Summary: You are so beautiful, so alluring, and so completely unaware of the way you plague his mind day in and day out. You are going to be his and his only, and not a single soul can stop him from making that happen. (Heimdall x fem!reader - modern!AU inspired by Netflix's You)
Rating: Mature (probs gonna change to explicit ngl)
Warnings: Profanity, obsessive behaviour, sexual content (youngsters back tf up)
Note: This is only a teaser for what COULD be continued if enough of you like it. It's my hopeful attempt at a modern-day GOW fic, but the idea of Heimdall being an obsessive little shit like Joe from You was way too tempting not to try, so without ado, please enjoy!
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Chapter One: The Side Hustle
The black leather bra caught his attention first. Blue eyes trailed downward in a slow drag, shamelessly admiring the sight. Matching panties, strappy garter belt and thigh-high stockings accompanied by six-inch stilettos. Were you trying to torture him?
Heimdall tipped his head back as he took a long swig from his glass. The familiar burn that followed was a welcome one as he tried to focus on anything but the growing tent in his jeans. Good thing he didn’t have to worry about anyone noticing since it was dark, and he was in a private booth on the second floor of the venue.
This was the third time he’d come back to this godforsaken place in the span of a week, but he had to if he wanted to catch a glimpse of you again. You, the one currently stealing the spotlight from everyone else on that damned stage with your gorgeous body. You, the one giving the seductive eyes as you dropped to your haunches in front of a few eager patrons waving their money in the air. You, the one he couldn’t stop thinking about day in and day out.
He’d only recently discovered that you worked here thanks to a little digging on social media. Outside of the venue, you were the good girl who worked a part-time job at a café and studied graphic design at one of the most prestigious universities in Gladsheim. You were smart, popular, and, most importantly, oozed pretty innocence to anyone who didn’t know better.
But he knew better.
He knew that your adoptive father was a war veteran back in the day and struggled with emotional connection. He knew that your adoptive mother was his father’s ex-wife and a stubborn bitch when she wanted to be. He knew that you had a younger brother in high school who was currently aiming to compete in an archery tournament later this year. He also knew that they were none the wiser about your little… side hustle.
He focused once more as the crowd began to whistle and cheer loudly, his eyes skipping over everything else and landing directly on you. The song had changed to a slow, sensual track that had him leaning forward to give you his undivided attention as you circled a chair with confident steps, wiggling your pointer finger in a ‘come hither’ motion to someone in the crowd.
‘Baby, you can
Ride it, ooh, yeah
Bring it over to my place’
A jock who looked too young to be here was pushed onto the stage by a rowdy group that must have been his friends. He immediately held his arms out to his sides, fuelling himself with their jeers and obnoxious attitudes, and Heimdall rolled his eyes. This immature man-child hardly deserved the treat he was about to get.
His breath hitched as you trailed a delicate hand over the young man’s chest before pushing him onto the chair with a playful shove, trying to imagine that it was him on the receiving end. There were shouts from the guy’s friends, but he seemed to only have eyes for you now as you slowly lowered yourself onto his lap while your other hand trailed over your body.
‘You don’t know what you did, did to me
Your body lightweight speaks to me’
It was like you were one with the music, embodying every beat and every word that played. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even as you began to gyrate your hips on that poor excuse for a man as part of an incredibly risqué dance he’d never witnessed from you before. Your client was clearly enjoying himself because he was beginning to get a little too comfortable, and Heimdall’s eyes were narrowing when hands other than your own landed on your ass, squeezing tightly before delivering a rough smack that had you jumping.
Security guards had noticed, too, and soon two of them were getting on the stage, ready to see the man out despite the angry yells from his friends. You’d moved to get up, but the jock, seeing his fate, grasped you by the back of your head and planted what was most definitely an extremely sloppy kiss on your lips. You were clearly shocked as the guards (and now other dancers) intervened, separating him from you with rough tugs and reprimands.
Heimdall watched as your skinny blonde co-worker linked arms with you and led you out back somewhere, but he only had one thing on his mind as his eyes once again zeroed in on the young man still causing a ruckus for the security guards as he was escorted out. Sighing dramatically, he threw on his leather jacket and downed the rest of his drink before making his way to the exit.
He was going to make that dropkick regret ever stepping into this place.
