#yes - I'm tagging it - I didn't wait for updates for year not to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ybklix · 18 days

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ lee felix

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / idol!felix / felix x fem reader / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going greate for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

#lee felix smut #skz smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #felix x you #lee felix x reader #kpop smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz #skz felix #felix hard thoughts

819 notes · View notes

dtrghost · 1 year

Text

closeness and proximity

Side note: This is my first ever tumblr fic, so uh, be gentle!! moving on!

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, violence, angst, descriptions of interrogation and torture, INTENSE gore (imo), cursing, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. If you have a weak stomach or faint heart, please do not read this, like please.

I'd also like to start this off by saying that the mc is not a good person, and that is on purpose. I've seen a lot of the angel fics where ghost falls for his antithesis, so I decided to try something new. So here, please forgive any mistakes.

if this does become a series there will most likely be smut because,,, yes.

(update it's becoming a series so if someone wants to be tagged for that lmk cause i have so many ideas for this)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count: 3.4k

"Sunshine how copy?" Ghost's gruff, static filled voice called through coms, scope checking the parameters of the building she found herself held up in. She didn't respond at first, busy fighting for her life in a basement underneath the building they weren't aware of.

The deeper she went the harder it was to understand what was being relayed to her, so she settled on doing it on her own. He listened to a man grunt, their body dropping to the floor under her boot as she took a deep breath.

"There's a basement underground, coms are cutting out. I'm taking charge on clearing the basement. I'll report when I get to the surface. Sunshine out." She loathed her callsign with a passion. To speak it caused a burning hatred to spark in the lowest depths of her heart and made her cringe horribly. However, she knew it was better than letting everyone know her real name, so she dealt with it.

Ghost sighed, knowing she couldn't be stopped once she started. She had been on a few missions together in the past few years, he knew she was uptight and lacked the emotional capacity to make friends with others. It made him wonder why, what could've been that bad to freeze her heart over and shrink it to the size of the pebble he was crushing under his foot as he shifted uncomfortably. People would try and try to thaw her out, yet always failed.

He waited, taking out strays that attempted to heed the possible rescue requests that came from that basement, and patiently waited.

"This is Sunshine, basement cleared. Might wanna come take a look at this." His eyebrows furrowed, affirming the request and making his way down quickly, not wanting to stay in the open for too long. He made his way to the basement, eyes widening at the various bodies that trailed to wherever she was down there.

Had she done this all by herself?

He followed the bodies all the way to her, lights flickering, casting a bland white light on the concrete walls. seeing her digging through an opened trunk in a room filled with them.

"Weapons. American." Sunshine reported, glancing at him as he took his place next to her, seeing the American flag painted onto the inside of the lid. She turned at the sound of a groan, a soldier she left alive rousing to consciousness.

"Fuckin' hell. This mission was to take out ultranationalists." Ghost sighed. She didn't respond, the task force member watching her turn on her heel and grab the soldier by vest, throwing him against the wall with impressive strength. Blood flowed out of the back of his head, smearing against the wall as he slowly slid to the floor. He had never seen her in interrogation, but he had heard from those who have.

Brutal, heartless, some had to exit the room.

He wouldn't. He's witnessed plenty of torture tactics, even had to rely on some himself to get information necessary for national security. But this is another reason why they called her 'Sunshine', because to others she didn't feel remorse for what she did, some said she enjoyed it even, that her eyes brightened like the sun peaking over the horizon. Whether that was true or not he'd figure out now, as eager as he was. He watched her take out her knife, flipping it in her hand as she crouched to the soldier's level.

"Where'd they come from." She asked simply, keeping an even tone that surprised Ghost. He expected something more fierce, intimidating, but it was as if she was starting a conversation with a normal person. The victim attempted to spit in her face, but with a quick turn on the head it landed on the floor behind her. Her knife dug itself into his foot, his cries of pain echoing in the basement as she twisted it. The sounds of his bones cracking made Ghost shiver.

"Where'd they come from. Who sold them to you." She persisted, her face void of all emotion as she ripped the blade out of his foot. She sighed, turning to ghost who stood in the back, surveying the action. His eyebrows furrowed as she pointed to the door with her knife.

"Wait outside. This might take awhile." At first he didn't move, but the hint of impatience in her eyes spooked him out, for reasons unknown to him, but instinct told him to listen. So he slowly retreated and stood watch outside for anyone either getting up or rushing down the stairs. Y/N turned back to her victim, seeing two loops with chains hanging off of them imbedded into the wall. She tied his arms up, leaving his body sagging down.

Ghost listened to her repeat her questions, and when she didn't get an answer, a shout would follow. But those shouts turned to ear-piercing screams very quickly. He listened to pleads and begs of mercy to understand him, that he couldn't say anything out fear to what they'd do to him.

"Imagine what I'll do next if I don't get the response I want." She'd respond.

The bones cracking, the retch of vomiting, blood splattering onto the cold concrete.

"If you think you can outlast me, that I'll get tired of this and stop for the night to let you regain some of your humanity, you're wrong. Because unfortunately for you sweetheart." The blade tore through his skin, another bellow of pain emerging from his throat as he squirmed in his place. They were both coated in blood, her eyes dull and her ears tuning out the noise. To her, it was as if he was silent, his screams didn't penetrate through to her, and talked and talked until it drove him mad.

"I don't have all night, and I'm getting impatient. You won't die, I wouldn't allow that. I went through med school, graduated top of my class with a doctorate in Neuroscience. I know how to break." Which was evident as his leg was broken and facing different directions from the knee down to his toes.

"And I know how to fix. I'll keep you alive a lot longer than the night, and I'll do a lot worse. So if you want this to end, start talking, or you're in for a long week." Simon wondered what she was doing. His mind went over the possibilities until her victim finally cracked after the final scream he unleashed into the empty basement. He detailed a secret arms trade between an ally of the United States' and another country, which would lead to the likeliness of intentions for them.

War.

Y/N huffed, ripping off a piece of the soldiers shirt that wasn't soaked in sweat, blood, or vomit, which was a very small one, and wiping her hands clean as best as she could.

"Could've said that 10 minutes ago. Now, you'll bleed out within the next 5. Shame." Ghost listened to his anguished sobs as footsteps approached him, turning around from the entrance to see her, covered in blood. His eyes widened slightly, noticing a piece of...

Her eyes followed his to her vest, noticing a very small piece of flesh sitting between her shirt and gear before flicking it off to the side.

"Hopefully he didn't have HIV." She joked, but there was no humor in her voice, no sign of her finding it funny at all, as if she said it to just say it. Ghost didn't respond, he wasn't sure how. He slowly moved to look inside the room, the curiosity of what she did to the soldier eating him alive, until she grabbed his roughly.

"Don't." The word sent shivers down his spine, and he knew better than the disobey as she had operational command authority, and would likely court martial him if he had. So he took a step back and maintained eye contact, radioing in to Price.

"Captain, this is Ghost. How copy." He called, his gruff voice bringing a smile to her lips that he couldn't see due to her mask which was just a boring black one, decorated with blotches of drying blood that lightened up enough to see. "This is Price."

"We found weapons and gear, they're American." He went onto explain the situation, being weary of his mission leader walking around him in circles, waiting impatiently as he reported their findings.

"Copy that. I'll transfer this to Lanswell. Good work, report back to base for debrief."

"Copy, Ghost out." He connected his radio back to his vest. She took out her pistol, leading him to pull out his own. The behavior she exhibited was one he hadn't seen often, and it led to a deep mistrust he couldn't shake. She smirked, turning around, walking back in the room, and confirming her kill with a bullet between the eyes before reappearing in front of him.

He looked at her suspiciously as she gestured to the stairs, wondering who trained her, who made her into what she is now. She wasn't normal, not like the rest of them, she had no signs of remorse, care, or empathy for the people she killed, and she killed them with ease. Over 30 soldiers in one cramped basement and she came out unscathed, in tip top shape. He followed her out and made it to the landing zone where a helicopter came to pick them up.

She was silent the whole way back, Price being there to greet the two before they sat through debrief.

"Sunshine, we have orders from headquarters to have you join Task Force 141. Ghost is to watch over you. An official introduction will be made tomorrow." Price announced, not missing the tightened grip of Ghost's fist on the table.

"Copy that captain." She responded in her usual tone, only fueling Ghost's anger as he turned to glare at her, though she only ignored him, keeping her gaze unwavering on Price.

"Hit the showers soldier." Price dismissed, Y/N being the first to leave. But before she did, she turned to look down at her new partner.

"Happy to be on the team, Mr. Riley." It took his everything to not jump to his feet and knock her out, holding his breath to calm himself down as she walked away, the door shutting behind her. He hated that she had power over him, and worse that she rubbed it in his face.

"There's no chance in hell I'll stand for her being on my team." He immediately threw at him, standing up in his seat with his finger pressing firmly on the table in front of him.

"First, it's my team. Second, It's not my choice, orders are orders." Ghost growled lowly, clearly upset over the lack of fighting to keep her off, to keep her away to those he held near and dear to his heart, even if that wasn't too close to begin with. He saw her as a danger, an immediate threat, someone who belonged in an institution before they saw the battlefield.

"Then send an appeal. She's a war criminal. Tell em that!" He snapped.

"Bloody hell we're all war criminals. Then we'll be stuck in prison with her and you'll complain some more." Price groaned, rubbing his forehead, clearly irritated by his soldier's insistence.

"Not like that. Not how she is. She'll kill one of us before we get the next mission, hell she parade around our bodies like a joker and hail-" Price's hand slammed on the table, cutting his lieutenant off.

"Quiet." Ghost went silent, sighing deeply as he waited for Price to gather the right words, to somehow ease his mistrust in her, though he doubted she could do that. He watched as he shut the door and locked it, keeping his voice hushed, standing closer to his comrade.

"This is classified information, what I say stays in this room and is to never be discussed with anyone else. Is that understood lieutenant." Ghost's eyes widened for a moment before nodding in affirmation, waiting for his captain to continue.

"She- she wasn't brought up normally. As a great many soldiers weren't, hence why many of them join the ranks in the first place. She was a prodigy, she became a seal at 17, and on her second mission she was set up, deserted, and kidnapped. Nobody knows what happened to her in there, a search team was sent out, but she wasn't found til a few months later, and when she came out after she was different."

She was a child.

That's all Ghost could thing about. God knows what happened to her in there, and he didn't want to think about it.

"She exhibited sociopathic tendencies, she was closed off, didn't speak for a very long time. She failed psychological evaluation requirements, depression, ptsd, ecetera. Even then they sent her back out on missions a couple months later." Simon's eyes blew open, Price nodding glumly.

"Missions? Fuckin' hell, she needs help not special ops." He sneered, not at Price, but his anger was seeping through at rates he couldn't control. He was angry, how could they do that to someone? Did they not care, not even a little bit for her life? Her wellbeing?

"I know. But they're not taking her out any time soon, and now that she's on our team the least we can do is try to help her. I knew her before she became this. She was a kind soul." His voice dropped to a whisper, as if reminiscing, and he was. Her bright eyes, so full of potential when they met for her first mission, how she wheezed when she laughed. She was a kid, and it hurt his heart thinking about what she turned into over the last 6 years. Ghost nodded, silently agreeing to his motives before Price simply waved him off.

Simon hit the showers, scrubbing off the dirt and gunpowder that clung to his skin, watching the water turn black as the face paint drizzled down into it. The captain's words ran through his head over and over, the words going in one ear, through his brain, and out the other in a constant circle. He knew firsthand how corrupt his line of work could be, but that didn't make him any less angry when it revealed itself to him in the ways it did.

When he exited, fully dried and clothed with his mask back on, he passed by Y/N's room, noticing the light peaking out from underneath the door. He sighed quietly, his hand coming up and knocking on the door.

"It's open." Her cold voice responded, though it sounded more distant than before. He twisted the knob and let the door open, seeing her laying on her cot in deep thought. He went to question her, until he realized that she probably listened in on their conversation.

"You were listening." She nodded once, curtly and formally before sitting up and turning to look at him. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, analyzing every aspect about him. He felt like he was being stripped naked just by her look, his soul bare for her to look into.

Her eyes drifted over his exposed arms, the sleeveless tank he wore leaving them on display. He was a big guy, his arms were veined and muscled, tattoos filling up a majority of the space, combined with scars that passed through some of them. The top he wore was a bit tight, outline his chest in an attractive way, but she forced her eyes away, knowing he already caught onto what she was staring at.

"Price is right. I wasn't always like this. And I think he was the only one to notice, or at least point it out." She began, drawing attention away from the fact she just checked him out shamelessly.

"Wasn't right, what happened to you." He replied stiffly. She snickered, standing up. He watched her pace the room, twisting a knife in her hands, causing him to tense. She noticed.

"I'm not going to stab you lieutenant." She reassured, though it didn't help at all as she went on. She wasn't sure what she felt, confused for sure, as to why she was unable to emotionally process her emotions or evaluate the information she heard, as if her mind was barring her from contextualizing her state of mind. She knew she wasn't normal, but she couldn't bring herself to accept it and label herself.

"I was 17 when I was taken, you know that. Had a rough upbringing, I won't explain that to you now." She wasn't sure where she was going with this, and neither was he, but he'd listen for a bit to try and understand her more, maybe to trust her more now that she was his teammate. "I can feel emotion you know. Only to a certain degree, I can empathize. Fleeting, but it's there sometimes. I do feel some remorse, but you know how we are in this field. Weakness will get you killed, so you internalize it, you keep it buried underneath everything else, and because my everything else was stripped away with me, it just sits in here." She tapped her temple and shrugged. He understood what she meant, he did that too. He withheld his shame, his guilt, and his remorse, remaining a stone cold figure in the field. He saved the emotional crap for his time alone where he could deal with it in the way he knew how.

"You just let it sit there then?" He pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded.

"Don't know what to do with it. Lost my sense of self and all I know is this job. I do try though, I try to force some tears like I've seen others do, but the only time these.. feelings present themselves is on my missions, which is why everyone thinks I enjoy it. But I don't, for the record, I just can't control it like you guys do. And I envy you for that." His eyes widened slightly.

"Envy, huh."

"Mhm. You can talk to each other, find common ground and relate, make friends and connections. I can't because I don't feel like you guys do. And then you demonize me and outcast me more than I already am, so. Oops." He thought she was getting upset, but she wasn't, there was not a hint of anger or sadness or negative emotion in her person whatsoever, none that he could see anyway. Her arms were loose and carefree as she swung them around every time she turned her heel to pace back in the direction she just walked in.

"We can help you." Her first sign of feeling was an eye roll with a steady irritated gaze. But she didn't say anything. The idea of needing help repulsed her beyond anything else, made her want to punch a wall and scream, her eyes widened. Anger. There it is, outside of a mission too. She hummed, looking back at him.

"Alright Casper." He grunted, displeased by the new nickname which made her smile widen cheekily. She searched his eyes for a moment, finding entertainment in the small flames in his amber eyes, how they flickered and danced when he found something humorous, how they died out when he found something unamusing or boring, how they raged when he grew angry or determined to finish something with a newfound passion.

She liked to think he had that burn in his eyes when Price spoke to him about the notion of helping her, hoping that he'd care that much even if she didn't want the help, or perhaps she did, that would explain the want would it not? That was a thought for later. For now she'd do her job the way she knew how, she wouldn't change, not yet, not that she knew how anyway.

"We're going out for a drink tomorrow night, care to tag along." He offered, jousting his chin up at her in a heads up manner.

"I don't drink." She replied, monotone as she laid down on her cot, shutting her eyes with a sigh. He watched her body sink into the bed, all stress and tension releasing, and he took that as his dismissal. He shut the door behind him, releasing a breath and walking back to his room, confused and tired where he slept on the day's events.

Though he was curious on how tomorrow would turn out.

And that's it! If you want a series out of this let me know!! It's my first fic and I'll probably binge a bunch because I feel like writing. I'm still trying to figure out the whole border thing I wanna make everything aesthetic or whatever but yeah.

See you guys next time!!

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #fanfic #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw price #cod modern warfare

1K notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 7 months

Text

Pink : Part III : Two

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part II

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Heavy angst; DD/lg dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Daddy Kink; Jealousy; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Inappropriate shaving; Squirting; Belly bulge; Dirty talk; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Face slapping; Spanking; Light degradation; Rough sex; Breeding kink; Divorce; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Use of misogynistic language; Discussions of mental and emotional abuse; Cliffhanger

A/N: All tags have been updated.

Word Count: 12.7K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

3. Two

“You know that feeling of… of realizing you’re a good person? It’s like– yes, I know objectively that I probably am. That I try to be kind, I try to do things that are good and right, but you know those strangely self perceptive moments where another person makes you – forces you – to realize you’re good? And it brings your whole life, your whole self into clarity, and it’s like – I am good, and I deserve good things. I am good.

But he treated me so badly, for so long. He took away pieces of me, he took away that awareness of goodness. And how could I not believe him, when he constantly told me and showed me that I deserved so little, when it was what I accepted for myself? Constantly waiting for him to turn into a man he never was, never had been and never would be. I accepted those things for myself, I let them happen. Maybe I was weak or stupid or naive or all of them combined. Maybe I was just a girl. But I thought it was hope at the time. I thought I was being hopeful and good, and now I realize that was no true form of goodness. It was only the version of good he needed me to be, a subservient and silent type of goodness.”

“And you know, I had a neighbor who– her husband died last year at Christmas, and it was so sad. They were older, always together, it was… it has nothing to do with this, but I don’t know. It was like when a tragedy is soft and quiet, and it just folds into the rest of life unheeded. Such a strange thing for someone on the outside looking in. I lived next door to them, and I’d see them all the time living their lives together, and I barely knew them, but suddenly he was gone, and I was conscious of the fact that she was over there alone all the time now. Without him. When before he’d always been there. I don’t know what I'm trying to say. It’s just that it didn't happen to me, it affected me in no way, and yet, I felt her loss keenly. Afterwards, I helped her with her cat, an old skinny thing, Jazz. She started going out of town a lot after her husband died, getting out and away, you know, that sort of thing. And I’d cat sit for her, and he was so sweet. But he was old too, and a few months later, he died also. And I remember the week he was going to pass she’d texted me and said he’d go soon, and I told her I was praying for him, thinking of the both of them. I don’t even pray, but I needed to tell her I was with her in some way. And it was nothing, a few nights going over there to feed the old boy, a few text messages. It was the absolute bare minimum I could do, but a few weeks after the cat died, she wrote me the loveliest note. She told me that she appreciated me, that she thought of how kind I’d been during those days, when I’d told her I was thinking of them. She told me that I was a good person, and that she hoped my kindness was returned to me many times over.

And I’d forgotten, you see, I'd forgotten that I was good. That I had a capacity for goodness within me, and that I deserved to be reminded of it, like all soft creatures are. We all need reassurance and a kind word sometimes, and I’d forgotten that about myself.” You glance up at his eyes, the most tender look held in them. “Do you know what I mean, Joel?” You ask, voice very small, shy and afraid, for one moment, that he won’t understand you.

But he pets your hair, cradles your cheek, “Yeah, honey. I think I do know.”

It’s a terrifying ordeal, the way the two of you fold into each other in the weeks after that first night. And yet, unstoppable. You do try, and you’re sure he does, as well. The first few days, trying to stay away, not answering his calls, no texts because he says his fingers are too big, and he can’t work those tiny fuckin’ buttons, forcing yourself not to run back over there into his arms and his bed. But then he’s calling and calling and calling, begging, making it his turn to show up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, saying all the right things like, I haven’t been sleeping, and I need to see you, and I’m suffering, I’m suffering without you, touching you in all the right ways that should be wrong but aren’t. All baby, I hurt when I’m not inside this sweet pussy. He says you make him weak, and you tell him that the only weak thing here is you, and you don’t make it much of a struggle for him when you let him in your home, in your cunt, when all you can say is I miss you, I miss you, your cock, your hands, I can’t stop thinking about you. The two of you are one and the same in all the ways it counts. And he’s not your father-in-law anymore, a chameleon now in the form of the only man who’s ever understood you, wanted you, seen you as more, as a complexity.

He makes you wonder how you could have ever thought of yourself as anything like sexless when all he makes you is hungry and desperate and wet. Fucking everywhere you can, as often as you can, never being very careful, pulling out and counting your cycle and starting out with a condom but ripping it off halfway through because I just have to feel you – irresponsible bullshit. Not having your head screwed on tightly enough to even really care. He has you on his living room floor one afternoon, whole day gone away on his cock, and the two of you lay there for hours afterwards, bare limbs wrapped around each other, soft, wet cock tucked safely inside of you where he says it belongs. “How could you have not been angry?” You ask him because you can’t help yourself. Because you want him to teach you to be wise now that he’s shown you how to be good. “That he was kept from you? That you missed an entire lifetime of being a father? I never once saw you furious or resentful. How did you do it?”

“Don’t know,” he sighs. “Dunno… I– It was, kind of, the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me, truth be told, but I didn’t have a chance to compute, to sit in any sort of anger. He was right there all of a sudden, too full of anger to leave any left over for me, and he needed me so much. He needs me so much.” And you know he’s right, and there should be guilt now, gnawing at you, but there is really only jealousy. “And he– he…” A swallow, like you can read his mind, you know what he’ll say, already nodding. “And he hates me,” he whispers into the quiet of this lovely home he’s made for himself, his words mixing with the butter yellow ray of sunshine the two of you are lying in, slanting in through the big bay window. “He hates me, hates who I am. That it’s me he found when he came lookin’.” You have to cry for him then, maybe even for the both of them, maybe even for all three of you.

“Yes,” you choke, so full of sadness for the tragedy of it all. You can’t comfort him with a denial for you’re not a liar here with him. Protection like that isn’t necessary.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He hugs you so tightly, “There’s no reason to cry.”

“I can’t help it,” And return the words he’d given you once when you’d so badly needed a kindness, “You deserve more.”

He’s quiet for a long time after that, and you know him well enough now that you can hear the gears of his mind working and turning, and that makes you even sadder, perhaps, the greatest tragedy of all, this knowing, and eventually he says: “And yet, he is the son I have.” And at the end of it all, you think you are all only yourselves, and nothing can really be done about that.

And you say you want to be wise like him, that it’s your next lesson, so perhaps you should hold your tongue instead of saying: “He only just got you back, and I’m taking you away from him again. Because that’s what I want – I want to take you away and keep you only for myself. I want you to be only mine and that makes me bad. I’m bad.” Your first lesson quashed beneath the fist of your greed for a man who isn’t for you, and who you shouldn’t want, and it’s wrong and maybe even sinful or disgusting or any and all the things that are always bad. None of that matters. He’s turned you into a real person now, none of the rest of it matters.

But he understands, because of course he does, because he always has. He grips your jaw in his hands, large, strong hands, hands made for taking care of things, and tells you, not so wise seeming anymore: “Sometimes I look at myself, and it’s like I'm two feet tall. Why didn’t I meet you sooner? First? How could I have been such a coward to not go out there and search for you? I should have known you were out there, I should have sensed it. How can a man be jealous of his own son?” He turns you over then, cock hard and thrusting again, kisses you full on the mouth, and it tastes like ownership, and says, “You could never be bad. No matter what you did. You’re only ever good. Haven’t I taught you that?”

“Joel, there’s someone at the door,” peeking into the restroom where he’s just stepped out of the shower, wet and steaming, shaking his head out like a dog, towel covering all the fun bits. He’d just had you too many times already, and still, you want more. You’re made of nothing but greed now; he’s taught you how to be good, but he’s also taught you how to be greedy. You’d been strewn across his couch, eating chips and wearing his clothes and leaking his come and waiting for him to finish in the shower and come out to make dinner. He was doing steaks on the grill and baked potatoes with all the fixings and roasted vegetables, and he’d even gotten a pie and ice cream, but he said he wasn’t telling you what the flavor was, only that it was your favorite, and you can’t think how he’d know you love rhubarb, but if that’s what he’s gotten, you were going to let him do anything to you. Literally anything he wanted. Not that you didn’t already… but still, it’s the sentiment that counts, you think. He’d also said you weren’t allowed to shower, that the rule tonight was that you weren’t allowed to wash him off, and you really didn’t mind that so much. So there you were, after he’d put on Stepmom for you, and you were just thinking that Julia Roberts was surely the most beautiful woman who’d ever been born, when someone had knocked on the door, a rhythmic, friendly: tap, tap, tap, that had your heart dropping down into your stomach, and you scurrying into the master bath to frantically tell him that someone is here while you’re here wearing him all over and inside of you and what are you going to do now? He gives you a calm smile, running the towel over his wet head, giving you an eyeful of the fun bits now, and you try and not peek, you really do, but it’s really just the most exciting part on him, you can’t help yourself. His smile turns knowing, that look in his eye, “S’alright, sweetheart. Don’t fret, I’ll get it.”

“But–” you try and protest, maybe he should just pretend not to be home. What if it’s– you can’t even think of it. But then no, he’d not come here. He hates coming to this house, the proof of everything he wasn’t all in his face like this was humiliating for your ex-husband.

His smile remains, but his eyes go a little stern, “No worryin’, I’ll take care of it.” He tugs on his jeans, the man literally never wears underwear, slut, and tugs on a shirt, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he passes you, hand dragging over your belly, smelling of soap and Joel and want, want, want. You follow him on tip toes down the hall, pausing at the mouth of the living room, chewing on your lip and your fingers, about to spit your heart out with nerves as he pulls the door open.

“Hi, Joel, honey. How’s it goin’?” Pretty, bubbly, overly friendly voice you were definitely not expecting. You take a small step forward, the mouth of the hall slightly to the left of the front door so that you can see her without her seeing you, watch his profile as he talks to her. Edie, he says, and that dishwasher givin’ you trouble again, and laughs at her reply, the sound of their conversation going out of your ears as you watch him, head falling sideways on your neck a little bit, the way he laughs at whatever the woman that’s come knocking on the door of his home all friendly and comfortable to interrupt his time with you is saying, loud, bellyfull, one arm braced against the doorframe so that you can see her eyes flit every few seconds to the thick bulge of muscle there. Your face goes hot, your insides green and bitter, but he’s laughing just handsomely enough that you know it’s not real. You know his real laugh, and it isn’t this one. The woman leans forward, blonde hair and big boobs and batting lashes, but Joel shifts backwards subtly, keeping a respectful distance, and your pulse throbs at the backs of your knees and the pit of your stomach. She likes him, she’s here because she likes him, asking him to look at her dishwasher or something, yeah, sure, sure that’s the only thing she wants looked at.

“I’ll come take a look at it tomorrow. How ‘bout that? I’m sure it’ll be another quick fix like last time, but you should probably think about just replacin’ the thing at this point,'' he tells her.

“Oh, can’t you now, Joel?” She pouts, “It’s just that–”

“I’m tied up tonight, Edie,” he cuts her off, an indulgent, too charming smile on his face, and oh, it pisses you off, that smile. You turn on your heel, stomping down the hall back to his bedroom. Huffing, gnashing your teeth. The sight of him with another woman, a more appropriate woman because of course she is, it makes you sick, angry, something terrible, so, so jealous your bones itch beneath the surface of your skin. It makes you small and slanted again, wrong place, wrong time, wrong girl. Not for him, never for him, and it’s so unfair, and he is so– so… Smiling at her like that, using that tone of voice, propping up his stupid huge arm like that so that his muscle’s all defined and put on display, and you hate him and the way he makes you feel and how much you want and need him. On the verge of tears or screaming or vomiting you scramble around his room, trying to collect your clothes and your strewn panties and where the fuck is your bra and your other shoe?

“What’re you doin’?” Comes his soft, steady voice a moment later. Entirely too even for the way you feel right now. You want to hiss at him or bite him or do something entirely uncivilized.

“I have to go home.”

“Why?”

“I have something to do. I forgot.”

“Something, what? What do you have to do?” But you ignore him, rifling through the strewn clothes on the armchair in the corner – where the hell is your goddamn bra? “Look at me–” he barks, now having stepped further into the bedroom.

“Oh, fuck off,” and there’s a part of you that knows that you’re being irrational, that he’s done nothing wrong, but you feel so provoked suddenly. In need of a fight or a thrashing or something, something to make this terrible feeling poisoning you on the inside go away.

“Watch your mouth, little girl,” and his voice is so calm and so quiet and so scary. It makes you lock up one second, spin around the next to spit and hiss at him like an angry cat. You will not watch your mouth. “She wants you.” You almost stomp your foot like a child throwing a fit, but he’s entirely still and silent, taking you in with the most unfathomable of looks. “Do you know that?” And this time you do stomp your foot. “Do you want her back?”

He blinks once, and then like a lightbulb turning on, even though you’re obvious as daylight, “You’re jealous.”

“Do you want her back?” You ask again, real tears in your voice this time.

And his gaze goes soft and tender and entirely understanding, “Never.” He shakes his head.

“She looked like a fucking idiot.” You pout, childish – how will he ever want you when you act like this?

“I only want you.” But you don’t believe him. How could you? When there’s nowhere for this to go. When he deserves so much more than the options afforded to him here between the two of you. And you want to fight with him because there’s nothing to be done, no choices, no other recourse, and it’s not his fault and there’s no one to blame and no outlet for this terrible anger inside of you. You feel like you’re choking on it, being swallowed whole, that head breaking water feeling reversed so that now you’re deep at the bottom of the well of your own wanting. You turn back to the fruitless search for your bra. He’s hidden it from you, you’re sure, some evil old man ploy to keep you here trapped and braless with him. “Did you hear me? I only want you,” he says again, voice closer now.

And you think you’re mumbling or crying, something hysterical bubbling up inside of you, I have to go, I have to go, your movements manic and jerking. He grips your arm, jerking you around into his chest, face flushed with anger now, but voice still even, “You’re not fucking listening to me. I only want you,” and yanks your hand to feel the hard cock trapped beneath the confines of his jeans. This is only for you. But it’s not, not in any real way, not in a way that would let you keep him and that realization sets something off inside of you. You thrash in his hold, let me go, let me go, trying to kick him in the shins while he tries to wrap his arms around your struggling form, that rumbling chant constant in your ear, I only want you, I only want you, I am only for you. It feels like he’s burrowing beneath your skin, unzipping you, splaying your insides wide open for his gaze, taking hold of your bones, a puppet on his string. You manage to yank your arm out from beneath his grip and unthinking, a buzzing so high pitched it makes you dizzy and nauseous sounding in your ears, you slap him in the face. Not very hard, maybe, but enough that you hear the crack of your palm meeting the grizzled scruff of his cheek. The sound like a bone snapping, setting off something inside both of you even worse, more frenzied than before. He groans deep in his chest, big hand fisting in your hair and jerking it back so hard you yelp in pain. “Hit me again, do it again. I want you any way I can have you, even angry. Do it again,” he goads you on, but that mindless hand is fisted in his shirtfront now, pulling you closer to him, tear stained mouth seeking his, opening to receive his filthy kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, but all he says is that he only wants you, again and again, grips you harder, makes it hurt more, and you whine and whimper and scratch and bite, a wild thing, the two of you caught up in some strange struggle of push and pull and want and fight. You can feel the hard length of his cock grinding against your belly, searching for something hot and wet to fuck into, and you hitch your knee around his hip, open yourself to him, listen to his groan in your ear, throaty and full.

“You just need a little remindin’? Don’t you, huh?” He tugs your head back, none too gentle, to look at your tear slicked face, his eyes on fire, almost a little manic. He spins you away from him, shoving you towards the bed, ignoring your whines and protests, shut up and bend over, pushing you over the edge of the bed and crouching down behind you. “You just need a little remindin’ of how to be a good girl. I know that’s all this fightin’ is. Right, baby?” No, you try and struggle, kicking your leg out uselessly to the side, but he pins you with your arms back behind you at the small of your waist, pushing his shirt up your back to expose the naked curve of your ass and the pussy you know he’ll find humiliatingly wet and hungry for him. “Just need remindin’ of how to be a good girl for me, right?” His fingers slide down to the apex of your thighs, finding you dripping and swollen from his earlier use and your current desire, all twisted up and compounded ten fold with your jealousy.

“So wet already for me, baby,” he coos at you.

And oh, he’s so annoying, and you’re so embarrassing and weak for him. “Shut up, old man,” you whine. A single finger enters you slowly, rubbing up against all the terribly sensitive and swollen places inside of you, then pulls his wet fingers from you to deliver a single stinging swat to the curve of your ass, sticky wet imprint of yourself left behind.

“Yeah, and this old man fucks you better than anyone else,” he slips his fingers gently back inside of you, “Remember that you little whore,” he says even more gently. The words make you twist and writhe, a terrible flush of lust burning through you. He feels you tighten around his fingers, groans appreciatively. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He twists his fingers inside of you, pressing hard against something that makes you feel like you’re about to wet yourself. You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head, refusing to answer. “No lyin’. You daddy’s little whore?”

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head, your hips moving with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. He brushes his thumb slowly over your pulsing clit, plays you like a game.

“No?” His voice is so soft, so teasing.

“I’m not your whore–”

“You’re not? Then what are you, baby? Tell me.”

You’re right there, so close, about to come on his fingers. “I'm your baby. I'm your baby. I’m yours– I belong to you, daddy.” He pulls his fingers from your cunt, hand coming to grip your ass cheek so hard it hurts, fingernails digging into your soft skin, dragging down the smooth surface. You can hear him panting behind you, shaking, trying to control himself. He makes a gruff, rough sound in his throat, gentles his grip on you.

“You don’t think I don’t get fucking jealous?” he spits when he’s finally managed to control himself. “You think I don't think about you with my own son and want to die? That he got to have you in a way I never will, and even worse, wasted you? You don’t think it makes me sick with envy?” He brings his fingers back to play in your wet folds, feels the slick drip of you, thrums at your clit, opening you to him with a hand on your cheek and licking you from clit to asshole. Running the flat expanse of his tongue over the length of your sex and then sucking hard at the apex of nerves, hard enough that you can’t tell if it hurts or feels good or a little bit of both. He’s got you bent over the end of his bed facing the dresser so that you have a clear view of the two of you in the mirror above it. And the sight of him, massive frame crouched down behind you, huge and hulking, face buried in your cunt from behind, the curved slope of his nose, the long, thick lashes, eyes closed like he’s enjoying himself more than he’s ever enjoyed anything else in his entire life as he licks your ass and sucks on your clit. He pulls back, and you watch, almost in slow motion, as he shocks you by swatting your entire sex with his big hand, and then immediately brings his face back to lick and kiss your smarting skin. “But he didn’t fuck you the way you needed to be fucked,” he continues. “And I do. He didn’t understand you, but I do. At least I have that.” It sounds like he’s consoling himself, and you can’t help but find consolation in it as well. Your eyes move up to your own reflection, sweat slicked and tear stained, eyes glassy, wet fingers inside of your mouth because you need something to chew on to stand the terrible throbbing in your cunt on the verge of coming. He licks you again, presses his tongue to your asshole. “Did you ever get wet for him like this?” He pulls back, runs the pads of his fingers over your clit in fast, hard up and down motions, makes it feel so good it hurts, you’re right there, you’re right there, pulls away. “Were you ever desperate for him like this? Cunt all drippy and swollen and pathetic for him like you are for me, my sweet baby?”

Never, daddy. Never. Only you. You can’t lie to him when he’s got his tongue inside of you, it’s just not possible. Only me. Only mine. You press up on your tippy toes, roll back down onto the balls of your feet, “Yeah, rub that sweet pussy all over daddy’s face,” he mumbles into your skin, slurps at you. He wraps his lips around your clit once more, sucks and licks and sucks again, and your cunt goes so, so tight, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, daddy, and then just stops. Pulls away entirely, gets to his feet, leaves you to throb and shiver and beg, whole body flashing hot and cold on the precipice of orgasm. Still holding you pinned in place with your wrists at the small of your back, you watch his eyes roam along your draped form, he drags his hand down the wet length of his face, wiping the drippiness of your slick away. “Stay just like that for me,” and his eyes move to yours in the mirror, as if he’s known the entire time just how riveted on him you’d been. “What?” He asks with a crooked brow and a mean little smirk. “You think you get to come? After that little display?”

“Don’t be mean,” you whisper, staying exactly as he’d directed. Trying your best to be a good girl.

“Shoulda thought of that before, sweet girl.” He bends over the length of you so you’re eye to eye now, gets his face right up close to yours and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You wanna pretend to fight, stand there like an indignant little girl stomping your foot and yellin’ about bein’ jealous while my come runs down your thighs still. Obviously, I’m not doin’ a good enough job of remindin’ you you’re mine, how much I want you. Gonna fix that now.” Presses another soft kiss to your mouth now.

“You’re trying to dominate me,” you whine, struggling to press against his mouth again even as he pulls back out of your reach, plants a big palm between your shoulders to keep you still.

“You bet your fuckin’ ass I am. You’re gonna do what I tell you to when you’re letting me fill you with my come the way you are. And you’re gonna like it too. You get me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

But then he goes serious, that teasing glint in his eyes flickering away suddenly. “You have nothing to be jealous of. Ever. I don’t want anyone but you. I don’t care about anything else but this.” And even though you’re sure it must be a lie, it sounds so lovely, you choose to believe him for now. You nod up at him, sniffling and crying again a little bit. “And no one takes care of you like I do,” he finally says, as if it’s a reminder, a consolation to the both of you once again.

And he’s right, as he tells you to stay put, be a good girl and not move, leaves you there bent over the bed, that chant sounds in your mind, no one takes care of you like he does, no one, no one, no one.

He steps back into his bedroom to the sight of you still draped over the bed, big eyes wet and slightly vacant, pussy red and swollen and bared to him like a wound with his name on it. You’d brought your fingers up to your mouth, chewing on your fingernails the way you did sometimes when you were anxious or overwhelmed, and when your eyes flit to him, taking in the bowl of warm water, the washcloth and shaving cream in his hold, they go wide, shocked. He arranges his things, gripping you by the hips to turn you over, pulling his shirt from you, leaving you entirely naked, and settling between your spread thighs. “Wh– what are you doing?” Voice all breathy and hitched, the thrum of your excited pulse in your throat.

“Gonna shave you bare. Then I’m gonna eat you ‘til you’re crying, ‘til you’re so swollen you can barely take my fingers. After that, I’m gonna wedge my cock inside you and fuck you ‘til you’re so full’a my come you’ll remember not to forget you ain’t got no reason to be jealous ever again.” He strokes your curls gently with the pad of his thumb, something like fondness in the gesture, clicks his tongue. “These’re so pretty. Gonna miss ‘em.”

“Oh my god,” you choke when he drapes the water warmed washcloth over your spread pussy.

“You wanna be a brat, you wanna fight and act like you don’t know I belong to you and you to me? That none of that other shit matters– I’m gonna remind you, don’t worry.”

You crane your neck, pushing up on your elbows to watch him remove the washcloth and cover the soft curls of your groin with shaving cream. When he opens the blade and brings it to your skin, the sight of the straight edged blade against you, the smooth cream as the steel reveals the bare, satin soft skin beneath, has your chest heaving, sweat pooling at the little notch of your throat – fucking gorgeous and his.

“You’re going to be so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs as he bends your leg back and opened wide, splitting you for his gaze. Delicate with the movements of his wrist as he shaves you. “All bare and slick down here, just for me. You’re so swollen already.”

You mumble something, moaning and letting yourself flop back against the mattress, he’s quick to pull the blade from you, pausing his movements while you settle, gives you a second to press the balls of your palms into the sockets of your eyes, whining Joel and daddy and please. And the trust in this moment between the two of you, that you’re letting him wield a blade so close to your fragile center, letting him do this to you as a way to remind the both of you of the power you cede and wield over and to one another, something that gives him the opportunity to inflict his will in a way that recenters you, reminds you that you’re his, his to do with you as he will, and it’s just the two of you in this space and you trust each other implicitly, it has a sense of control swelling inside of Joel, making his cock rock hard in his jeans, leak down his thigh. Control in a way there is none of in everything else between the two of you. Control in a way there cannot exist in any other aspect of your relationship. When he’s finished, he cleans you slowly with a new warm, damp cloth, then goes to put away his supplies, and when he returns, he looms over you, taking in the sight of your little bald cunt now.

Slowly, he starts to pull his clothes off, watching the quick panting of your breathing, the dip and swell of your belly, so aroused by the intimacy you’ve just shared that your pupils are blown wide and dark. “You’ve made such a mess, little girl,” he says, dragging a single finger through your overflowing slit, following the slick from your swollen clit to your asshole where it pools beneath. He fingers your folds gently, avoiding your swollen clit, your little hole winking at him wantonly. “Please–” you whisper so softly, almost gasping for breath you can barely get the words out.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know you need to come so bad, don’t you?” He drags his palms up and down your thighs, up to your waist and then tugs you down over the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him, wide eyes riveted hungry on his cock. “How does it feel? So sensitive, isn’t it?” He’s so hard his erection stands straight up towards his belly, balls hanging heavy and full and aching. He gently drags his fingers along your scalp, feels the heat emanating from your skull. “Lick it all over, get it nice and wet so I can put it inside you.” He knows he needs to be careful now. The two of you are wide open to each other in this moment, so on edge he could come just at the look in your eyes, and you, something more than just vulnerable. He’d worried briefly, in the past weeks, if he should stop, send you away, take himself away, tell you it was too much. You were getting too attached, and although he knew it was too late for himself, that he was beyond salvaging when it came to you, he could imagine nothing worse than seeing you come out hurt from this. Could also imagine no scenario in which you wouldn’t anymore. He feeds you his cock, fisted tightly at the root to stave off his impending orgasm, slides all the way to the back of your throat until he feels his tip hit resistance, enjoying the sight of you choking on it for just a second. Good girl. “Fuck– fuck, yes. See, see how good you can be for me?” He tells you as you suck on his tip, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue all around the wide head, tonguing his foreskin, making him hiss and bear his teeth at you while you look up at him with falsely innocent eyes. He yanks you up and against him, gives you a filthy, wet kiss, all tongue and teeth and false control, swallowing down the taste of his own precum. He’s never felt less in control of himself, of a situation, than he does right now. He has, in these past weeks, entirely lost sight of himself, of what this should and should not have been, blindly led by his cock and his heart. He’s lost all control, and Joel is nothing but weakness and want now.

Turning you in his arms, he sits at the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide and pulls you onto his lap, impaling you back onto his spit-slick cock so swiftly he doesn't even think you’re expecting it until he’s bumping against your womb, your knees hooked and spread wide over his own. Too desperate to lick your cunt again the way he’d planned. You let out a long, shocked keen, back arching, trying to escape the too big cock suddenly shoved inside of your tiny hole. Joel has to grit his teeth, take deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth before he can speak at the feel of you fluttering and pulsing around him, “The more you whine, the harder I’ll fuck you, got it?” There’s nothing even close to a coherent response coming out of your mouth, and he was right, shaved bare like this, you’re so much more sensitive. He pulls the lips of your sex gently apart around where he’s impaling you, takes in the sight of your little hole stretched obscenely around his fat cock in the mirror’s reflection and slowly starts to seesaw his hips back and forth, watching his glossy length disappear in and out of you. “How does it feel, baby? You’re so pretty, look at yourself.” He whispers into the small shell of your ear, presses a soft kiss to the lobe, tugs on it with his teeth. He slides in all the way, pulling your hips down so that his balls press against the curve of your ass. “Look, see where daddy’s so deep inside you – can see it in your belly.” Your head lolls back on his shoulder, gaze hooded and delirious, but your hand moves down to the soft skin of your stomach, gently cupping the outline of his cock inside of you. “I’m so deep inside of your tiny cunt, baby. Look at how you’re all mine–” He starts to move again, flicking at your clit, interchanging between fast and hard and slow and so soft you can barely feel it, and your face looks like you want to say something, tell him something, scream, but can’t. And there’s so much he’d like to tell you too, all the things you deserve and probably need to hear from him, but can’t either. He feels you start to tighten up on him, the heat in your body suddenly seeming to flush higher and brighter, almost to boiling, your cunt going so, so tight it almost pushes him out. He presses inside harder, holds you in place with one hand, and thrums fast and hard at your clit with the other, focusing the tip of his cock at the front wall of your pussy, “You’re gonna come–” he grunts, holds you in place and hammers into that swollen place inside of you he’d kill to own for the rest of his life. “Fuck– fuck, you’re gonna squirt all over my cock, aren’t you? Can feel it–” Your face spasms, your belly clenching hard and tight, and you gush, letting out a pained, animal sound, voice broken and breathless, wetting both of your thighs with your come, the bed covers beneath soaked dark. Joel doesn’t stop. He wants more, again, all of you, thrums again at your clit with the pads of his fingers, changes the angle of your hips to roll you fast and hard onto his come-slicked length, pinches your clit hard, watches you squirt all over him again. Something like the sound of his name leaves your mouth in a broken cry, your chewed raw nails trying to claw at him ineffectively. “Dirty fucking girl – creamin’ all over your daddy’s cock,” his voice is gruff, not entirely his own. There’s something here – you’d told him once you’d always felt out of control. In your relationship with Sam, aware of what he was, always, of what you were and were not, and that there was something about control that was so necessary to you now. And there is something here like control, your control over him, taking hold of him entirely so he’s unsure of what it is he should and should not be, here and now, with you. He should not be delusional, he should be aware. He is not adhering to either very well.

He goes to his feet with you still impaled on his throbbing length, erection so hard it hurts, can barely stand up straight, blood pounding on rhythm to the chant of your name. He pulls you from him, watches the slick slide of your cunt walls dragging along his length, the cream of your slick left as a reminder all over his skin. He presses you onto the bed, rolls you this way and that too look at you all over, bends to drag his tongue through that drippy cunt of yours that squirts and comes so prettily for him, then back up and kneeling above you, between your glossy thighs, and thrusting into that tight cunt, grunting as you clench around him. So hard he feels the screaming tip of his cock punch against your cervix, listens to you make a hurt, hiccupy sound when his balls slap against you.

He should be gentle. He should be careful. He should be aware, not delusional, himself. He should reach back and take hold of that man he always thought himself to be, hard and cold but never cruel. Maybe not good, but always aware and never weak. He’s none of those things now here with you. Joel is now only himself. You’ve made me into a real person, you’d whispered onto his tongue. What he’d not told you was that you’d done the same to him.

You’re a gift, a gift, a gift, a gift. A gift in the way his son never was. A gift in the way that a whole lifetime lost and returned to him never was, and Joel is weak and two feet tall and made of paper, but for you. Anyways, or despite it all, still made only for you.

“Fuck me like you’re in love with me,” you say, read his mind, take hold of the beating mass in his chest. Fuck me like you’re in love with me. And maybe you don’t mean it. Maybe you’re too far gone. It doesn’t matter.

He does it anyway. Pulls back, wedges back inside the too swollen, too sensitive, too tiny cunt that belongs to him. He bears his teeth at you, grabs hold of your face so hard you’ll bruise, and fucks you like he’s in love with you. It comes to him so easily, after all.

Shoving his knees high up beneath your thighs, he brings your ankles to his shoulders, little feet knocking against his ears, he wishes for sense, he finds none, only a deeper, sharper angle. The sounds of your cries and the things you whisper in his ear he knows you should not say and he should not listen to that fill him full of things he should not feel like I was made for you and daddy, there’s no one like you and come inside me, please, please, I need it. He pulls his hips back, swings them forward, listens to the sound of his balls slap, and you beg for harder, savors the fire that pools in his belly and the base of his spine. And he thinks that he should pull out, he’s been so fucking careless with you and your future and your vulnerability, but he’s like a monster full of greed, intent on nothing but staking his claim, leaving a claim, desperate for a way to be remembered or never forgotten or never left behind. “We have to be careful,” he begs you, and feels scared and terrible for a moment, not to be trusted with a gift like this in his hands. “I’m going to get you fucking pregnant, God.”

But you’re like some siren, something taking him away from himself, and you tell him, “I don’t care, I don’t care,” voice gone so far away from yourself too, all hazy, full of bubbles and too cock drunk to be true or sane, but it lands like a gut punch anyway. And Joel tries to hold onto himself he does, he swears he does, tries to remain rational, and aware of what this was supposed to be and not supposed to be. Tells you to please, “Shut up, shut up. Please, don’t say those things to me, I’m begging you.” But eventually that siren song wins out, the feel of your cunt sucking him deeper, milking him dry, your small damp hands pulling at his hair, stubby nails dragging down the skin of his cheeks, over his back, and Joel’s weak now. Weak and full of want and greed and delusion so that all that’s left is capitulation and: “You want daddy to fuck his babies into you? You want me to fill you up and keep you forever?” But something of himself must remain because he covers your mouth, big hand wrapped around your sweaty little face before you can answer, forcing the words silent inside of your mouth, the truth you both know you’d spit out otherwise. Yes, yes, I do. And as if the idea of you carrying his child held a direct like to your orgasm, you start to come around him, overwhelmed cunt, split in two and carved in the shape of his name now, clenching around him, going so wet and hot and tight Joel’s sure he’ll never be able to leave it ever again. You reach down between the two of you, grasp the half of his cock outside of your wet clutch, shiny with your slick and jack him off with sharp little tugs, make sure he fills you with his spend full to the brim. He spills over and out, dribbles down the slope of your ass to leave you lying in a little puddle of his semen, and when he pulls out, careful to not ask you to hold all of his weight over you, he brings your fingers to your gaping cunt, “Feel where daddy’s been,” lets you play in the imprint of himself he’s left behind.

He lays beside you, steaming hot little thing worming up against him, nuzzling beneath his chin, pressing tiny kisses that tell him all the things the both of you need to hear and say, and he feels himself go cool and dry inside and out. Something terrible suddenly swelling within him. Something that reeks of truth, and you must smell it in the air as well because you share a piece of your own painful honesty with him, force him to confront it. “Sometimes I think I’m impossible to love,” in the smallest voice he’s surely ever heard.

“Haven’t I shown you how untrue that is?” Because if there’s one thing he’ll never do with you, it’s lie.

You tuck your hand beneath your cheek, and you glow, and he feels blinded by it for a moment, eyes wide and so vulnerably tender, something afraid that makes something equally vulnerable inside of him rage and beat its chest. “Is that what this is? Are we in love, Joel?”

He thinks you must see the fear in his eyes, because yours suddenly go calm, fathomless, something steady for him to hold on to, and that stench of honesty chokes him. “Yeah–” he nods, swallows, thinks of his son, hates himself. “I think so, baby.”

What can remain the same after honesty like that? After splitting yourself open and showing each other your insides in such a way? What could possibly remain the same? Nothing. The truth is laid bare, and all that’s left now. And instead of setting you free, the truth never really sets you free, it makes everything terribly fraught and frightened and fragile.

When he moves to stand, the sound of your desperation for him to make you his in an irreversible way rings like exploding shrapnel in your ears, “Do you think we’re bad?” You ask because you’ve only ever wanted to be good, but his eyes are so haunted, large and round and fathomless. His face, taking on a sudden sort of gauntness as he thinks of what to say to you after the worst has already been said. You watch the line of his throat ripple as he swallows several times, reading the real truth in his eyes before he shakes his head slowly, incongruous like a lie, “Never you,” and he does not include himself, “Never you.” It’s devastating. Devastating that the only thing that’s ever mattered, the thing that has finally made you good, is bad in his eyes.

You sit at the kitchen table, watching him while he makes dinner for you. Cold and shivery and wet between your legs in a way that’s not comfortable anymore. In a way that feels like an essential part of you is slowly dripping out, leaving you grossly empty inside. The beautiful dinner he’d bought and made for you tastes like ash wrapped in all the honesty surrounding the two of you, and you stare at each other and there's no need for more words because the truth is all right here in front of the two of you to see with your own two eyes. You want to go get dressed, but you don’t want to call attention to the seed of wrongness that’s been planted now. Are we in love? When the answer had so obviously been yes for so long already. Naive, silly girl. And you want to be angry with him. Ask him why he’d done this to you, made you fall in love with him when he’d said before that you couldn’t, when it was all so hopeless. You also want to hear him say it, say the words out loud with teeth and tongue and sound, you want to taste the words in your mouth because seeing them in his eyes wrapped in all that hopelessness isn’t nearly enough to satiate this hunger he’s stoked inside of you. You want to ask him to hold you, to crawl into his lap and have him cradle you like a child protected in the embrace of stronger, wiser arms. You want to have never been put on this path, to have never met his son, never have married him, never have met him. You want the whole terrible ordeal to be wiped from mind and mouth and memory. You want to have not had to accept it all, not have moved on, not be grateful in ways you can’t even understand for the lesson it’d all posed. You want it all to have never happened. To never have experienced the entire convoluted mess of feelings this ordeal of tearing down your entire life to make yourself anew had caused. To have never fallen in love with your ex-husbands father.

He sits in his chair, hands cupping his chin for so long, silent and staring, probably wondering what to do with you, and when he finally stands, nothing but a long, pained sigh to interrupt the terrible silence, you finally muster the strength to go find that missing bra. Crawl home, once again a ghoul in the night in need of wound licking. And it must be that very same terrible silence, the even more terrible look in his eyes that has something pressurized, set to burst, bottled inside of you because when a knock on the door sounds once again, you don’t even stop for half a thought, exploding suddenly. In his clothes and come, ripping the door open, the words on your tongue ready to spit at her that he’s already got one desperate woman on his hands that needs taking care of, and no, he will not be fixing her dishwasher or her pussy or anything else she thinks she might need him for.

But it’s not the neighbor. And you have nothing but fear lodged in your throat to spit out when you meet his eyes.

Eyes like his father’s, colder, crueler, furious and humiliated, take you in. Just fucked hair and a flannel that’s not your own, mis-buttoned, come-dryed thighs. And worst of all, his voice, like he isn’t even that surprised, like he’d come here just to find this, “You fucking whore.”

“Sam–” you’re not sure if you actually say his name, but the intention is held there, on the tip of your tongue. A plea for mercy or a shout for help or protection or something.

“You fucking whore,” and you flinch at the scream in his throat, scuffle back into the safety of the house of the man you love who is the father of the man you were married to, the man who broke you, the betrayed son. He’s shocked still for a single second, before he’s charging at you, fist not entirely raised but definitely held with consideration. And, “I knew it, I always fucking knew it,” before Joel is there, stepping between you and your ex-husuband, his son, blocking you with his body, big hand wrapping entirely around your forearm to hold you close to himself, to hold you in his protection.

“You better put your fucking arm down before I break it, son.” That moment, Joel’s voice, the utter betrayal in his son’s eyes. The sound of you breaking something that you should have never ever gotten in between. It is worse than all the rest. You take him in, the sight of this man who you used to be married to, he’d always seemed so large in your eyes before, so unattainable. Something never to be fully touched, only gazed upon. Always apart, always cold. Sam’s eyes fall to the place where his father holds you, and his face spasms, something terrible. Broken and alone, a child cast out into the cold. And you want to say that he seems so different now, haggard and gaunt and whittled down to bare bones, but it isn’t the truth. You always knew what he was, your most terrible bit of honesty. You always knew, you’d just not cared before. There was never any separation, no space for you to take a breath and want better for yourself. To be under his scrutiny, something that at one time felt like admiration, but was never anything even close, it was like nothing else, like everything, a great lie. But he was too aware of it, of himself, of that power he held over you, and unlike his father, he was cruel with it. Your eyes move up to the back of Joel’s head, the hard edge of his jaw, the muscle that spasms furiously there. What would it do to you now to be under that same sort of attention, influence, admiration, but from a kinder, gentler, honest source? What had it done to you? Dangerous to risk yourself again, impossible to stop now.

“I always knew it,” he says again, “I always knew you wanted him. What? You let him fuck you?” The words in his mouth are a terrible thing, Joel says something, tells him to hold his tongue, to get the fuck out, but your eyes are riveted on the sight of his face, this man you used to be married to who’d broken you so completely, who’d stolen your very memory of yourself. He seems wholly unrecognizable now, and in a way, it frightens you, that someone you’d known for what seemed like so long could be such a stranger now. Joel’s hand is an anchor, such a comfort wrapped around your arm. “You barely let me touch you for two years, but you’ll bend over like a whore for my fucking Dad?” His voice breaks and it makes you want to laugh a little bit.

Joel shoves him backward, jerking you forward still in his hold. “Say that word one more time in my house, and I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you. And don’t fucking look at her,” he snaps, reaching up to give him a quick two tapped slap on the cheek to focus his gaze on himself. “Get out, Sam. I’ll call you later. We can–”

But unheeded or too far gone, like he needs to hear the sound of the words as a comfort to himself in this moment, Sam looks back at you, “You’re a fucking whore. I wish I’d never met you, I hate you.” Joel shoves him backwards again, harder this time so that his leg slams into the side table, overturning the lamp there into a crashing heap on the floor, so hard that when he pulls you with him it feels as if he’ll wrench your shoulder from its socket with the force of his anger. You yelp in pain, but cling to him anyways, refusing to let him go either, hiding behind the hill of his shoulder. Pushing his son away, not letting you go. It’s wrong, it’s wrong and you’d told him that you wanted to keep him, to take him away from his own son, that you were made of nothing but greed, but there’s something wrong here, inherently not right, bad.

And even yet, you can’t help the look on your face that must surely be nothing short of humiliating to Sam for the way he reddens, the little muscles in his face jerking uncontrollably. You’re done here, Sam. Get the fuck out, Joel says again, taking a step forward to herd him out, pulling you along, keeping you close. You taunt him with your gaze, can’t help yourself, “I thought I was a prude?” You say from behind the protection of his father’s body. “Isn’t that what you called me for all those years? Thought I was frigid, unfuckable, unlovable? Am I not anymore?” You ask in a small, breathy voice, falsely guileless, entirely provoking. “Have you changed your mind now that I’ve taken your Daddy from you?” False pout and mocking eyebrow.

Joel’s head snaps over his shoulder, incredulous look on his face, and Sam flinches as if struck, splintered glass in the shape of his son’s gaze, it fractures, falls back to where Joel holds you.“I wanted to talk to you,” He says to his father, “I wanted to– You’re really choosing her over me?” It costs Sam something to say this, and you weren’t expecting it either because suddenly, the game changes. His voice is child-like in its hurt, that son who longed for his father for all those years. “After everything that was stolen from us, you’re not going to choose me?” You know in that moment, he’s won.

“This isn’t about choice, son,” Joel tells him, but you hear it for the lie it is. “This isn’t about you versus her.”

“But it is,” and his eyes flash to yours, victory held in them. “She was my wife. And you’re my father, and you have to make a choice now. This is fucking sick.” There’d always been an intelligence to his cruelty, and he wields it now. The sound of his son’s name is a choked thing in Joel’s mouth. He goes rigid, a painful stillness, muscles vibrating with warring emotions. You hold your breath for it. He looks down at where he holds you, tightens his grip painfully, and then slowly, so that the three of you are sure to take in the whole procession of it, he lets go of your arm. One finger at a time, the heat of his palm leaving you, and you’re alone.

“It isn’t about choice,” he says again, and yet, one has already been made. You stand still, head bent, gaze riveted on the place where he’d let you go. He takes a step away from you, towards his son, and his voice is low and gentle and soothing now, and you’re still staring at the barrenness of your arm.

I had such potential to be good, you think. He just never saw it. But you don’t know who you mean. And you don’t think it matters anymore.

They say more to each other. Joel’s hand on his son’s arm now, pushing him towards the door, but still, still comforting for the thing it symbolizes, a benediction of choice, and you turn around to face the other side of the room. You can’t look – wrapping your arms around yourself. You don’t think you’ll run this time. Face it head on, let it be over now in full. Sam’s voice rings shrill, the sound of your name and curses and accusations, fighting a futile fight against his father’s even baritone, the sound of the slamming door, and then silence. When you turn back over your shoulder, they’ve stepped outside together, leaving you alone inside the house.

He’d asked you once what you wanted, and you can’t fathom what the point of it had been. What does it matter what I want? That’s the least significant thing here. It always was.

When he finally comes back inside, you’re dressed, lost bra retrieved, your bag packed and sitting at your feet. You’d gone into the kitchen just before, taken a peek at the pie, and you were right, and you don’t know how he could have possibly known, but he’d gotten you rhubarb. Your face is dry now, no tears and no will to cry. There’s nothing to speak of in his gaze when he leans back against the door to look at you, swallowing down words you’re sure will mean nothing in the face of all of this. And you look at him and you love him and you think, I was married to a man once and now I’m not and now I’m with his father and I love him in the way I never loved the son; and so now, I must ask myself, am I merely looking for the love of lesser man, who could have never given me what I needed, in the eyes of a man who seems to have all the answers?

You don’t think so. And yet, there are still no answers to be had, and no questions left to ask.

“I’m going this time,” In case he has designs to force you to stay, and even though there’s a light of acceptance in his eyes, he still shakes his head. Swallows and gathers his seams about himself before he says, “You aren’t leaving me,” gaze churning from warry to flinty to resolved.

“I was never supposed to stay at all. I was never supposed to be for you. You said so yourself– you said we couldn’t fall in love. That I wasn't for you.” You get to your feet, pulling your purse over your shoulder, and he rushes towards you, pushing the bag back down to the floor, taking your face in his hands hard, something like panic in his eyes and in the air and in the vibration of his voice.

“It doesn’t matter, none of that matters– Whatever was before, whatever was in the past doesn’t mean shit when it’s just you and me here together–” And you’re crying now, real, great sobs of grief.

“You were the one that said we couldn’t fall in love,” you cry again, try and pull away, but he holds you to himself, squeezes you against him, shivers like he too is crying, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I was a fucking idiot, a damn liar. There was never any other option, baby.” Most terrible of terrible truths, you’d both known if for the lie it was the moment he’d said it, even before, probably. You stand limply in the circle of his embrace. He’d said once that he’d been a coward not to go out and look for you, but you know the opposite is true. No one is more of a coward than you were for not having waited for him. For having been so desperate for love, you’d been willing to settle for the wrong kind. You’ll never be able to settle for false comfort like that again, and it’s all his fault. “You’ve ruined me now. I’m ruined.”

He pulls back to take your face in his hands again, and you were right, he is crying. “I’m ruined! And I need you to give me another chance. I demand another chance– to… to fix this. To–”

But another chance for what? To change what? “He’s your son, and I only want you to be happy.” And you know he couldn’t ever be happy, truly happy, estranged from his only child. After all, like he’d said, the theft of him had been the worst thing ever done. You wouldn’t commit a crime like that against Joel also, never.

“Baby, please, I think… I– I love–”

“Please–” You press the tips of your fingers to his mouth, silencing him. “Please, don’t do this to me now.” It makes you angry, this intent of his to trap you here with his love when there’s no room for you to stay. You turn away, picking up your bag again, but he snatches you back into himself, wrapping his big arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest. And you’d struggle if you could, but there’s so little fight left in you. “You’re the one that said – you said we couldn’t!”

“I know what I fucking said,” he spits, voice so angry it almost frightens you. “But there’s still– We have to talk, we have to–”

“What can you possibly imagine there’s left to say?”

“Everything.”

“Or nothing.”

“Look at me. Look at me–” He pulls your head back and to the side by your chin. There’s a bright flush sitting high on his cheekbones, and his eyes shift quickly back and forth between yours, searching for a way to fix this. To fix the good thing that’s now been broken. His thumb strokes the point of your chin softly, and he presses his mouth slowly to yours, eyes open to watch for your reaction. “This wasn’t a mistake,” he tells you, “We weren’t a mistake.” Weren’t. The final nail in the coffin. “I know, I know that there are so many things– that we can’t… but just– just stand here with me for one minute, please. Just give me one more second, and I’ll–”

He doesn’t finish the thought, and you let him kiss you one last time. And when he pulls back, because it doesn’t feel like it really matters, and because you just want to hear the sound of it coming out of your mouth, because you wish it was true and not the complete opposite, because you want to be as cruel and ugly outside as you feel on the inside, you whisper, “I hate you,” a full bodied lie.

His eyes shutter and flicker for a moment, a wash of hurt suffusing them. But because he’s never been a weak man and because he’s always been honest, and he’s always, always above everything else, been good, he says, “And I love you,” and there it is. You’d thought you wanted to hear the sound of that too, but now that you have, it’s more terrible than you could have ever possibly imagined. And after that, there really is nothing left to say.

Joel goes to see his brother afterwards because it’s what he always does and who he always goes to when he’s lost. When a son in the shape of a man made of nothing but childish fear and anger and hurt, had appeared one day, dropped out of the blue sky, onto his front porch, when he realized he wanted his daughter-in-law in a way no good man should. And now, that he’s admitted, because the realization had already been there, swift and uncompromising, the admittance had been all that was left, the hard going part, that he was in love with you – in love with the woman who had been married to his son, here he finds himself again. Lost and weak and two feet tall, made of nothing but hollow bones. “I’m not myself,” he tells Tommy, and then amends the lie because he’s not come here to tell lies. “She’s made me into someone I don’t recognize and wish I could be forever.” How would he get his old self back now? Impossible. You’d taken him away with you, he was only half made now, half man, half strength. And Tommy is understanding because it has always only been the two of them, and he’s always seen Joel for exactly who he is without judgement. The most honest eyes in the whole world, his brother. “I'm afraid that she’s the love of my life. I’m afraid that I’m not really so afraid at all. And she won’t even talk to me.” You’d left his house a week and a day ago, and Joel was going out of his mind, losing pieces of himself along the way, his sanity, his sense of right and wrong, his self restraint, self possession. He was about to do something crazy, he felt it gnawing and itching at his bones. He could barely remember the look of betrayal in his own son’s eyes amidst the madness of the memory of the hurt in yours, the sight of you walking away from him. “And my son. My son, my child, Tommy, he hates me. And I’m in love with the woman he used to be married to, who he hurt. And he’s a cruel and small man, and he needs me. He needs my help, and I have a responsibility to him. But Tommy– Tommy, I love her. She’s mine. And what am I going to do? What am I going to say to him? How will I ever face him again? She’s mine, and I– I can’t explain it, I can’t excuse it. But she’s mine– she’s my woman. She belongs to me. I know this as well as I know my own name, my own face.”

And his brother, his brother, his brother who always understands him, who always stands beside him, he claps him on the shoulder and says, “If anyone can find a way, Joel, it’s you. I know you can. You’re stronger and smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. And you don’t abandon yours.” And so Joel must believe him because Tommy is his brother, and he knows him, and he knows that even though he’s weak now, even if he must let himself be weak now, in the face of all of this, Joel is not truly a weak man where it counts.

You and Sam had only ever spoken once on the topic of children. It was, from the first moment broached, a non possibility, not even half of an option. Devastating, but now, all this time later, almost like a grace from God. You’d wanted a baby so badly, more than anything in the whole world, and he would not give you one. He’d said your desire for a child was incongruous with your cold nature, how frigid you were.

And you’d been so long, caught in the who am I, in the what am I doing. You never stopped to ask why. Molded into a bad shape, but mute and deaf to the intricacies of what had carved you so. You’d needed to destroy yourself entirely, tear down everything around yourself, and then recreate yourself and everything else in your life in a new image. Perhaps, then, you’d finally have the chance to be good.

Your husband’s father had given you this. Joel had given you this.

And Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. How to tell him that you’re sorry? That you’re vile and cruel and yes, even cold sometimes, but for him, for him you can find it in yourself to be soft, something to be forgiven, you hope. His son had called you a prude, and then, his father’s whore. Did it matter what the truth was? You weren’t so sure. Did you want Joel because you were a whore? Because your own father had never loved you, and you were thus desperate to fill that void left by lesser, crueler men? Did it matter? You hated the idea that this desire for him had to have been born by consequence of another man. What about what you wanted? What about the fact that it felt good when he was inside of you? When he gave it to you rough and hard and when he told you that you belonged to him because you did, because it was the truth. What about the fact that you were in love with him? That should have counted more because you said it counted more. And then that was it, nothing more to the thing of it. So what if he was the father of the man who’d been your husband? The man who’d stolen all of your surety, your passion, yourself. Sometimes, retribution feels fucking good. So what about it? And then, and after all, you were in love with him. So what did it all matter after that?

People liked to say that sometimes a bad thing is worth it if it feels good enough. But what if you didn't think it was bad at all, and what if it didn’t just feel good enough? What if it’s actually everything, the best thing you’d ever had in your whole life? And what if it is simply and solely, or maybe even also, who cares, who cares, what if it is simply because it’s Joel? Joel who is beautiful and strong and good. Maybe even perfect in a way that you need.

He’d told you once that he’d never had the chance to be angry, that it had been stolen from him, the worst thing ever done to me, he’d said. You know that you could never do that to him. Never hurt him in that way. And there might be so many options. Choices. Truths. Yourself. Finally, you are only yourself. Good in the way he’d shown you to be. In a way that did not bow to anything but the sort of goodness you needed. But Joel; above all else, Joel. He is the first choice, and everything else seems inconsequential after that. What is goodness worth in the face of all he’s given you?

So, you sit now, within the basin of your empty bathtub, no more leaky kitchen sink echoing through your empty apartment, he’d fixed it weeks ago, and peer over the lip of the tub. And there, blinking up at you from the face of the skinny pink and white stick, is your answer to goodness. It had always been within yourself. And you think, if it must be just the two of us now, then let it. After all, your father has finally taught me how to be good.

End.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#pink fic #Joel miller #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller/ reader #Joel Miller/ you #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us au #Joel Miller au #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

991 notes · View notes

minispidey · 8 months

Text

03: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

03. Everyday she wears pink.

(A/n: your feedback on the last chapter about me writing the moon knight system is so amazing tysm! i referenced mpgis here and more legally blonde. i wanna note that reader has been a lawyer for a couple years now and amazing at it 🤸‍♀️ btw update tags are open!)

warnings: mention of cock, swearing and cursing, mention of blood.

the cock line is from my bubs @ominoose ily

"This isn't just a date. This is a date!" You told yourself as you threw random articles of clothing behind you as you hunted for a specific dress.

You thought maybe you shouldn't wear pink. Maybe you have a pretty dress he hasn't seen you in.

You barely slept due to excitement.

The way he talked and looked at you made you swoon over him. Just thinking about makes you-

You squealed as your leg involuntarily kicked up. You blinked twice in confusion "That is so weird..."

Maybe you were horny.

"Oh gosh, not again. Bad leg!" you scolded your beautiful leg as it kicks up again "Down girl, down! No nasty thoughts about... about... about the hot neighbor across us- no!"

You almost moaned at the though of his lips against yours... You shuddered as you kept remembering the way he looked at you. You laid down in the pool of clothing as you imagined how your little lunch date will go.

As usual, you two walked out of your flat at the same time, discussing where the two of you were going for lunch.

"Wetherspoons..." you parked your pink corvette outside, looking at the flowers decorating the place. Your high heels clicked on the pavement as you walked inside, still in your pink work suit despite planning on changing.

It was a busier day than you thought, but of course lunch time is important.

Your eyes lit up as you spotted Steven, sitting up rather stiff "Stevie!" you smiled as you walked over to his table "Hi, so sorry I'm a bit late. Traffic and all."

But Steven looked back at you with such a loving look in his eyes "It's alright, love. I haven't been waiting long."

The truth is, he thought you weren't gonna show up.

"Have you ordered yet? Gosh, you must be starved." you opened the menu and browsed.

"I haven't." he shook his head, opening his menu as well.

"Cross examination was a success." you smiled "Next week's the next trial with the witness."

Steven didn't know what you were talking about, it was out of context "That's great!" he responded.

"So then he was like no and I was like, you are. Then he was like no but then I was like you are! And he was like, I kinda am. So long story short he's like, totally gay." you said as you looked at your compact mirror.

"Thank gosh I figured it out, because no way can he say my Chanel is so last season when his shirt is so last year. My client was totally bugging, but we figured it out and I, like, totally won that. How about you, Stevie? How's your day?"

Steven smiled back at you "T'was alright, love. Just the usual." he says sarcastically "Donna's been a real-"

"Excuse my language— Bitch? Cunt? Pain in the ass?"

He chuckles "Yes. A pain in the arse, love."

"She always sounds like she's giving you a hard time. You sure you don't want me to talk to her?"

"I don't think it's lawyer-worthy. It's really alright, love." Steven shakes his head "Just another typical day."

"Yeah, which can be classified as workplace abuse."

"Really. I'm fine."

You press your glossy lips into a thin line before sighing "Alright. But if you need someone to represent you in court, I'm your girl." you playfully winked at him.

Steven blushed before nodding "I'll keep you in mind then." a waiter comes up to the two of you and he began to order "-and a cocktail. Uh, how about you?"

"Um, I'll have the Soup of the Day with half a baguette, and Pasta Pomodoro with salmon. And— wait did you say a cocktail?" you blinked twice at Steven "I'll have a cocktail too, thank you."

You smiled at the waiter as he repeated the order to you two before walking away.

"Jeez, Stevie. It's only lunchtime." you giggled at him.

"I-I just wanted something strong."

"Work's really stressful, huh?"

"It really is." he sighed "Working late again tonight. But this uh lunch date is really cheering me up."

Your cheeks felt hot, making you smile "That's so sweet... tell you what, I'll pick you up from work tonight again. I'm working late too anyways."

It was Steven's turn to blush. His hand shakes with his head "You're way too nice. I don't wanna bother you. It's quite overwhelming too." even his ears turned red.

"Steven, you shouldn't turn away blessings." you winked as you giggled. Your cocktails were served just a few minutes later.

"I haven't had a cock in a while."

Steven felt his drink rush to his nose and he quickly grabbed a napkin. He coughs a few times before looking up at you.

"Oopsies, I meant a cocktail." you covered your mouth, smiling "Well, I mean... I haven't had that in a while either."

You took a sip of the drink and Steven stared at the lipstick mark left on the edge of the glass. You always wore a certain shade of lipstick, and it always drove him crazy.

There were times he'd imagine smudging your lipstick... in more ways than one.

After lunch, the two of you laughed as you drove to the museum. Steven just kept falling more and more into your wonderland of pink and diamonds. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes, listening to every word you said.

The thing about Steven is that he loves to ramble and talk a lot, and so do you. He knew you were perfect.

"-and I was like, thank gosh I talked her out of buying an orange chiffon scarf. It doesn't suit her spring tones at all! There's a fine line between terracotta and brown."

That evening, your pink corvette was parked outside of the museum, waiting patiently for Steven after a long day of reading case papers. You puckered out your lips to reapply some lipstick before popping and smiling at your reflection.

Your freshly manicured nails tapped on the steering wheel while humming a small tune.

Then suddenly someone knocks on your window.

"Steven?"

He looked like he was roughed up, red staining his clothes, but it's not his blood. It didn't even look like the same clothes he was wearing during your lunch date.

"Oh my gosh, Steven-"

...but that's actually not your main concern.

"-I told you, blue and black as a combo is a total crime against fashion. If it were me, I'd make it law." you groaned, opening the locks of your car "Get in."

His eyes widened but he doesn't respond, only taking the passenger's seat like you commanded.

"Oh, you have a little stain there." you pat the patch of blood using a pink handkerchief with lace trim and your name embroidered on the corner.

He continued to stare at you as you took his hand and placing your handkerchief on his palm "Here. You can give it back to me some other time because I seriously I need to take you shopping this weekend."

You thought maybe he's always tired after work, that's why he's so quiet, like yesterday.

"Maybe I can figure out your color palette so I know what looks best on you. Your shirts are cute, I'd have to admit, but some of them are... meh. No offense but some prints are worse than the last. OH! I know, we'll do a whole shopping day on the weekend. An hour or so won't cut it. I know it's your weekend off, but trust me when I say when your pretty neighbor's a fashionista, your life is gonna change."

Steven looks at you from the mirror's reflection before shifting his eyes towards the body— Jake. Unlike Marc's creepy silent behavior from the night before, Jake actually looks at you as you went on and on.

He even responds with small nods.

"Can we not make this a habit? First it's Marc pretending to be me in front of her, now it's you. I don't need your help with her. Can I please go in my own pace?" Steven tells Jake, but Jake shook his head in a not now kind of motion.

As Jake entered the apartment after waving goodnight to you, he's met with a poor attempt of a glare from Steven "Don't look at me like that, you wanted the girl so I gave it a push."

"I want to do this on my own. Marc doesn't want me to, I don't know about you, but I don't need help. Can I please do it my way? It's all I ask."

"Can you ask her out?"

Steven pressed his lips into a line before letting out a sigh "Give me the body. I'll... try."

"Alright, alright. You go on ahead."

Steven, now in control of the body, swung open the door and he sees you struggling to find your keys. You blinked twice before smiling at him "Hi again, Stevie. My keys are just- ugh, a lot." your keychains jingle as you tried to find the right key.

"Can we go on a date after shopping this weekend?" he blurts out quickly. Steven was red as a tomato "D-Dinner date."

Your eyes lit up and you felt the butterflies in your stomach again "I'd love that! I'll just- oh! I found my key!"

And you also found the key to your locked-up heart.

UP NEXT: the best weekend ever! a date with steven and a little breaking and entering 💅

tags: @red-hydra @monsterroonio @pastelpinkpilatesprincess @letmehavemyfictionalmen @uncle-eggy @superduckmilkshake @3zae-zae3

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #x bimbo!reader #x reader #x you #bimbo reader #moon knight system

423 notes · View notes

yuyu1024 · 3 months

Text

Roommate

Pairings: Yunho × y/n

Genre/tags: first time

Warning: smut/angst 🔞🔞🔞 unprotected sex, pet names, a lot of cursing, mention of masturbating

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.6k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: another random drabble i just wrote before i slept the other day. But forgot to post 😅 no storyline

***

Typical. Everyone around you is either holdinh hands with their partner or just basically eating each other's face like you don't exist in their friendship group.

You love your friends, you do, with all of your heart, however sometimes you just want to slap them across their faces and tell them to stop being showy of their love, affection and horny asses while you are with them. They know you are single and lonely. They can try to control it right?

It is not like you are single solely by choice. It's not like that. You also wanted to date. You wanted to try. But the problem is, no one is even willing to try it with you. Basically, you think, you are not attractive enough for boys or men to even look back to you and talk.

Just thinking about it makes you want to cry.

You did what you can to change so that society can notice you. You started wearing contact lenses to let them see your eyes that usually hides behind your thick glasses. You even styled your hair. Not a drastic change but your friend says the layering cut fits you. Then you also updated your wardrobe. You still have the comfy ones in there but you added some basic blacks, whites, browns and nudes color for basic mix and match for future dates.

However, no future dates ever happened since then.

You thought, who are you kidding? No one wanted to date you when you are you so how can anyone date you now as well when you are trying to be 'normal' and same as the others.

"Here is your pineapple juice." San, your bestfriend, brings you your nonalcohol drink.

"Thank you..." you say as you take it from his hand. "Where is your girlfriend?"

"Ah, she went outside to meet his big brother..."

"Brother? She has a brother?"

"Are you even not listening to any of our conversation for the past year?" He raise his brow at you

You roll your eyes. "Oh sorry... how can I listen to your conversation when all I could see is your mouth nibbling her neck whilst your hand is on her boobs and squishing it like I'm not here!" You rant

San laughs at you. "Babe! I'm sorry!" He puts his arm around you. "You know I can't get enough of my girlfriend..."

You scoff. "I know! Like it's not obvious. I see it every week we go out and hang out!" You push him away jokingly.

"You act annoyed and disgusted by us... but when you get yourself a man... you'll know how we feel." He says, laughing

"IF... I get myself a man. You know I'm struggling here..." you sigh, shaking your head.

"Hi I'm back!" San's girlfriend emerges from the crowd, pulling a tall guy with her. "Got my big brother here."

"Hey! Yunho! Long time no see!" San gets up and hugs his girl's brother.

"Yeah... it's been quite some time now..." Yunho responses. "But I'm back... but... homeless..."

"Homeless?" San questions as they all sit down.

"He's moving back here... he just resigned from his job and looking for a place to live." San's girl answers. "He is staying at my place for now... but my unit is not big enough for the two of us..."

"Right... hmm... I would suggest my building but currently all units are full." San says. "Oh wait! Y/N!"

All of them looks at you with dear eyes whilst you were drinking your pineapple juice.

"What?" You ask San

"By the way, she is my bestfriend... Y/N.... and Y/N... Yunho... Her brother..." he introduces you

"Hi..." you greet, smiling.

"So," San claps his hands, grinning. "Didn't your roommate just moved out?" He asks you

"Yes..." you are lost why the sudden question. But then your eyes met San's girlfriend's eyes. "Wait... are you suggesting..."

"Don't worry about him!" She stands and sits beside you. "His work is nighshift so... when you are home he's not! So it's like living with no one..."

"Huh? Wait. Why my place?"

It's not that you are being rude but it is a bit awkward since you just met the gorgeous guy a second ago.

"Girl... just accept it." San suddenly whispers to you. "He have a ton of friends... goodlooking ones..."

"Are you suggesting to let him stay with me in return to find me a guy?" You hiss at San and then hit him on the arm.

"Don't worry... it's just for a mean time... while he's saving up and looking for a place to move near his work. Which is oddly same area as your place."

San is really enjoying this sitution. You don't like what he is doing. You're guessing he is either playing cupid for you and Yunho or he's trying to make you look good for Yunho so he could also help you find a man.

Wow. You're bestfriend is so desprate to get you laid and have a life.

"Maybe her building have an extra unit?" Yunho asks

"Well... my place is more like a 3 story apartment building... the owner lives at the house next door and the two units under me are all taken." You explain

"Her place is outside the city yet not to far to get to." San explain

"Hers is more quiet than my place. You definitely could get your sleep in the morning." His sister adds

"Really..." his eyes then shifts to his sister to you. "Don't worry... I could pay rent if you like... I could share with the food too."

That's fine you guess. Right? Since it's going to be just for a mean time? What could go possibly wrong of having a guy in your apartment just to sleep during the day while you are out at work...

***

"San!" You hiss while you slowly close your bedroom's door. "I don't think I can do this." You whisper on your phone

"What do you mean?"

"You and your girlfriend missed out an important detail about Yunho... before you let me take him in my place!"

"What detail? Yunho is a nice guy. He's not going to hurt you or anything... he's very kind too and caring. He is a decent guy Y/N."

You sigh as you go on further your room, making a ton more distant from your door so Yunho won't hear you.

"Yeah, he's great. Sure. I get that. But..."

"But what?"

How can you explain to your bestfriend that whenever you wake up in the morning to get ready for your day, not just one time but like a few times now in the past month, THAT you caught your new roommate masturbating. Like seriously moaning outloud and out and about. He does not even try to close his door or anything!

"Y/N? You're still there?"

You snap out of it. You try to stop imagining it all over again. But fucking hell, how can you remove the image and the sound in your head? It is now engraved in your brain and it echoes in your ears.

"Hello? Are you still alive?" San asks

"Yes... I'm still here..."

"So... what is it?"

"Fuck..." you hiss. "Nothing....nevermind... I'll just.... whatever. Yeah... I just hope he finds a new place soon."

You say outloud. It's not like you don't like him now just because of what you keep witnessing every now and then. It's just awkward for you. Awkward in terms of..... you don't know what to do about it. The dirty thoughts building in your mind is too much for you to even handle.

You don't want to be a pervert or a freak imagining him fucking you. Especially with the length he got? Oh dear. Just imagine him pounding you and making you lose your shit.

"Good morning." Yunho greets you the second you got out of your room. He just finished showering and preparing breakfast. "I made something quick.. scrambled and toast..."

"Thanks..." you try to avoid looking at him. Not because you caught him today.

He was not doing it today actually but because, the reason you called San in panic mode is becauss you dreamt about it. And that's not okay. It made you, wet early in the morning. Even for someone who is a virgin and only knows sex through books and movies.

"You're not up early today." He asks before he bite his toast

"Ah... it's my off today." You say as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"On a wednesday? Middle of the week?"

"Yeah..." you then add sugar and milk to your drink. "Forced leave actually... since I don't use them much and my boss thinks I'm a workaholic." You take a sip and exhale satisfaction. "He said... I should use a few days and just... relax... plus the weather lately is not good so... it's okay..."

Both of you look outside the window and watch how strong the storm is.

"Yeah... it was a struggle to get to work last night and even get home earlier..."

"Glad you got home safe." You say, "A friend of mine at work lost control during his drive... he almost hit a tree..."

"That's bad."

"It is..."

You glance at him and saw him looking at you. You try to smile it off and ignore the fact that he is starring and just continued to look outside the window and drink your coffee. But then...

"You know... you look cute with your glasses on." He suddenly says. "Hmm no actually... I think... you look sexier with your glasses on."

What the fuck was that?

"S-sorry...?" You can't process what he just said

"I'll go ahead and sleep..." he smiles. "Enjoy the breakfast I made for you." And as he walks pass you, his hand slightly brushes off your ass like he tried to touch it but didn't actually. "Goodnight, Y/N..." he says before he disappears to his room.

You thought that, THAT one thing. That morning is just a fluke like he was just being nice and flirty. But it has no malice.

Because you thought, why? Why would someone like him? Tall, handsome, sexy and someone nice will take interest to someone like you? Someone no one seems to like.

But then... a few more weeks of being getting to know each other more, sharing flirtatious gazes and catching him still masturbating. Well, like probably any smut books you've read, it all ended up having a spicy moment with your roommate.

"Y-yunho.... Yu..... Yunho...!" You are out of breathe and probably about to pass out. That's how tired and weak you are right now. "I... I aaaah!!! I think I'm going to explode!" You cry, grasping onto the headboard for support.

"I can't stop.... I can't." He grunts as he pushes himself in you more and more. "You're sucking me in real fucking good!" He snarls. He is breathing hard and heavy as you are. "Fuck!"

What happened? How did you end up like this? Legs spread open, naked and being pounded by Yunho.

"Fuck!" You moan as he constantly hit your spot. "Yunho! This is fucking insane!" You are tearing up but its not from the pain but its from the high its giving you. It tickles you from the inside.

You never knew sex would be this damn good.

"Shit!" Yunho hisses before he locks his lips to yours. "What the fuck are you doing? You are getting tighter and tigher... fuck so good! Aaah!!" He wraps his arms around you, caging you more close to his body. "Y/N!" He calls your name, "shit... holy shit."

You are not sure what you are doing. But your body is tense and reacting very well to him fucking you.

"I'm dizzy because of the alcohol..." you exhale. "I don't know... how can.... how I even..." You stop to scream as he pounded you real hard and you felt it in your gut. "Fuck!"

"Come for me..." he then says before he nuzzles his face on your neck. "You even smell so good."

Right. You two celebrated your promotion. You're supposed to celebrate with San and his girl too but since the weather is bad and not safe to really go out, you decide to just do it with Yunho. Bad idea was to drink alcohol with him to help you to warm up a bit since it's snowing bad outside. Coz now... it got you fucked and still getting fucked up.

"Oh god! Yunho!" You moan. You actually think you exploded. You feel more wet down there. But Yunho don't seem to mind. Because he's not stopping yet

You got pretty close already after a decent amout of months living with him. But tonight, is another level of closeness. The alcohol vamps up both your horny asses.

You being curious about how sex feels, craving it even if you haven't done it yet ever and him, being vacant in that 'section' for months and months now since he is single and busy. So... the combination of that got you to your position now.

"How do you feel?" He asks, looking at you eye to eye

Your mouth is open and breathing loudly but you still managed to answer him. "A-amazing..."

Your answer made him smile. "I'm close..." he says, "Do you want me to pull it out?"

"Pull out? Why?" You whine

He faintly laughs and then kisses you on the corner of your lips. "We don't have protection. We got so excited that I forgot to grab a condom."

Then you extend your legs and wrap it around his hips. "Don't. I want to know how it feels.... I want to feel it. Everything... give it to me..."

"Fuck Y/N...." he snarls before biting his lower lip. "You're making me more horny by saying that."

"Please...?"

"Hold on then..." he says before he picks up his pace.

He thrusts more faster and stronger. He is running to reach his climax. And it didn't take long for him to break since you clench so tightly whenever he hits your core perfectly.

"Fucking hell!" He gasp for air and your embrace the moment he lets go of himself. "Y/N... you are one dangerous woman..." he mumbles, "fuck..."

"I should be the one telling you that... you seduced me..." you says as you softly kiss his cheek

"Oh baby it's the other way around..." he pulls out of you and lays flat beside you. "The moment you came out of your room wearing my hoodie by mistake..." Yunho covers his face with his forearm, hiding his smile. "I lost it."

You giggle as you find him adorable. He is embarassed right now but when he asked you if could fuck you hours ago, there was no hint of shyness in him.

"Y/N...?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I be your permanent roommate?"

"What?"

"Because..." He pushes himself up and turn to face you. "I don't think I'd allow myself to not have a taste of you every fucking day now..." he leans forward to your chest area and let his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple.

You squirm, feeling it from your boobs to your core. Your cheeks also becomes as red as the cherries on the cake you have left on the dining table.

"Looks like... you're body wants to go again..." he teases while he is still licking you up

"Fuck... My nipples are so sensitive plus it feels so good... I think... I think... I'm horny again..." you breathe. Your hips are already out of control moving just from him teasing your nipple.

"I can go again if you like..." Yunho then kisses you on the lips. "I told you... I'm... the perfect... roommate for you." He says in between kisses

"Really?" You smile

"Yes..." Yunho scoops you up making sure he gets more access to your other boob.

"Fuck me again...?" you ask, eyes closed

You hear him smile. "I'll never say no to that."

#yuyu1024 #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #atz x reader #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #kpop fanfic #yunho fanfic #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez yunho #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #atz yunho #atz yunho fanfic

189 notes · View notes

02chois · 1 year

Text

20. EPILOGUE

pairing: kang taehyun x reader

word count: 235 words

summary: friends— that's all what you guys are, yet why does he brush your hair so fondly? why does he holds your hand as you walk home? And you don't even like each other that much. wait, fuck, maybe you do? does he though? you have to find out someway or another.

note: so this is the end! I'm really sad that it's over fhnejd but seriously, thank you so much for the endless support you gave to this au <33 also thank you to those who stayed until the end 🥺💗💗 I cannot express how grateful I am to you guys!! The rbs and comments? They're so fun to read and they make me smile a lot :') I look forward to them a lot so really,, thank u 😭🩷🩷 there's still the spin off but it won't be updated everyday :<

PREVIOUS / MASTERLIST

Taehyun let out a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in his throat before speaking. "I know it's been four years and maybe I kept you waiting but…"

You lift your head to look at him, your hand digging into your bag for something. You've been planning something for a while now and you hope that you didn't leave it at home. It'll be such a waste if ever.

"I'm undeniably in love with everything about you and I hope I make you happy as you make me. What I'm trying to say is that—"

Taehyun stopped, watching your hand as you finally found the thing you've been looking for. It was a small black velvet box. "Well, what were you trying to say?" You ask him, a grin on your face appeared.

"Are you proposing?"

You open the box revealing a gold ring. He pulls out a small red velvet box to open it, which reveals a thinner ring with small diamonds around it.

"Does this mean it's a yes for the both of us?" He let out a laugh, almost dropping the box on the table out of amusement. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"We'll look stupid if we back out when we clearly want to marry each other, huh?" You giggle and place the box down, taking the ring to put it on his ring finger later.

"You have a point."

taglist: bold (can't tag)

@boba-beom @beeomgui @luvsoobs @bunnystrm @yenqa @hueninv @moontyuns @jjunsolos @sullystraw @shua-s @txtbrainrot @goldennika @automatictalebeliever @vexstrils @soobinlover718 @strawbrinkofdeath @hyusun @wezbin @floating-moon-dust @enhapocketz @igotkpoops @silvsie @dainsleif-when-playable @luvdokja @vianna99 @azurez @emohazuzworld @taehyunsfel @hueneve @curly-fr13s @ioszzn @mhmdylan @hearts4csb @minswife0 @spagettae @n0-thisispatrick @softcabur @whippedforbeomgyu @theycallmelolla @choizzn @b1ndignity @lazuligi @be0m9yu @erens-piss-cleaner @cherriegyu @alpha-mommy69 @soobliss @tyuncloudreamy @heehaven

#taehyun smau #taehyun socmed au #taehyun x reader #txt smau #txt socmed au #txt x reader #taehyun scenarios #taehyun imagines #kpop smau #kpop socmed au

272 notes · View notes

enidsinclairaddamsthesecond · 3 months

Text

You belong with her me Pt 2~ T.N x Reader

Yule Ball

Summary: Y/n has been just asked out to yule ball by her crush - Theodore Nott! Will she finally get the courage to reveal her true feelings for him? But first of all, will the popular heart throb like her back?

Warnings: Typical Theo, Singer!Reader.

Inspiration: Taylor Swift's You belong with me song from fearless album. ᯓ★

Authors note: Hey yall! Sorry for the late update, I have been really busy for the past few days, hope you understand. This is the first part . Let me know your comments down! Lots of love #A/N 💌

Tagged: @jetblackpayne and @m0rg4na and @lafrone

THE NIGHT BEFORE YULE BALL

y/n decided to tell Pansy the truth. Whats the point? She would ask her in a few mins anyway.

y/n POV

"Y/n!!!" Pansy pounced on me from behind as I entered the Slytherin common room. I sigh, now is the time I thought.

"girls got something to sayyy?" She asked teasingly. I acted as if I didnt know what she was talking about, but I knew this will not help me for long.

"ugh fine, I'll just ask, Who did you ask? Or did someone ask you out for the yule ball?" She smiled.

"Ok, I'll tell for that cute little puppy eyes of yours" I say mockingly for which she laughed out.

"someone asked me out" I say, trying to make her, lose her patience. "yeah… who is it?" "Theodore-" "NOTT!!!" she screams. "shhhh- yeah him! Keep your voice low will you?" I look up from her and scan the room to see if the tall boy was anywhere near. He wasnt.

"Ohh… I never knew that play boy had feelings for you" she laughs. I bite my lip. Oh Pansy, I would love it if that was true. Only if you know. I thought. "No no its nothing like that. He just wanted a girl-" "to come with him to the yule ball because he just broke up with Alexjandra? I got to know" She nodded. "But I didnt know he chose you!" she teases. I smile.

After a long pause.

"I wanted to tell you something Pansy, even if its kinda late, I-I… I have-" "feelings for Theo ever since year one? Well if that is the case, I know. By the way its way too late to tell that now" She fold her hands. I drop my jaw. How does she know everything? "well how do u know?" I question.

"Open your eyes y/n. I have been your friend for four years. I have always noticed your side glances, the way you change the topic if I ever talk about him, the way you get so nervous while approaching him, these signs, its obvious!" I blushed heavily. "why didn't you tell me then? Tell me that knew?" "I waited till you confessed by your own will" she smiled. I was still surprised. I pulled her in for a hug. "Thats what I call a soul friend" "whats even a soul friend mean?" she laughs as I hug her tighter. "Who did you ask out?" I ask. "Draco" she smiled. "well doesn't take me by surprise" I wink. "so we are matching green tomorrow?" "Yes! Ill show you my gown!" saying so, she pulled me up to the girls dorm.

YULE BALL

Theodore Nott's POV

Draco nudged me. "will you tell me who you asked out? I mean I have been waiting for that reply ever since yesterday!" "Dude she is Slytherin alright, calm down!" "ya who is she? The name I mean, to be more specific" he rolled his eyes. "You will know soon enough" I laugh at his impatience. "The fact that I already told I'm going out with Pansy" he grunts. I laugh. Pansy came out of no where behind Draco and surprised him. "How do I look Draco?" She asks, her cheeks flustered. "All the best you two" I wink at them. "All the best with y/n! break her heart, I'll break yours" Pansy threatened. Draco smiled. He knows now. And the pair left. I turn hoping to see y/n, instead it was Hermione, she came down the stairs and linked her hands with Krum. I roll my eyes. I hate both of them. My patience was running out. Where is she? I groaned. At the same moment, y/n came down from the stairs, holding the railing.

She wore a nude makeup barely visible. Or... it was her natural beauty. A green satin gown highlighting her thin frame. I was stunned to see the charming young women approaching me. Her eyes searched the hallway and finally landed on mine.

Y/n POV

I blush when I saw him staring back at me. I smile and approach him. "There you are!" "sì, bella mia" he says something in Italian, and takes my hand in his palm and kisses it. This isn't helping. I blush more. "what does that mean?" I laugh. "common lets go" he says smiling and I link my arms with his. We reach the hall, and sure there are many people as expected. "Where is that Marlowe?" he snarls searching for her. I get sad a little bit. "hey" I place both of my palms in his cheek and gently force him to look at me. A very brave move from me, indeed. "today, can it be just for both of us? Even if we are just acting and you know… at least we'll try to make each other happy and have some fun" I say smiling.

He returns my smile and his hands grab by waist and pulls me closer to him. "If you say so Amore mio!" he smiles and looks directly into my eyes. I caress his cheek when all of a sudden and hand yanked me away from him. I gasp and see who the intruder of my dream moment was. Alexjandra Marlowe.

"Theo! How can you choose a trash bag to replace me!" she whines. "look we are meant to be together, its written in the stars darlings!" cringe I taught. Theo pulls his arms out of her grasp and says in a dangerously low voice;

"leave us alone jerk. You have no right calling her a trash bag, well actually your mind is peice of shit which should be kicked out in the trash can first. And touch my girlfriend like that, I'll kill you" he growls and with a fraction of a second he grabs my face and places a peck gently near my lips" He pulled my waist and glued the tiniest space between us and walked to the center of the hall. "Want to dance?" he asks. "with you? Ofcourse!" I smile. The music plays and everyone starts dancing to the beat. "you'v got nice moves y/n" "haha thanks-i used to be a dancer" We danced like there was no end. But we took a break to get a drink. "well played" he compliments me grabing a drink for himself and hands me one. "Thanks!" I smile. The music stops all of a sudden. "Well seems like there is a glitch- would anyone like to volunteer to sing meantime?" Madame McGonagall says. A hand raises up almost immediately. "That hand seems familiar" I mumble to my self. Pancy?! I never knew she could sing! The mic was passed to her; "well I dont know how to sing actually" she giggles, "thaught so" I mumble to Theo, who laughed. "But I do know someone who is a singer here" she pressed the 'do'. Oh what is she plotting now? "y/n y/l/n!!! cheer her to come on stage!" I gasp and i blush as all eyes were now on me. Theodore nudged me to go; "common y/n! I wanna see my girl shining!" "Do you want me to leave you?" i quick whisper. "I want to see you on stage! Go on! Wait i'll walk you to stage" he winks. As he links his arms on mine. Everyones starts cheering!

Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! I was flustered as this was my first time i got too much attention. I go up on stage and wave at the crowd. I smile and laugh. Madame McGonagall hands me the mic.

This is my chance to reveal my feelings for him, I decided to sing the song I wrote; YOU BELONG WITH ME.Alright here we go…1..2..3

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset She's going off about something that you said 'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like And she'll never know your story like I do

================================================

Let me know in the comment or just ask me if you want to be in the tag list!

Part 3 coming up!

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #lovestory #theodore nott #taylor swift #fluff #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #fav #love #imagines #romantic #romance

54 notes · View notes

hrts4hanniehae · 5 months

Text

Take a Chance with Me || thirteen

*contains written parts

remember to comment and reblog

yn felt terrible. she didn't think that she had so many antifans. was this what SVT's ex-manager meant? was she truly ruining seventeen?

was this really what her antifans wanted her to think?

sure she felt terrible, but not int he way they wanted. she felt terrible because she couldn't show the world how much she loved seungcheol. and well... she had rights. she could date whoever she wanted and seungcheol could do the same. idols didn't belong to their fans.

they're so entitled.

"so when can we announce our relationship? i want a date, noona."

"i can't tell you that yet, yn. as your manager, my priority is your image. how can you think about launching a relationship while you're garnering so much hate!"

"think of it this way. i'm being hated now, but when i launch the relationship, there will be a ton of support. we can count 14 definite supporters, excluding cheol."

"i cannot allow you to do this, yn."

she slams the table and looks her manager dead in the eye.

"i waited for this for 5 years, noona. i will not wait any longer."

"i'll negotiate with my superiors."

"this sunday? that's like tomorrow!"

"i know cheol."

"how did you pressure them to that extent?"

"honestly i have no idea."

(yes it's supposed to be a black square.)

note to my taglist: please reblog and comment abt the chpt so i know that you're actually reading my stuff.

summary: 3 years after your breakup with seungcheol, you release an album to cope with your still-broken heart. you didn't expose his name but quickly, your fans and fans of svt begin to connect the dots to the past you wish you could relive. little did you know, the man you loved so desperately would begin to chase you back with the same desperation you so very much desired

inspired by: take a chance with me

pairing: idol!choi seungcheol × fem!idol!reader

genre: past relationship, fluff, angst, best friend!booseoksoon, smau, miscommunication, pining, 2nd chance

warnings: implied self harm/depression, hate comments, updates irregular but will finish because i cried when i thought abt this idea

started: 13.12.23

taglist: fill out the form in my pinned post to be added to the taglist (specify this smau in the pw section)

smau masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @atinybitlonely @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03

94 notes · View notes

girlwiththeobsessions · 5 months

Text

love sick c. f.

this book has also been published on wattpad. same username as the one on here. i update faster on there.

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

you are adopted in this! y/n's parents were close with the fishers and conklins but died in a car accident, so laurel adopts y/n

part 2

i. the drive

ME AND MY FAMILY have been coming to cousins since i was a baby, since before i was born.

the tradition was, me and my mom would go to the summer beach house in cousins, along with my moms friends, laurel park and susannah fisher, and laurel's daughter and son, and susannah's two sons.

the beach house felt magical, every summer, i couldn't wait to return each summer.

most of the time, me and belly would tag along with the moms, mostly just my mom.

my mom would take us shopping a lot, and get us frozen yogurt after, then we'd go swimming.

laurel and susannah didn't really like to swim with us. that's what made my mom so special. until both of my parents died. when i was seven. in a car crash.

my parents were my whole world. i miss them everyday.

after that happened, i had to move from north carolina to pennsylvania with the conklin's.

from what i remember, i was pretty shut down for the next two years, and sad all the time, but eventually i got better.

laurel had taken me in with her, john, steven, and belly, and i had my last name changed to l/n-conklin.

i had found hobbies to cope with my parents death. in sixth grade, i had taken up soccer. in eighth grade, i started volleyball. now, as a junior, i was on my schools soccer and volleyball team.

i was pretty smart too, academically. with my grades averaging with a's and b's since freshman year. i wanted to go to college, my dream school was university of southern california, usc.

today though, was the day i returned to cousins for the summer, of course, i was excited. i was in belly's room, packing, with taylor jewel, me and belly were both close friends with her.

"drew's bummed you're missing the beach match with the boys team next weekend." taylor told belly, laying down on the bed, on her phone.

belly turned around. "uh, make sure tell sophie to square up for the block." belly tells taylor, ignoring what she said.

"drew martinez is texting me about you, and you're talking about volleyball?" taylor said with a surprised expression.

"drew doesn't care if i'm there or not, he wants an excuse to text you." belly denied, not really acknowledging the fact that she had a glow up basically. "and you better take this game seriously, i mean, team pride is on the line, taylor."

"please, you know me better than that." taylor looked up. "i would never let a boy beat me at anything."

belly and i laughed. "i thought you came here to help us pack." belly smiled.

"fine.." taylor got up. "i'll help. here's a tip, don't bring that speedo. it doesn't do a thing for your new boobs." taylor said with a a laugh, sitting on belly's bed, flipping through a magazine.

"it's not a speedo." belly defended with a frown looking down at the swimsuit.

"yes it is." i intervene, looking at my phone.

"we're just saying babes, like you need to pack cute things." taylor says flipping a page in the magazine she's reading.

"well, i always buy a new suit when i get there." belly tells us with a smile.

"okay, well, buy one that doesn't look like you're trying out for the swim team." i pressed.

"are you serious y/n?" belly giggled, flopping onto the bed and launching herself onto me.

"girls! were leaving in the next 10 minutes!" laurel shouted from downstairs.

"we got to go." belly said with a frown.

"no, we don't, we still have 10 minutes!" i told the two of them with a smirk.

we started laughing again, but once it stopped, we sat on the bed, belly on the floor, taylor switching to a more serious tone.

"okay, before i let you both go you both have to tell me your summer wishes. like the one thing that you guys want to happen this summer."

"i don't know." belly took a deep sigh.

"you little liar, yes you do." taylor giggled at belly.

"you want a hot make out sesh with conrad fisher, you want his tongue in your mouth, you dirty little slut!" taylor joked.

i shifted uncomfortably, trying to plaster a laugh. "taylor! ew."

"i'm just saying, i mean, you've been in love with him since we were twelve." taylor reminded her as belly got up.

"it doesn't matter what i do, he doesn't see me that way." belly frowned.

"oh, he'll see you." i looked at belly up and down. "whether he wants to or not. you look a lot different than last summer, belly."

taylor laughed, then turned to me. "what about you, y/n?"

i looked away. "what about me?"

"your summer wish." taylor reminded me.

"i don't know yet." i sighed. "i guess go to a lot of parties, and make more friends."

"no boyfriend? no fling?" taylor asked, a little confused. "come on y/n, a whole summer on the beach? no nothing?"

"oh wow, big deal, a seventeen year old that doesn't care about a boyfriend." i sighed again. "i guess i've never really been that interested in getting a boyfriend." i shrugged. "i have other priorities."

i did. i applied for a job as a lifeguard at the country club, to get some money for college. i wanted to apply to ucla, it was my dream school.

i always try to keep myself busy, keep myself doing something productive, and i think the job would help.

"girls, we're leaving now!"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

during the drive, belly got shotgun, steven was driving, and i sat in the backseat with mom, which i didn't really mind.

the song 'can't do better' by kim petras was blasting, while belly sung along from the top of her lungs.

i unbuckled my seatbelt and spread my legs across the backseat.

"uh, can you guys turn it down a little?" laurel asked. "and, y/n, sit right."

i sighed and sat straight, buckling my seatbelt. "i want you guys to be better about helping out this summer." laurel told us.

"don't just leave your dishes, load them into the dishwasher. and, not just your dish either, steven. i want you to be good houseguests." she continued.

"mom, susannah has people who clean, doesn't she?" steven asked, curiously.

laurel flicked steven on the head. "steven!"

"owww!" steven complained. "alright, alright. sorry."

mom is weird about money, the fact that susannah has money, and we don't.

"just.. be considerate, and act like i raised you right. steven, y/n, that means don't stay out too late."

"mommmm!" we both complained.

"i'm too old for a curfew." i frowned.

"wait, what about me? i don't have a curfew either, right?" belly asked from the front seat.

steven started to laugh. "what do you need a curfew for? you don't go anywhere."

"steven!" i threw my phone charger at him. "don't be a jackass."

"what?" steven continued laughing.

"we'll talk about it when it comes up." laurel told belly.

"oh, and y/n, don't forget, you promised you'd take me driving." belly reminded me.

"belly, i told you i'd take you." laurel intervened.

"yeah, but.. you're too judgy." belly quietly said.

me and steven started laughing. "excuse me?" laurel asked.

"yeah, sorry." belly laughed too.

we parked in front of the gas station me, belly, and mom going in.

belly got some cheetos and sour patches. she opened the bag of cheetos and ate a few.

"belly!" i whisper-yelled.

"what!?"

"at least pay for it first."

me and belly looked over at the register, to see a guy staring at us.

"hey." he nodded his head.

i smiled and waved, while belly grabbed a coke, and we brought our snacks up to the register.

"what's up with you, y/n?" jumper said with a smile.

"jumper? i didn't know you work here now." i said in surprise.

he turned to belly. "who's this? are you new this summer?"

belly looked behind her, then back at jumper. "uh, me? no.."

"really?" he smirked, and scanned the snacks. "thought i knew every pretty girl in cousins."

"ew, don't flirt with my little sister, idiot." i warned him.

to be honest, i wasn't really fond with jumper. the way he sort of treated girls like they were objects just wasn't too appealing to me.

he rolled his eyes. "whatever. you both coming to the bonfire tonight? first of the season."

"uh.. maybe." i responded.

"come!" he encouraged us, then turned to belly again with a smile. "i'll introduce you to some of my friends."

"maybe i will." belly smiled back

i gave belly a quick side eye. "maybe she won't." i look back to jumper, trying to protect belly.

laurel walked up to us. "after i get settled in, you wanna go to whale of a tale with me, so i can presign stock for the signing tonight?" she asked belly.

"uh..."

"remember.. when you used to sit on my lap when i used to sign there?" laurel continued

"no, i don't.. remember that." belly chuckled.

"i'll make you a deal." laurel said, as we walked out. "i'll let you pick out tonight's desert if you come in and keep me company."

"see you later." jumped smirked at belly.

"what's later?" laurel asked, curiously.

"nothing." belly responded, a little too quickly.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

#conradfisherxreader #conradfisher #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #thesummeriturnedpretty

69 notes · View notes

unicorncornflakes · 11 months

Text

Spin the Bottle | Modern Au | Aemond Targaryen x Reader | Sneak Peek

Prologue (One day, not now ;))

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Better to read, but just a little story aboyt foolish love :D

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting / Eventual Smut / Hurt-Comfort.

Warnings: Just a sneak peak, sorry :(

I will update Dark Desire and Little One as soon as possible, so… while we are waiting, I leave this here :D

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 2.9K

"You're going to thank me for this bloody party the rest of your life" Aegon entered the front door carrying a box of various bottles with different types of alcohol. Daeron was right behind him carrying several bags of snacks and some red cups. Aemond remained seated in the living room, not looking up from his book but with a visibly annoyed scowl. "All your life" Aegon repeated again as he headed with that load towards the kitchen. Helaena appeared behind them loaded with several cans of beer and at that moment Aemond did get up to help his sister with that task.

He didn't look happy. Well, Aegon always said that the day he smiled the earth would explode, so Aemond never did anything funny or get into trouble, or lived in general. According to his older brother's opinion, of course. To Aemond, his books and his studies were what gave him the most satisfaction. He followed Helaena into the kitchen. Now he was the one who was loaded with beers until he couldn't take it anymore.

"All your bloody life," Aegon repeated as he placed and removed the bottles of alcohol. Aemond set the beers on the kitchen island and looked at his brother with a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes, I like parties so much, especially one that Jace and Luke come to... maybe I'll always thank you" he rolled his violet eye annoyed and Helaena laughed.

"Baela and Rhaena are coming too" his sister said cheerfully. Amond looked at her. Helaena was too pure for this world. She didn't hate any of them, while Aemond couldn't even see them.

"Better still" he snorted indignantly "If I'm going to thank you so much for this birthday party, why do you invite these people?" Aemond said it, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eye. He was getting stressed by the moment at the prospect of such a lively party.

"Mom invited them when she found out I was organizing it," Aegon responded with a shrug. Aegon, already in his third year of university, had taken it upon himself to throw a birthday party befitting his brother at the family's mountain home. To do this, he had invited the few friends Aemond had, many of whom he himself had, which was why he organized the party, and a few of Helaena and Daeron. Aemond was already in his first year of university, about to finish it, and as Aegon said it was a pity that he had not gone to a single one of the parties that he organized. So if Aemond didn't go to the party, the party would go to Aemond. Simple as that. "What's my fault that if they didn't come, mom wouldn't let me organize the party?" Aegon excused himself again.

"Well, you would have saved me from two headaches: the one from the party and the one from having to see them," Aemond said, sounding stressed again. He couldn't stand parties. He didn't like them. They made him feel uncomfortable. Besides, he gave her the feeling that this party was not in his honor, but another excuse for Aegon to get drunk.

“I'm going to get the rest of the beers,” Daeron said excitedly. He was still in high school and the prospect of such a party excited him far more than Aemond himself. He ran through the kitchen door and disappeared in search of the rest of the alcohol.

"But how much have you bought?" Aemond said, as if he were the adult responsible for keeping his own birthday party from getting out of hand. Aegon was stressing him out at times. In the end he felt like he was going to explode and the party hadn't even started.

"Just enough for a party in your honor," Aegon said as he produced a rather expensive bottle of alcohol. "I'm saving this for last. When only the ones of us who have to stay are left” he said, giving his brother a wink and putting the bottle in the fridge. Helaena quietly set about preparing the rest of the appetizers in silence as Daeron appeared in the doorway with a keg of ale. Aemond looked at the three of them as if he did not believe his eyes. Where did they get such an idea? “Hey, can you help us, huh? I won't get mad if you do it” Aegon told him as he continued to count the cans of beer and Aemond replied with a sigh as he tried to hide a smile. He liked to at least see Aegon working on something, even if it was even throwing a party.

"Yes of course. I'm going to work setting up my own party,” he said wryly as he sat on the island and checked his messages. His friends from the fencing club were talking about how great the party would be. Cregan had given him a thumbs up when he'd told her the date and time, as well as the location. His closest colleagues from the university film club were also talking about the same topic. The only one who hadn't posted a single message in any of those groups was Aemond. He didn't like parties. That didn't indicate that it was boring, it indicated that he had much better things to do than waste his time on something like that. Finally, he went to his Instagram and checked one of your most recent stories. You went out In a very short summer dress and red lipstick. He liked when you painted your lips. In the story you could read 'Preparing for the event of the year'. Aemond was surprised. I didn't know what event you were preparing for. He didn't have your number. He had never even dared to ask you and only followed you on Instagram because you had started following him a couple of months ago, right when Daeron took you to their house to do a high school history paper together. Aemond had interfered because he had been annoyed by all the inaccuracies that your project was going to have, but in the end he had stayed with you until you left his house, because deep down... he liked you.

"Daeron, did you invite (Y/N) at the end?" Aegon asked curiously, pretending that he hadn't seen how Aemond had stared like an asshole at the screen when he saw your photo. The brother of the middle squinted to the eldest.

"Yes of course. You told me to do it” replied Daron matter-of-factly, as if he didn't suspect anything of what Aemond was going through with you. He continued without speaking while he made his face even more stoic, in an attempt not to notice anything at all. To admit that he had feelings for you would be a weakness, and Aemond never recognized his weaknesses.

“Is that the girl who comes home sometimes? The one who goes to class with you?” Helaena asked casually, as if she didn't know anything either.

“Yes, I usually pair up with her in all the projects. She works fast and she's nice,” Daeron replied. Yes, of course, that she was with you. It was a way of working less. It's what Aemond thought every time he saw you together doing work in the study room they had in their house.

“Look, how nice, Aemond! (Y / N) is coming” he said in a tone that if he pretended to sound innocent, but that he knew the truth. Aegon was the most observant when it came to a case of women. After alcohol, women must have been what interested him most. If they were college subjects, Aegon would get Cum Laude.

"What do I care?" Aemond replied, turning off the screen of his mobile. He felt his cheeks flush slightly. And he wanted to cringe even more when Daeron spoke.

“Do you like (Y/N)?” asked his little brother, confused about him, as if he had never expected it.

“Well, you would make a very nice couple. She is also very smart and she is very sweet” Helaena replied with a kind smile.

"Yes, she has all the gentleness and kindness that you don't," Aegon laughed cheekily, and Aemond looked at them all again with his serious expression.

“I don't like (Y/N). She's still in high school,” Aemond replied, as if that might sound like a convincing excuse. It really was what he always said when he looked at your photos, gave you a like, or saw you at his house with Daeron.

"Yes of course. Daeron pass me my mobile ”Aegon replied, while Daeron ran with his brother's phone in his hand to give it to him, since he had left it on one of the countertops in that spacious kitchen. When Daeron gave it to him, Aegon opened it with a mischievous smile. “Let's see: Aemond_one_eye follows only twenty people. You make it easy with only 20 people. Guess who is among those 20 people, Daeron”

“(Y / N)” he shouted excitedly, also entering his Instagram account on his phone.

"Indeed, let's see. Let's see” he replied, continuing to pretending be interesting, while Aemond looked at him cold and distant, when he really wanted to kill him. “Oh, have you guys seen this photo of her on the beach? Aemond_one_eye and forty other people like this photo” Helaena chuckled sweetly as Aegon continued his search for her “Oh and look at this one of (Y/N)'s cat. Aemond_One_eye and 10 other people like this photo! Coincidence? I don't believe it!"

"It's just that the photo is funny" added Daeron in a sweet way, continuing with the game that his older brother had started. Helaena rolled her eyes in amusement and continued working on preparing the snacks for the party.

"But the best, your honor, is this photo of (Y/N) in the pool at his house" he said, showing the photo as if it were proof of a trial to the rest of those attending his sermon "You only have one bloody comment, And why can't you guess whose it is?" he stopped speaking for a moment and Aemond looked at him as if he were going to kill him "Well indeed, from Aemond_one_Eye" he replied, laughing. Aemond rose from his chair and faced him, daring him to continue speaking. He looked at him with that look he only gave when he was truly angry. And Aegon laughed again in his face. "You're going to thank me for this bloody party for the rest of your life"

"Hmm" was all Aemond replied before heading up the stairs to his room. He heard Aegon laugh with Helaena about the situation. They were his older brothers, after all, and Aemond, though he showed no sign of more than apparent anger, thought he was cringing with embarrassment. At least, he already knew that the event of the year for you was his birthday. And that made his heart beat even faster.

"I'm just saying a saber like that would be amazing," Jace commented as he stood with the rest of the party. The house was packed with people, but Aemond had ended up sitting by the fire in the garden with the rest of the college fencing club. Even though Jace was among them, he was the one they got along with the best. They had common interests with him and he always ended up talking to them after each training session. Aemond felt comfortable between them. The party continued inside the house while they drank outside. Aemond took a swallow of his ale, and felt a warm sensation from the alcohol. If his brother had ridden him the same way only with those companions, he would have even been more excited.

"It would be impossible to handle" Alyn commented, rolling his eyes at the boy's words. “Valiryan steel for a fencing saber? It wouldn't be flexible."

"It would be a waste," Cregan added, downing a bottle of Vodka directly by himself. In the end even Aegon was right and with that alcohol it didn't reach them.

"That would be awesome," Jace repeated again, focused on the idea of him. Aemond in the end even liked that strong boy under the influence of alcohol. The night was not being as bad as expected. Despite the fact that his conscience did not leave him alone when imagining what was happening inside the house with Aegon and his friends. He took another drink again. He wasn't one to talk a lot and it showed.

“Hey, look,” Cregan whispered to him, heading toward the pool. Aemond turned to look at it and there you were, with a group of girls, jumping into the pool, laughing and splashing at the others as Aegon encouraged you to jump right in.

"Fuck, where did your brother get so many chicks from?" Alyn said as if his eyes bulged at such a sight. "What a party you've had, and you're complaining," he said indignantly as he raised his red cup to his mouth. The four of them kept their eyes fixed on the pool. "It makes me want to get involved" he sighed, as if all that was out of his reach.

Aemond did not answer. He just took another drink while he had his eyes on you. You looked beautiful, with all your hair wet while you splashed a friend. He liked you Very much. More than he wanted to admit. He felt like he could talk to you about anything and you would understand. After all, when he made a pun or a clever joke, it was always you who laughed. Besides, you were beautiful, what more could he ask for? Whenever he looked at you something would happen to him that had never happened before. His hands were sweating and his heart was racing. Also, he liked to see how your eyes sparkled every time he smiled smugly. He gave her the feeling that you were a smart girl and that attracted her like a moth to a light bulb. Aegon approached them, vodka bottle in hand like Cregan.

"But all my favorite nerds are here" he laughed, beginning to be affected by the alcohol. “You do know that the party is inside and now part of it is in the pool, right?” he asked taking another sip. Cregan was up first as he went to greet each and every girl in the pool, while Alyn and Jace headed inside the house for more booze and fun. Aemond still sitting on the fire rolled an annoyed eye at Aegon.

“I was having a good time, you know? It's not about that?" the younger of the brothers asked as Aegon sat down next to him in the fire.

"No. Not really," Aegon replied, looking into the fire. "It's about you getting it wet tonight. If it is with (Y / N) all the better ”he replied taking a drink from his bottle and Aemond rejected it with a wave of his hand. He looked at him again angrily. He was beginning to get fed up with his brother's insistence that he go out or have a larger social life. He was fine the way he was.

“Have you seriously set up all of this just for that ridiculousness?” Aemond glared at him. His only eye was fixed on his older brother.

"Look. I know it's not easy, damn it” he said, looking at his brother with the first attack of sincerity he had in his life. He smiled sadly at her. "I know you think all the assholes at that party are laughing at you, that's why you don't go in," Aegon said, looking at him. Aemond looked away, as if he didn't want to talk about it any further, as if he preferred to turn a deaf ear to what was a reality “And… surely they will. Luke screwed your life up when he took your eye out. I know it can't have been easy, but it pisses me off that while he's in there having a great time, you're out here with the only three people you think can stand you at this party.” Aegon sighed tiredly. “She fucking likes you, (Y/N) likes you, and you don't even dare say anything to him for fear of rejection, because this is what all this shit about I don't like parties, I don't want to go out with is about nobody"

"Now are you going to worry about me? You have not done it in your life, leave me alone” Aemond replied, as if all the words of his brother had hurt him, because they knew that deep down they were true. Aemond Targaryen arrogantly treated everyone as a protective measure. He couldn't afford to suffer again. Never more.

“I care about you, even though I enjoy messing with you. I care about you” he sighed tiredly as he got up from the fire. "And in the end, if you don't do anything, it's going to be Cregan who's going fuck her" Aegon pointed to the pool with his head, where you were chatting animatedly with the northerner. After all, he was three times as strong as Aemond, though not much taller. He was charming and had a way with people… he had… he was attractive. He hadn't suffered anything in his face. Not like Aemond. He sighed. He had to steel himself to be able to talk to you.

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine

155 notes · View notes

ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

Text

Friday Fight Night

Chapter Four of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Five

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3.4K

Chapter Overview: You help Benny and the guys get ready for FFN.

Notes: this chapter is just a bit shorter than what i usually like to post, but i didn't have a lot of time to write this week & i'm actually content with where i ended it ! sometimes u just have to stop a little short so u don't just start typing random shit to meet a bullshit word count u give urself u know? i updated the tag list so if i missed u PLZ LET ME KNOW & i will add u asap !! well as usual...my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Why is this so difficult? It's just like every other day at work, except for the fact that it's not. You have been standing in front of your closet for a good 10 minutes now just looking at your clothes. Suddenly nothing seems good enough to wear. Maybe something would be good enough if you knew how to dress for a fight. Should you wear workout gear? No, you weren’t the one fighting. Should you wear a tank top and a tennis skirt? Probably not if it gets as rowdy as Benny says it will.

“Just pick a fucking outfit, you idiot.” You chastise.

After yet another once over of your closet you pick out a worn, white t-shirt with an image of Speed Racer on it. It had definitely seen its glory days years ago when you were still in college. If it worked then, it should work now. You take it off its hanger, along with some jeans, and put it all on. You’re tying your shoes when your phone chimes next to you.

???: Hey, we will be getting to the gym around closing time. Are you staying to help Benny set up?

???: Oh, this is Frankie BTW

Seeing his name on your screen makes your chest tighten with excitement. You obviously gave him your number so he could text you, but now it feels so real. Something about Frankie texting ‘BTW’ makes you giggle to yourself as you sit on the floor.

You: Yes, I figured I would make myself useful. No point in going home since the fights start at 10:00 P.M. and I might lose my parking spot.

You have to set your phone down before you overthink the most basic text you have ever sent in your life. Just for good measure, you leave it on your bed while you go into the bathroom. Despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant about the whole situation, you find yourself putting on a little more makeup than usual. By the time you have wrapped up and returned to your room an unread text is waiting for you.

Frankie: Good thinking. See you tonight then.

The rest of your morning has a bit more pep in it than before.

***

Your day at the gym passes by as usual. The only two exceptions were a truck load of last minute Friday Fight Night tickets sales and then compliments on how the gym was smelling. You made a mental note to smack Benny upside the head for throwing such a temper tantrum about it. In between customers you found yourself checking your phone more than you regularly do. You told yourself that it was just because you were excited about the fights and were counting down the minutes and not because you were hoping to receive another text from Frankie. Unfortunately, lying to yourself never really works out.

In an effort to keep yourself occupied, you answer emails from people that are applying for a gym membership, make laps around the gym to see if you need to replace any of the wipes used to clean the machines, and collect all of the dirty towels for a load of laundry. Much to your dismay, these tasks don’t take very long to complete. By 3:30 P.M. you reluctantly slink back to the front desk where the single most unwanted guest is waiting.

“There she is! My favorite receptionist! I’m still interested in knowing your name, darlin’.”

“Good afternoon, Brunson.” You plop yourself down in your chair and pull up the schedule on the computer. “Just working out today? I don’t see that you’re with Benny.”

“You caught me. I want to make sure that I’m in good shape when I fight in a few weeks time.”

For a few blissful seconds you allow yourself to indulge in the idea of Brunson getting clocked, hard, right in the jaw.

“Well, enjoy yourself.” You scan his card quickly in an attempt to move him on his way.

“I always do so when you’re here.” He clicks his tongue at you while he walks past your desk.

“God, he’s insufferable.” You mumble to yourself.

It’s 4:00 P.M. when Benny finally ventures up to the front lobby with you.

“Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day, man.”

“Because you haven’t,” He covers his face with his hands and whines into them before coming back up for air. “At first I couldn’t find where the white board I used to write out the fightin’ pairs was. Then there was somethin’ wrong with the beer delivery and they kept me out back for fuckin’ ever. That isn’t even coverin’ all the one on one sessions I've had today or the ones I’m still goin’ to have.”

It’s breaking your heart to see how stressed out he’s getting with all of the things he has to juggle today. You get out of your chair, walk over to him, and rub on his shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s going to be alright, Benny. I’m staying after work to help you set up and Frankie told me that the guys are coming to help around closing too. You won't be in this alone for much longer.”

He places both of his hands on his hips and exhales deeply.

“Thank you,” You can see the earnestness in his eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

He smiles down at you from his 6’2 frame and before you can move he pulls you in for a deadly tight hug.

“Benny!” You can’t stop laughing. “Let me go this fucking instant!”

“Friends like hugs from other friends, right?” He yells over your incessant protesting.

“I’m going to kill you, you know that?!” Your tone of voice doesn’t even sound remotely serious.

Eventually you get him to unlatch himself from you so the two of you can finish up the work day in order to prepare for this evening.

***

You stand back proudly and admire all of your handiwork. Benny put you in charge of setting up the beer table, so set up the beer table you did. You designed a poster to hang on the wall above the table so people would be able to clearly see their options and their respective prices. You set a long, metal tub in the center of the table and filled it halfway with ice. Then you made a little arrangement out of the beer and poured the last half of the ice on it to keep it cold. The cash box was fully stocked and set to the side. All in all, you did a pretty good job. Thankfully, one of Benny’s regulars volunteered to work it this evening.

“All done over here!” You call over to Benny. “How’s the sign coming?”

You watch in horror as he stands up to reveal a barely legible fighting roster. He must have seen your face flounder when you looked at it because he just tosses the dry erase marker over to you and crosses his arms.

“Oh, Benny I-”

“I know it looks bad. I’ve never had a knack for all this creative shit.”

You squeeze his hand as you pass him while heading to the white board. He slides over the roster that has been printed on paper for you to use as your guide. You’re so engrossed with your new task that you don’t notice when the guys come in around 8:30 P.M..

“You sure are givin’ Benny a run for his money this evenin’. The place hasn’t looked this put together in…well ever.” That sugary, sweet southern drawl could only belong to one man.

“Thank you, Will!” You toss over your shoulder.

“Aw screw you, dude. Maybe it would have been if y’all had gotten here when y’all said you would.” Benny notes.

“Blame Fish.” Pope snickers. “He couldn’t find the perfect outfit.”

That got your interest peaked. You turn around to look at what Frankie is wearing. Regular work boots, soft looking denim jeans, a black undershirt, a worn blue button up with the top few buttons left undone, and finally his cap- oh god he’s looking at you. If you had been a smarter woman, you would have noticed that two thirds of the group standing behind you were looking at your sign. That damned one third of the group was watching you trail your way up his whole body. He’s like an oak; completely unwavering as you take him in.

“Well, I like it. ” You squeak out as you turn your attention back to the roster. “Now why don’t you guys go make yourselves useful and help Benny?”

You hear a unified ‘yes ma’am’ come from behind you followed by the scattering of three pairs of feet. There truly isn't anything more sexy than men who can follow orders.

All five of y’all work tirelessly for the next hour to get everything finished before the doors open to the public. When you cross off the last item on your to-do list, you decide that you have earned a drink. You sneak over to the beer table and open one of the coolers that you set up behind it that contains the excess bottles. Much to your dismay, the bottle caps don't twist off like you originally thought. You’re on your knees looking around in the extra bags and praying that Benny had the foresight to get a bottle opener when Frankie walks up next to you.

“Lose something?”

“Just my dignity trying to locate the stupid fucking bottle opener.”

He laughs jovially as he extends his hand to help you up. You take it and sheepishly hand him your bottle when he motions for it. The two of you walk around to the front of the table and you watch as he easily takes out his keys and pops the cap open with a bottle opener he had attached to them. You notice that instead of tossing the cap in the trash he places it back in his pocket along with his keys. Right when he starts to hand the drink back to you he pulls it back towards him.

“Hey! What gives?”

“I have to test it to make sure it isn’t poisonous or something.”

“Oh my god, you dick.” You lean back on the table behind you.

“You won’t be saying that when I save your life.” He takes a small sip and passes it over to you. “Nope. It’s not poison. You’re in the clear.”

Now it’s your turn. You turn to look out at the gym while you take a drink of your well deserved reward.

“Wait,” You look over at Frankie. “What if it's a slow acting poison and now we are both infected? I guess you have to stay here and finish this with me so we can go out together.”

He leisurely reclines next to you on the table and takes the bottle in his hand when you offer it to him. “That's some pretty sound logic. I can’t argue with that.”

You try to stop yourself, but you watch as he brings the frosty glass to his pouty lips. They look more pink than usual against the dark color of the bottle. His hands make the beer bottle look so much smaller than it really is. Your eyes wander to that nose you’re so fond of. God, what would it feel like on your clit as he ate his fill of you? Now that you’re closer to him you’re able to see the gray that's intricately woven into his beard and hair. Would it tickle the inside of your thighs when he buried his face in your pussy? Feelings you haven’t had for a man in a long time rock through your body the further you sink into your fantasy. Drifting even further, his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the chilled liquid. You want to decorate the sensitive skin with blossoming purple marks.

“What?” He’s looking at you now. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” You say almost breathlessly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hog it all.”

“I would never.” The low baritone of his voice reverberates through you.

Benny, thankfully, yells from across the gym at the both of y’all before you do something questionable.

“Hey, lazy asses! It’s showtime!”

You and Frankie both let out a breath neither of y’all realized you were holding. He looks down at his watch and then faces his friend with a mild look of annoyance.

“It’s 9:30, man. It’s just the boxers and the ring girls coming in right now.”

You notice that Frankie’s body immediately tenses up after he says this. Confused, you look over at Benny who has eyes as bright as the sun and is making a beeline towards you.

“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers down to you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Benny? What are you-?”

“I have a proposition for you.” He says while gripping both sides of your arms. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“I don’t think I have a choice by the look of things.”

“Please be my ring girl.” He gasps.

“Oh my god.” You let your head roll back. “Benny, are you serious right now?”

“Don’t say no yet. Just think about it before you decide.”

You roll your head over to face Frankie and raise your eyebrows. You’re met with a shrug that is just as innocent as his grin.

“Does this offer have an expiration date?” You inquire shifting your focus back to the man that currently has you in a vice grip.

“Just think about it.” He pleads.

“Fine, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say n-”

“La-la-la! I can’t hear you! La-la-la!”

“Don’t you have fighters to go hype up in the locker room?” Frankie cuts in.

“Nothin’ I hate more than when you’re right, Fish. Catch y’all in between the matches!”

With one final ‘think about it’, he bounds off into the locker rooms. All you can do is laugh hysterically at what just transpired. Frankie probably thinks you have lost your mind with the way you are doubled over right now.

“Hey let us in on the joke, why don’t you?” Pope sits next to you on the table.

“I could use a good laugh as well.” Will adds blithely.

“What you two could use is a reality check.” you walk around the table and grab a beer for each of them. “God, I can’t believe him.”

You hand Will and Pope their drinks completely forgetting about taking the tops off. Fortunately, that didn’t stop them. Will snatches Pope’s beer out of his hand and positions the bottles where one has its cap resting just barely on the edge of the other's cap. Then he slams them down on his knee and Pope’s opens with ease. After he hands the open one off, he pops his own with a thick ring he’s wearing.

“I’m thoroughly impressed, Will. What the hell was that?”

“You just gotta learn to make due sometimes.”

Frankie and Pope both mutter ‘show-off’ under their breaths as Will explains to you the physics behind his little trick.

“Okay, now back to what Benny was talking about.” You adjust your stance so you can better face the group. “Are y’all in on this? This ‘ring girl’ shit?”

“Can’t say it wouldn’t be fun though.” Pope prods his finger at you.

“Oh, yes I can.” You say swatting at him.

“You know, Benny. Once he sets his mind to somethin’ he’s pretty determined to see it through.”

“That doesn’t even begin to answer my question, Will.” You groan as you take the beer from Frankie’s hand.

The movements between y’all are so natural, so fluid that it feels like something you have been doing for years. You see Pope, almost in shock, watch you as you take a drink.

“Can I get some of that?”

“No way, man.” You shelter the bottle against your body. “Three is a crowd and you literally have an open one in your hand.”

“Will’s right,” Frankie reasons with you. “Benny is as one track minded as they come.”

“Tell him to get on another track then.”

“How about this?” Pope counters. “You go into the locker room with Benny and see what it takes to be a ring girl. Then and only then will he accept your answer of ‘no’ if that’s still what you want.”

“If that will get him off my case then that's fine with me.”

You start to turn towards the locker room doors when a blue sleeved arm reaches over your shoulder and plucks the beer from you.

“Hey, give that back!”

“I just want to make sure you don’t hog it all.” Frankie’s tone is thick with sarcasm.

“I would never.” You grin.

Pope waits until you have cleared the locker room doors before he whacks Frankie in the shoulder. Unfortunately, Frankie doesn’t see it coming because he is too busy hoping to catch one more glimpse of you.

“If that's how you act around women you think are ‘just cool’ then I’m terrified to see how you act around women you actually like.”

“The fuck was that for? And the fuck are you talking about, man?” He massages the spot where Pope smacked him.

“Will, please tell me you aren’t as blind as he is?”

“Sorry, Fish. I see it too.”

“See what?”

“That you look like a goddamn catfish whenever you look at her! Eyes all big and mouth agape.”

“I do not.” Frankie mutters.

“Come on.” Pope folds his arms across his chest. “You think she’s cute.”

“What are we in middle school? You’re being ridiculous. Will?”

“I’ll be honest, I wanna know too.” He flashes that signature boyish Miller smile.

All Frankie can do is laugh nervously while he removes his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows that he’s in the middle of a losing battle and that he’ll have to concede. They are going to be ecstatic that a woman other than Rochelle has caught his eye. Especially when it's a woman that meshes so naturally with their group. No, what’s stopping him is that a part of himself wants to keep it a secret. To have something that is just his. No prying eyes, no unwanted advice, no consequences, and no one else has to get hurt but him. As soon as the acknowledgement of his affection for you falls from his lips, it's real. As selfish as it sounds, he wants to keep you at arms length. He feels like everything he touches breaks and he doesn’t want you to become the next casualty. You wouldn’t want him if you knew the truth about the things he has done. But then you smile or laugh and he can feel himself falling deeper and deeper into his delusions of grandeur.

“Well, if you don’t like her then maybe I’ll ask her out.”

“No, you won't because,” Frankie puts his cap back on. “I think she’s cute. Are y’all happy? I like her.”

“Atta boy, Fish!” Will cheers.

“I knew it!” Pope says as he pulls Frankie in for a hug. “She’s a good one, man.”

“I know she is. I just don’t know if I’m going to do anything about it right now.”

Will’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to fuck it up. To drag her into the shit show that is my life. I don’t even know if she feels the same way either!”

The two other men nod in understanding. Frankie takes a sip of the drink he stole from you and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling.

“All I know is…is that I like her.”

“Shh!”

“Pope, you were the one that wanted to talk about this!”

“Shut the fuck up! She's coming!”

“Y’all ready? I’m going to open the doors for everyone!”

The three of them use the time it takes you to unlock the doors and arrive back in order to regroup from their previous conversation.

“Did you,” Will clears his throat. “Did you like the view back there? See a future in being Benny’s ring girl?”

“I like the view from right here, thank you very much.”

“So,” Pope rubs his hands together. “Who ready to see some dudes get the shit beat out of them?”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #will miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #read on a03

206 notes · View notes

selfcestmovies · 2 months

Text

Arm Candy Yelena Belova x Yelena Belova (withlots of Kate x Yelena angst) Wordcount: ~3000 Tags: light angst, wandanat wedding, background bishova Warnings: smut, selfcest, oral sex Link on AO3

~ * ~ * ~

Yelena should have been thrilled.

"You're getting married?!" Her sister Natasha had been dating Wanda Maximoff for a few years, and if the announcement was to be believed, they were finally tying the knot. Yelena wanted to show nothing but joy for Nat in that moment... but it was hard to suppress the look of terror that crept across her face.

Nat was utterly bemused. "I know it's a big change, but c'mon Yel, I thought you'd at least be a little happy for us..."

"No, no Natasha, I am happy for you," Yelena tried to explain before swallowing her pride and admitting the root cause of her panic. She could feel the tears beginning to swell. "But weddings mean parties, Natasha, and parties mean that you and Wanda will invite all of your friends. Including," she choked back the upswell in her chest. "Including Kate Bishop."

Nat nodded. "Oh, I see..." She knew about Yelena and Kate — everyone did, at this point. Their breakup had been messy, and recent. The emotions were undoubtedly still raw.

"No, you don't," Yelena continued. "Because Kate will bring a date, Natasha, I know she will. And I won't be ready for that. AT ALL."

The weeks that followed were uneasy for the blonde Black Widow. Through the grapevine, Yelena was able to confirm that yes, indeed, Kate had made the guest list. Wanda had insisted and Nat didn't post much of an objection. And yes, once the dust had settled, it did seem that Kate was bringing a plus-one. Yelena re-entered full panic mode.

"Then I won't go," she said from Nat's couch, after a late-night visit to vent. "Plain and simple."

"You're coming to my wedding," Natasha countered flatly. "Just bring a date to make Kate jealous."

"Who?!" Yelena sounded hysterical. "Who on EARTH could make Kate Bishop jealous. She's literally the most beautiful, perfect human, Natasha. The only person she'd be jealous of is me, and I'm the person she dumped!"

Nat tried to collect her thoughts for a counter, but she could see the glint in Yelena's eye. It looked maniacal. "Wait," Natasha asked cautiously, "What are you cooking up, Yelena?"

Yelena grinned. "The perfect idea. Call Wanda."

What followed was a many-hours-long brainstorm between Yelena and Wanda about the "perfect" scheme. Wanda was truly happy to be included. She had been looking for any possible way to bond with Nat's adoptive sister, so was very open to at least humor Yelena's ideas. Possibly more than Nat was comfortable with.

When Yelena and Wanda were finally ready, they updated Natasha on the genius new plan. "You're going to bring who as a date?!" Nat couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Myself," Yelena nodded. "Have you not been listening, Natasha? Wanda is going to conjure me a clone and I'll take myself to the wedding. We'll pretend that it's an ultimate act of self-love, or some shit like that, but really, it's just going to drive Kate Bishop off the wall!"

Wanda was nodding along. "I think it's a beautiful idea, Yelena. Really."

Nat rolled her eyes. "How is that going to make Kate jealous?"

Yelena seemed excited to explain the details for the umpteenth time. "Because it'll be me with me, Natasha! Two mes. Dancing and flirting and in acting love with each other. Kate won't be able to take her eyes off of us."

Nat glanced at Wanda for support before bringing her gaze back to Yelena in bewilderment. "And you want that?"

"What? No," Yelena said like it was obvious. "I don't want to be in love with myself, but I do want Kate to think that I am. And it'll be worth it, just to see the look on her face. And then we'll get back together." Yelena punctuated the thought with a nod. It seemed, despite Natasha's concerns, that the idea had been settled.

Nat kept rolling her eyes for the next two months, but quite frankly, it was nice to see Yelena finally excited about something for the first time in eons. She had energy and optimism again. She seemed like her old self.

And most importantly, Yelena was finally excited for the wedding. Nat didn't want to squash these feelings, but she was still worried that the scheme was going to somehow end in disaster. It seemed far too twisted to go smoothly.

When she went with Yelena to help her pick out a dress, it felt like Nat's final chance to talk some sense into her younger sister.

"So, you're still going through with it? The whole 'dating yourself' thing?"

Yelena nodded emphatically, picking out her next dress to try on. "Yes. It's a brilliant plan. And I've been speaking with Wanda — lovely girl, by the way, I can see why you like her — and she's mastered the conjuration spell. She says it'll really be two of me, both of us indistinguishable from the real Yelena. This will go off perfectly."

Nat forced a fake smile, "Great." Yelena shut the curtain in the dressing room. Nat had to speak up. "And when is this 'cloning' going down?"

"Right before," Yelena shouted back. "Obviously. I don't want to have to get my hair done twice, Natasha. Use your brain."

"Of course. So which one of you will give the toast?"

"We're doing it together, both of us," Yelena spoke like the answers were clear. Like she was making perfect sense. "That's how I've written it, at least."

Nat rested her forehead in her palms. Was she the only person in the world who saw this plan as utterly insane? "You still have time to find a real date, Yelena. I could set you up with people. Nice, hot people. Maybe you'd actually like them—"

"—I don't want to like them," Yelena stepped from the changing area. She was wearing a low-cut satin dress that caught the light in ripples of cyan and green. She looked stunning. "I don't want to date anyone other than Kate. And once I make her boil over with envy, she and I will be fine again. Besides, I need her to believe it when she sees me attracted to somebody else, and I don't think I could fake that with a random person." Yelena turned to look at herself in the mirror, turning to the side to check out the dress from all possible angles.

"And you're planning to act that way with another you, Yel. Doesn't that sound... awful?"

Yelena paused as she checked herself out in the mirror. "If I'm wearing this dress and looking this good... I can manage," she smirked over her shoulder at Nat. "I think this is the one."

Nat didn't give up. Even after Yelena had bought the dress and the two were grabbing coffee. "But, like, Yel," Nat was ready to pull our her hair by this point, "You're you. How believable can this really be?"

"I've thought of that," Yelena responded flatly. "Weird at first, but I've come to terms with my limits. I'm okay with flirting, dancing, making out, all of it. It might be good, actually, in a weird way."

Natasha nearly spat out her drink. "Kate is going to think you might actually sleep with yourself if you act that way."

"You're right," Yelena looked to Nat earnestly, "She might think it, but I need to her to believe it for certain. We should probably go further," Yelena took out a pad and pencil and began jotting down some notes. "We should probably actually hook up. Maybe in a public place, where Kate will find us." She stroked her chin, "Would I be okay going down on myself? Yes, I think so."

At that, Natasha got up and left the table. She wasn't mad at Yelena, and the blonde knew it, but this plan had spiraled far out of Natasha's comfort zone. "I wish you the best," she shouted back to Yelena, "But this is all on you when shit hits the fan."

By the time the wedding approached, Yelena was on pins and needles. Her nerves about seeing Kate at the party were bursting at the seams, but Yelena knew her plan could work if she gave it her all. The day of the wedding she headed to the venue early to get herself ready, making sure all the details of her outfit, hair, makeup, everything was picture perfect. She was her own date, after all — she needed to look amazing. Twenty minutes before showtime, Wanda knocked on her door.

"Are you ready, Yelena?" Wanda was already in her gown. She looked stunning.

Yelena hugged her, thanked her, and the incantation began.

Just minutes later, Yelena strut outside and towards the awaiting venue, hand in hand with a flawless, indiscernible duplicate of herself.

"People are staring," Yelena whispered to the clone.

"I think that's sort of the point," the other Yelena smiled back. It was true — the number of guests that seemed bewildered at Yelena's "appearance" was growing second by second.

"Just smile and wave," one whispered and tightened her hand around the others. It felt comforting to know she could trust this new partner implicitly and wholly. "You see Kate yet?"

"Mhmm," the other replied and nudged Yelena to look subtly to their left. Kate was there all right, looking stunning in a violet suit, her jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of the two Yelenas. They waved in sync. "I think this might actually work."

The ceremony was beautiful; Wanda and Nat exchanged heartfelt vows in both English and Sokovian, with Natasha struggling adorably through the latter. Yelena teared up — both of her.

They had largely lost sight of Kate during the rest of the ceremony and during cocktail hour, but every so often one Yelena would spot her through the crowd, gawking at the duo. Yel would promptly hold hands with the clone, or sneak a hug around her hips, or a forced flirty giggle, step by step to help sell the illusion of romance. It wasn't as weird as she had thought it might be. In fact, she was finding it fun — she was less inhibited than she had ever been around other people.

Once time for the reception came around, the two Yels stood to give their toast — just as she had rehearsed it in the mirror, the two trading lines, leaning into some witty back-and-forth, and of course ending with her favorite line of all, spoken in tandem: "For us, it took learning to love ourselves to realize how true your love is, Natasha and Wanda. Cheers to a beautiful marriage."

They raised their glasses for a collective cheers. The room clapped. Yel leaned towards the clone. "Kiss me."

"What?" She was taken aback by the whisper. "Now?"

"Kiss me. Kate is watching us. This will be perfect."

The Yelenas leaned in and made it a show — not too over the top, mind you, they still weren't supposed to be the center of attention. But it felt reel, sweet, and organic. It didn't last long before the two returned to their seats.

"Not too bad," one smirked at the other. "I'm a good kisser."

"Yes I am," the other gave her hand a squeeze before catching a glimpse of violet out of the corner of her eye. Yelena had been the last toast of the evening, and guests were all being prompted to stand, mingle, and head to the dance floor — an opportunity which Kate Bishop was taking to approach the duo at their table.

Half out of fear, and half out of planned tactics, Yelena reached for the clone and pulled her into another, deeper, more passionate liplock. "Mmm," she moaned into the others lips.

Each closed their eyes and made the most of the moment, letting their lips part naturally and their tongues mingle in the space between them. It was a slow, patient, lingering kiss — and by the time the two finally parted and scanned the room, Kate Bishop was nowhere to be scene.

"That was something," Yel whispered through a smile. "But if that won't convince her that we're happy like this—"

"—Nothing will," the other finished the thought. "Come on, let's dance."

The rest of the night felt like a blur. The drinks flowed liberally, with Natasha and Wanda each — separately, and on multiple occasions, prompting the Yelenas into shots of tequila. Kate seemed to be out of their hair for now, so Yelena took the chance to just enjoy herself (herselves?) and have fun with the party. They drank, they danced, the flirted, they talked. It was amazing how much she had to say to herself of all people, despite the two sharing a brain and a lifetime of memories.

It didn't feel like a ruse anymore. It just felt good for them to relax and enjoy each other. But of course, the ruse wasn't to be abandoned, not fully. Not yet.

"Are you ready?" One finally whispered to the other as the evening was entering its final leg. She winked.

The other Yel nodded. "Eyes on Kate?" The two scanned the room and found her, drinking awkwardly next to her date. She was barely keeping it together. "Let's do this."

Hand in hand, the two Yelenas took a roundabout path to leave the dance-floor and exit the tent, making sure to pass safely within Kate's periphery. They had scouted out this location earlier in the day: it was a shadowy corner of the lawn behind the party, backed against a wall of ivy. Yelena pinned the double against the ivy and kissed her.

"This is going to be something else," she whispered passed the clone's lips. "Keep an eye out for Kate. Are you ready?"

"Yes," the other Yelena whispered back. "Are we both okay with this?"

They nodded, and smiled. One Yelena dropped to her knees. "I've sort of been looking forward to this..." she cooed, hiking up the bottom of the other's dress. She leaned in slowly to kiss the other woman's thighs, left to right, one after another. "Our skin is so soft, Yelena."

"I love hearing you say our name," the other giggled. "No sign of Kate, by the way. Not yet."

"Do you want me to slow down?"

"No," she answered truthfully.

"Good," Yelena whispered against the others thigh. She brought her hands up to the hem of her panties and started to pull them down. "This is so fucked up..." She almost laughed out the whisper of the words. "We look good down here, Yel," she cooed as the panties were dropped to her ankles. "And I know we've always wondered how we taste."

The movement started slow and cautious — not for a lack of enthusiasm or curiosity, but simply to let the moment be savored by both parties. Yelena (the one standing) gasped and brought a hand down to cup the blonde hair of her twin below her. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but in that moment, she was glad she hadn't fully lost her senses. "She's here. Kate's here," she whispered. Sure enough, the archer had taken the bait, approaching from the distance.

The other Yelena took it as a signal for the show to begin, and it better be convincing. She opened her mouth and traced her tongue up the slit of the clone's pussy, hearing the other woman gasp and muffle a scream — "Yelena!" — before continuing with more fervor. She brought two hands up to cup the other woman's bare ass, pulling her flesh closer against her lips.

"I'm such a cutie," she whispered against the other woman's folds, "And I know exactly what makes me tick." She dove in for one final flourish before the sensation overwhelmed the clone; Yelena could feel her shaking, climaxing through every inch of her body. She didn't stand immediately, opting instead to rest her forehead against the woman's thigh and give her a moment to catch her breath.

"She saw us, Yel," were the first words Yelena could muster between breaths. "Fucking perfect. She saw us. It couldn't have gone better."

The other Yelena stood slowly, smiling face to face with the other. "Really?"

The first nodded. "She'll come right back into our arms, I don't have a fragment of a doubt. Not after seeing us like that."

"Come on," the other offered a hand. "Looks like our work here is done."

Accommodations for wedding guests were scattered all around town in various hotels, but being a part of the bridal party, Yelena was staying just a short walk away from the reception. The two could hear the party winding down behind them as the DJ asked everyone to give a final cheers to the new brides. The Yelenas smiled and chatted about the ceremony as they made the short walk back to their hotel room. By all accounts, it really was a beautiful and perfect evening. They passed by a catering cart where one Yel snagged an unopened bottle of champaign. "To celebrate a successful scheme," she laughed.

The duo made it back to their small hotel room and shut the door behind them. "Do you have the time?"

The other checked her phone. 11:09PM. She and Wanda had run through the nuances of the magic down to the lat detail. The clone would last until midnight. "About 50 minutes," she replied, intuiting why the other Yelena had asked. She popped the bottle and took a swig. "To us."

The other smiled and reached for the bottle, following suit. "To us." It felt weird to say goodbye to herself, but after such a wonderful time — emotionally, physically, everything — Yelena was catching herself feeling like this scheme had impacted her more than she initially thought.

Yes, the two had put on a show for Kate, but there was something deeper here.

"You feel it too?" The other asked.

"What?"

"That there's something more between us than just acting like we're fake in love to get Kate back."

The other nodded. For 50 more minutes, it didn't make any sense to lie to herself. "So, what do we do now?"

Yelena smiled. "I still owe you one, don't I?" She took a coy step towards her clone. "You got me off in spectacular fashion, I'd like to return the favor."

Her double blushed. "Kate's not here. Nobody's watching. There's no reason to put on a show." She knew these were all half-truths. It was correct that there was no reason to act like the two were in love with each other, not anymore, but Yelena also knew that her clone felt it too. The spark between them.

"I know," she whispered before closing the distance between them for another kiss. "Let's make this time just for us."

23 notes · View notes