends, that sweet smile on your face that could end a war, he wanted you. Oh, he wanted you so bad.

At first, it was just lust. Seeing the way that you moved, so sensual and sinful, but mixed with that innocent smile? It was a deadly combination that left his dick twitching.

Never once did he think it would be a constant. He was sure it'd be one time, which is why he didn't disclose his marriage to you at first.

It was thrilling for him. He knew it was wrong; he felt like a child who was sneaking out and doing shit behind his parent's back, stealing cookies from the cookie jar. But he hadn't felt a thrill in months, hadn't been touched in months, hadn't even been looked at in months.

So when you noticed him staring, and your cheeks turned faintly red under the club lights? And you tried to look away? But then he saw you whispering to your friends and panicking, whisper-yelling, "He's so hot- he's looking at me- oh god, I'm gonna puke, look at him!"

Yeah. That was what he needed. He needed someone to stroke his fragile little ego that his wife tore to fucking shreds. And your over dramatic, yet sweet reaction? It made him so fucking cocky.

One time. Just once. Just a little taste to keep me sane. That's what he told himself.

But when he finally got that taste of you? When he saw the way you looked at him while he was above you? The way you whined when he kissed you? The way you acted like you'd never been touched before? And then when he felt you? Felt how tight you were, felt how much you wanted him, how you seemed like you had not been with many men? It did it for him. It started an addiction.

You made him feel wanted in a way his wife didn't. In a way that she never did.

You healed a part of him while also causing him to grow. To flourish. To become himself again.

He doesn't even care if it's sinful circumstances. He's just thankful for you. So fucking thankful. When he dies and gets sent to hell, he will personally thank satan himself for giving him the ability to sin with you.

Maybe in hell, he can even have you.

He knows that even with all of that, it doesn’t make what you’re both doing right. No matter what excuses his mind conjures up, none of it is ok. Cheating is never ok. He should’ve never pursued you. He should’ve never kept it going. He should’ve never even been in that fucking club that night. Or, he should have fessed up. Should have told his wife, left her, fuck, he should’ve done something different.

He should’ve saved you both. But he didn’t. Because he’s selfish. And he’s so fucking scared.

And even then, he could never regret you. Never.

This is why, as he sits in the bedroom of his second apartment, staring directly at the perfume bottle that fell out of your purse and onto his floor as you ran away, he made a decision.

One that he wasn't happy with.

He's a coward. He feels as if he can't leave his wife. There are so many reasons as to why, but the main one is that he's in so deep with her. Has a whole life with her. She's part of him. So he can't leave her. He wants her to leave him. And he secretly hopes that one day, she will. It’s selfish, wrong, but that’s how he feels.

However, he can't let you leave without making sure you know how much he loves you.

It's fucked up. He knows it is. He knows that when you love someone, you'll do anything to be with them. But he's a coward.

He still loves you, though. Loves you more than he even understands. Right person, wrong time. And it’s so fucking painful.

So he gets his shit together. He takes a shower, shaves, makes himself look less of a mess, and starts making his way to your apartment without announcing himself.

He knows if he tells you, you'll refuse to let him in. He knows you're trying to move on. And he wants to help. But he can't let you go until you understand the extent of his feelings.

And maybe, just maybe, has one last taste.

This is something you don't expect him to do at all. He's never pushed himself on you. He's never been the type to show up without an invite, or at least a little heads up first.

Which is why when you hear a knock on the door, you don't think anything of it. You ordered pizza. The best heartbreak food. So you grab your wallet and pull out a some cash, swiftly opening the door and saying with a pout and sniffle,

"Keep the chan-"

That's not the pizza guy. Nope.

That's him. And fuck, you feel yourself melting. Your heart turns to molten hot lava and burns you from the inside out.

He smiles sheepishly, and he holds out a single flower. He didn't buy it. It's a tiny little purple wildflower that looks a bit wilted, much like yourself. Pitiful. And clearly, he picked it on the side of the road on his way here.

This is the kind of shit that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, the guilt is worth it.

"Please don't slam the door in my face. Please just let me talk to you for a bit, I promise I'll behave."

"Leave."

You swiftly say as you begin to do exactly what he asked you not to. You honestly weren't going to do it; you were already thinking that if he asked you to stay, you would. But then he said that, and it brought you back to reality.

But he doesn't let you.

His arm darts out, holding the door from shutting entirely. He pushes it open, steps in quickly, closes it behind him, and looks at you with an intense desperation you've never seen before. Looks like a lost fucking puppy, or maybe a puppy who’s been put outside by their owner.

A lost puppy for you… a stray dog for his wife.

And then he gets on his fucking knees and begs.

Looking up at you, with the tiny purple wildflower, still in his hand, it drops down to his side in defeat. He's gripping it so tightly that it's losing its life quickly. The same exact way he’s clinging to the connection you share as if he’ll die without it. But much like the little wildflower, he’s sucking the life out of you.

His other hand grabs yours and squeezes. He says with a weak voice,

"Please. Let me do this. We need closure, and the last time we saw each other was not it. I'm fucking begging you to let me in just for tonight. And then I'll let you go."

As he holds your hand, you can't look at him. Instead, you look at the tiny flower, the one that he's crushing in his palm. He's holding onto it for dear life without even knowing. Similar to you, once again. You're that flower.

You're wilted, bruised, bent, crushed. All because he's clinging onto you, sucking the life out of you, and you've let him. And if he asks, you're going to continue to let him.

But then the flower falls out of his hand. He lets it go.

Oh, what a fucked up way for god to tell you that he isn't going to stay. He isn't going to ask you to stay; he's really going to let you go tonight.

So, as you stare at the flower, which is now on the floor, you murmur, "Alright."

You don't want to. But you're giving him the chance to let you go. Even though you wished he wouldn't.

He stays on his knees, as if he isn’t sure what to do now. As if he wasn’t sure he’d get this far… and honestly, that’s exactly it. He thought for sure you would kick him out and curse him for trying.

Or maybe, he thought you’d fight, too. And the fact that you aren’t fighting… it shouldn’t hurt him as much as it does. He’s the one who has put you in a position of constant guilt. But oh, how nice it would be if you fought for him.

“Jungkook, Jesus, get off of your damn knees. You look ridiculous.”

He blinks slowly. Yeah, ok, fair. His big ass on his knees begging like that. But god, he’d do it over and over again just for a little more time with you.

He’d let you spit on him and call him degrading names if it meant more time with you. And he’d even smile about it.

You both end up laughing at his dramatics a moment later, and it’s music to his ears… knowing that he can still make you smile even though he’s the reason you’re dying inside right now.

Closure. It’s what you both need. Just one more night to get everything unsaid out into the open… then you’ll both move on.

… right?

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

[privitivium]

i need some angst. what would motherly yan do if reader broke up w him

so real for this. been thinking about lovey dovey affectionate mother,,, this is actually peak prompt. gave me inspo i cant not qrite this immediately... not as disturbing as it came out in my mind i might rework this shhh

amab motherly yan x amab m reader

cw;; disturbing content?!, manipulation/gaslighting - pretty sure it counts, toxic mother in general

ㅡ"why? don't i make you happy? i give you everything and more, yet you want to leave me? hm... and you are the one not letting me get an answer in..." he'd treat you as though you were stupid. and it hasn't registered in ur mind that ur actually held captiveㅡthat's how lenient he is with youㅡmanaging to change the topic swiftly anytime you want to be the one to grocery shop or something other that requires going out in public, so no, It does not Reigster that you are held Captive. "you want to leave me...? because i'm a loving affectionate partner? fine. see where that gets you. go on.." he's just so... lackadaisical almost. just. uncaring? so.. infuriatingly nonchalant about you trying to break it off with him..

i'm thinking it all starts with mother being a little too overbearing and not letting you get an ounce of privacy to urself... so you get upset, planning out the right time to bring it up and break it off. coming off a little too upset...;;

finally managing to get with him to address the topic, slowly ranting to him about why you want to break it off before it delves into yelling... "you're fucking suffocating. don't you understand??! you're suffocating me and i need air!!" gosh you told yourself you weren't going to yell.. you can't bear to look at him, to see him cry - you glance over, mother as stoic as ever.. your heart clenches, didn't he understand? this was you wanting a break. maybe even more! why isnt he giving you any reaction -?? isnt he heartbroken?!! taking his silence, you continue.. a little unsure now... telling him how he was too... clingy. its a bit annoying, but its almost endearing. you just... need a break, is all.

"w-well hold on now.." you choke out, squinting in confusion, "you want me to? do ... you want me gone??" you lean in, instinctively to get closer to him as he steps awayㅡ

"no, of course not. but what can you do? there's not much i can do if you want to leave me for being such a caring and attentive lover... so, start packing..." he murmurs, trailing into the kitchen - disappearing from view. grunting softly as you stumble after him, "packing? i ah..." it seems you havent clearly thought this out, he grinned, haughtily as he busies himself with random pots and pans, putting them away... "i.. wait.." you reach out, as if to touch him - before catching yourself and pulling away, looking embarrassed with yourself.

ㅡ"ah, don't dawdle. i'll help you after i finish up here..."

"n-no, wait. you.. you're right... ahem, sorry, i ah.. don't know what came over me." mumbling, almost disappointed in yourself. you have it so good, and you want to throw it all away? "i'm really, really sorry, um.." o-of course not... so... you think its you, coming up with this yourself. he's the one planting it in your mind and you have no idea! of course you want to stay with him, there's no other place like with mother, right? you depend on him, through and through... and theres no where you can possibly go anyway. family forgotten, no friends to go to. you're cornered, silly!

"i'm glad, sweetheart." a hand placed upon your cheek, mother smiling brightly you had to close your eyes - leaning into his touch.

[happy74827]

I came to make present you a proposition: Gideon and Reader but they’re enemies to lovers, you know sexual tension, can’t be away from each other but are always butting heads, ironic but maybe not that ironic flirting completely over the top but neither want to swallow their pride and admit they wanna fuck

Yeah I think that’d be neat

Burning Rage

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You swear you hate each other, but you can't help but find yourselves drawn to one another, despite all the arguing.

WC: 2701

Category: Enemies/Lovers, First Kiss

I'm so sorry this took so long. Life has been HECTIC, but I'm finally getting these fics done. Anyways, you’re absolutely right. This is neat and hopefully you like what I wrote (despite the fact that I am not proofreading it cuz I’m lazy 😁)

『••✎••』

You and Gideon… well, let’s just say your first meeting isn't a pleasant one.

He was a pretentious, egotistical prick with the personality of a bag of wet shit, and you absolutely despised him.

Not only was he an asshole, but he was an asshole who had the most infuriating ability to get under your skin and push all your buttons, no matter what you did to prevent it.

The man was like a disease; you tried to keep away from him as much as possible, but if you weren’t careful, you ended up coming into contact with him, and no matter how much you washed, you couldn’t quite seem to get him off your skin.

The worst thing about it all was that everyone was in love with him. He could do no wrong, and no matter what he said or did, the people around him hung off his every word and were practically tripping over themselves to do what he said.

He was so smug about it, too, the absolute bastard. He knew he had everyone in his clutches, and he reveled in it, basking in the attention and praise he got.

The man thought he was god's gift to humanity, and he made sure everyone else knew it.

It was sickening.

You were the only person he couldn’t quite break down and mold into his perfect little doll. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said, you never gave him the satisfaction of seeing your cave, even just a little.

No, you were stubborn and headstrong, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his claws into you.

He'd be lying if he said that didn’t intrigue him.

You were the first person who had ever given him the cold shoulder, and it was frustrating him beyond belief. He'd always been able to make people bend to his will, whether it was through his natural charisma or by using the information he'd gathered on them to make their lives miserable if they didn't.

But you... You were a challenge, and he hated and loved it all at once.

It was so different. He had no control over what happened between the two of you, and while the concept was strange and unknown, he found himself becoming obsessed with trying to break you down and get a reaction out of you.

And so, it began.

The flirting started out as a joke. He didn’t mean anything by it at first. He just wanted to get a reaction out of you, see those pretty cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and hear you stutter and struggle to come up with a retort.

You were good, though; you always had a quick-witted reply ready to fire back at him, and he had to admit, it was fun.

It was a nice little game for the both of you, even if it was just to let out your frustrations with each other and try and gain some sort of upper hand over the other.

But then... The lines became blurred, and things got messy.

When you were alone, your words held more weight. Your insults weren't so lighthearted, and the way you said his name had his heart racing. He wondered if you realized how your voice dropped and sounded more breathless when you addressed him.

It was like you were whispering a dirty secret to him, and something about that excited him in ways that made him feel guilty and ashamed.

Your fights turned from petty squabbles to something that was almost... sensual in nature.

The way you stood so close, faces inches apart, the tension between the two of you almost palpable, and the way you looked at him... You were looking at him like you wanted to devour him, and that alone was enough to make him weak in the knees.

Your conversations were filled with hidden meanings and implications, and there was so much sexual tension he could have cut through it with a knife.

He was addicted, and he was certain that you felt the same way, from the way your eyes roamed his body, lingering on his lips, and the way your hands would ghost over his arms and chest whenever he was close.

He wanted you, and he was pretty sure you wanted him, too.

The only problem was neither of you was willing to admit it or give in, and so, the dance continued.

“I swear to god, Graves, if you don't quit following me around like a lost puppy, I'll break your fucking legs," You growled, glaring at the man trailing behind you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Why, darling, you know you don't mean that. After all, I'm sure you'd miss my presence and my company, wouldn't you?" He hummed, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes and scream at him.

"I think I'd be able to find a way to survive without your charming presence," You snarked, turning on your heel and facing him, "Now, go and bother someone else because I have places to be."

You brushed past him, not sparing him another glance, and he chuckled before reaching out and grabbing your arm.

"Don't be like that. I just want to talk. Is that so wrong?" He murmured, his tone low and his gaze dark.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Let go of me, or I'll rip your fucking hand off," You tugged on your arm, trying to pull yourself free from his grasp, but his grip was tight and unyielding.

"You know I'm stronger than you, sweetheart.” He whispered gently, “Don't waste your energy.”

“You—” A sharp yank cut you off, and before you knew what was happening, Gideon was dragging you away from the busy street and into a dark alley.

He didn’t let go of you, not until the two of you were out of sight and away from prying eyes.

He stood with his back to the street, keeping his eyes trained on you, and you mirrored his actions, glaring daggers at him.

There was an uneasy silence, and neither of you dared to speak, too afraid that the wrong words would be the trigger to set the other off.

Finally, Gideon sighed and broke the silence, his tone tired and exasperated, "You never make things easy, do you? Why can't you just let things be easy?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings, Sweetheart?" You sneered, and he shook his head, "Maybe if you weren't such an arrogant, narcissistic bastard, I wouldn't have a problem with you."

"Maybe if you'd just let me talk to you without throwing a hissy fit, I wouldn't have to resort to drastic measures," He shot back, and you glared at him.

"Why should I? Everything out of your mouth is utter bullshit." You stepped towards him, and the two of you were chest to chest, his head tilted down, and your eyes locked on his.

"You're so annoying," He grumbled, and you grinned, "Why can't you be like the rest of the women around here? They’re the ones with some common sense."

"Common sense? If they were smart, they'd stay the hell away from you."

"I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment," He mused. He had a smug look on his face, and you were overcome with the urge to punch him.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear another word from you."

"That's a lie. You love hearing my voice; it's like a beautiful melody. It's what keeps you going, day after day," He drawled, and you could feel his warm breath tickling your face and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “A soft lullaby, a beautiful serenade, that has the power to captivate any audience. I bet my voice plays in your dreams every night, keeping you awake and leaving you wanting more."

"Shut. Up." You repeated, but this time, your words were much less convincing, and he chuckled, his eyes lighting up.

"You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. I could tell you what I know about you and what goes on inside that pretty little head of yours, but that would spoil the surprise and ruin the mystery," He leaned closer, his lips hovering above your ear, "And we can't have that, can we?"

"You're delusional, just like the idea that G-Man Media is the best there is. You're the one who has the delusion and fantasy of thinking the world succumbs to you. You are nothing, Graves; you are a pathetic, spineless, weak-minded man-child who can't even face reality.”

“Listen here, Buddy—”

“Oh, struck a nerve, did I? Do I need to remind you that no one, and I mean no one, wants to work with you? They do it because you have money, and if they want their business to succeed, they have to kiss your ass. But once that money runs out, and it will, you will be a nobody again, just like you were when you were a sad, lonely little boy, sitting in your room, crying and whining, and wondering why no one would play with you."

Gideon’s smooth expression fell, and for a moment, he was stunned into silence, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"How... How dare you!" He snarled, his voice rising.

"How dare I? You're the one who dragged me down here and forced me to talk to you when I told you multiple times I didn't want to. If you didn’t want the truth, then you should have stayed away." You spat, and he scowled, his face twisted with rage.

"You—"

"I know. I'm an awful, terrible person, but at least I can admit it. Can you?"

He froze, his mouth open, but the words stuck in his throat, and he looked away, avoiding your gaze.

"That's what I thought," You smirked, "Don't worry, Graves, I won't hold it against you.”

You took this as your time to leave. He didn’t have a comeback, and he didn't seem interested in talking anymore. So, with his head turned away and his back to you, you started to walk away.

You were barely five steps away when you felt a hand on your wrist, and your heart jumped into your throat, your fight or flight instinct kicking in.

In one fluid motion, you swung your arm around to strike him, but he caught it with ease and grabbed the other one, his grip on your wrists strong and unyielding, no matter how hard you struggled.

No words were spoken, just a few pained grunts and strained gasps and the sound of shuffling and scuffing feet as you tried to pull away and escape his hold.

But you failed and gave up when you noticed that he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Instead, he looked conflicted and lost, his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions and a troubled frown on his lips.

The two of you remained in that position, standing mere inches apart; the only sound filling the air was the sound of your heavy breathing and the occasional whimper or grunt that escaped one of you.

"Let me go, Graves." You whispered, and his grip tightened on your wrists, and his eyes met yours again, the look in them almost pleading.

"Let me go," You repeated, but your words were softer this time, and your tone was less forceful and more imploring.

He didn’t speak or make a sound, but his grip loosened. If you tugged just a little, you would be able to slip free. He would let you leave.

And yet, you didn’t.

Your body was telling you to leave, to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but your mind and your heart were saying something else entirely.

His touch burned your skin, and it left a pleasant, tingling feeling wherever he touched.

You felt his breath on your face, and it made you shiver and your stomach churn as your brain tried to decipher what was happening and what it meant.

“Gideon…” You mumbled, and his eyes widened a tad, but he still didn’t say anything.

It was the first time you’d called him by his first name, and you didn't know why, but the atmosphere had changed. It was less hostile and more intimate, in a way.

"You're so infuriating," You whispered, "You're a smug, arrogant, conceited asshole, and I can't stand being around you."

"You're not exactly a joy to be around, either." He said, his tone lacking the usual venom and arrogance. His voice was soft, like that lullaby he'd mentioned earlier.

"But you're so..." You trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"I'm so what?" He prompted, but his question was more like a plea, and his eyes were hopeful and shining, a hint of something you couldn't quite identify hidden within their depths.

"You're just... So..." You bit your lip and looked away, unable to meet his intense, piercing gaze, "You're so..."

"So...?" He pressed, leaning in closer.

He was close, so close, the tips of your noses were almost touching, and the distance between your bodies was nearly non-existent.

He was waiting for your answer, his eyes searching yours, and his body frozen in place. He wasn't moving, not an inch, and neither were you.

You were at a crossroads, and no matter which direction you went in, there was a chance it would come back to bite you in the ass later on.

So, you made a decision.

You surged forward and crashed your lips against his, kissing him hard.

He was stunned for a moment, his hands releasing your wrists and his eyes wide, but after a moment, he seemed to relax and kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

It was rough and messy, teeth and tongues clashing together, and lips and cheeks being bruised and bitten, as the two of you finally let loose and indulged in each other.

You didn't think and didn't stop to consider the implications of what was happening or how things would change afterward.

The only thing on your mind was Gideon, and the way his hands were roaming your body, and the way he tasted, and the way he made your skin tingle and your insides burn with desire.

You could only focus on the present and what was happening between the two of you as his tongue danced with yours and his teeth nibbled on your lower lip, sending a pleasant shudder through your body.

He broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, and his hot breath against your skin was making you dizzy and lightheaded.

"Gideon," You whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently, on the dark locks as his lips sucked and nipped at your skin, and left a trail of dark red marks in their wake.

His glasses were pressing into your cheek, and he pulled away, his breath heavy and his hair a mess.

"Hold still," He said, and before you could respond, he reached up and pulled the offending articles off his face.

His eyes were a stunning shade of hazel, and they were filled with lust and desire, his pupils blown wide and a deep, dark look in them.

You were mesmerized, and he smiled softly as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

"What did I say? I knew my voice would play a part in your dreams, one way or another," He hummed, a smug look on his face.

"I will break your nose and put you on your knees.” You spoke with your usual amount of venom.

To most, it would sound like a threat, but Gideon was able to read between the lines, and with that familiar smirk on his lips, he pulled you closer, his hands cupping your cheeks and his face inches from yours.

"Is that a promise?"

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Part 4

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

Summary: You struggle to recall your favorite songs. Daryl pushes you away.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, descriptions of child loss / child walker (zombie)

        Nothing had changed since the CDC. Well, except for your perception of life and how fragile it is. Being there, thirty seconds from evaporating, it was an eye opener to say the least. Then you were on the road again. 

        Shane's transgression was never addressed, at least not openly. He did, however, stay far away from you and Rick had barely spoken to him, so you guessed something happened there. By the time you all ended up on the Greene farm, Daryl had let up on you too, not worrying so much about you with Sophia's search on his hands. 

        You tried to help as much as you could, but the other women needed help around the camp too, so most days you were asked to stay behind. 

        Daryl and Rick seemed to be working well  together. Overall things were okay. You slept in the RV where Amy used to sleep, since you no longer had a tent. Plus, Shane couldn't get in there without someone noticing, so it was a win for you despite the guilt you felt taking Amy's place.

        Then came the day Shane lost his cool and opened up a barn full of walkers. You guys had no trouble taking them out, at least not until Sophia came stumbling out of the dark, snapping her jaw and growling. Her thin little frame contorting in the sunlight just shattered your heart.

        Of course Shane couldn't put her down. Rick had to be the one to step up and do the hard part. Shane was always claiming to be the one that could make the hard decisions, but in the end, when the task was actually hard to take on, it always had to be Rick. 

        Carol was a mess at first, but there was a calmness about her. She held her head high and kept her shit together, something you weren't sure you could have done yourself. You had lost a baby, years ago, but you had never met that baby. You never had the chance to hold that baby and shower it with love, to shape it and mold it into a person. Carol did, and she suffered such a loss yet she still remained soft and kind, something you envied.

        Just with the drama your life had become since the outbreak, you could feel yourself closing up, becoming harder, meaner, rougher. When your chores were finished you'd always disappear into the tree line, not far enough that you couldn't see the farm, but far enough that nobody could see you. It was peaceful there, and nobody tried to talk to you, which was exactly what you needed.

        Daryl and you had barely spoken, especially since Sophia. You tried to talk to him once but he just blew you off, telling you he didn't have time for whatever drama you had for him. You didn't have any drama, you just wanted to check on him, but you understood. He had gone out of his way for you so much and he owed you nothing, not even kindness.

        "What the hell are you doin' out here?" Lori shocked you as she approached you from behind. You were in the woods again, just sitting against a tree.

        "Sitting against a tree." You deadpanned. 

        "I can see that. We've been lookin' for you."

        You raised an eyebrow and looked up at her.

        "Look, I know you hate me. I get it. But things are hard right now and we can't afford more to worry about. So, please, just stop whatever this is." She begged.

        "I don't hate you." You sighed. "I hate Shane, and I hate that either of you were capable of hurting me that way."

        Her mouth opened and closed a few times, words dangling on a string, just out of her reach. 

        "I get it, you know? It sucks being alone out here." You nodded. What a funny little joke, now you were the one who was alone.

        "You're not alone. And I'm sorry about what I did but--"

        "I'll be back in a little while." You cut her off.

        "You need to come back now. Before Rick or Shane comes lookin' for you."

        "Why would either of them waste their time doing that? I'm fine, I'm safe, and I'm not far. Just tell them that." 

        "I'm not gonna tell 'em that. You are, right now, because we're goin' back."

        "Do you like music, Lori?" You asked suddenly, completely disregarding her.

        "What?" She shook her head.

        "I do. I love music. It was the only thing that soothed my soul, you know? I couldn't even tell you if I had a favorite song or musician because I loved so many songs from so many genres. Nothing amazed me more than the ability of a sing to make you feel understood. I can't listen to music, though, not anymore. So every day, I come out here, and I try to remember the words to at least five songs I used to listen to. You interrupted me on song number three."

        She just stood there, arms crossed. She shifted her weight impatiently before she sighed. "What song?"

        "I can't remember the name of it." You admitted. "Or all the words. Been racking my brain for like twenty minutes now."

        "What can you remember? Maybe I can help." She offered, sitting against the opposite side of the tree.

        "It was something like uh... My tea's gone cold, I'm wonderin' why I got out of bed at all. The mornin' rain clouds up my window.."

        "And I can't see at all." She began to sing with you, so you both continued in unison.

        "And even if I could it'd all be gray, but your picture on my wall. It reminds me that it's not so bad, not so bad."

        "So you know it? What was the name?" You asked her.

        "Thank You. Her name is Dido." She smiled, rubbing her hands together. "My friend used to play it on repeat."

        "Oh." You nodded. "You know, I'd kill to find a damn iPod or something."

        "Me too." She chuckled. "It would be nice to just tune everything out now and then. You know, Hershel's girl, Beth, she likes to sing."

        "Oh yeah?" You nodded. "Like church songs or something?"

        "Sometimes. She liked those songs that are sad but happy. You know?"

        "Yeah." You nodded. "Me too."

----

        You sat next to Carl that night by the fire, eating the concoction of boiled meat and vegetables. Carl had been telling you about a show he used to watch called Ben 10. You were giving halfhearted responses like "Oh yeah?... A watch could  do all that?.. Wow, dude... No, I would have never expected that.."

        Lori eventually  pulled him away to get ready for bed. Daryl finished his food before anyone else as per usual, and when you finished you decided to track him down. You decided he'd avoided you for long enough, and whether he liked it or not, he was your friend.

        "Thought I'd find you here." You said, squatting down in front of his opened tent.

        "Didn't take  much to figure that out." He said, laying on his back. He was still bandaged up from his fall in the ravine and Andrea's missed shot, but he was fine mostly. Hershel just insisted he kept it bandaged until it healed to prevent infection since he used the last of the antibiotics.

        "Funny." You rolled your eyes. "You gonna ignore me forever?"

        "Ain't ignorin' ya."

        "Kinda seems like it."

        "Why, cause I ain't watchin' over ya like a damn bodyguard?" He sat up now. "I ain't your fuckin' boyfriend."

        "Never said you were."

        "Well then quit actin' like it."

        "I know this is probably foreign territory for you, but I'm not acting like anything. I'm treating you like a friend. Clearly I misread the situation." You glared, standing up to your feet, but before you walked away; "Oh, and next time I'm in trouble, don't bother. I'll figure it out on your own. I don't need a bodyguard. I only needed a friend."

        As you walked away he threw himself back on his pillow, letting out a frustrated sigh. Why did he always do that? Lash out at people who were trying to be kind? He knew why, it was because he didn't need their pity. He tried to find Sophia and failed. He failed Carol, but he hadn't failed you, so he didn't owe you shit. 

        You shook with anger as you stormed off into the dark, across the open field and into the trees. On a normal day you'd pop your earbuds in and blast whatever song fit the mood as you strolled around the neighborhood, but you'd have to settle for the sound of your own voice in the dark this time.

        When you found a suitable tree to rest on, you sat against it, leaning your head back on the trunk and closing your eyes. 

        "Pardon me while I burst into flames         I've had enough of the world and its people's mindless games         So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame         Pardon me, pardon me, I'll never be the same"

        "Shouldn't be out here singin' in the dark." Daryl spoke up. You jumped and looked up at him, rolling your eyes.

        "Jesus, can I never have a moment of peace?"

        "Could say the same for you. I was gettin' ready to go to sleep when you interrupted me in my own damn tent."

        "The difference is, I came to you as a friend, and you're here to give me some stupid lecture about not getting hurt." You shot back.

        "Is that why I'm here?" 

        "Yes, and you can save it for someone who needs it. I don't need a bodyguard, remember?"

        "Ain't here for that."

        "Then what?"

        "Just.. To uh, ya know. 'M sorry 'bout that back there."

        "Sorry? For what? You made yourself clear. It's cool. I get it." You looked back away from him, fixating on a tree.

        "I was just mad, ya know. All that time, still lookin' for her, thinkin' she was alive and I'd get her back to her momma. She was in that barn the whole time." He admitted. You sighed.

        "Yeah." You whispered. "She didn't deserve that."

        "Nah." He shook his head. "Just hate lettin' her momma down. Followin' all tem leads, gettin' her hopes up she was still out there..."

        "It was better than telling her she was dead and trying to get everyone to forget about it."

        "Was it though? I mean, what's worse?"

        "What's worse is feeling hopeless no matter what. At least you gave her some hope. It was more than anyone else could give." You told him. He fell silent, but you could hear him sit against the tree beside you, though you didn't spare him a glance.

        "This where you're always disappearin' to?" He wondered.

        "Uh-huh."

        "To sing?"

        "Trying to remember all the songs I used to like." You admitted.

        "Mm." He nodded. "Can't do that in your tent?"

        "No." You shrugged. "I prefer to be alone when I sing."

        "You and that farm girl would get along."

        "Now you sound like Lori." You rolled your eyes.

        "She talked to ya?"

        "Yeah. Helped me figure out one of the songs, too."

        "Mm. Y'all friends now or somethin'?"

        "Wouldn't say that. Guess you could say we're both victims of the same man."

        "Didn't seem like much of a victim to me." He scoffed.

        "He told her that her husband died and took advantage of her in her fear and grief. Think that's pretty twisted." Youo said.

        "Guess I didn't think 'bout it that way."

        "Why'd you come after me?" You asked, skipping over the small talk.

        "Didn't want ya out here alone. And I kinda wondered what the hell you were doin' in the first place."

        "Did you find your answer?" 

        "Guess so."

        "Well then why are you still here?" 

        "'Cause." He shrugged. 

        "You don't have to watch over me. I can take care of my own shit." You assured him.

        "I know." He said. You felt something warm wrap around your hand. You looked down and it was his own hand, laid over yours, fingers cupping under your palm lazily. 

        "What are you doing?" You asked, looking over your shoulder to him.

        "Dunno. Keep singin'." 

        "Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, you don't know how lovely you are         I had to find you, tell you I need you, and tell you I set you apart         Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions, no, let's go back to the start         Runnin' in circles, comin' up tails, heads on a science apart"

Masterlist || Taglist

[eitaababe]

SOMEBODY ELSE !

— chapter 11. deja vu.

a/n — sorry neteyam girlies (im not)

series masterlist. | previous / next

written portion below. —

You walked out of the building, finally wearing an outfit appropriate for the weather. You pulled the hood of your jacket up, shielding your face from the wind when you noticed Ao'nung's car pull up.

The window in front of you rolled down, revealing the grinning boy. "Get in the car loser, we're going shopping."

"Since when did you know mean girls?"

"Since Tsireya was my sister," he snorted, parking the car in an empty space. "So, I figure we should probably talk about what you wanted right now?"

"Oh yeah," you cleared your throat, the joking atmosphere quickly dissipating. "It's just— me and Neteyam got into an argument yesterday? Violet told him some dumb shit, like you were using me or it was all just a bet you were going for— and I defended you and that's why me and him fought— but now I can't stop thinking about it and I feel horrible for even thinking that about you."

Ao'nung listened carefully, not once interrupting in your rambling. "Fucking hell," he mumbled, running a hand over his face. "Me and Violet dated for like— a month at best? And we weren't all that serious, okay? We were friends with benefits and she wanted more one day and I just thought, why not, you know? It's fucked up but I didn't like her all that much— and when I finally told her and broke it off she felt used and went off telling all the other girls I went for that I was doing the same exact thing to them that I did to her."

Your eyes widened at the revelation, chewing on your cheek nervously. He hadn't directly addressed your worrying, which only made you feel worse, but nevertheless you stayed silent, letting him continue.

"But I swear on my life, y/n, I'm not using you. I never was. If I'm serious about anything, it's you. I liked you from the start, and I never would've started anything if I felt anything less."

You released a breath you weren't even aware you were holding, and nodded happily. "That's uh— good to know." You grinned, trying to hide the blush painting your cheeks when you met his smug eyes.

Yet the more you thought about it, the more the guilt weighed you down. Ao'nung was so patient, so understanding, how were you not ready? You still somehow had feelings for a man who hurt you over and over again (granted unknowingly) and you still couldn't move on?

Noticing your silence, Ao'nung placed a hand over yours. "Everything ok?"

Sighing, you softly intertwined your fingers together with his. "I feel horrible," you mumbled quietly, causing him to dip his head closer to your face. "I mean, you're just so- so understanding? You're so patient, you stick around when I tell you I'm not ready, and you don't get mad when I accuse you of really stupid things, and I just get why you're waiting on me when you could be with another girl who's ready now."

"Y/n," he cooed, his hand gently grabbing you by your chin to look up at him. "I wait for you because I want to. You're not horrible to me, I love your company, and you're still getting over a breakup. Knowing you like me back is enough for me."

His words of reassurance did little to ease your guilt, but you nodded anyways. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he smiled, pressing a loving kiss to your knuckles. "Now let's go get some coffee, mkay? There's no way you had time to get it before I picked you up, you're in a fight with your coffee supplier."

"Ugh, don't remind me." You groaned, bringing your legs close to your chest, almost resembling a ball and resting your head on Ao'nungs arm as he pulled out from the parking lot, going to the cafe.

As you guys walked into the cafe, you'd finally given yourself a break, trying to forget about your worries and the fight from yesterday.

All of that went out the window when you saw Neteyam animatedly talking to Violet inside.

And it reminded you of a time you knew all too well.

FUN FACTS !

— neteyam and y/n would sit at the same booth everytime they went to the cafe and neteyam's been sitting with violet there the past couple times

— ao'nung convinced y/n to get his drink order this time and she hated it

— violet saw y/n and ao'nung but neteyam didn't

—

a/n — lowk end is cringe bUT CLIFFHANGER MWUAHAHA

taglist #1 / closed ! @n7ytiri @ilovejakesullysdick @possysblog @love-chx @stars4deku @evphology @afro-hispwriter @ydsm-29 @tsireyasgf @goldeneywa @doulcha @krazy-kattzz @fucksnow @squid4 @blairrrrrr @neteyamforlife @dreamtogether2000 @444lyra @ambria @cawi00 @calums-betch @powowowy @fadingpalacebonkpsychic @elegantkidfansoul @kolsmikaelson @mirikusashes @yukichan67 @goodiesinthecloset21 @netemoon @littlethingsinlife @coconut-dreamz @anm3mi @jjkclub @il0veheartz @liyahsocorro @nao-cchi @drugs-for-memes @zendayaswrld101 @grierpilots @misscaller06 @lightskinloak @mommyneytiri @inluvwithneteyam @halibanana @iheartamajiki @ipoopedmypants47 @neigesprincess @lookiiheh @ghostjoohoney

[howdoesagrapewrites]

You should do one where reader just wants to spend time alone by themselves(whether it be the afternoon or morning) but hobie and pavitr won’t let them

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙨

Cw: reader x lovesick!Hobie Brown x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar, overlooking toxic behavior, touching with dubious consent, oblivious reader, anxious attachment (Pavitr), suggestive, aged-up characters, reader's gender neutral but it is kinda fem aligned, reader knows about the multiverse but it's not clarified if they're a spider person, I already warned this but just want to say that just because the toxic behavior here isn't portrayed as negatively as my others fics doesn't mean I condone it.

Notes: while I was writing the first paragraph I was like "damn I should do this too" and started deep cleaning around my house. This triggered an episode and that's the reason I haven't been posting as much, I was cleaning. I'm actually on a break from cleaning /srs

You prepared everything to have some alone time this afternoon, you cooked your favorite meal, did an everything shower with your favorite products, you cleaned up everything yesterday so you didn't have to do anything today, and after putting on comfy pajamas, you sat on the couch with snacks and a face mask to watch a comfort show.

It was halfway through the fourth episode when you heard noise coming from your room, and see your boyfriends appearing into your living room, even though you told them you wanted to be alone today. You try and give them the benefit of the doubt, and imagine maybe the mission today was extra rough and they needed comfort, or they forgot about your petition, Pavitr had university, being spiderman, reporting to the spider society, Hobie was, well, trying to bash the president's head with a guitar plus the spider society stuff, so yeah, they had busy lives.

"Hello there, looking lovely" Hobie chuckled with his hands on his pockets, probably laughing at your face mask, Pavitr came in for a hug, you accepted, "ohh, self care day? Do you have any extra masks, I can buy us snacks? Wait- mumbattan currency doesn't work here, I forgot, anyways, is there any room left for us?" You moved quietly and smiled to let your boyfriends sit beside you.

It's not like you want them to go, but they do take too much space. Talking about the couch, of course... And maybe about your life a little bit, you loved them, but when you started your long distance relationship (between universes) you thought you'd have just a tad more time to yourself.

You can't concentrate in the show quite as well, thinking about what could make them forget about your you-day and still want to come, why did they always forget? They both seem to have pretty good memory, the zone off for a minutes, fortunately for you, it's the fifth time you watch this episode. Your phone rings and before you can grab it, Hobie picks it up, notices is not a call and hands it to you, it's the timer for your face mask, how kind of him to even set off the alarm to you since it's your day off.

You take the sticky sheet off your face and massage the serum into your skin as you start to walk to the living room, wanting to scratch the itch and address the subject you've had in your mind, you decide to soft launch it.

"Did any of you, read the chat yesterday?"

"Yes, I always do, Hobie does too, why?" Pavitr lies on Hobie's chest and mindlessly scroll through his phone while he answers you

"Then maybe you forgot that today I kinda wanted to be alone, you know, me-time? You also forgot last week, and the week before that..."

Hobie spoke "Sorry 'bout that, 'have bad memory, a flaw of mine, we can leave if we're a bother" it saddened you he saw himself as a bother, he just forgot, we all make mistakes

"Oh, I didn't forget, I just don't want to leave you alone" Pavitr responded with normality, he didn't like having Hobie speak for him, he regularly contradicted him in stuff like this. Hobie laughs and pata his shoulder, he laughed like a joke, so then it was probably a joke, even though you three were dating, they had their own things, so this must be one of them.

You sat down, you were on the right arm of the couch, and Hobie was in the left one, Pavitr was between you both, he didn't seem at all displeased.

You laughed at the show a few times, and a couple minutes in, you feel Pav's hair ticking you, he's sniffing around your neck.

"You smell good, like your regular scent but better, did you tried the body wash I gave you?" You nod and smile at his sweet antics "And your skin, you look radiant, jaanu" he kisses you cheek, then makes a face, scrunching up his nose at the taste, you giggle. "It's supposed to be good for my skin, not be tasty" you say in airy laugh, he pouts, "But I wanted to kiss you", "my lips have no serum" he looks like a kid on Christmas morning and puts dives right into your lips, you expect a quick kiss before going back to your binge-watching (that you'd been looking forward to all week) but he crashes his lips into yours with need, you try to pull away two times before patting his shoulder, Hobie sees this, and now manspreading on the coffee table instead of the couch, he grabs Pavitr's hair and lightly pulls, "give 'em a break, sweetheart" he obediently looks at him, dilated pupils and breath hitched, Hobie's hands traveled to Pavitr's cheek and he nuzzled on it like a cat, "We don't want them to pass out, now, do we?" Hobie's tone is firm, but still has that certain rogueness he always speaks with. Even though Pavitr's mouth isn't on you, he's still mostly on top of you, and his hands don't stop wandering in your sides, pinching playfully at the fat, kneading on your waist, you really wishes you could keep watching your show and then read the book you always say you should read, or organize that messy shelf that keeps stressing you out, but hey, is not like you dislike this, right? "You won't-?" Pavitr asks in a whisper, when Hobie takes his fingers off his mouth "I'll watch for now" his smile makes you bite your lip in excitement, it seems to have a similar effect on Pavitr, who grips your waist harder, and slowly goes to grab your hips, "Keep going?" Hobie asks, deep black eyes set on yours, it makes you flustered. He's asking for consent, he's very nice, and Pavitr did have your consent earlier, it's just he was a little... Excited, it's okay, because he's nice.

You have two very nice boyfriends, even though they're forgetful.

[helplesslyblue77]

You Can't Deny(That Beast Inside)

Genre: Smut, minors dni

Pairing: Hybrid!Felix x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Hybrid!Felix is a golden retriever, Friends to Lovers, heat - Freeform, Breeding Kink, Mentions of pups and all the usual stuff that comes(haha get it lol) with a hybrid au, Dirty Talk, hints of Sub!Felix but its mostly Dom!Felix. He gets a little posessive and crazy but we love it

Notes:

bro i love hybrid au's. they weren't something id ever seen out of the kpop fandom, and ive been in a LOT of fandoms. i wonder why thier so specific to kpop

Felix, your best friend of ten years, your lovable Golden Retriever Hybrid who always smiles and makes time for you no matter what, your crush of so many years is avoiding you. It hurts your heart to admit it but it has to be true.

It started three days ago, when you texted him, asking him to come over for your weekly movie night. You received this in response:

“I'm sorry, I can't make it this week.”

He had never, ever skipped out on your weekly movie night.

You had asked if he was ok, and he had told you he was fine, just a little sick. 

“Can I come over to help?”

You'd texted and promptly been shut down, rather harshly in your opinion. Fine, whatever. 

Ok, so maybe Felix was sick and just didn't want to get you sick as well. You believed that until you saw him at the grocery store, perfectly fine. You marched over to him, intent on giving him a piece of your mind, but to your surprise, he had practically run away from you. Without so much as a greeting. 

So you called Chan. 

“Is Felix avoiding me?”

He coughed and stuttered out. “N-no of course not, why would you think that?”

Chan was a horrible liar. 

“He ran away from me at the grocery store, and he won't answer my texts or calls.”

“He's just sick. It's not too bad, he just doesn't want to get you sick.”

You frowned, “If it's that bad, I should go over there—”

Chan interrupted you.

“No wait, he told us not to let you—”

“WHAT?”

“Wait name don't—”

That infuriated you beyond belief, so he was avoiding you huh?

You hung up, intent on giving him a piece of your mind. 

Too bad for him, you knew his address. So you collected yourself and stormed over there, opening the door with the spare key hidden under the rocks by the porch. The house was silent when you entered, storming down the dark hallway you slammed on the lights, shouting at the top of your lungs. 

“LEE FELIX.”

⊛⊛⊛

Felix felt bad about ignoring you, every minute apart from you tore at his heart, and your sad face as he had all but run away from you at the grocery store haunted him every moment.

But it was for the best. He couldn't be around you when his heat was approaching, it wasn't safe for you. He felt tense as if any minute he could jump on you and take you, with or without your permission and he would rather die than ever mess up your friendship, even if he wanted you, had wanted you for years now. 

Felix had resigned himself to being permanently stuck in the friend zone years ago, and yet he still hoped that one day, you would reciprocate his deep feelings for you, but he knew it was just wishful thinking. 

It had started years ago, these urges, and every heat since then Felix had barred alone, accompanied by only thoughts of you. It was dangerous to be near you when he was so close to his heat, your scent tempted him constantly, the pretty sundresses you wore exposed the crotch of your panties when you bent down, and Felix had to do his best not to take you over the kitchen table, in front of all of his friends.

Even if he knew they would enjoy it(Probably a little too much for their own good.)his sense of possessiveness couldn't let the other see you like that.

But it had been worse lately. You had been babysitting your younger cousin, a baby of only two and Felix had watched in agony as you practically glowed with the baby. He couldn’t help imagining the child was yours and the hybrid side of him longed to put his pups into you.

He knew you would look so good all swollen with his pups, and that was when Felix realized his heat was approaching and he needed to get away from you before he did something potentially disastrous. So he had locked himself in his room, in constant agony and accompanied only by his vivid fantasies of you.

So when he heard your pretty voice, shouting his name at first he thought it was just his fantasies. 

But the longer he listened, the more wrong it sounded. First of all, the tone was all wrong, you sounded furious and it was acconpanied by a loud slamming sound.

And then he smelled you, you're scent too fresh to belong to the small heap of your clothes he had been desperately sniffing. And then his kitchen door slammed and Felix realized you were here. In his house. Less than a wall was separating the two of you. Felix almost came right then and there, your scent overwhelming him as he humped desperately into the mattress, still fully clothed. 

You were stomping around his house, shouting his name and Felix hurriedly pulled himself out of his fantasies and bit his hand so hard it started to bleed.

The sharp burst of pain cleared his hand for a moment and he hurriedly stood up, trying and failing to hide the bulge in his pants, before giving up and taking a deep breath, exiting his bedroom.

You were furious, he could tell as you laid eyes on him, marching right up and planting a finger in his chest. Felix held his breath desperately trying not to lose it as you yelled at him. 

“Lee Felix, how dare you ignore me, your not sick—”

You were still yelling but all Felix could focus on was your pretty face, you looked so radiant when you were mad, and Felix would gladly get on his knees and worship you, let you step on his hard cock with your pretty feet or maybe you would slap him, and call him a pervert. He could be your good boy, he could do that. Or if you wanted he could beg you to sit on his face, he would gladly suffocate in your pussy.

That would feel like heaven.

Or maybe if he begged for it enough you would let him fill your pussy with cum, pumping his pups into you until you were nice and round and full, and—

“Felix! Are you even listening to me?”

Felix could help it, he let out a whimper. You frowned, finally taking in his flushed cheeks, his sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, his wrinkled clothes and most telling of all, the large bulge tenting the front of his gray sweatpants. Your eyes widened, and you stepped back hurriedly. Felix followed you, trying to be as close as possible to you, even if he knew he couldn't have you. You frowned, your back hitting the wall, and parted your pretty lips, asking him a question. 

“Felix? Are you in Heat?”

Felix pressed against you, and buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent in large gulps, trying his best to memorize it before you ran out of the house in disgust.

You shivered a little and Felix groaned as he smelt the sweet smell of arousal emanating from between your thighs. The strings holding his sanity were thin, too close to snapping as you thrashed against him, rubbing your thighs together. You shuddered and ground out a question. 

“Felix? Do you need help? I can get someone—”

“No…”

He moaned out, his voice rough and deep and you whimpered. “Only want you, please…”

His tale swished back and forth, the soft yellow fur catching on your leg and you moaned as his pretty hands gripped your thighs desperately. “You…want me?”

The question came out haltingly, your brain muddled and overcome with arousal. 

Felix nodded against your neck. “Only wanted you, always. I love you.”

You gasped at the admission, your heart full, even as your empty pussy pulsed.

Felix whined against you, the scent of arousal driving him nearly insane. He was about to tell you to leave, you needed to leave before he lost it and fucked you against the wall, but then you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him into his room and shoving him onto the bed. 

“I love you too, Felix.”

He whimpered as you pulled off your shirt and skirt, your panties and bra hitting the floor. He made quick work of his clothes, and you stared greedily at his cock, gulping. 

You realized that Hybrids had, um, bigger dicks than humans, but you had never realized how truly big he was. Just the sight of it made your mouth water desperately, and another time you would have loved to have your mouth on it but right now, you just wanted it inside you, spearing your insides and rendering you nearly dumb.

You could tell Felix wanted the same, even as he waited patiently for you, you could see his impatience in how his hands gripped the sheets, ripping holes and he desperately held himself back, trying to not look too desperate. His tail was wagging back and forth, at an embarrassing rate and all he could see was you. He couldn't believe this was even happening.

After years and years of deserted hopes and dreams of you, he tried to hold on to as he woke to a cold empty bed, you were finally his, not Chans, not Jisung's, his mate.

Felix could smell your arousal scenting the air, and the sight of your naked body was just too much for him. He was about two seconds from just jumping on you and taking you against the floor but thankfully, you ceased his torture and moved on top of him gracefully, lining your entrance up with his tip. 

You were tempted to tease him, he looked too cute with that desperate look in his eyes, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving up and down with the effort of restraining himself, but you didn't know if you would last, your arousal driving you nearly insane with want. So you spared him, easing down slowly on his cock, taking him one inch at a time. 

He was big, and the stretch was slightly painful but the pain only served to turn you on more, and when you looked down, and saw that only half of him was inside of you, you felt yourself tighten around him. Felix knotted his hands tighter in the blankets, letting you take your time. You felt so good, so tight, the hot walls of your pussy fluttering around him and your pretty moans filling the air.

Felix still half believed this was a dream. 

It took a lot of time, but finally, he was fully inside of you. You felt stuffed, unbelievably full as he pulsed inside of you, and you nearly came there and then as you looked down, noticing the bulge denting your stomach.

Felix was almost gone by now, his hybrid side so close to taking over and all he could think about was fucking you full of his pups, filling his precious mate up completely, and fucking you until you were moaning and screaming dumbly on his cock. 

Before he was completely gone, he made sure to grip your face, turning your eyes to his own. 

“Can I let go?” 

You shuddered, and leaned in, kissing him gently. “Yes, Felix. I'm yours.”

And with those words he was gone.

He lunged forward, gripping you close to him and he pounded your pussy desperately, moans and whimpers filling the air and mixing with your own. He set a ruthless pace, his thick cock felt like it was rearranging your internal organs with each thrust and you didn't think you would ever be able to go back. He had quite literally ruined you for another man. 

“Your mine, m-my mate. The others cant have you.”

At the mention of the others, you almost stopped him, but his words were slurred and desperate, and his possessive nature turned you on. You could almost feel your thoughts slipping away like he was fucking them out of you. 

“Oh Felix, y-yes I'm y-yours…” you interrupted yourself with a loud moan as Felix picked up his thrusts, humping into you with wild abandon. 

This desperate, possessive side of your Felix, who was always sunshine and smiles was new to you. It turned you on beyond belief. You could feel your high coming, feel the tense knot in your groin as Felix fucked you closer and closer to completion. You could feel his thrusts stutter as well.

You tried to warn him. “Felix, ‘m c-coming!”

He mumbled out more nonsense, interspersed with desperate moans as he sucked possessive hickeys into your neck. 

“Make sure the o-others know your mine…fill you up with my c-cum, breed my pretty mate full of my pups…”

His hand makes its way to your clit and you scream, fingernails leaving large scratches on his back. 

His thrusts turn sloppy and he ruts into you desperately, his moans mixing with yours. 

“So pretty, always been so p-pretty, and n-now you're mine.”

You whimper, gripping his shoulders tightly. Your high crashes over you, and you clench around Felix's cock, he stutters, shoving inside you one more time, and moans as he cums. You feel his knot swell inside you, locking his cock inside you as he cums and the extra stretch makes you orgasm a second time, clenching around Felix as he lets out an especially raspy grunt. 

He seems to cum and cum, his hand making its way down to your clit, and he rubs circles into it, prolonging your orgasm. You pull him down, sealing your lips as his cum pumps into your stomach. The kiss is all teeth and tongue and as your orgasm finally dies down, Felix’s still hard cock lodged in your stomach you feel beyond exhausted. Felix collapses on top of you, kissing your neck.

He hugs you fondly, his voice almost shy as he asks you, “Be my girlfriend?”

You giggle a little, how is this the same man who fucked you ruthlessly into the bed and still has his cock lodged inside you. You can tell he's pouting against your neck so you put him out of his misery, wrapping your arms around his naked back. “Oh course Felix.”

His cock is still hard inside of you, and you can feel yourself clench around him. He sounds almost cocky as he teases you. “Are you ready for more, Baby?” 

You slap his back. “How long do heats usually last?”

He smirks, pulling away as his hands and planting a chaste kiss on your lips. 

You wiggle, clenching around him. 

“About a week.”

You moan as he flips you around, entering you again from the back even as his cum drips down your thighs, wetting the bed below you. You're in for a long week. 

originally posted on ao3 on 2023-06-04

reposted on ao3 on 2023-06-08