#'want to put together a down payment for a one or two-bedroom apartment without a roommate' is not 'hamptons' money

[phoenixyfriend]

Me: I'm kind of selfish for advertising my ko-fi on tumblr just so I can move out of my parent's house (hopefully before I turn thirty) when there are people who are struggling to afford medication or rent. I'm actually quite privileged and--

My coworker: --and our weekend house in the Hamptons--

Me: Actually you know what I'm fine.

[9r7g5h]

Omegas Are Doing It For Themselves

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia 

Rating: E

Genre: Omegaverse Smut

Summary: Izuku doesn't need some random alpha to make a den for him. He has a good enough job to buy his own house, buy his own furniture, and make his own nest inside his den, thank you very much. But damn it if his neighbor wasn't hot enough to consider inviting inside.

Words: 6,835

Izuku had known, the moment he walked into the townhouse, that it had to be his.

While the desire to buy something for himself had been a whim, a thought that had fluttered past his mind while trying to find a place for his newest figurine in his too small apartment, the research hadn't been. The strange working hours so he could go on walk throughs and tours with his realtor hadn't been. The working and reworking of his budget a dozen times to make sure he could afford the mortgage he had gotten pre-approved for hadn't been. And while many times he had wondered if following the whim was a good idea or not, the moment he had walked into that townhouse, he had known.

Screw what everyone else said - it didn't matter that he was single, that the mortgage alone would take up half his salary and he'd have to rely more on his side gig than he would like, that very few young omegas his age bought a house for themselves without anyone's help. This place, this cute little townhouse, was his.

He didn't need some knothead alpha to make him a den to nest in. He could make his own den for his own nest, and anyone who didn't like it could fight him.

He was tired of living cramped in that tiny studio that also took up almost half his pay, even if it was closer to work. Tired of no walls, his bed, nest, and table all being the same thing (and sleeping and trying to have a heat in crumbs was disgusting). Tired of his home feeling cramped with two people sitting down inside of it, tired of the shitty landlords and inconsiderate neighbors, just tired. He didn’t need a mansion, didn’t need acres of land that he had to keep up with; he just wanted a room for his bed, space for his nest, somewhere to put his merch collection, and a place to put a damn table.

But in that townhouse, that wonderful townhouse, he could host. He even had some of his friends come with him to pick up the walkthrough paperwork, watching as they comfortably spread out between the living room and kitchen to peek at his potential new home. That had been the deciding factor.

So despite the anxiety and the wonders if it was a good idea and the fact that he had to drain his savings to make even the smallest down payment, at twenty-six Izuku Midoriya became a homeowner of his own little townhouse. His own little den.

And it was just as perfect as he had imagined that first time he had walked in.

Well. Mostly.

It wasn't the house, no. The house itself was perfect - one room turned into an office so he could work from home, a guest room so his mom and friends could stay, his bedroom soft and warm and dark with blackout curtains. Enough room to actually display his collection. Couches and pillows and blankets and a table. Even space for a hamster cage, one of the ones he had seen on Pinstagram, made from bookcases bolted onto a table to create a little rodent palace for the cute little fluff ball, more than enough room for it to live and him to not feel guilty leaving it alone for his quarterly heats. The house in and of itself was perfect.

No, what made things difficult was his neighbor.

In the apartment there had been a mutual understanding with his neighbors. They didn’t talk to each other outside of emergencies, handed over any mail that might have gotten mixed up without any complaints, and generally stayed out of each other’s business. Maybe a polite ‘How are you?’ if they were in the elevator together, candy for the kids at Halloween on a stepstool, a pat on the head for the dogs going out for their walks, but that was it. His only major interactions with them had been when they had all called the fire department together when one of the dumpsters had caught on fire, and that had only been to ask if anyone knew what the actual complex’s name was or to yell at the dumbass trying to throw his beer in.

Good, normal neighborly interactions.

But here?

Tenya and Ochako had reassured him that it was pretty normal that the HOA had shown up not too long after the three of them had pulled into the reserved spots for his home, the small truck with all his belongings paralleled parked to not block the road. The packet was small, thankfully - just shared dues for park upkeep, instructions on where to put trash and recycling, one of the least restrictive organizations he had found in his search. But what hadn’t been normal had been the woman turning straight towards Tenya, ignoring Izuku as if he didn’t exist as she fell over herself to greet the alpha and Ochako.

“You must be Mr. Midoriya, pleasure to meet you! And this must be Mrs. Midoriya. You two are such a cute couple, it warms my heart to see you joining our community! Though, I don’t think I remember seeing your name on the registration paperwork, Mrs. Midoriya?”

“That’s because there is no Mrs. Midoriya,” Izuku said with a smile, his tone that fake cheerful as his scent turned bitter. He hadn’t bothered with blocker patches, figuring he could start scenting his home as he went, though now he would have to open the windows. Izuku slid in between them, taking the hand that had been outstretched towards Tenya and shook it himself, ignoring the startled look on the woman’s face as he took the packet of paper with his other hand. “No other Mr. Midoriya either. Thank you so much for bringing this by. I’ll make sure to set up my automatic pay by the end of the week.”

Whether it was the smell, the slight hint of his fangs, or the unimpressed glares from his friends, the woman left fast, leaving the three of them annoyed but at least alone to continue unpacking.

"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," Ochako reassured him, pressing her wrist against his in a way that helped him relax, pack and friendship in his new den almost making him purr. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

Only it did. Again, and again, and again.

“Is it really that weird that a single omega is buying a house for themself,” Izuku asked as he flopped onto the floor in front of the couch, Tsu’s finger’s immediately starting to card through his curls in an attempt to tame them. She, Shinsho, and Todoroki had shown up later that afternoon, pizza and beer in tow as an apology for not being there sooner. Between the six of them they had managed to unload the truck and get most of the big items to their correct locations, but not without a lot of nosey neighbors stopping by to put their noses where they could get bitten off.

“So, when’s your alpha coming to join you?”

“You must be renting from the guy who just bought the place.”

“Did your parents buy it for you? They totally bought it for you.”

“So the six of you are all living together as a pack? That’s nice.”

“You know, my niece is looking for a place. You’re a single omega, you shouldn’t be living alone, and have all that space, and she’s a doctor, so you should rent out some of the rooms to her.”

It had been non-stop, and those had just been the ones Izuku himself had run into. He knew for a fact that the others had been questioned to a similar extent, and in the end he had had to take Tsu’s offered scent blocker patches. Now his house smelled like a lake during the summer - a nice smell, refreshing and familiar and calming, but not him. He loved his pack, but he would have to go out, buy neutralizers, and scrub everything before he could give it a proper scenting.

The worst of all, though, was his neighbor directly to the left. He’d been lucky to get the end unit, so he only had the one attached neighbor, but was at this moment wondering if this was, in fact, a good idea. There was no one on the other side but a patch of grass, no one who could possibly hear a ruckus if something happened...

Izuku shuddered as he remembered those red eyes, locked on the group the entire day, and made a mental note to have Mei come put in a security system. She’d done her own, knew all the ins and outs that were way better than the company ones, and while he doubted he’d need it, the extra level of security would do him some good.

“To be fair,” Shinsho pointed out, bringing Izuku back to the conversation he’d started, “it’s not like anyone our age ever expected to be able to buy a house, besides Credit Card here,” he paused throwing a pepperoni at Todoroki, “so you’re literally an outlier here. Plus, you have a baby face. Some of them probably thought you were some college kid.”

“It’s not that much of a baby face,” Izuku pouted, his tongue popping out as Ochako walked over from the kitchen just to poke his cheek. “Oh, like you can talk.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ochako teased. “I embrace my roundness. No one would know I can flip them just by looking at these cute lil cheeks. Just like no one knows by looking at your face that they could bounce a book off your ass.”

“‘Chako!” A dirty napkin bounced off her side as she laughed, Izuku flushing as his so-called friends voiced their agreement. “Traitors, all of you. Get out of my den, none of you are allowed back.”

“Try not to take today’s events to heart, Izuku,” Tenya said seriously, ignoring the muttered demands. “I am sure this is just a misunderstanding that will be settled between you and your neighbors, and once it is settled you will greatly enjoy your time living here. You managed to accomplish something quite wonderful for yourself, and you should feel proud, even with the lackadaisical welcome. Now, let us forget this unpleasantness and cheer for our good friend’s new den!”

“Here here!”

*~*

Tenya was mostly right. By the time Izuku had gotten most things unpacked and at least put in the proper room, if not the proper spot, the neighborhood had adjusted to the single omega living among them. The kids and their dogs especially seemed to flock to him, entranced by the new person who was happy to throw their balls back to them and use a stick to fish them out of the decorative pond near the park. He occasionally got comments about setting him up with an alpha, but everyone at least seemed to accept that his house was his own.

His direct neighbor was still creepy as fuck though. Randomly throughout the day Izuku could feel him watching him whenever he went outside, his windows and blinds wide open, not even trying to hide his staring. He was scowling too, the furrows between his brows deep enough to collect water for a drought if he tilted his head back when it rained. From the smell that came out of the open windows, he was clearly an alpha, or at the very least a beta that packed with enough alphas that their scent clung to him.

A nice smell, Izuku would begrudgingly admit, the one time a breeze had blown it directly into his nose while he had been breaking down boxes to take to the dump. A smell he wouldn’t mind having around more often, if the carrier wasn’t so fucking creepy.

But whatever. Creepy neighbor aside, Tenya had been right, and once he had settled in, Izuku had loved it just as much as the first time he had seen it. And now it just needed the finishing touches.

Most of them were easy. Place the order, and the furniture companies he so carefully researched and staked out had it at his door just a few days later, some assembly required. But the hamster cage? The little hamster palace he had been dreaming of since college and he had found out they were a thing?

That he had to do on his own.

While bunnies had always been his favorite, Izuku knew he wasn’t suited to care for one, not just yet. He wanted a yard, somewhere to set up a pretty hutch for the rabbit to sleep in, more than enough room for the creature to roam in safety. While his home was perfect for him, he had long since accepted that it wasn’t for a rabbit, and so had moved on to his next favorite fuzzy little pet, one a bit more manageable when his heats took him out of commission for a few days each month. And damn it if he wasn’t going to be the best hamster dad in the damn world.

It took almost a week - a few days to hunt everything down and buy it, another few to build the beautiful monstrosity he was going to bold into his wall to ensure it wouldn’t fall over. But eventually it was done, done and everything he, if he was four ounces of fur, bones, and anxiety, could ever want. Now all he had to do was get the damn thing inside.

“The hell you doing, Deku? You’re going to hurt yourself trying to pick it up like that.”

At first Izuku had ignored the voice - clearly it wasn't talking to him, though so far he hadn’t met a Deku amongst his nosey neighbors. However, when a set of hands grabbed the other end of the cage and tugged, nearly pulling him off balance and onto his ass, he quickly had to reassess as he turned, teeth bared at the person trying to steal his creation. He’d worked hard on it, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let someone steal it from him!

His creepy neighbor just raised his hands, the pacifying gesture at odds with his own curled lips. This close it was clear he was, in fact, an alpha, the tantalizing smell Izuku had occasionally caught now filling his nose. Whether it was welcomed he wasn’t entirely sure, given the circumstances, but at least he knew. Knew and filed away for later, because the creepy neighbor was speaking again, and royally pissing Izuku off.

“You should wait until your alpha or pack can come and help you move this. It has to weigh a shit ton, you’ll hurt yourself otherwise. No-”

“Why,” Izuku interrupted him, seething at the continuous secondary sexism he’d experienced since moving in, “does everyone just assume I need an alpha? I can do this by myself, thank you very much, so if you could please move, I’d like to get inside before it gets cold.” Not that it was likely to get cold in the middle of summer, but still. He was pissed off, tired from having spent the day building in the sun, and just wanted to be done.

Instead, the man before him just tilted his head, a look on his face as he considered Izuku. “Glasses or Peppermint aren’t your alpha?”

“Tenya and Shoto?” Izuku clarified after a moment, the other man shrugging as if he neither knew nor cared about the names. “They’re pack, not my mates.”

“You don’t have a mate?”

For a long moment Izuku said nothing, just stood there staring at the alpha. He had crossed his arms, looked away, his scowl was once again deep and angry as he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for an answer - lightbulb! He wasn’t creepy (he was, he’d spent all this time just staring, but in hindsight now Izuku could see it was almost kind of cute), he was interested and shy. Izuku shook his head as he bit back his laughter. “No mate, though I’m not really looking for one at the moment. So if you could move, I need to get everything inside.” Same words as earlier, though a bit softer than before. Before his neighbor could try and interfere again, Izuku hoisted the cage up onto his shoulder, glad that even though he was short he was still stacked and strong, able to handle the weight on his shoulder with minimal struggling.

Though crap, he should have remembered to choose the other shoulder, the scar on his right arm screaming at him from the pressure. He was ok, it was just a few feet and he would be inside his home, his den. He was safe there, and could keep up appearances until then. Giving the man a pleasant smile, forcing his face to keep the expression, Izuku nodded as he turned away. “It was pleasant to meet you...”

“Katsuki. Katsuki Bakugou.”

“Nice to meet you, Katsuki. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get into my den.”

He didn’t run from the alpha. He walked, quickly, so he could alleviate the pain that was threatening to bring tears to his eyes. Ignoring the pleased smirk on Katsuki’s face as he watched him go.

*~*

‘Shy,’ Izuku quickly learned, was the wrong word to have applied to Katsuki. While Tenya and Shoto could be aggressive in their own ways, protective if some asshole tried to step in on the pack when they were out having a good time, Katsuki seemed to always be aggressive and protective. Towards his house, towards the tiny garden he had set up on the border between their front doors, towards his own pack (a rowdy group that Izuku could occasionally hear through his living room wall). And, surprisingly, towards him.

If Katsuki wasn’t so fucking hot he would have already called the cops and gotten something on file. But damn if that man didn’t make his dick twitch and his ass slick, now that he had gotten a good look. Especially since he’d seemed to have taken Izuku’s “...I’m not really looking for one...” as a challenge. Logically he knew he should be concerned, he’d had one conversation and had shown he wasn’t interested, but-

“You’re a blanket whore,” Ochako said, her disapproving words losing their impact from her cozy nest. He could barely see her eyes from where she was cuddled, her purring deep and satisfied with the quality of nesting material Izuku had been given. “You haven’t even really talked to him yet and you’re letting him buy you with blankets.”

“I’ve talked to him,” Izuku protested from his own pile of fabric, S.A.M. cupped carefully in his hands. His thumb ran gently over the hamster’s back as he chewed on some treats, breaking apart the largest of the pieces to be stored in his cheek pouches before nibbling on the smaller ones. “I told him my name wasn’t Deku.”

“You sure? That’s all I heard your nerds yelling on move-in day. Either way, I like it. You’re Deku.”

“I told him I wasn’t comfortable eating anything he cooked for me yet.”

“‘Fraid I’d poison yah? Don’t worry, Deku. I won’t do anything to you you won’t like.”

“And that I’m allergic to most pollen.”

“Oh shit.” That had gotten an actual apology, the fresh bundle of flowers Katsuki had shown up at his door with quickly tossed like a football across the road. He’d actually looked upset, his normal cocky “So that’s how you want to play it” smirk from his other failed courting gifts gone, leaving Izuku feeling bad as he left. So, when he’d returned a few days later with a soft, beautiful blanket, Izuku couldn’t help but accept.

Every other day saw a new one, the blanket handed over with just a few words and a spike of pleased scent as it was accepted, leaving Izuku with a plethora of fabric.

He should be concerned, he knew that, but there was something sweet about his previously creepy neighbor. Sweet and hot and he just smelled good, and even if Izuku wasn't looking for an alpha, could have his own den and could make his own nest, that didn't necessarily mean he had to reject gifts from someone. Didn't mean he couldn't be attracted, couldn't look and appreciate and enjoy the attention, right?

Right.

Squirming out of his nest, Izuku carefully placed S.A.M. back into his cage, watching as his pet scampered off to add the treat to his food hoard, his golden tufts of fur disappearing under the bedding. Their pizza would be there any moment, and better to be ready than make the poor delivery person wait for him to fight off the blankets when they were already there. The last time he'd made the guy wait had almost resulted in a confrontation between the delivery guy and Katsuki, the alpha about ready to rip out the other man's throat for "being a fucking creep and standing around like a perv."

Pot meets kettle in a Wamino's uniform, but ok.

Though, as Izuku grabbed his wallet and neared the door, he paused at the sound of voices on the other side. Already sure he knew what he would find when he opened the door, Izuku forced away the smile that tried to tug at his lips and allowed the annoyance to cover his face instead. Because he was right; when he opened the door, Katsuki and the pizza guy were in some weird standoff, his and Ochako’s dinner caught up in the crossfire.

“Look, dude, I can’t just give you pizza that isn’t yours,” the delivery man, Dairoji, if Izuku read his name tag correctly, protested, even as he eyed the bills clutched angrily in Katsuki’s fist. “You’re his neighbor, sure, and you claim that you know the guy, but this could just be some ploy to get free shit and I’m not risking my job on that. So you can just back off.”

Oh, he liked the balls on this kid - it was clear he was a beta, the same one from last time if Izuku remembered correctly, but even his duller nose should have been able to pick up the scent of pissed off alpha over the smell of the pizza. Most people would have backed down, found a reason or a way to get out of there, but this kid was standing his ground even though Katsuki had at least half a head on him and a more than decent set of muscles. It was impressive.

But not impressive enough to distract Izuku from the fact that he was hungry.

“If you’re done pissing on my pizza, can I have it, please? Ochako and I are just getting to the good part of the movie.”

“Don’t forget S.A.M.,” Ochako yelled from inside the house, her head poking out from her nest. “He was enjoying those yogurt drops and the drama!”

While Dairoji had the good grace to look cowed being caught, Katsuki just huffed and crossed his arms, his glare never leaving the beta. “Tell this asshole to let me pay for it and then we’ll be all good, Deku. Until then, no.”

“Come on, man, you-”

“I already paid online.” To say Katsuki deflated would be an understatement. His arms dropped, his shoulders drooped, even his hair seemed a bit less spiky. The glare he turned on Izuku seemed almost offended, though his eyebrow raised at the sight of Izuku’s wallet in hand. “I still need to tip.”

Immediately Katsuki shoved a few bills at Dairoji, using his free hand to jerk the pizza free with a growl. To the kids' credit he finally walked away, muttering about "crazy ass possessive alphas," "aggressive courting," and "not getting paid enough for this shit." The moment he was in his car Katsuki relaxed, turning back towards Izuku with his cocksure grin, as if nothing had just happened. He held out the food, puffed up and proud, looking like he expected praise and some kind of reward for providing an already paid for pizza and terrorizing the delivery man again.

He reminded Izuku so much of his aunt’s pomeranian after it ran off the mailman that he couldn’t help but laugh, doubling over as the cackling brought a stitch to his side he had to clutch.

“The fuck, Deku? Am I some joke to you?” Once again the smell of displeased alpha, this time tinged with hurt, buried deep as Katsuki tried to force bravado through his clenched teeth. Shaking his head, Izuku forced a few deep breaths, stepping forward to cup Katsuki’s cheek in one of his palms. He was still giggly, still smiling from his laugh attack, but he forced his words to be as steady as he could make them.

“Not a joke, no, but it’s still funny to see you square off with a college kid for a pizza for me.” A huff was the only response he received as Katsuki finally relinquished the pizza to Izuku, turning on his toes to storm back to his own home. He wasn’t upset, but it was clear he wasn’t happy about how things had turned out. “The blankets,” Izuku called out, just before he turned and disappeared into his own door. “They make really nice nests.”

The smell of pleased alpha was strong and immediate, lingering even after they both returned to their own homes.

“You’re really going to fuck him, aren’t you,” Ochako said, stealing her half of the pizza and digging in. “Blanket whore.”

*~*

Normally Izuku didn’t curse. Iida’s mini heart attacks and not so mini lectures whenever someone swore had basically beaten the practice out of their pack, with very few circumstances deemed “acceptable” by him. Sure, occasionally when in pain a few would slip out, or when a particularly hard video game came around, and on board game night all bets were off, but in general? Not that often.

But fuck heats. Fuck heats and fuck whichever one of their primordial ancestors decided a heat cycle was the most efficient way to breed, because he would find a way to go back in time, find them, and gut them like a fish for making him go through this. It wasn’t even like he could commiserate with Ochako on this - her heats were three days of being uncomfortable every four months, shorter if Tenya was available to fuck the heat out of her. Tsu and her monthly periods seemed more empathetic to his plight, both of their internal organs taking on a mind of their own for breeding.

But either way, none of his pack seemed to get that his preheat was his uterine pouch literally opening, leaving him sore and grouchy and more than ready to stab a bitch if he didn’t get a dick and ice cream in him in the next hour. Not necessarily at the same time, though now that he thought about it... Damn it he was hungry for something, and couldn’t tell what.

And worse was that, normally, he could get through the next few days with porn, heat aids, and enough sugary processed foods to make his mother sick. That had been his process the last few years, since he had broken up with his college boyfriend right before graduation and everything since had either turned out to be a bullshit first date or him just too busy with work and friends and everything else to try and find someone. But now, now there wasn’t just a hot as fuck alpha right next door, there was an interested hot as fuck alpha right next door, one who had been clearly courting him for the last few weeks, and Izuku just knew his normal process wouldn’t work.

He needed that Kat-dick-suki, and if he didn’t get it right then and there, he was going to go feral.

Thankfully he didn’t need to wait long - just like clockwork the alpha stopped by to drop off his latest courting gift, newest scented blanket in hand. Even if Izuku hadn’t seen him make the short walk through the cracks in his curtains, he could smell him through the door. Could smell his strength, could smell his dedication, could smell that dick he’d seen the outline of once when he’d worn nothing but sweatpants to go to the mailbox stands. He didn’t even wait for Katsuki to knock; he just opened the door and pulled him in, slamming the alpha against the wood and used him to close it, pressing his face against his scent gland.

Fuck he smelled good. Already Izuku wanted to claim him, wanted to sink his fangs in and keep the alpha for his own. Something Katsuki didn’t seem opposed to if the pressure against his thigh was anything to go off. Forcing himself to pull back even as his hips ground forward, his own dick rubbing against Katsuki’s thigh, for some level of relief, it was almost infuriating to see that cocky smirk on his lips.

He shifted and rolled his hips directly on Katsuki’s, that smirk immediately falling as he whimpered at the friction, his eyes blowing as the smells of sex and arousal and attraction overwhelmed him.

“There’s a spare key on the hook,” Izuku said lowly, returning his face to Katsuki’s neck. He lapped at the gland, purring at the taste, the smell, the way Katsuki’s hand tightened on his shirt. “Come join me in my nest, or I’ll come get the key when my heat is over. Either way, lock the door.”

A slight nip, dragging his claiming fangs against his skin - “Oh fucking hell” - before pulling back. Already Katsuki looked wrecked, his hand searching behind him for the lock, unable to keep his eyes off of Izuku as he slowly walked away. Each step was watched, cataloged - the motions of a hunter with prey in sight. Eventually his hand found the latch, flipping the deadbolt, making it clear he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Izuku smiled, lips wide and teeth bared, turning on his toes to lead his chosen alpha to his nest. He wasn’t against being fucked on the table or the floor, maybe a few rounds on the couch, but this first one he wanted in his nest, his first fuck in his first nest in his first den with his chosen mate.

He made it up the stairs and most of the way down the hall to his room before he was caught, Katsuki’s arms wrapped tight around his waist in an almost loving hug before he growled, shifting them so he could press Izuku against the wall, caging him in with his chest and one arm. The other pulled at his clothes, forcing his arms up so his shirt could be pulled over his head, Izuku arching into Katsuki’s eager tongue on his chest while the same hand that had just thrown his shirt somewhere to the side pressed at his pants. Pressed at and into, both of them moaning at the feel of his fingers sliding through the slick that ran between Izuku’s cheeks, soaking through his underwear and down his thighs.

“Fuck, ‘Zuku.”

“Nest, now.”

Katsuki made him wait just long enough for his pants to be pulled off, clothes left in a wet pile in the hall before he lifted him into his arms, Izuku’s thighs hooked over Katsuki’s forearms, his arms around Katsuki's neck, everything open and dripping in a way that left them both a mess. At any other moment he would have been embarrassed, embarrassed about his dick rubbing against Katsuki’s pecks, about his ass dripping slick on his abs, about how he was being held up so easily and could be fucked standing. Now was not any other moment, forcing his own whine as Katsuki walked the last few steps into his room.

While his bed was nice, a good mattress for sleeping that did wonders for his back, his nest was a goddamn masterpiece. Every blanket he'd been gifted had been woven together on top the stain proof pillow base, creating warm walls and a thick floor that was heavenly to lay on. And most likely fuck on, something they would be experimenting with now. Izuku whined again as Katsuki knelt, laying him in the center of the nest, crawling in after him so they were nose to nose, actually facing each other for the first time since Izuku pulled him in.

Katsuki kissed him. Slow and sweet, a change from the pace they'd been going at, the pleased smell of all parties involved sinking into the fabrics around them as they just, for a long moment, kissed. A moment that broke as they kissed and Katsuki's hand reached between them, grabbing Izuku's dick and giving a long, quick stroke, drawing a gasp he took advantage of, moving his lips to Izuku's neck to revenge for the little display earlier.

His mouth found his gland and sucked hard, leaving Izuku keening as Katsuki's hand never stopped stroking, a steady pace that had his hips squirming for more, for a tighter grip, for more speed; it was all just enough to get him close, to have his balls tight and his ass dripping slick like nothing else, but not enough to actually push him over the edge.

"Kat-Kacchan."

Izuku whined as Katsuki moved, because he was stopping, no, this wasn't what he'd wanted, come back. The whine was cut off with a nip to his thigh, his legs spread further apart, and suddenly he couldn't think, could barely breathe, could only focus on the heat around his dick, the tongue and suction working together to somehow pull his brain down his spine and out with his cum, fingers in his ass spreading and crooking and stroking until-

Fuck

There was no mercy, Katsuki kept his fingers right on the prize the moment he found it, rubbing and stroking and circling no matter how much Izuku tried to squirm away, no matter how hard his hips kicked and bucked, Katsuki's unfairly thick forearm holding them still. His fingers kept going and his tongue kept going and his mouth kept going as everything inside Izuku just kept going and going curling tighter and tighter his legs locked around the alpha's head so he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to hands in his hair holding him still as he fucked his mouth the best he could and

He broke.

Izuku sobbed as he came down Katsuki's throat, head tilting back as the tears finally escaped his eyes. Gentle hands helped him lay back into the welcoming plush of the nest, unwrapping his legs from Katsuki's shoulders, his hands from his hair. Again Katsuki was hovering over him, this time using his thumb to wipe some of Izuku's spend from his lips and chin, licking it back into his mouth to leave his hands clean. Katsuki smirked, a smirk that Izuku had to react to - even worn out he still bared his fangs, snapping a little at the guest to his nest. A chuckle Katsuki's only response, leaning down to brush his lips over his cheeks, down the side of his jaw, kissing away the tears.

Kitten licks and little nips down his neck and across his chest brought Izuku back to half chub, had him squirming again before those hands found his hips, helping him to turn over onto his hands and knees. Izuku happily went, spreading himself, looking over his shoulder to watch as Katsuki took himself in hand and lined up the tip. "You ready," Katsuki asked in between kisses down his spine.

"If you're not in me-"

Whatever threat Izuku would have come up with was cut off as Katsuki pushed forward, the head popping in, both of them pausing to enjoy the stretch and the warmth. Slowly Katsuki began to rock his hips, just as much of a grind as a push, slowly feeding himself into Izuku with one hand on his hip, the other coming up to cup his shoulder for leverage.

Only...only that hand didn't curl around his muscles like Izuku expected. Didn't find the support that would let Katsuki set up a demanding rhythm that would leave them both beyond satisfied. No, instead that hand fell between his shoulder blades, gently but insistently pressing down.

That alpha bastard wanted him to present. He wanted him to submit in his own nest. In his own den.

Fuck that noise.

Bending his arms, frowning as Katsuki let out a pleased croon, Izuku pushed up, his legs shifting to throw them both back so Katsuki was on his back in the nest, caught off guard and the wind knocked out of him. It stung, Katsuki's dick having jerked free, bobbing tall and proud between his thighs, but a part of Izuku preened at the sight of the alpha under him, behind him as he repositioned himself and looked over his shoulder, lip curled to show his fangs as he put him in his place.

"You're in my nest, in my den. I'll take your knot how I want."

Dropping down, Izuku's head fell back as he worked Katsuki's dick into himself, quicker than the alpha had been doing so, bouncing and rocking until he was seated on his hips. Gods, he was ruined for his toys. He'd need to go up at least two sizes to get anywhere close to the dick stretching him now, to the beginning of the knot he was lazily grinding down again. Behind him Katsuki was whimpering, swearing, tiny little rolls of his hips as he tried to keep up with Izuku's moves.

"Fuck, 'Zuku, please." Oh, that was something he could get used to, Katsuki begging for him. Maybe later, when he wasn't so needy himself, hard and dripping and aching for that knot.

His thighs set a punishing pace, not giving Katsuki any warning as he pushed up before dropping back down, letting gravity do half the work aa he fucked himself on his dick, enjoying the sight of Katsuki's feet scrambling for purchase on the edge of the nest. Already he could feel the knot beginning to swell, pressing at his rim, sending jolts up his spine as he bounced and clenched down on it. It wouldn't take much more to make Katsuki pop, a quick glance over his shoulder confirming it. He was panting, eyes glazed, one hand twisted in the blanket by his head while the other was on Izuku's hip, steadying him, already looking so fucked out and so ready to cum Izuku was almost impressed he hadn't. Katsuki's own hips were finally in the game now that his feet were firmly planted, thrusting up in time with each of Izuku's drops, pushing them deeper and quicker together, fuck he was close again, everything inside pulsing and tensing and ready to tip over that edge with the alpha with his alpha-

Katsuki was pressed against his back, when he'd sat up Izuku wasn't sure, but with one last thrust his knot caught, the hand that'd been on his hip wrapped around his dick, lips on the nape of his neck as he spilled over Katsuki's hand, over their laps, dick twitching and pulsing as Izuku was filled and plugged, hot and thick and no where to go but for it to keep going in.

It would have been unpleasant otherwise, the slight buldge in his stomach Katsuki rubbed with his clean hand, his other preoccupied by his mouth as he licked it clean, but right now all Izuku could do was lean back and enjoy. Enjoy the warm hands that rubbed his stomach and thighs, that turned his head for kisses that tasted of himself, enjoy the way they carefully shifted so they were spooning, careful not to upset the knot still lodged in his ass.

"I think I'll keep you," Izuku muttered sleepily, snuggling back into the warm arms wrapped around him, one hand drawing comforting swirls on his swollen stomach. "Maybe having an alpha in my den won't be so bad."

"I'll make it the best you can imagine."

*~*

For a moment, just a moment, Izuku was worried he would regret his decision the next morning. He'd been doing so well, doing all of this for himself, did he really need some alpha coming along and ruining it?

His worries were reassured by the sight of S.A.M.'s playpen set up on the kitchen counter, Katsuki talking to his pet while cooking breakfast, feeding him little pieces of cheese and vegetables as he worked. "Don't tell your dad I said this," the alpha said quietly, running his finger gently down the hamster's back, "but you're almost as disgustingly cute as he is."

Yeah, no, he was keeping him.

[END]

If there are any questions/requests, I have a Curious Cat and a Retrospring! :3

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[calicohyde]

8 for eddica and 10 for hinadam?

Learning more about their interests so they have a common thing to talk about.

The vineyard estate quiet. It's a different quiet than the quiet in the city, when the city manages to get quiet at all. It's thicker, softer. Everything is muffled as if covered by snow but it's still warm everywhere the sun touches. Inside the manor, it's dark and cool and blue-tinted, a refreshing dip into a private pool. It's even quieter within; according to payment records no service staff should be here today. She could've just asked, probably. But Jessica started things between them like this, and in a way picking locks and rifling her way through someone else's organizational system (or lack thereof) is easier for Eddie than initiating a conversation. There are a lot of rooms to comb through. Perhaps too many rooms, objectively. But then, that's probably why Jessica lives in her much smaller apartment in the city, halfway across the state from here. Among other reasons. Potentially. Some things Eddie will pry into, some she won't. There's a master bedroom that looks like it's been left untouched since Jessica's parents last occupied it. Eddie passes it by. She finds what appears to be Jessica's bedroom without much ado. There are high windows with gossamer floor length curtains, plush blood red carpet, and an ebony wood four poster bed piled high with miss-matched throw pillows in various shades of gold and champagne. It feels so much like hers it's almost shocking to look in and not see her there. There are books on the bedside table, each of which Eddie quickly memorizes the title of. She'll check the library for them later. There's a pack of cigarettes in the tiny drawer, flavored like Fred likes. Eddie takes them out and lights one up. Cinnamon. Eddie's favorite too, though she usually takes it with her whiskey rather than with tobacco. On the dresser, there is a trio of pillar candles wrapped with ribbon. Two have never been lit, but one is melted down to half of its fellows' heights. Eddie gives that one a sniff. Vanilla. Eddie wonders if Jessica likes the flavor too, or just the smell. Beside the candles is a row of photos in tiny iron frames. Several different women by themselves, two extremely photogenic dogs together, a worn black-and-white of a distinguished looking gentleman, and one of a younger Jessica with a small group of drag queens. And next to that, a substantial pile of sheet music. The music is printed, but has several edits written over it in a luxurious red ink. Jessica's handwriting is very nearly calligraphy - very even, almost perfect, but still somewhat illegible due to the opulence of each letter. There are several titles written and crossed out on the sheet on top of the pile. The printed notation underneath that indicates it's for strings. Eddie makes a certain effort not to memorize any phrases from the music. She has no illusions that Jessica won't (eventually) know she's been snooping around here, but playing her own music to her still seems a step too far and Eddie doesn't want to do it on accident. She puts everything she disturbed back in its place as well as she can, cinnamon cigarette hanging from her lips as she locks back up. The sun as it begins the very first step in sinking seems like it's coming straight toward her, just as eager to acquaint itself with Jessica as she is. She finishes the smoke staring out at the vineyard, the ground stained by sunlight through the grapes, wine-soaked already. Eddie puts her pilfered cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe and sticks the butt into her breast pocket. She makes her way slowly back to her car, gesturing to herself all the way, trying to remember where to put her fingers to play an arpeggio in C.

non-canon for Curse The Messenger Sign up to be tagged when I post about this project.

Thank you for asking, Ren! I'll do 10 + hinadam tomorrow.

Pining Prompts

[thesunshinebunny]

Hello first ask, reaction of the vice leaders to an fem!reader dancing erotically/sexy? i really liked the ask you did with the leaders!

Of course honey! If you want to read the first one with the leaders, I'll leave it here. All characters are +18 and for obvious reasons Ortho is out of this order.

Cater/Jack/Floyd/Epel/Sebek/silver reaction

Smooooooch

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Trey

Positions – Ariana Grande 

Late at night, everyone enjoying the comfort of their bed, sound asleep ... and here you were, in the middle between the lounge and the kitchen of Heartslabyul, with the music at medium volume and moving your hips as if there would not be a tomorrow.

You took advantage that everyone was peacefully asleep and snoring to practice a quiet choreography.

Well...not everyone.

Trey had gotten up for a glass of water when he found you in the middle of the kitchen, wearing only your panties and a T-shirt long enough to cover your upper thighs.

The way you moved your hips, revealing the fine dark red fabric of your panties shining comfortably against your skin, made Trey's mind take off.

“Cookin 'in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom” That's it, Trey stopped holding back.

Before you could finish, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and lift you off the floor, ending up on the counter.

You let out a gasp as lips fell on yours and your hands drew you toward your attacker's body.

“Trey ... next time give me a warning”

You gave him a light blow on the shoulder, but the man in front of you didn’t react conventionally, he grabbed your hand which was still resting on his shoulder and brought it towards his crotch, making you notice how hard he was.

“Maybe you should give me a warning before dancing that way in a public place and the way you are dressed”

Let's say… you two kept dancing for a few more minutes until Riddle showed up for a glass of milk.

You ended up scaring the little one for life.

Ruggie

Animals – Maroon 5 

Ruggie was tired after a long day of work, not just from his duties but also Leona's. He entered his room with a heavy step and fell on his bed, in which you were already waiting for him cross-legged.

"Long day?"

Ruggie just nod and settle on the bed, hoping to reach your legs, lie on them, and sleep until the next day.

"I have something that might make you feel better"

You crawled out of bed and for some reason the hyena didn't know, you went to his closet and grabbed one of his dorm shirts.

You went to the bathroom, Ruggie assumed to change, and you came out with your cell phone in hand and dressed to be eaten. The shirt barely covered your upper part, revealing the curvature of your breasts, apart from posing on your thighs.

If you weren’t about to playing some music, Ruggie was willing to jump up to you and eat you right there.

It was worth the wait. When you started moving, Ruggie's first thought was how lucky he was to have you. He was enjoying your fun, seeing you happy dancing for him even if it was at the comfort of his room.

When your steps became more lewd, he couldn't help how tight his pants were. He was completely hard and with each step, his limit was about to run out.

When you were done, hips on Ruggie's, he pulled you close to his crotch, your cunt well positioned over it and pulsing for some more friction.

Fuck the sleep, Ruggie spent the whole night pounding you in every possible position until your bodies were nothing more than a bundle of heat and wet fluids. You ended up destroyed.

The Savannaclaw students wondered all night the source of the high-pitched, savage howls.

Jade

Call Out My Name – The Weeknd 

It was closing time at Monstro Lounge. Tables already set, Azul closing the VIP room, Floyd closing the box and Jade cleaning a few glasses and plates from the bar.

For your, you were waiting for this moment. From time to time Azul would let you practice your choreographies on stage in exchange for a much lower monetary payment than those of Pomefiore had given you.

When the trio were distracted, each with their tasks, you ran out of the room where you were changing, put your cell phone on the speakers, and positioned yourself without hesitation on stage.

Hearing the beginning of the music, the three of them turned around to enjoy the show for a while, but they weren't prepared to see you in men's sleep shorts and one of the dorm’s shirts.

"Ara Ara ~ what a view more...appetizing"

Jade placed a chair in front of where you were dancing and gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful pearl in the entire sea.

Floyd had a wicked grin on his face and Azul was red as tomato.

The other eel was about to open his big mouth and approach where his brother was, but Azul grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the Monstro Lounge.

"I want the place clean when you finish"

The comment didn’t go unnoticed by either of you, but you didn’t care.

When you finished dancing, Jade already had his hands on your waist and his lips and teeth on yours.

Floyd was very clever and left posters outside the door and in the hallway warning of the heated scene that was about to take place.

Jamil

River – Bishop 

There was a small dance competition between a few students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, including Heartslabyul, and Jamil took a break from his responsibilities to participate.

In his excitement, he told you about the competition a few hours before it happened and left you to go practice. Bad move

The last few participants had already done their best, but Jamil had taken the best steps; he was about to win. But before the winner was dictated, you showed up, dressed in gym shorts, a sports bra and one of Jamil’s sleeveless hoodie.

Everyone's jaws dropped.

Your eyes never left Jamil's unless the choreography needed a spin. Your figure was powerless in the middle of the pseudo dance floor and while your steps were exceptional, no one could move a muscle. They were mesmerized, their eyes glued to your figure...and Jamil didn't like that.

He didn't like to see how the skin on your legs was exposed. He didn't like to see your butt become the main attraction, much less when you moved it so erotically. He didn't like to see your hair move with your body and outline your face.

You ended up winning the competition unanimously. Everyone applauded your performance, some asked if you could teach them to dance so freely.

Jamil was jealous, smoke was coming out of his ears and at any moment he was going to explode.

You turned your head to where he was and gave him a wink and one of your most malicious smiles. That was the limit.

Jamil grabbed your hand and led you to the closest cleaning closet.

"If you want to put on a show, then we are going to put on one so that everyone can hear it"

No one dared walk past the closet from the first floor next to the alchemy classroom for two hours.

Rook

Horns – Bryce Foz 

You were watching a dance rehearsal in the Pomefiore dance hall. Sitting in a corner without disturbing anyone, cross-legged, you watched Rook from afar and gave him little appraisals and signs of success every time he turned to see you.

When the rehearsal ended, and the students were dating one by one, you were alone with Rook. You gave him a bottle of water and a towel to dry off.

"You worked really hard, you deserve a break" and the blonde took it to heart.

He left the rehearsal room for a moment to change his clothes and then walk you to your dorm. In that little silence and tranquility, you began to walk around the room, looking at your body in the mirror and how it moved when you took a turn.

With that, an idea came to mind.

You grabbed your cell phone and put on a random song. You stood in the middle of the room, always looking into the mirror, and began to move from one side to the other, waiting for the music to hit at the right moment.

And it was at that moment that Rook entered.

Your steps left him stunned. The way you hit the ground, the way your hips moved in the air and your legs rose.

It was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in a long time.

Your figure, now standing, met Rook's. You both looked at each other through the mirror and you couldn't help but smile in embarrassment. You kept dancing even with a few sloppy steps until you stopped to look at him.

"Oh no no, don't stop for me, you dance very well"

You felt Rook's piercing gaze on your body for the remainder of the choreography and it wasn't until you were done that he moved behind you to turn you around and onto his chest.

"Ma amour, you are one of the most beautiful creatures this hunter could find"

His bare hands roamed your waist and hips, lifting your shirt slightly and savoring your burning skin with his fingers.

"Now let me hunt you down properly"

Lilia

Lights Down Low – Bei Maejor 

Classes were over and you were waiting for the light music club to get together to watch them practice. Mostly to see Lilia have fun playing the guitar, then to really listen to the music… uh, yeah, we can put that aside.

The boys hadn’t arrived so you had the club room to yourself and you took the opportunity to leave your backpack and free yourself from your school uniform, leaving with a shirt and shorts.

Seeing the minutes kept passing and no one had deigned to appear, you put music on your cell phone to fill the void. Your playlist reached a song of your favorites and you couldn't help but move to the beat of it.

You made sure the room door was closed, avoiding unwanted glances, and started dancing without any worries.

You should have remembered that some students are magical creatures and can appear in the room without even knocking on the door… just Lilia’s case.

Our fairy remained face down with his happy and mocking face so characteristic and observed your way of relaxing and how you let yourself be carried away.

Lilia wasn't going to deny that he was fascinated by your steps and… by your rear guard *wink wonk*

"The club became much more interesting"

You turned around scared to hear his voice so close to your ear. The bastard had approached without making any noise.

He put his hands on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. His lips rested on your nose, your eyes, the corner of your lips and your ears.

"Tell me ... would you mind giving me a private show in my room?"

His fang pinked the skin of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

Before you could answer, you were already in his room, back on his bed and his toothy smile as the only sight.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Home for Christmas

This is my first entry for the wonderful @navybrat817​, @stargazingfangirl18​, and @donutloverxo​’s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Black!Reader (Fem)

Summary: You got screwed this holiday season. Thankfully, someone decided to give you a break.

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 2,211

Warning: Unprotected Smut (wrap it before you tap it!), Oral (f and m receiving), Fluff, Angst, Talks of Anxiety

A/N:  Not gonna lie, I feel a little intimidated by all of the amazing writers participating. So let me throw my hat into the ring, so to speak. Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Back to Masterlist

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Okay, thanks.” You could barely keep your voice together you were so distraught.

You lost your job and your apartment all in the same week. You had used up most of your savings paying your grandmother’s medical bills. Your anxiety had gone through the roof since you got the pink slip yesterday. Now, six weeks till Christmas, you have to ask (beg) your friends if you can couch surf until you can get back on your feet.

You told your therapist that your anxiety had spiked to uncomfortable levels. You could barely sleep at night and you’ve had trouble concentrating on simple tasks. It felt like the world was closing in and you were helpless to stop it.

You hoped that something would give.

  Bucky was coming back from an outing with Sam when he spotted you fumbling with your keys with tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Startled, you swiveled your head, “Oh Bucky! How are you?”

“I’m fine. So, do you want to talk?”

Your lower lip quivered and the dam broke,” I lost my job yesterday, all my savings went to my aunt’s medical bills, and my landlord said I have to leave at end of the month!” you sobbed as Bucky pulled you in for a hug.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Bucky cooed as he rubbed circles onto your back.

“It’s not, but thanks.” you choked out trying to compose yourself.

It would seem that fate thought it right to mock him today. Brock got another compliment for his work and the love of his life was about to be on the streets.

Though Bucky shouldn’t be surprised that you knew next to nothing about his feelings with him being too cowardly to tell you. They first came ten months ago at a get-together Sam roped him into attending. He was enraptured by your kindness and sharp wit, plus it didn’t hurt that you were breathtakingly beautiful and your cookies were heavenly. The two of you quickly became friends going to movies, museums, and adult arcades. You were exceedingly kind and understanding even when Bucky showed you his prosthetic arm.

He wanted to go further, but he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with you.

Though, maybe…

“I was wondering, would you like to stay at my apartment ‘til you get back on your feet? It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms so you won’t be ‘invading or unwelcome’. I know you’re thinking about it.”

“But what about the re-”

“No. It’s fine. You said it yourself. You need to rest and regroup.” He was going to be fine, he was the CTO of SHIELD Inc. Both Steve and Sam have stated that he should move to a condo or a penthouse, but he’s glad that he never listened.

You nodded your head and sighed,” Okay.”

Bucky grinned, “Good. Though it’s not for free. Your payment will be in your ‘out of this world’ cooking.”

You giggled, “It’s a deal!”

  You moved in three days later. It was delightful to not have the threat of financial instability peering over your shoulder.

It didn’t take long for you to settle into a routine. You woke up around 7 AM, did some exercises and meditation, made breakfast, had a nice conversation w/Bucky, did some job searching, researched different recipes to try out, baked some desserts for Bucky to share with his team, cook dinner, had a nice chat w/Bucky over dinner and wine, and Bucky would do clean up with a movie.

Both Bucky and your therapist noticed your dramatic increase in your mental and emotional health.

Your aunt noticed how serene you looked when finally had the chance to visit her. She also teased you about Bucky and how cute the two of you would look.

You deflected your aunt in good jest, but she was not wrong. You had started to see Bucky in a new light. He was devastatingly handsome, sexy even. He was tall (6’3” / 1.9m), broad shoulders and muscular arms that you always loved to be enveloped in, eyes like the Mediterranean after a storm, luxurious dark Chestnut brown that was delightful to the touch, and a soft, protruding belly that was perfect for cuddling (though Bucky was insecure about it though). He was your own giant teddy bear who you would love to love (and fuck).

Maybe the two of you could be something more.

  “You have to tell her, Buck.”

Bucky groaned internally at yet another one of Steve’s interventions. He hasn’t been able to focus at work since you’ve moved in with him. Sam was constantly calling him out on it, and now Steve has weighed in on the issue.

“C’mon, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re taking advantage of her spectacular cooking and baking skills.” Sam exclaimed while biting into a Levain Style Toffee Crunch Cookie.

Bucky knew that he should say something. He was planning on telling you on Christmas Eve about the gift he bought you last week.

Now, all he needed was courage.

“She probably feels the same way, Bucky. There’s no way she would’ve stayed with you this long if she didn’t like you.” Sam added while going for his third Salted Caramel Brownie.

“I know. It’s just that she deserves someone better.”

Steve scoffed, “For fuck’s sake, man! You are smart, caring, and funny! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a lot to offer!”

Bucky gave Steve a smile, “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Sure. Now move over, I want some of those brownies.”

  Christmas Eve dinner was going well.

You were able to visit your aunt two days prior to which she teased you about Bucky yet again. You didn’t dare to bring up the sex dreams and times you masturbated in the shower wishing it was Bucky giving you such sensations.

You were biting into your teriyaki-glazed salmon when Bucky cleared his throat, “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’ve been such a coward,” Bucky uttered.

You put down your utensils, “Bucky-”

“No. I-I love you.”

What?

“I’ve loved you since that get together ten months ago,” You smiled at the memory,” I saw this kind, funny, beautiful woman who was amazing and was willing to put up with a loser like me. I know that I’m not in your league-”

You stood up,” Bucky, you’re not a coward and you’re not a loser. You have been nothing but kind and understanding this last few weeks. You let me stay with you when I was barely hanging on financially. You’ve respected my space without expecting anything in return. I know I’m not the best roommate, but-”

You were cut off by Bucky enveloping you in a tight hug, “Thank you,” he breathed.

Glancing up at him, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Bucky gathered his courage and captured your lips in a searing kiss. The kiss sent a bolt of electricity throughout your body. After a few moments, you pulled away and licked your lips in excitement.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

  The two of you were a tangled mess of limbs once you reached his bedroom. Bucky ripped off your top and chuckled at your attempt to cover yourself,” You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”

You backed onto the bed with a grin, unable to hide your giddiness as Bucky’s eyes darkened with lust and the look on his face was not unlike that of an apex predator.

Bucky took things slow, wanting to savor this moment. He worked you from top to bottom at an agonizingly slow pace. Soft, open-mouthed kisses marked his path smirking in pride at the sound of your moaning and squirming with each caress.

“Bucky please,” you begged as Bucky made his way to your chest.

Bucky tutted in response, “Let me adore you, love,” as he covered your breasts with hickeys, pinching and sucking your nipples, relishing the sounds of your moaning and mewling. He smirked at your praises as he made his way to your stomach.

He made sure to give your midsection extra love and care, “Utter perfection,” Bucky murmured as he kissed a stretch mark near your hipbone. Your heart soared at the declaration. You’ve never had a partner who complimented you let alone give you the time of day let alone a partner who actually put your needs first.

And in such a delicious manner.

Bucky was about to go in on your thighs when you stopped him,” Please, let me,” you panted as you got off the bed and undid his belt. You bit your lower lip once you got back his boxers.

He was a lot bigger than you thought.

“You sure about this, doll?” Bucky asked amusedly taking in your raised eyebrows and a sly grin.

Nodding eagerly, you laid your head in his awaiting lap and gave his dick an open-mouthed kiss followed by a long, slow lick to his weeping tip.

You were careful not to go too deep, not wanting a repeat of that one Spring Break. “Fuck, doll,” Bucky praised as you worked his dick like a lollipop. You alternated between playing with his balls and sucking on what you could fit in your mouth.

Bucky bellowed when you lightly scraped him with your teeth. He never thought that someone like you would give him the time of day. Ever since Bucky left the Army, it seemed that no one would even look at him, even before they knew about the prosthetic left arm. He was about to give up all hope of finding anyone who accepts him when you came into his life. You were his light, but you were not afraid to be imperfect. He could be vulnerable with you in a way that he has never been with anyone, even Stevie.

You continued your ministrations for a couple more minutes until Bucky gently tugged your hair, “Sorry doll, I won’t make it if keep workin’ me like this, and I want to give you my first gift this evening.”

You pouted but relented as Bucky motioned you back to the bed. You parted your legs and moaned when Bucky gave your slit a long, slow lick after kissing and nipping your inner thighs.

“Better than any baked good. Fuck! I could get addicted to this!” You giggled at the statement loving the praise.

Bucky attacked your folds with a masterfully executed battle plan. He switched between licking and sucking your clit with insane precision, scissoring your folds with his thick fingers (sometimes metal ones), and playing with your juices.

You were on Cloud Nine. Each of his movements sent wave after wave of euphoria throughout your body. Bucky’s tongue and fingers made your hair stand on end and bolts of electricity shot through your veins and danced along your skin. You grabbed a fistful of his luxurious hair and arched your back towards him.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Bucky rumbled.

The dam broke.

“Bucky!” you shouted as Bucky lapped up your juices and crawled up to caress your face.

“You sure you want this, doll?” Bucky asked.

“Please Bucky,” You begged as he pushed himself into you inch by inch pausing once he filled you.

“So fucking tight!” Bucky breathed huskily.

“Bucky. I. Need. You.” You murmured between kisses to his neck and jaw. He started out at a slow pace, making sure you were used to his size but he intensified his thrusts once you began moaning in pleasure and begged him to go harder.

Each thrust hit you just right, sending you higher and higher, but Bucky made sure not to send you over the edge (not yet). He decided to add to your sweet, sweet torture by kissing your neck, shoulders, and collarbone. You didn’t know how much you could take, but at the same time, you didn’t want to end.

Thankfully, Bucky heard your mental pleas. He worked your clit and you came with another shout as he nipped the juncture between your neck and collarbone. Bucky came soon after with a primal roar.

Laying on Bucky’s bed and looking out the window, you saw a thick yet gentle snowfall. You were about to make a nice (if not a little snarky) Christmas remark when you felt a weight on your chest. Casting your eyes downward you found a silver snowflake on a thick silver chain with sapphires in the middle and on each of its six points. It was beautiful.

You nearly swiveled your head in shock. “Bucky you di-”

Bucky caressed your cheek and kissed you, “You’ve been so kind to me since we’ve met and I wanted to give you something as wonderful as you.”

“Well, since you put that way. I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your present.” you teased.

Bucky snaked his right arm around your midsection, “It might not be ‘til Noon at best. I’m gonna need another round.” he crooned as he kissed your neck.

Part of you wondered what the hell all those people were thinking when they didn’t give Bucky a second glance. Well, it matters not. Bucky was yours and you would be damned before you let him go.

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @jtargaryen18​ @sapphirescrolls​ @jobean12-blog​ @sweeterthanthis​ @gotnofucks​ @mculibrary​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @navegandoaciegas​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @tilltheendwilliwrite​ @imanuglywombat​ @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ @navybrat817​ @anyatheladyclown​ @buckysbunny​ @nacho-bucky​ @donutloverxo​ @stephanieromanoff​ @threeminutesoflife​ @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight​ @chixkencxrry​ @hurricanerin​ @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil​ @captain--barnes​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @thebanprincess​ @winteralpine​ @leslie2898​ @buttercandy16​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @hevans-angel

[uh-oh-howd-i-get-here]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 1

I have been brewing on this idea for a couple days now, and I finally got the gumption to write it out. I am super excited to share this with the fandom. This is one of my favorite fandoms and my current hyperfixation. I hope you enjoy this fic. I have no idea how long it's going to be, but it will be a series. I do not plan on following cannon after Endgame, it doesn't fit with the fic, but I'm working on one that is cannon.

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the figurative ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst, and fluff if you squint. If you see any others please let me know!

Word Count: 1,168

Part 2-Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I promise that I’m really alive.”

“I’m sorry, but without more proof we cannot legally prove that you are who you say you are.”

Y/N huffed and slouched in her chair. The lady who was supposed to be helping her shuffled her papers and cleared her throat. “It doesn’t seem very probable either. If you are who you claim you are then you’d be 105 and considering that you don’t look older than 25, I highly doubt that you are the Ms. Y/N L/N.”

“But I am!” Y/N yelped causing the woman in front of her to jump. “I’m sorry Ms.” She peered at the nametag on the woman’s suit jacket. “Clement. I have had a very long day of goose chasing and learning that I need to prove that I am still alive to get my own things. It makes sense, but I feel that it really doesn’t need to be this difficult. Besides, there are two people in the state of New York that are around that exact age.”

Ms. Clement looked around her office, probably wondering why she even bothered to get out of bed today. She then put the papers she had been shuffling into a vanilla folder and tucked it into a pile on her desk. “Those men are Superheroes. They have probable explanations as to why they are that old.”

“And so do I.” Y/N huffed.

Ms. Clement gave a fake smile, “Until you can provide legal documentation that you are who you say you are I’m afraid that I cannot move forward with a Certificate of Life. Please return when you have your documentation. Have a nice day!”

~

Y/N huffed as she walked down the street of New York City. She hadn’t known what to expect when she had arrived from Wakanda, but a legal goose chase wasn’t it. The Social Security Office had told her that she had needed at least three Legal documents that proved that she was who she claimed she was.

All she wanted to do was sit down in a corner and cry, but she had to get a place to stay for the night. She knew from experience how cold the streets got at night.

Y/N hardly recognized New York with all of its lights and noises. She wished for the New York she remembered from the 40’s.

She still knew where to go after all these years apparently because she stopped in front of a building that she knew by heart. The best years of her life were in apartment 9C on the top floor and a great view of the city. The best years until she was drafted into World War II as an army nurse. She shivered as a breeze rushed by her, then an idea struck her.

~~~~~~

The elevator was just about as old as she was which made her a little nervous. A quiet ding announced that she had arrived at the top floor. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when she left and she hoped with everything in her being that the apartment didn’t have new tenants.

‘It shouldn’t’ she thought. An upfront payment had been made to have that apartment belong to her and her-

Her heart stung but she shrugged it off. She could live in the past later.

She didn’t have a key to the apartment, it was inside, in the bowl by the front door. You didn’t need house keys in Europe. She pulled out a hair pin and pen she had taken from the last office she had visited. Unlocking the door was easy, it was from the 30’s after all. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she opened the door and stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Y/N wasn’t prepared for what she saw. The landlord was true to their word, the apartment was still hers. There were still sheets draped over the furniture, dust clung to every uncovered surface, and a musty smell filled the air.

Nostalgia filled her heart, but she had things to do before she let herself feel anything. She walked into the kitchen and opened the farthest cabinet and pulled out a tiny cup that had a tiny key in it. Grabbing the key she went into the guest bedroom and pulled down the lockbox from the shelf in the closet.

Inside was her passport, birth certificate, and her backup draft card. Along with other papers. A sigh of relief escaped from her. She pulled out what she needed and put the box back to where it belonged. Walking back into the main room, she took off her jacket and put it on the coat tree. Her papers in the pocket of her coat. As long as she didn’t make too much noise, she could stay here for the night.

She turned around and was dragged into memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was puttering around the kitchen getting things out to start making dinner. The front door opened, and the love of her life stepped through. With a sigh of relief, he took off his suit jacket and hung it on the tree.

He finally turned to look at her and he smiled, and she returned it. “Welcome home Love. How was your day?”

“It was boring. Paperwork and meetings. The only thing I looked forward to was coming home to see my best girl.”

Y/N blushed, and her lover walked over to the living room, got his pipe from the mantle and sat down in his worn leather chair.

About 30 minutes later Y/N called across the room. “Dinner’s ready”

He got up from his chair and they both sat down to eat and after both were done and everything was cleaned up, he retuned to his chair. This time though, she was curled up in his lap.

“We should do something fun this weekend Doll. Like a trip to the zoo or something.”

“I would love that.”

He leaned down a little to whisper in her ear, “I love you Y/N”

“I love you too James” she whispered back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N came to again, it was almost dark out. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked over to a chair covered in a sheet. With a simple motion she pulled the sheet from the chair and revealed a worn leather wingback chair. She didn’t bother to undrape the rest of the furniture; in fact she was very careful to make everything look undisturbed.

As much as she wanted to go to her old bedroom, she couldn’t. Even coming back to this place had emotionally drained her.

What she did do instead, was look at the pictures hanging on the wall and through the dirt and grime covering the glass, she could make out two people standing as close together as they could get. She was dressed to the nines and so was he. At the bottom of the picture written in loopy cursive was

James “Bucky” Barnes and his fiancé Y/N L/N

Part 2

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch. 15

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Your attempt to help your brother move result in Yoongi meeting your family -_- 

Previous Chapter here 

TW: as previously mentioned, YN and her brother were abused by their dad. It is mentioned by her brother. Trigger will be labeled before and after by **  ** Yoongi’ song “The Last” is also referenced at the very end, which implies thoughts about self-harm/suicide attempt. But it’s a good, long chapter! There is fluff and humor in it too!

---------------------------

Late last night you received an email from your brother’s school informing you a dorm space had opened up and he could move in as soon as possible. You wanted to check and make sure there wasn’t anything else you should be doing today before you rented a van.  

You put on your robe and headed out to the main living area. Half the coffee pot was already gone and you heard light movements from upstairs. You wondered if Yoongi was prone to hangovers or not.  You poured yourself a cup of coffee and heard Yoongi pad down the stairs. 

“How are you feeling today?” You asked without looking up from your steaming mug.

“A little dehydrated but fine.” He passed you as he headed over to the sink for water. “Really? We’re just wearing robes around the house now?” 

You waited, slowly savoring the taste of the hot bean water in your mouth. You swallowed. “You were in your underwear the other day. I think the robe is fine.” You turned dramatically and looked at him.  “Unless you prefer just underwear?” 

“Aish, don't remind me.” He waved in your direction as though he could dissipate the memory with his hand. It was too early for flirting.

You laughed. “Hey, if it's OK, I'd like to go help my brother move today. A dorm space opened up for him and I'd like to get him settled in before school starts again tomorrow.”

Yoongi leaned against the counter, “Yeah, that's fine. You should do that.” 

“Great,  thanks!” You turned and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. 

When you returned to the main area Yoongi was gone, you didn’t bother checking by the door as you grabbed your purse and slipped on some shoes. You texted your brother to remind him what time you would arrive and then hopped on the train to the car rental place.

Fifteen minutes later you walked in, produced your driver’s license and payment and were then declined. 

“What do you mean? I already prepaid online.” You asked the attendant. 

“It’s not the payment, it’s your license. You rented the cargo van. You don’t have a license to drive that vehicle, it’s level one.” The man explained, gesturing to a garage full of vehicles as though that explained anything.

“Isn’t it just like a regular van but big?”

“No ma’am it’s more like a box truck. I can get you a regular van but I can’t refund your rental of the cargo van because it was a day-of rental.”

“I had to enter my license to rent the van. Why does it authorize licenses if they aren’t the correct type?” You asked, annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, probably, but that definitely seemed like a crappy thing for the website to allow.

“I understand that ma’am but the website will allow anybody to pay for the van and the driver’s license check is very basic and checks to see if you have one, not the level. Now, would you like to rent a regular van?”

You stood there for a minute weighing your options. “Give me a minute.” You walked over to the waiting area and took out your phone. You opened the BigHit employee portal and scrolled through the services. There were so many options: food delivery, laundry pick up, chauffeur, pet walking, but nothing about hiring a driver for other vehicles. You groaned and dialed Yoongi’s number. Normally you would text but you felt like there was too much to say. The phone rang a few times.

“Hello?” It was surprising to you how deep his voice sounded on the phone.

“Hey...I'm sorry to bother you. Does anybody at the company have a Level 1 driver's license that I can like request via the app? I didn't realize the one I rented is for a license I don't have.” You paused. “This is so embarrassing.” Silence extended from the other side, making you feel awful, like you had probably interrupted something important.  You began again, " I can maybe just do it next weekend. I can find somebody by then I'm sure. It’s fine. What’s one more week.”

"I can drive it." 

You felt awkward having Yoongi do it."Noooo. Don't worry about it. I can do it next week. I’m sure I can find somebody.” 

“Aish send me the address. I'll do it.” He replied, starting to sound irritated.

“Were you busy? You don't have to.”

“You know the company phones have GPS trackers in them? But it will be a hell of a lot faster if you just send me the address.”

You sighed, “Ok. Thank you.”

“See you soon.”  

You awkwardly waited at the rental agency, kicking your feet in your chair like a little kid waiting for their parents. After about half an hour you heard the door ding and saw Yoongi walk in. He had traded his sweats for jeans, but otherwise had the same casual shirt and expression. 

“Hello sir,” the desk attendant greeted Yoongi. “How may I help you today?”

“I’ve been told I’m here to drive a van.” Yoongi looked your way.

"Oh, are you here for that one?" the guy at the counter gestured at you.

Rude. 

Yoongi smirked, “Yep. That one’s mine.”

Your jaw almost dropped. Fucking brat. You walked over. "It's a good thing you're being so helpful darling." You gritted between your teeth. You watched as Yoongi handed over his license and had it scanned without any issues. 

“Here you go Mr. Min.” The attendant handed him the keys. You heard him laugh as he took them.  He started to walk out to the rental garage with you following. 

"’Thanks for coming. I do appreciate it."

"It’s no problem. I mean. You, once again, will owe me dinner. But other than that. It's nothing." He clicked the remote to find the right van. "Why are you renting such a big ass van?" 

"Because my family doesn't own a car and I'm an idiot. The website didn't make it look that big. I put in my license and it let me rent it. Don’t you think it should deny it if it knows you can’t drive it?"  The two of you stopped in front of the cargo van. It was big. But not that big, you scowled.

"Oh man. I used to drive so much music equipment around in my shit van. This brings back memories." He climbed into the driver's seat. You walked around to the passenger side and stepped up as well. "And lucky for you, I came prepared today." He popped in a CD he'd been stowing in his coat pocket. 

"Oh my God. You are the cutest." You said, somewhat accidentally, out loud. 

Yoongi paused, and looked over at you. "I am not cute." 

You smiled and pinched your fingers together. "A little bit." 

He shook his head and put his hand on the gear shift. "Nope. Cue up the GPS." 

"The tiniest cute." You typed in the address. 

"Feared rapper and music producer. Ice King. Loner. It's in the lyrics, you should listen." He turned the car audio on.

"OK cutie, I know you have stuffed animals in the loft area." 

He held a finger up to his lips. "Quiet woman, I'm driving." 

You laughed and relaxed into the seat. "I fell asleep on track 5."

He pushed some buttons and you settled in for the car ride. 

Yoongi was thankful for the excuse of looking at the road so he couldn’t see your expressions as you listened. He put so much of himself in his lyrics, it was like taking his heart and mind out of his body and showing it to other people. Which for some reason felt fine when it was complete strangers, but felt so weird with someone he knew. He tried to play it cool. He knew he was two songs away from his most personal track.

“Ok, turn in here. We can park here for up to two hours without a permit.” You guided him near an alleyway next to your Aunt’s apartment. You sent a text telling them you were here. “Thanks. You can wait here if you want. I don't know how much packing there is left to do. Sorry. I just got the email this morning. There are also some coffee shops around here or some restaurants. I’m not sure what---” 

Yoongi unbuckled his seatbelt and cut you off. “Hey. You don't have to do this by yourself. OK?” He opened the door and got out before you could respond.

You took a few deep breaths and exited the van, walking around to the front to lead the way to the apartment. “Ok thanks. Also I apologize in advance for my Aunt.”

“She won’t be the first Auntie I've met,” Yoongi smirked. “Don't worry, Aunties and Grannies love me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about. Also sorry in advance for my brother. He seems rude, but it’s just because our family life was so fucked up. He’s a good kid.”

“Hey, I can relate,” Yoongi opened the door for you. “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Ack, I don’t think I can do this.” You turned and faced him.

“Do what?” Yoongi asked, perplexed.

“Have you meet my family. It’s. We’re all weirdos. The apartment is so small. It’s embarrassing. I already feel bad that you came and helped me.” You spew out everything at once, your anxiety levels suddenly spiking.

Yoongi sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “Hey. It’s fine. I was going to meet them eventually anyways right? Might as well be before the wedding,” He teased you.

You were surprised. This was the first time he had mentioned anything about the other part of your contract. It had always been you teasing him about it.

“I guess so.” You took a deep breath. “Ok. Just...please...Remember. We’ve been through a lot.” You suddenly felt so vulnerable as you pushed the elevator button. You led the way to your old apartment and unlocked the door.

“Aunt Vi, I’m here.” You yelled from the foyer as the two of you slipped your shoes off.

“Oh finally, I was getting worried, you’re over an hour late and you're usually so prompt and hello young man.” Aunt Vi stopped dead in her tracks as she arrived in front of the two of you.

“Hello. Min Yoongi, nice to meet you.” He bowed.

Your Aunt gaped like a fish for a moment and eyed you. “Yes of course, I’m Vi.. And this is…?”

“My boss, Auntie. He drove the van today. Apparently giant ass vans need a special license.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Do not use such language in front of your boss, young lady.” She scolded. 

Yoongi cleared his throat to hide a laugh. It was unusual seeing someone boss you around for a change. 

“Yes of course, sorry Auntie. I’m very sorry, Mr. Min.” 

“That’s better. Now come in. You, help Jihoon pack, Mr. Min come join me for tea.”

She turned around and you gave Yoongi a stank look while he silently laughed at you. You flipped him the middle finger while he acted offended.

Auntie Vi turned around, “That is of course if he wants some.”

The two of you pretended to be perfect angels once again, “That would be lovely Aunt Vi.” He responded, sounding like a boy scout. You rolled your eyes at him the minute your aunt turned her back. You left the two of them as they headed to the kitchen and you went to the living room.

Your brother was packing up some books into one of the boxes when you walked over.

“Hey. Make sure the books go into a few small boxes instead of one big one, or they’ll be too heavy to carry.” You said as you grabbed another empty box and started to pack some things.

“Yeah ,ok. Those other two boxes are books as well. There should be a bookcase in the dorm. I think all my friend’s rooms have one.”

“Ok great, I’ll label them.” You walked into the kitchen to grab a sharpie and briefly overheard Vi and Yoongi. Yep. She was in love, you smirked and headed back to help your brother.

You were surprised when you walked past the hallway and saw two blankets on the floor, slowly moving. You smiled and paused, “Huh. What strange moving blankets.” You heard a set of giggles and continued on your way.

Your brother and you continued to put items into boxes and the blankets continued to slowly wriggle down the hallway until they made it to the corner. Your sister and niece sat up and pressed their tiny bodies against the wall, straining to see who the mysterious voice belonged to. You looked over and smiled. 

Aunt Vi paused for a second and heard the faint sound of giggles and “shhhh”

“There better not be any little girls eavesdropping,” She said. Everyone in the apartment heard the sounds of stomping and running down the hallway, followed by a door shutting. Vi sighed and Yoongi laughed. 

You set down the roll of tape and walked back to the bedroom. "Come on out girls." You led the way for them down the hallway. They nervously stood in the kitchen in front of Yoongi and your Aunt.

“Mr. Min, this is my sister, Hayoon, and my niece, Sooah.” You introduced them as they bowed deeply, as though they had been preparing for this moment for their whole lives.

Yoongi smiled warmly at them, “It’s a pleasure to meet you ladies.” You could see your niece already blushing. These girls were boy crazy already and you were sure they would relive this moment over and over again. They managed to squeak out a “you too.” Before they looked around awkwardly about what to do next.

“Alright girls, either help move boxes or git.” You prompted them. They looked at each other and then scrambled back to the bedroom, giggling the whole way. You sighed and went back to packing. Fortunately since your brother was living on the couch, he didn’t have a lot to pack. In retrospect you probably didn’t need the van. Oh well. Better to be over prepared than underprepared, you mused. 

You walked into the kitchen, “Excuse me, may I have the keys please? It’s time to start loading.”

Yoongi stood up, “Yeah sure, let’s go.”

You looked at him, “Oh no sir. I could not expect you to carry the boxes. Keys please.” You held out your hand.

Yooongi scoffed, “I can carry boxes.”

Aunt Vi quietly cleared her throat, “That would be too much surely. Won’t you please sit down and I’ll make you some lunch.”

Ah the intersectionality of age and class rank here were making your head spin, but you knew that he couldn’t turn down lunch from your Aunt, even as she turned around and he placed the keys in your hand while making a very strange face you couldn’t quite identify. You raised your eyebrows. Taking the keys, you pulled out your phone. 

YN: She’s a good cook, don’t worry. Sorry this is taking so long.

You and your brother each grabbed some boxes and started to move them out by the elevators. After about fifteen minutes you checked your phone.

YG: I feel weird not helping 

YN: You did help, you drove the van

YG: That doesn’t count

YN: Yes it does

You returned to the apartment where you saw Yoongi had somehow inserted himself into the kitchen and was cooking alongside Aunt Vi. That’s it, you thought, she’s never going to not mention him again. You sighed. Grabbing the last few boxes you and Jihoon began to fill the elevator and slowly move the items closer and closer to the van. An hour later it was all packed up.

“How was your soup?” You asked as you came back into the apartment, ripping off your sweatshirt. You had started off cold, but were now glistening with sweat.

“Really good, thanks again Auntie,” Yoongi looked over to Vi.

“Oh please, he’s the one who ended up doing most of the cooking. Are you single Mr. Min? Are you allowed to date your employees?--------”

Oh God it was happening, you were shocked it had taken this long honestly.

“Because even though YN isn’t much to look at, she’s a very hardworking girl.”

“We gotta go. Time to leave. Is there any leftover soup for Jihoon?” You asked as you cut her off and started scrambling around the kitchen for a takeaway container.

“There’s plenty of soup, grab some for Jihoon. Not for you though, you don’t need the calories.”

Oh God she was going full blown Auntie on your ass. Help. You looked over to Yoongi, mortified, but he was just standing there, the tiniest smile playing on his lips. He briefly flicked his eyes in your direction, causing you to feel flustered.

“Anyways, you should keep her in mind. Our family is unlucky, but we do try to make up for it.”

“I have the Soup, can we please leave now?  We have to return the van.” You grabbed your purse, sweater, soup, and coat.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi said calmly. “Thank you for your hospitality Auntie. I hope to see you again soon :] .” He walked over near the door, put on his coat and took the soup from you.

“Put your coat on.” He chided

“I’m sweaty.” You responded

“You won’t be when you get back outside.”

You huffed but complied anyways. The poor man had suffered through an hour and a half of your family, you weren’t about to argue with him.

Your brother was waiting in the van with his headphones on listening to music. You climbed into the middle seat.

“Oh my God I am so sorry.” You said the minute the door closed.

“It’s fine. Like I said, not my first Auntie. She’s nice.”

“She called me ugly and told me not to eat.” You whined. “Hey...speaking of you called me ugly too the first time we met.”

Your brother took off his headphones; apparently interested in this conversation.

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I say that to you? That doesn't seem like something I would say.”

“Well, no. But you didn’t disagree with me when I said it.” You side eyed him.

He laughed, “I think you know you’re not ugly. You don’t need me to tell you that.” He pulled out onto the main street.

“I don’t know. Having heard it every day of her life growing up, it might not be a bad thing to not say to her.” You heard Jihoon say from next to you.

You tensed up briefly. “Jihoon, it’s a joke. Everyone else at the interview was literally a supermodel. Everyone.” 

“Sorry. People calling my sister ugly doesn’t seem very funny to me.” He said and moodily turned to face the window.

This was the kind of awkward you were worried about. “Sorry. Jihoon is a little protective. Also he doesn’t understand jokes.”  You tried to lighten the mood by teasing. It did not work.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny. I understand that.” He said snidely from the passenger’s seat.

You sighed, “Anyways, thanks again for driving. You’ll turn right here and then there should be signs for the school in about 4 kilometers.”

Yoongi was very quiet. He didn’t want to piss your brother off again. You pushed play on the audio, welcoming a change of pace from the quiet. To your shock, he hit the pause button. “Let’s listen to it later.” He said quietly to you. He didn’t think the lyrics would put your brother in a better mood and he also didn’t particularly feel like sharing the vulnerable side of himself at the moment.

“Is it normal to tell someone they can’t listen to music in a car? Asking for a friend.”

“Stop being an asshole Jihoon. Mr. Min was nice enough to drive the van for us today to move you into the dorm. And to give me a job to pay for the dorm. You need to be more respectful.”  The phrase came out of your mouth before you could even stop it. It was a triggering phrase for both of you and you instantly regretted it.

**************

“Right.” Your brother said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Be more respectful. Just because someone’s older than you they deserve your respect no matter what. That’s what dad always said while he was beating us, remember?”

***************

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep your cool. “Oh my God. You’re supposed to be working through this shit in therapy not in a fucking moving van with me and my boss. I am so sorry.” You said to Yoongi who was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t in the van at that exact moment.

“I didn’t ask to be in a moving van with you and your boss and I didn’t ask to be moved into the dorms today.” He argued back. 

“You’d rather still be on the couch at Aunt Vi’s? I can unload all this shit and cancel your room. I can totally do that right now.” You snapped at him.

Jihoon huffed angrily. Such a moody teen. 

“I’ll take that as a “no”,” you responded. “Yoongi, I am so sorry.”

“For the record, does your boss know our dad's a fucking psycho?” Your brother said in English. You had done terribly in English and hadn’t touched it since High School. You understood the word Fuck though and were getting ready to scold you brother 

Yoongi didn't want to overstep his bounds, but at the same time, your brother was being a rude little shit. The whole reason you had agreed to marry a guy you didn’t know was to take care of this ungrateful child. Before he could help himself, he responded in perfect English, “Yeah, I heard you dad was an asshole. And I'm sorry that happened to you. It shouldn’t have and it really sucks. But your sister works her ass off for you.”

Yoongi was pissed. You could tell that much by the tone. You understood sister and that was about it. Or maybe he said sweater. But it was probably sister. 

Your brother was clearly surprised by whatever he heard and also mildly irritated. “What do you know about any of that?”

“I know that in her job interview all she talked about was you and your little sister and how she worries about the two of you and that’s why she took a job where she is on call 24/7 and why she’s worked 2 jobs for the past 7 years.”

You understood the number 2. That was it. This was a passionate discussion on Yoongi’s part. You were getting ready to speak after several seconds of silence filled the van. 

Your brother twisted his body and looked at Yoongi. “---Do you….do you like my sister?””

More silence. What the hell were they talking about?

Yoongi cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, continuing to look straight ahead at the road. “I do. And we’re being rude by having a conversation that she can’t understand. So please stop it.”

Your brother paused for a moment before replying in Korean ”… Yes, hyung.” 

“If he's being rude let me know and I'll take his lunch money. I will literally untransfer funds.” You said, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “I know how to say “fuck” in English and I definitely heard it.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Yoongi replied. “Here, we can also listen to the word ‘fuck’ some more.” he turned the music back on. Since everyone else was having free therapy in the van, why not join? One song played before you all arrived at the dorms. 

“Go round up some strapping young men to carry these boxes. I have to find your RA.” You told your brother as Yoongi parked the van. He hopped out quickly, all too eager to escape. You rested your head against the headrest and pushed your hands against your eyes. “I am so sorry. Today has been a total nightmare. Worse than I even imagined.” You said, feeling like you might cry.

Yoongi sat there for a few seconds, reliving the afternoon. It had actually been mostly fun for him. “I had a good time. I got to meet your family and I got free soup.”

You looked over at him slightly bewildered. “We need to raise your standards for what a good day should look like Yoongi, because this was a total shit show.” 

“Hey, don’t cry. I hate it when people cry. Your brother has been through a lot. It’s fine. Really. I too was an angry rude teenager and I didn’t have nearly as good of a reason. Come on, let’s finish this shit and get the van back.” He unbuckled his seatbelt. 

You followed suit and entered the dormitory, following the signs. You introduced yourself to the RA, got the keys, and found your brother and two other guys standing outside the van. You recognized the one kid.

“Hey Noona,” He waved. You liked that one. 

Yoongi had apparently started unloading the boxes while you were meeting with the RA. You picked up one of the smaller boxes and headed up to the dorm. With the 5 of you, it didn’t take long to move all the boxes into the dorm.  You placed the soup into the mini-fridge. You sighed and looked around at the mountains of boxes, “Ok. Do you want me to stick around for the unpacking or….?” 

"No. We'll get it." Jihoon responded and walked with you out into the hallway. Yoongi was leaning against the wall near the elevators, scrolling through his phone. 

"Thanks. And I'm sorry about earlier." He said looking down. 

"It's OK, come here." You pulled him in for a hug. He was taller than you. When did that happen?  You squeezed extra tight and then pulled away, "Make sure to answer my texts or else I'll show up here. And I have your RA’s number. Got it?” 

"Yeah yeah." he looked around. 

You looked up at him and brushed some invisible dirt off his shoulder, "OK. I love you. "

" I love you too. "

With that you turned and joined Yoongi by the elevators." Let today end please. " You said, crossing your arms in front of your body. 

"Nope. Not yet. You still owe me dinner," he commented as the two of you entered the elevator. 

You sulked , "You got soup."

"You haven't eaten yet."

You shrugged. It was true. But you were upset and when you were upset you either wanted to eat everything or nothing. Today you felt like nothing. 

The two of you climbed into the van one last time. You rested your head against the window and listened to the music. Yoongi gripped the steering wheel tightly as ‘The Last’ began to play. 

He glanced a look over at you. Your jaw was firmly set and he saw tears rolling down your cheeks. Shit. This was not a good day for this. He paused the music. 

"Sorry, that's pretty heavy for today isn't it?" The car came to a stop at a light and the silence was palpable. 

You breathed out, trying to keep it level. "Sorry, just. You and my brother have that in common." You wiped your eyes as you tried not to cry. You took pride in generally being pretty stoic and good-natured. 

The light turned green. "I guess we're all just fucked up, huh?" 

You sniffled. "Yeah. It just hurts my heart to think about a world where you or my brother don't exist." 

Yoongi felt like someone had hit him with a ton of bricks. He swallowed through the lump forming in his throat as he managed a response, "Well, we're still here. That's what matters. Right?” He tried to sound positive.

“Yeah. I’m glad for that. Turn left.” NEXT CHAPTER @lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat  @sugaslittlekookies  @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah​

[kumkaniudaku]

Simple Syrup

You asked for Daveed smut and I tried to deliver. At least this one time. Enjoy!

Warning: Sexual Content. 18+. 

Daveed Diggs x Black!OC (Olivia Jenkins)(Yes, the MC/ OC is black. Representation is important.)

"Yo, open up!" Heavy fists beat against the door of Olivia's downtown apartment, making her roll her eyes. "I know you can hear me, girl! It's your favorite pop-up roommate!"

"You've been evicted, Diggs!"  

"I paid you rent, though!"

Turning the stove on low, Olivia shook her head as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Daveed always found a way to surprise her with his presence. He never texted before showing up at her door but frequently sported a backpack or suitcase full of clothes or Rafael for an extended stay. He and all his baggage were welcome anytime, with or without notice.

Stepping to the door, Olivia bit back a smile before responding. "I didn't receive any payments this month."

"I got it in my bag."

"Bag or bags?"

"Open the door to find out."

Daveed took a step back as the locks began to turn, waiting for Olivia's face to greet him with faux anger the way she did the last time he showed up out of nowhere and stayed for three weeks. Despite stopping by six months ago, it felt like a lifetime since he'd been in her company. Bi-weekly phone conversations weren't enough. He needed to be near Olivia while she watched whatever Housewives franchise had her attention for the month.

When the door opened to reveal the long hallway leading to her living area, Olivia stood with a hand on her hips and a grin on her face.

"Where is my money," she asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Just as she expected, he stood in the hallway with a suitcase that she knew cost a fortune to check at the airport and his worn Jansport full of junk and work.

Daveed laughed and bent to rifle through his backpack for a crumpled white envelope that he handed over with exaggerated purpose. "Here you go, Miss Jenkins. Sorry to be late on rent for, what, 8 months? I hope this is enough."

"Boy, you didn't really need to pay me. You're not on the lease."

"Good," he answered as he pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Because those are just Chick Fil A coupons."

Olivia stood with her mouth open as Daveed brushed her to roll his luggage to the first bedroom on the right.

He listened to her insult his "stupid face" and instruct him to hurry up while he scanned the room he had called home more times than he could count. All of Daveed's belongings were in the same place, with almost unnoticeable shifts to show that Olivia had cleaned once or twice. His favorite throw blanket was folded at the edge of the bed with his initials elegantly embroidered in the corner. The air smelled of the vanilla candle she kept on the nightstand next to a framed photo of the crew enjoying a roller coaster at Six Flags. His favorite trinket, Olivia's homecoming crown from undergrad, sat next to a single gold medal from Daveed's days competing in track and field. To him, it symbolized their bond from the beginning. To her, it was probably just a space to hide old items.

"Daveed, get in here! I need you to cut!"

All at once, Daveed's sense of self returned to center him in reality. He quickly kicked off his shoes once he remembered Olivia's rules and started off toward the kitchen to answer the call for his help.

Even with the windows open, he could smell savory and sweet aromas combining for a smell that reminded him of the holidays. However, the calendar placed them square in the middle of an excruciatingly hot summer. He could see the open bottle of BBQ sauce on the center island next to a mixing bowl full of things he couldn't recognize but knew they would taste great. Bushels of greens sat in a pot on the stove, boiling amid smoked meat and seasonings to complement the food cooking in the oven. Daveed felt excitement take hold of his face and forced the apples of his cheeks up toward his eyes. Olivia looked up from her task at the cutting board and smirked.

"I thought you were vegan now."

"My business is my business, Liv. We talked about this last week."

"We also talked about you heading directly to Toronto after your job in Atlanta and, yet, here you are." She studied Daveed's face for answers but found nothing but a growing smile. "Come over here and cut up these strawberries while I sauce the ribs."

Daveed followed directions without complaint, lazily strolling to the island and nudging Olivia away. He'd been her help in the kitchen before to open pesky jars or stir while she tended to the more time-intensive parts of the meal. On more than one occasion, he had fucked up, and each time she invited him back into her safe space with open arms.

"How's Rafa and the family," Olivia asked with her back turned while she bent to take a peek into the oven.

Daveed kept his eyes on her backside for a moment too long before answering. "Rafa's good. Amy sends her love and says that you are more than welcome for Friendsgiving this year. She volunteered you for pies."

"You volunteered me for pies, Daveed," Olivia corrected, knowing how much her friend loved her desserts. "What about my babies? Is Santiago the best big brother to Emelia?"

"He's...trying. But he did send a gift for the lady with the bald head. His words, not mine."

Olivia ran a hand across her tapered fade and chuckled. "I feel like he heard Rafael say that."

"No, Rafa calls you Thick Mr. Clean."

"Yeah, because that's what you said when you were drunk on New Years," Olivia accused as she gestured toward the cabinet housing her wine glasses. Daveed nodded before answering.

"I said it with love!"

"Mhmm, I'm sure."

Together they watched half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc be transferred into the separate glasses, waiting for the moment they could take a sip. The last time they shared a drink, they ran through two 12- packs of beer with Rafael and ended up dancing with street performers in Times Square. She hadn't been able to stomach the smell of a Budweiser since then and fully transitioned to fruity notes and sparkling Rosé with Daveed occasionally coming along for the ride.

Taking another long sip from his glass, Daveed leaned against the island counter to watch Olivia stir a mixture for skillet cornbread.

"What's got you so stressed?"

Olivia shrugged but didn't look away from the bowl. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"The last time you cooked like this, you were writing your dissertation. And the time before that, it was your mom."

The room fell quiet outside of the spoon, ricocheting off the sides of the mixing bowl. After several seconds, Olivia took a deep breath and looked up at Daveed.

"Daddy's getting remarried. Omari and I are his best-kids," she laughed. "I'm not stressed. Just a bit...sad, I guess?"

Daveed understood the issue without needing more context. Five years ago, he was the one sitting beside Olivia on the floor of her brother's home office after the news came that their mother had in the hospital. He was there for the saddest funeral he'd ever experienced and the months of reconciliation that the family struggled through on the way to some sense of normalcy. The idea that her father had found love again was heartwarming, but Daveed knew the occasion was bringing up old feelings.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged again and moved the skillet to the oven. "There's nothing to talk about. I said I'm fine. I wish she was here, ya know, but I know she isn't upset. She always told us to move on once she's gone. She sure as hell would."

Daveed chuckled at the idea of Mrs. Jenkin's moving on in the afterlife. "She was funny like that. I remember when she met me for the first time and kept calling me Devante."

"Yes," Olvia exclaimed, a spark of joy returning to her eyes. "She'd call me and be like, that boy Devante is smart! Ask him if he can put me in a movie one day!"

Olivia's voice warped to imitate her mother as best as possible before she burst into laughter with Daveed.

"One of the last things she said to me was that I need to make sure you keep having fun. She didn't want you to stop enjoying life on account of her."

"Yeah…" Daveed watched Olivia down the wine in her glass with her eyes closed, waiting for her to continue her thought. "Well, you're doing a good job. We could work on your definition of fun, but solid effort so far."

"How can I do better? I'm open to criticism."  

Daveed kept his eyes on Olivia while he reached across her body to grab the wine bottle for the final drink. Her breath hitched while alcohol buzzed through her system, creating the perfect storm for sudden arousal. She fought her thoughts by shaking her head to recover.

"You can start by grabbing those strawberries and bringing them over to the stove."

"Don't skip the question." Daveed's smirk as he followed her to the other side of the counter made Oliva hot with embarrassment, but she kept a calm exterior. "Are you still having fun with me?"

"I always have fun with you, D, you know that. Who else is gonna play Bop It with me at 2 AM on a Wednesday? The question is, are you still having fun with me, superstar?"

"Don't start that. I come and stay at your house because I miss you, not because I can't find somewhere else to sleep. You're my person."

"For now," Olivia added as a rebuttal, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at hearing the way Daveed felt. "What happens when you get married? You're gonna have to go be a family man like Rafa. Then we'll only see each other on Friendsgiving and Christmas."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Hm." Olivia's short but skeptical laugh effectively ended the conversation. Still, Daveed had already made up his mind to return to the discussion later in the week. "So, how long are you here this time?"

Daveed used one of his large palms to push a few curls off his forehead in search of relief from the heat in the kitchen. "I was thinking a couple weeks. Three or four."

"That's longer than normal! I get to have my favorite guy here long enough to help me put wallpaper up in the guest bathroom?"

"Am I only muscle to you?"

"Of course, not," she answered with a sweet smile, making Daveed mirror her expression. "You're also a taste tester. Open up."

Before Daveed could object, Olivia swiped barbecue sauce across his bottom lip for his opinion. The tip of his tongue appeared to taste the tangy brown sauce, finding an explosion of flavor that reminded him how much he missed Olivia's cooking.

"What's the verdict," Olivia asked over her shoulder as she turned off the eye under her simple syrup mixture.

"Tangy and sweet. I'm not sure why you don't bottle this up for sale. My dad would love some."

"Meh, I like having it as a treat for the people I love. All my hobbies aren't for profit, my friend."

Daveed dramatically threw a hand across his chest and gasped. "Did Mean Ole Liv just imply that she loves me? I-I'm gobsmacked. Utterly shocked and eternally grateful."

"Diggs, you're pushing it," she laughed. "Come taste this syrup before I start on the lemonade."

From experience, Daveed knew what to expect. But he humored Olivia anyway if only to see pride light up her face when he told her how amazing the sweet mixture tasted. After washing his hands in the sink, he skimmed his middle and pointer fingers across the top of the syrup to pick up enough to coat his fingertips.

He eyed the liquid for a moment, watching it slowly trickle down the side of his long fingers while he thought of his next move. Olivia stood at the refrigerator with her back turned, humming a song from The Wiz. At the same time, she gathered ingredients for the beverage.

"Hey...hey, Liv." Daveed had already started to close the short gap between them and stood waiting for Olivia to respond to his call.

"Wha -" A sudden swipe of syrup across her bottom lip confused Olivia. "D, what is your problem?"

Stepping forward, Daveed took her chin in his to bring their lips inches apart. "Is it still cool if I taste?"

Olivia stared at Daveed without blinking, fighting her brain for a competent answer to his question. Instead, she nodded in a daze with her jaw slack. His fingers took gentle meandering paths across the peaks and valleys of her face before using his thumb to part her lips.

Daveed's first kiss was a tentative peck to test the waters. When he received no resistance, he pulled Olivia closer for full access to her mouth.

Neither of them expected to fall into the kiss so easily. Olivia didn't expect to melt into Daveed's body while he dictated the pace and intensity. Daveed didn't expect to feel an overwhelming desire to consume the one person that always felt so close but far away. He wanted to feel and taste every part of Olivia while he had the green light. She reveled in Daveed's attention, even if it was only for a moment.

Taking a step backward, Daveed used his knowledge of the kitchen to guide them back toward the stove. Their lips remained connected to taste the last bits of each other. Olivia was the first to break the lip lock and move her head upward, directing Daveed to choose a spot on her neck to explore.

The cold, sticky simple syrup came next, the thick glob landing on the center of her chest and sliding to her cleavage.

"I've thought about this a lot," Daveed spoke barely above a whisper as he used a finger to spread simple syrup across Olivia's chest. "Kinda wild to say, but I have."

"How long?"

"A year. Maybe two."

Olivia released a shaky gasp once Daveed's tongue began licking from the space between her breast to the base of her neck to catch the simple syrup. As quickly as it disappeared, he replaced the sugar mixture with another round at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He groaned as the tart strawberry flavor mixed with the sweetness of the sugar and Olivia's skin. She grasped the back of his head for stability, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a few seconds.

"How does it turn out? In your thoughts, I mean?"

Daveed paused to kiss Olivia's lips again and run his hands down her back. "Doesn't matter. We're here now, and I can't think of anything outside of how good you taste drenched in strawberry sauce."

"Simple syrup," Olivia answered, smiling as she sneakily dipped her finger into the pot behind Daveed. "It's simple syrup, and I haven't gotten a taste yet. Open your mouth."

They kept their eyes on each other while Daveed opened his mouth, waiting for whatever came next. Olivia took her time to coat his tongue in syrup, imagining how it would feel to experience the concoction from his mouth.

There started the mad scramble to get closer, taste more and touch longer. Separate but equal desires to completely consume the other person had the pair maneuvering around the kitchen. They remained attached at the lips until they reached the solid wood breakfast table near the large casement window. Daveed was the first to remove clothing, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind him. A split-second decision had him rushing back to the stove to retrieve the syrup pot. He carefully placed it on the table while Olivia slid the straps of her summer dress down her arms to let the fabric pool at her waist. Daveed watched with a flirtatious smile, marveling at the expanse of her warm brown skin. Olivia returned the sentiment, letting her eyes rake over his broad chest and toned midsection.

One after the other, Daveed and Olivia added bits of syrup to different body parts to lick and suck the skin clean. A handful mistakenly dripped onto Olivia's thigh, and they watched the sticky liquid carry small chunks of strawberries to the inner portion of her leg.

Daveed regarded the sight with wonder before carefully dropping to one knee for a better look. He maintained eye contact with Olivia as he kissed his way to the sweetest spot, lingering in places that earned the most desirable response. The scratch of facial hair combined with his lips and tongue's soft, silkiness made Olivia keen for more. She could feel the blood rushing to pool at her inner thigh for a bruise that would leave evidence of a dream achieved. She smiled at the thought of seeing it when she was getting dressed and how her stomach might feel with butterflies from the memories.

Daveed mumbled praise after praise into the supple skin of Olivia's thigh before starting a journey back to her lips. When he returned, he slowly pushed the waistband of his sweats down his hips and legs.

"Oh," Olivia spoke, eyes wide while she fought the natural desire to let her gaze travel. "I...wow, okay. I feel like I'm violating you."

"I'm kind of asking you to," Daveed laughed as he stepped closer.

"This is so fucking weird. Are we really about to do this?"

"Only if you want. I mean, I want to, but we can stop whenever you say the word."

He was closer now, dropping kisses on her shoulders while he pressed their chests together to reduce the space between him.

Olivia's legs naturally hooked themselves around his waist at the same time that her arms circled his neck.

She leaned forward to speak against Daveed's lips with her eyes hooded in lust, "I want this."

Passion and the hint of strawberry coating their lips intensified the moment between Olivia and Daveed. He held her writhing hips steady while he stood on his toes to push forward. Simultaneous moans of pleasure rang out in the kitchen, surely gaining the attention of nearby neighbors.

Their hips bucked an even pace, repeatedly meeting to build tension in their bellies. Daveed felt the strain of each stroke in his thighs and calves but found the desire to fuck his friend on her kitchen table to override any other immediate discomfort.

"Are you a talker," Daveed asked randomly, making Olivia's eyes snap up from the action below her waist to focus her attention on him.

"What?"

"A talker. Do you like to talk during sex?" His question came between labored breaths and grunts holding a mixture of exertion and indescribable pleasure.

"Daveed, are you trying to have a conversation with me right now?"

"I mean, I like to - fuck - I...I like to talk sometimes. Is that cool?"

A high-pitched moan ripped through Olivia's throat before she could gather her senses to respond. "It's your c-call, Diggs. Just don't stop."

He followed directions without skipping a beat, digging into his strength to pick up speed when he sensed they could move to the next level. He peppered in filthy statements that stimulate Olivia's mind while driving into her with expert precision.

They held on to each other as they reached separate peaks with no regard for the climbing noise level.

"I wanna do this forever," Daveed whispered into Olivia's ear before nipping at the lobe.

"Not look into my eyes lovingly and write songs about me?"

Daveed chuckled and snapped his hips forward, earning a near-silent moan. "Can I use you calling me daddy on the hook?"

"You got a lot of work to do before that happens."

"I'll put in overtime."

Splaying his hand across Olivia's torso, Daveed pushed her to lay flat on the table before leaning to hover over her body. He used his waning energy to give her all the power in his hips, searching for a climax. When she thought she couldn't come anymore, Olivia felt her body jolt off the table once the pad of Daveed's thumb began rubbing tight circles on her clit. Daveed smiled at the reaction but felt it disappear as soon as his hips falter mid-stroke. He rushed to pull out of Olivia, fearing that if he stayed inside for a moment longer, he would expedite his journey to fatherhood.

Olivia helped his cause by curling her fingers around his length and joining his pumping effort while she propped her body up on her elbow. He came with a choppy moan and heavy breathing on her belly, his chest rising and falling rapidly in time with the stove's timer beeping for attention.

Both Olivia and Daveed dissolved into laughter.

"Please, don't let this dry on me. It's sexy now but a pain to get off later."

Daveed's laughter climbed to hysterics at Olivia's mention of the mess on her stomach before reaching across the table to grab napkins out of the centerpiece component.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he helped wipe her clean. "Condoms next time?" 

"Or my mouth."

Daveed stood shocked for a split second while Olivia worked to readjust her clothing and hurry to the stove. He followed her lead and pulled up his sweats before clearing the syrup pot and grabbing wipes to disinfect the surface.

The room was silent while they arranged hot dishes on the counter and privately grappled with having sex for the first time. A sense of "now what" hung in the air, which made Daveed more and more uncomfortable.

After plates were fixed, they chose opposite ends of the table to enjoy the meal.

"You know," Olivia started, laughing as she swallowed the last piece of cornbread on her plate. "That simple syrup recipe is my mom's. This whole meal was her favorite thing to cook, and I made it because I was really fuckin' sad and needed her nearby. Then you showed up."

Daveed's eyes snapped up from his plate. He wasn't sure what to say and remained silent in hopes that Olivia would elaborate.

"A couple weeks before she died, she told me that she would still be directing my love life from Heaven. She grabbed my hand and said, 'Dammit, Bean, I'm gone get you a man even if I gotta do it during bingo with the good Lord.'"

"You think she's up there winning the grand prize?"

Olivia shook her head. "I think she forfeited it to send you to me."

Her answer made Daveed still to watch Olivia's eyes meet his set from across the table. She reached a hand across the table with her palms facing upward, beckoning Daveed to place his palm in the center of hers.

"We have three weeks to figure this shit out," Daveed said, smiling before bringing Olivia's palm to rest on his cheek.

She looked at him for a minute to take in the way his eyes reflected the sun before using her head to gesture toward the pot still resting on the counter.

"And all night to finish off mama's recipe."

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Four: Urge

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of hickeys, Sumi’s ex is a dick, making out, heavy petting, smut lead up, smut themes

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

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You hugged Kitty to your chest and made your way to the kitchen. You heard the rustling of pots and pans and Jimin's laughter. Even though you'd only known Jimin for under two days, his laughter quickly become one of your favorite sounds, something that never made you smile. However, most of the time you weren't horrendously hungover. 

"Morning," you said, trying to muster a small smile, even though your head was pounding. 

Three of the seven boys who lived in the dorm turned to look at you. Yoongi was already sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, a bowl of fruit in front of him. Hoseok was in the kitchen and Jimin sat on the opposite end of the table from Yoongi, his legs swinging freely. You smiled at how close the boys were and how comfortable they were with each other. It made you feel even worse for intruding in on the bond. 

"Good morning," the boys said, nearly in unison. 

"Jimin," you said. "Did you put Kitty in the box to come here?"

Jimin shook his head, glancing down to the stuffed cat you held in your arms. 

"No, I put him in the donation pile as you wanted." 

"Huh," you said, holding Kitty out in front of you and smiling at her fondly. "Well, I'm glad she found her way here anyway." 

Jimin smiled at you, his eyes some mixture of happiness for you and worry. 

"Did we get internet back?"

The boys exchanged glances and nodded. 

You looked over to Yoongi, who was now looking up from his phone. His dark eyes were boring straight into you, and you suspected he already knew what you were going to ask. 

"Did you find out who got the shoes?"

The room fell silent, except for the tap which Hoseok accidentally left on as he had looked up at you. You didn't know who it could possibly be that would elicit such a response, but Yoongi's face softened as he stood. 

"Park Minki."

You blinked in disbelief, wondering if the hangover had somehow messed with your hearing. Yoongi's eyes were softer, the softest they had been in the seventy two hours you'd known him.

"My ex?" you choked out. 

Yoongi nodded.

---

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the full length mirror and strategically placed the scarf around your neck. The bruises weren't as prominent as the day before, but you feared Minki would still notice them. The rest of your outfit was quite simple, a pair of jeans and a nice top. You wore your hair down, hoping it too would help hide Yoongi's marks on your neck. 

When you'd broken up with Minki, you'd thought you'd never have to see the boy again. While you still loved him, you knew seeing him again would hurt you, but you wanted to handle this yourself. For whatever reason bought the shoes, you knew it couldn't be settled with money. He wanted to see you again, wanted you to see him again. 

While you normally would just forget the shoes, Yoongi's reputation was on the line. And yours for that matter. You may not be an idol, but the fact you were connected to one, could be enough to destroy you.

"Do you really want to look that good for your ex?" Yoongi said, entering your bedroom with a soft knock on your open door. He was dressed wearing just a simple sweatshirt and jeans, a snapback covering his dyed hair and a mask pulled down under his chin. 

"What? Jealous?" you smirked, giving up on arranging the scarf and turning to face him. 

"No," he said. "I just thought you didn't care what he thought anymore." He walked closer to you, the faint smell of his cologne tickling your nose. His fingers reached up and moved the scarf so it that it covered the half of a hickey that was still partially visible. "Obviously, you do."

He stepped away from you the scent of him still lingering in his place. You were almost disappointed when he stepped away, wishing you could fall asleep in his scent.

"I'm sorry you have to come," you said. "And miss out on work."

"I can work when we get back," he said. "Besides, it would be a whole lot worse for both of us if I didn't come." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mask. "Wear this, if we run into any paparazzi it will be harder for them to identify you."

You nodded, looping the mask around your ears and pulling it up over your mouth. Yoongi pulled his up and nodded to you, asking if you were ready. 

You nodded in affirmation, but you felt the butterflies in your stomach. You didn't think you would ever be ready.

---

You entered the cafe first. You spotted Minki almost immediately, he was seated at a table near the middle, you could see the shoes placed on the table. You already felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing he'd displayed them so publicly.

You pulled down the mask and sat down across from him. His mouth widened into a smirk when you sat down, something you used to love about him, but now it just felt like he was mocking you.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," you said, trying not to meet his gaze.

You noticed Yoongi walk past you and sit at a table behind Minki's view, but facing you. You met his eyes momentarily but didn't want Minki to see your wandering gaze. Minki had a temper occasionally, and while he had never hurt you, you feared he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Yoongi. And even though you and Yoongi weren't exactly friends, you still didn't want him to get hurt because of you.     

"So, why'd you leave the shoes at the bar?" Minki asked. 

"Does that really matter, Minki? They're mine, I just want them back."

"You fucked him? Didn't you?" 

You clenched your fists and looked at the black pumps sitting on the table. You sighed and tried to collect your thoughts. 

"How'd you know they were mine?"

"You don't think I wouldn't recognize the shoes I bought you for your birthday last year?" The smirk was on his face again, like a mosquito that you wanted to kill, but that was just out of your reach. "I picked them out especially for you, remember?"

You did remember. How he told you that he went to multiple shoes, trying to find the perfect shoes. Settling on a pair of black pumps. "Simple, like you," he'd said when he gave them to you. 

"Now that we've broken up, they're mine now? Since I paid for them?"

You wanted to bang your fists down on the table and scream at him until he was as scared of you as you were of him. You wanted to swat the smirk from his face. You wanted to point out all the things you'd bought him. All the baseball game tickets. The T-shirt he wore. Half the down payment on his car. 

"I don't care," you said. "Do whatever you want with them. I just want to leave."

Minki softened then. He'd seen you break down multiple times before, he knew the signs. The way you hid your face. The way you tried to curl yourself into a ball, no matter where you were.

"He's here, isn't here?" your ex asked. "You're not mine to protect anymore." His hand cupped the fabric of your knee. You felt shivers run down your spine as tears pricked at your eyes.

You noticed his eyes wandering down to your neck and where the scarf had moved aside. There was no sense in trying to deny what the scarf revealed.

"Huh," he said. "You never let me do that." 

"I never was yours to protect," you said, your eyes red and tear stained, trying to ignore his last comment. You reached down and moved his hand from your knee. You felt his palm beneath your fingertips and the sensation ran through your body. You felt his hands on you again, your body grew warm, but not in the pleasant way. You needed to get out. Without any more thought, you grabbed your things and ran from the cafe.

---

Yoongi's body stiffened as he watched Minki's hand grab your knee. He wanted to push Minki away from you, shield you from ever having to feel the other boy's touch again. He saw the way your cheek's flushed, although not in the cute way. He saw as you tried to shift away, he could feel your discomfort. 

Your scarf had slipped slightly, revealing part of one of the bruises. Yoongi knew the other boy saw based on the way he shifted forward.

"Huh, you never let me do that," the other boy said. 

Yoongi's jaw stiffened. Part of him wanted to rip him apart for bringing attention to something that you obviously hadn't wanted Minki to see, but there was a small buzzing inside of him. One night and you allowed him to do something you'd never allowed your previous boyfriend to do for years. He repressed the pride as you tearfully ran out the door. 

Yoongi waited a moment to get up and follow you, not wanting to draw too much attention. He made eye contact with Minki as he walked past, pulling down his mask momentarily, but pulling it back up as he walked through the door of the cafe. 

---

You curled yourself into the car seat, pulling your legs into your stomach and hiding your face against the car door. You put on your seatbelt, knowing Yoongi would follow you out. 

Yoongi opened the car door a minute or so later, greeting the driver as he did so and telling him to take both of you back to the dorm. He pulled down his mask and put on his seatbelt. 

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" Yoongi asked. 

You scoffed, trying to hide your tears. The last thing you wanted was Yoongi to see your tears, you felt like if you allowed yourself to cry in front of him, it would somehow strengthen the bond. Yoongi was so strong and allowing him to see your weakness terrified you.

"He's my ex for a reason, okay?" 

"Well, we still need to get the shoes back somehow. You sure money won't work with him?"

"He just wants to humiliate me," you said, choking slightly on the words. "Do we really need to get them back? I mean, they're just shoes. How much harm could really be done?"

Yoongi's eyes widened and his form stiffened. 

"You really don't realize, do you?" He looked out the window in slight disbelief before turning back to you. "I guess, this explains how you didn't recognize me."

"Yoongi..."

"Even just the rumors of what happened between us could destroy both of us," he said. "My fans need someone they can trust and look up to. Most of them don't even know I'm not with Jihee anymore. They know about the soulmate thing, but we only used that to find you. We're going to deny it later, anyway." 

"You didn't have to sleep with me then," you said. "If you would've just pushed me off your lap, none of this would've happened."

"If you wouldn't have fallen in my lap, none of this would've happened." 

You sighed, silence ensuing. The road noise the only sound. Even the driver was silent from behind the partition. 

"Sumi..." Yoongi said, his hand suddenly coming to rest just above your knee. His fingertips digging into the fabric of your jeans. His touch was warm, but instead of overheating as you did with Minki's touch, your temperature matched his. 

"What?" you asked, but your question was soon answered as you felt heat rise in your stomach. Suddenly, Yoongi appeared less like the image obsessed jerk of a few minutes ago and looked more like the man you met at the bar three days ago. 

You unhooked your seatbelt and straddled Yoongi's lap, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as his ran up to play with your hair. Your lips connected and nearly immediately his tongue slipped between yours. 

Yoongi's hat--which you hadn't paid much attention to before--suddenly was in your way. You ripped it off, exposing his messy hair. It was obvious he hadn't styled it before putting on the snapback, but you liked it better that way, it allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair. 

"The windows?" you asked, falling back onto the seat as Yoongi unhooked his seatbelt and hovered over you.

"They're tinted," he said, grabbing hold of your scarf and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere on the floor of the car, out of sight. "Don't worry, no one will see." 

He leaned down and latched onto your lips once again. His hands wandering under the hem of your shirt, causing it to ride up slightly. You splayed your fingers against his firm chest, causing him to stop momentarily. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I think...I think this is what the doctor was talking about..." you said. "I think we need to stop." 

Despite your words, your hands slipped underneath his sweatshirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. You wanted to feel that skin against you, but before you could pull it over his head, he surprised you, by pulling up your shirt, exposing your stomach. 

"I'll do it lower this time," he said, his voice raspy and lower than normal. "So you don't have to worry about hiding them." His lips latched onto the skin of your stomach, causing you to release a small moan as you ran your fingers from his hairline and down to the nape of his neck. 

"Yoongi..."

"Why'd you have to wear that perfume for him? It drives me crazy." 

He curved his two index fingers into the belt loop of your jeans and tugged slightly, not to pull them down, but rather to tease you. 

"You're for my eyes only."

"Yoongi," you said. "We need to stop." 

Yoongi pulled away, a sheepish look crossing his face. He pulled down your shirt and sat back in the seat. 

You, too, sat back up, trying to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, partially from the thoughts of the feel of his lips, but you were scared. You felt so out of control, something had taken you over entirely. It wasn't a secret that you were attracted to Yoongi, you did willingly sleep with him, but the urges pulled you together, even when you least wanted it. 

"That was...that was...weird..." 

Yoongi nodded in agreement, reaching down and retrieving your scarf. You did the same with his hat and you exchanged the items. 

You watched out the window as the car pulled into the driveway of the dorm. You glanced back over at Yoongi, noticing a bit of your lipstick managed to cling to his bottom lip. You chuckled slightly before reaching over and using your thumb to wipe it from his lip. 

He watched you, not making any movement to stop you, but your gaze shifted downward, not able to meet his eyes. 

"Lipstick," you said. 

The driver opened the door and the two of you walked back into the dorm.

---

Jihee (9:02 am): Good morning handsome :)

Jihee (11:15 am): I heard about the shoe business. You always use to complain about having to take off mine.

Jihee (11:17 am): You should tell her to be more careful though. :)

Jihee (1:20 pm): Babe...please just respond to me...

Jihee (1:21 pm): You're making me seem desperate.

Jihee (4:45 pm): Her picture's out there now, you know? Some guy saying she cheated with you.

Jihee (5:00 pm): She doesn't look like the type to cheat.

Jihee (6:34 pm): The more I think about it...the less she seems like your type. Especially for a rebound.

Jihee (7:00 pm): You could do much better if you wanted to Oppa. She's kind of pretty and all, but don't you think she's a little simple?

Yoongi (7:02 pm): Whatever this is, is between us. Leave her out of it. 

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 1 ~Stories She Wrote~

PICTURE SOURCE

PART 2 OF  WONDERWALL SERIES

Hey guys, I'm back and thrilled to give you part 2 of WONDERWALL series, Miles Between Us. It is a continuation from my holiday ficlet, All I Want For Christmas Is You. If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you do if you wish to get an insight into Jamie and Claire’s history (Here is the link) Otherwise, this ficlet can also be read as a stand-alone.

I know All I Want For Christmas Is You ending was bittersweet, but it had to be done. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been a Part 2 in this series. I had to leave the story open to possibilities if it is to have a chance of growing. And besides, making this into a series allows me to take breaks from writing and refresh my brain in-between ficlets. So I hope this next part of the story will make up for leaving you hanging all these weeks.

Anyway, before you continue, I'd like to thank you for reading, commenting and giving feedback to my stories. They're all very appreciated even if I sometimes don't comment back. As a hobby writer, I always look forward to your response, and they spur me to continue writing. Without the readers, I wouldn't be here. So thank you for being part of my writing journey.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

So now everything is said, without further ado, I wish you all happy reading. ❤️

 Previously ...

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Fraser met and fell in love during the Holiday Seasons. Unfortunately for their budding relationship, after two weeks of a whirlwind romance, Claire has to return to London to finish some work commitment that could take a year to fulfil. It doesn't help matters that Jamie's PTSD condition prevents him from visiting her as loud city noises can trigger panic attacks. They are both in love with each other and are willing to find out where their relationship will head to. But can they find a compromise to bridge the gap of hundreds of miles to give their love a chance?

    After sitting on her bed most of Saturday working on her laptop, Claire Beauchamp rolled her neck and stretched her back, her arms extending above her head. She flinched when her joints cracked. 

Over the past few days, her boss, John Grey, forwarded manuscripts and drafts from the author she was working with. She hadn't eaten anything all day, and her stomach was beginning to grumble, and her eyes blurry from reading.

She'd read so much in the past hours, she was practically cross-eyed, and the bridge of her nose hurt where her specs rested. Words upon words had sifted through her brain, but now the lines were beginning to blur together.

She glanced back down on her laptop and opened a file in her document folder, her eyes scanning through lines she knew by heart. She'd been going through her own work lately wondering if she had what it takes to be a writer. Someone who would give her an honest opinion ought to read it before contemplating getting herself a literary agent if she was to start a new chapter of her life and take that leap of faith in her dream career.

A sudden urgency took over, and she needed Annalise to read her work, like right now. Which reminded Claire, her friend was away with Willie, shopping and sight-seeing. He was staying over their place for the weekend for the first time since she and Annalise left Lallybroch. After declining their invitation to join them earlier, the loved-up couple left her to her work with the promise of dinner when they returned.

She was about to reach out for her cold coffee from the bedside table when Raiders of the Lost Ark's theme song blared from her phone. At the same time, a picture of her uncle Lamb appeared on the screen. He was wearing a high-crowned, wide-brimmed, weather-beaten fedora hat and had a lopsided grin plastered to his thickly stubbled face. Rugged, she thought, just like her favourite pair of distressed leather boots, and very Indiana Jones.

Smiling, she tapped the answer button and put the phone on speaker. "Uncle Lamb! Long time no speak!" 

"Sweetheart," he started in a deep familiar voice, "how are you?"

She frowned and pushed her laptop aside. Something was off. "Oh you know, same old ...just finishing work and ..." 

"On a Saturday?" he asked, cutting her off.

"Look who's talking."

He chuckled. "You're young. You should be out. There are so many things to do in London ...especially on a Saturday. "

Claire rolled her eyes but opted to change the subject instead. She wasn't ready to give her reason for working overtime nor share her future plans nor talk about the handsome Scot she met during her holidays. Not just yet, anyway. "So ...to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice, dear uncle?"

"What?" he said gruffly, pretending to sound offended. "Can't I call my favourite girl in the world and check up on her?" 

She mentally sighed. Something must be up since her uncle never called. It was always she who usually phoned, and when he did call on a rare occasion, it was either because something had happened or he was in London. She dismissed the latter since she knew he was in Papua New Guinea. The next conclusion she landed on was his health but thought it absurd. Her uncle was strong as an ox, ate healthily, only smoked the occasional cigar and regularly went for doctor's check-up, a requirement in his job as an archaeologist travelling to remote places.

Unless. "You sound suspiciously chipper. Let me guess ...you met someone. There's a woman in your life." 

He coughed like he was choking on a drink. "No! Why would you say that?" 

Alright, he sounded repulsed by the idea enough. Or was that denial? "I don't know. You seem so ...how shall I say it ...unlike yourself. You normally skip the niceties and get to the point." 

He lets out an impatient breath. "Claire, darling, am I really that awful?"

"No," she replied, ignoring the ache in her throat. She missed their time together but tried not to make it apparent in her tone. He was a busy man, and the last thing she wanted was her uncle worrying. "You don't seem like you're rushing off to anywhere. It's rare you sound this relax."

"It's way past my bedtime already," he sighed. "And besides, work is on stand-by at the moment until we get the license to start digging on site. People here are so damn laid back, and nobody seems to be in a hurry to process the paperwork. I'm not about to hand out cash to speed things along even if bribery is rampant here."

"I see. So you're in Port Moresby then?"

"Yes. As soon as we have the license sorted out, we'll be flying to Lae first thing tomorrow. Hopefully, anyway." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of paperwork, I received an email from my lawyer. Your trust fund has matured, dear. I'll send you the details where to go to and who to contact, and maybe you can start planning your life. Perhaps take a sabbatical and travel with me if you wish."

Ah yes, the trust fund. 

After her parents died, everything they had owned was put into her trust fund by her uncle to secure her future. She'd already received a small lump sum when she turned eighteen, and the money had afforded her, though small and cramped, a decent rental two-bedroom apartment in London with high windows, which was premium in this expensive city. And Annalise, her best friend and roommate made enough money to help pay the ridiculous expensive utility bills. Her own wage just about covered the other expenses with almost nought left for savings, but she hadn't worried knowing there was money in place in her name. She was counting on it to support herself when she pursued her dreams of writing.

"About that, I think I'll let that sit in the bank for a while. It's not like I need the money right now, nor do I have the time to spend it."

"As you wish," her uncle replied. "And another thing I need to discuss with you ...South Lodge ..."

"What about South Lodge?" South Lodge should have been her family home if her parents hadn't died, and she knew it was a highly coveted property because of its historical significance. It was never put into the market for sale since her uncle thought it wasn't his place to decide. It was put on a twenty-year lease to a high profile politician, its payments going towards her trust fund.

"The lease is up, and the occupants will be moving out soon. Unfortunately for you, that information made it to the local news and you were mentioned as the legatee. So don't be surprised if you're bombarded with offers now that your name is out. I'm willing to bet, property investors and developers will be itching to get their hands on it."

Claire took off her specs and pinched the bridge of her nose. God, she hated adulting, paperwork and dealings with lawyers. Maybe she should just sell South Lodge and be done with it, so she could concentrate on her future plans. What do I need a five-bedroom house with one acre of garden in Oxford for? "I'll think about it, uncle. I just have a lot of things going on at the moment. I'm quite sure those things can wait."

"Of course dear."

"Thank you for letting me know." She thought of Jamie, and the Highlands and how much life was a lot simpler there. She really needed to double her effort to tie up loose ends in London and have a heart to heart talk with Annalise. Is her relationship with Willie serious? If not, her friend would have to eventually find a new roommate. After quickly glancing at her bedside clock, she realised they would be here soon and hopefully with a takeaway. Annalise did mention something about sorting dinner out tonight.

"And Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Your upbringing hasn't been the most ideal. Enjoy the money and treat yourself. Don't spend your life doing things that don't bring you joy."

She smiled. Her uncle must have had a rude awakening of some sort to sound so philosophical. Or probably, he did meet someone special. Either way, she wasn't going to push for any answers for now. She really needed to get out of bed, do a few stretches and have a shower before Annalise, and Willie arrived. "I'll try," she finally said.

"Good. I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing."

"Sadly, yes." She shut her laptop and got out of bed. "Take care of yourself, alright? And I'll phone you sometime next week after I've figured out our time differences." 

"Absolutely, sweetheart. Talk soon." 

"Love you, uncle Lamb." 

"Love you, too." 

She terminated the call with a swipe on her screen and rubbed her eyes. She'd been working for seven hours straight, and her eyeballs felt like they're made of sandpaper. Glancing at the corner table, she smiled when she saw Jamie's gifts. Willie had brought them with him when he arrived last night from Inverness. She knew Jamie was making up for his absence, but it couldn't be helped when there's the danger of his PTSD condition worsening in the city. To her delight and surprise, he'd sent her a leather-bound journal, a framed selfie photo of them together, driftwood bookends he made and a box of her favourite Lindt chocolate.

With a contented sigh, she made a mental note to call Jamie after dinner. And to ask her boss first thing Monday morning if she could take her work to Scotland the following weekend to surprise her boyfriend. After all, she was just taking her uncle's advice, and after the work, she'd put in the last couple of weeks, and the extra hours she planned to do the next few days, she deserved a little joy in her life.

..........

Claire leaned forward, and nervously examined her best friend's face. Annalise was hunched down, scrolling her laptop, tongue darting out as she read the paragraphs on the screen. 

What's that look for? Doesn't she like it? She couldn't tell. It was the first time she's showing her work to anyone, one of the stories she had written during her spare time before embarking a career as an editorial assistant for Dreamcatcher Publishing Company. She needed to hear her friend's opinion to know if she even had a small chance of becoming a writer.

Annalise took her sweet time, and Claire wasn't sure if her inscrutable expression was a deliberate act to prolong the suspense, or if she genuinely had no reaction to what she's reading. If it was the latter, Claire would definitely kiss her dream of being a writer goodbye. If it's the former, she's going to strangle her friend for making her suffer. 

She heard the door to the apartment open and close, followed by the sound of keys jangling and heavy footfalls, announcing the arrival of Willie. He'd stopped by to order some food at a local Indian takeaway while Annalise headed straight home to prepare the table for dinner. Instead of calling out to him, she held her breath for Annalise's response. 

Just when Claire was starting to accept her hope of being a writer would never amount to anything other than a pipe dream, she saw the reaction she impatiently waited for. Annalise's mouth formed a comical O, followed by her eyes' widening and random shallow sighs. 

Yessssssss! 

This was massive. Despite Annalise having seen works from established authors Claire had edited for, she'd never witnessed her friend looked this excited. Annalise simply couldn't hide her gobsmacked expression, even if she tried.

"Oh, dear Lord," she whispered, her gaze flicking to Claire and then back to the screen. "Why didn't you tell me you had this? I knew you wanted to be a writer, but this ..."

"So?" 

Annalise took a massive deep breath, her fingers almost shaking. "Oh my God, Claire." 

"Oh my God, wot? Oh my God good or oh my God, bad?" Claire asked, even though she already knew deep in her bones, what the answer was. But she desperately needed to hear the words.

"This is bloody good," she said, as she went back to a previous page, and reread it all over again. After a couple of minutes more, a slow smile started to spread across her face, as she stole a few cheeky glances over at Claire.

Claire knew she could rely on her friend to tell her the truth. If her work had been bad, friend or not, Annalise would have been forthright and told her the hard facts. Nevertheless, she tamped down her own growing excitement. "The question is though ...is it good enough for the mass?" 

Without hesitation, Annalise nodded vigorously, her blue eyes big as saucers. "Oh, Claire, are you kidding me? You really have no idea, have you? Of course, it is! I need to read the rest. Please tell me it's finished." 

Claire relaxed for the first time and slumped back against the headboard of her bed, relief soothing her wild heartbeat. "It's finished."

Annalise let out a whoop as she gripped the laptop tightly. "Oh my God! Give me everything ...I won't be able to sleep tonight if I don't read at least one more chapter of this story." 

"I've got ten more finished materials."

"Oh my God, oh my God! You're killing me. I want it all."

Willie poked his head by the frame of the doorway to her bedroom and eyed them suspiciously. She wasn't sure what he expected to find, but his eyes narrowed when he saw Annalise's flushed face. 

"What are ye both up to?" he asked, frowning. "Ye sound like ye're looking at porn on the internet." 

Annalise grinned and motioned him over. "Sort of." 

Willie hesitantly entered the room. "Sorry?"

"In actual fact, much better than porn ..." Annalise announced, smirking at Claire.

"Annalise!" Claire wheezed when it dawned on her, her friend must have been reading the sex scene part.

Annalise reached out and reassuringly squeezed Claire's hand whilst looking at Willie. "Take a look at this. Claire wrote it."

Annalise handed the laptop to Willie, and both of them earnestly watched his face to gauge his reaction. As he sat down on the edge of the bed and read, Claire knew he would be the real test. Willie being a bloke, she didn't expect him to have the same reaction as Annalise, but she hoped he would appreciate the storyline and plot. Claire already understood, if her story was going to be good enough to be published, its success would be based on women's purchasing power. If he liked her style of writing even a smidgen, then she would be laughing. 

Claire held her breath in anxious anticipation, and approximately a minute and a half later, she got her response. 

His eyes bulged out, and then the tips of his ears glowed with red. In all sort of ways, he was so similar to Jamie but yet so different. But there's no mistaking how vibrantly their ears always lit up when they're embarrassed. Or moved. 

"Kind of explicit," he commented hoarsely, before tucking a tongue into his cheek as if trying to find the right words to say. "But it is an intriguing story with great flow and interesting characters. It's no' the genre I would typically read, but the first few paragraphs of what I've seen so far are riveting. It makes me want to read more."

Annalise, enthusiastically nodded in agreement and waved a hand in the air. "There it is." 

"Ye have a gift, Claire," Willie added, eyes still fixed on the screen and working overtime as his focus became more intense. "The dose of mystery ye've woven into the lines is remarkable and intelligent."

She felt herself beaming in vindication. "Thank you." 

He briefly glanced up at her. "Now that I remember, Jamie did vaguely mention ye wanted to be a writer."

"That's the plan," she beamed.

"Good. Because if ye can produce something like this, then yer talent is wasted on editing other people's work."

"She's got ten more finished stories," Annalise piped in.

Willie arched an eyebrow at Claire and continued reading, and when he finished, he shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Is Jamie the inspiration for this story?"

Her face heated. "I ...ah ...wrote that years ago. And ...um, I've revised and edited it a million times in the past. I wanted Annalise to read it first and find out if it's good enough to be published."

Annalise grinned at Willie, still looking a little flush like she was having a physical reaction to the few lines she'd read earlier. "So what do you think?"

Willie didn't miss Annalise's excited reaction to the story. "It's verra good but I didnae realised graphic scenes affected ye so much. Ye're beet red!" 

"Only when it's very well written," Annalise smirked, taking the laptop from his hands and moving towards him to sit on his lap. 

Willie pulled Annalise closer and kissed her, and Claire sighed. It's both beautiful and terrible being in the presence of people, so in love. While she's ecstatic to see her best friend smitten and happy, it made her sad that Jamie couldn't be here with her. She missed him terribly, and it's only been a fortnight since she had last seen him.

After a few seconds of watching them unashamedly snogged in front of her, Claire clapped her hands, and they both immediately pulled away. "Right, that's enough you two. So, where's the dinner I was promised?"

Suddenly looking self-conscious, Willie promptly lifted Annalise from his lap, plonked her down onto the bed and jumped up, and Claire couldn't help but grin at him.

"Right on it," he muttered, before disappearing from her bedroom.

Annalise laughed and playfully shoved her shoulder. "Passion killer."

Claire ignored the jest. "So you really think I should publish my story?"

Her friend nodded excitedly. "Absolutely! You should have let me read it sooner. From what I've seen so far, you have good, solid material, and I'm convinced, when I read the rest, it will not disappoint." She stood up and smiled. "Come on, in as much as I'm all fired up after reading your story, I'm famished." She got up and left the room.

Instead of moving from her position, Claire stared at her work for a few seconds and just breathed. Although Willie and Annalise were sincere with their praises, she couldn't help but still feel nervous. This next step in her life could either turn out to be huge, or it could get her mocked out of a dream career she loved. 

Pushing aside her doubts and thinking of Jamie, she quickly compressed a copy of her story's file and sent it to him via email to read, hoping he would like her written work too. Who knew, maybe, after reading it, he would be as fired up as Willie and Annalise. 

After hearing the whoosh of the email sent, Claire launched herself off the bed to join her friends, looking forward to Jamie's reaction later and daydreaming of a future in Scotland with her love.

[thran-duils]

Dubious Representation (P.4, Final)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Four, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x soft Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 3,110 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse

Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Hank came downstairs, buttoning up his dress shirt. You looked over your shoulder from where you were making breakfast, something you had gotten accustomed to when you stayed over. It was relaxing. He was right about one thing; you did love to cook. And it was nice you had someone who actually seemed to appreciate it rather than taking it for granted. Not to mention, his kitchen was top notch, and his fridge was always stocked cause he gave you the money to do so.

He caused you to pause for a second as he grabbed your shoulders to hold you while he kissed your temple.

“Morning, doll,” he spoke against your skin before he pulled away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You always did on his expensive mattress. Especially after he wore you out.

You finished up and made up two plates. Turning around you found him at the island, clicking away on his phone. You placed his plate in front of him, him thanking you, and slid onto the stool next to him.

He swore under his breath and tossed his phone down before he started eating.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Lisa is being a bitch as usual.” He held a lot of contempt for his ex-wife.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” He took another bite and eyed you. “I’ve got Lauren this weekend again.”

You made sure you were away when she was there. He never made you feel like you had to be but the few weekends he had with her since you had started seeing him, you made yourself scarce.

“Good. You haven’t seen her in a while,” you told him, and you meant it. It had been a couple weeks. “I need to clean my apartment too, so this is good.”

“You don’t gotta go home.”

You shot him a look at that and saw he was staring at you with purpose. You swallowed your bite and forced a shrug. “It’s okay. It’s good you guys have time alone together.”

“We don’t have to always be alone together,” Hank said, taking another bite. He shrugged in turn now, fixing you with another intense look. “I’ve thought about you moving in.”

That was unexpected. And all you could muster was, “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ what?” He sounded like he was going to get on a combative route.

You rested your hand on the counter, meeting his eyes. “That… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? Explain it to me.”

You blinked. How did you explain how wrong you felt about falling into another man’s bed so soon? The same day Rich had left, you were back with Hank. Not that you had not slept with him before then but… and how guilty you felt about your feelings for him? His relationship had already been done and had been for a while. You were moving on without a consensual party who had no idea what was happening outside their jail cell. No matter how free you felt since you were not afraid of what kind of mood Rich was going to be in when you got home, there was still history.

“It seems too quick.”

“It’s been six months.” Hank grabbed the jug of iced tea you had placed on the counter and began pouring you and him glasses.

“A lot of people would say too quick.”

“Rich is refusing to see you when you have gone to visit. I don’t think it’s quick enough we make this more serious.”

He sounded bitter about the Rich comment. When you had told him you were going to visit Rich in prison the first time, Hank had been frigid. And then the next two times, he was still bristled. And he had had a “told you so” attitude about it when you came back mopey because he was right about that: Rich refused to see you. He would walk in and see it was you at the table and turn around and walk back through the door.

“Don’t you think?” Hank continued as he finished pouring the iced tea. “You are already sleeping here half the week. It’s a waste of money for you to keep the apartment.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. The apartment was yours now. Something you had not had to yourself for years. But you felt more comfortable here.

“I guess when you put it that way,” you said.

He saw your resolve crumbling and he capitalized, leaning on his arm to come closer to you. “Then what’s the issue?”

“My apartment—"

“You know. I brought it up to come to the point to just tell you: Don’t worry about it. I’ve already contacted your building manager about paying off the rest of the lease. You had only four more months left so that wasn’t a huge expense. You need to sign the paperwork though.”

“Hank!”

“What?”

“You didn’t even ask me. And they just spoke to you about my lease when you’re not even on it?”

Hank waved you off, “You’re getting distracted. Did you wanna keep living there with no AC in the summer and then shitty heating in the winter? And that carpet was atrocious in the halls. Do you not like my house?”

“I like it. A lot.”

“Then again, let me ask, what’s the issue?” You had nothing to say, and he grasped your hand. “Doll, all you need to do is go pack up the things you want to bring here — I’ll get you boxes — and then the rest of it we can send to the thrift shop. AND—" he rose his voice as soon as he saw you were going to protest, and you closed your mouth. “The other stuff — you know things of his — we can ship to his next of kin.”

“His parents.”

“Good. They can inherit it. Just like they’ll inherit him when he’s out.”

You let that sink in for a couple moments before you realized a way out of being here while Lauren was here. “Well, then I should go to my apartment this weekend to do that…”

Hank looked impressed for a split second before he agreed, “I suppose so. But I want you available on Saturday morning. You don’t have to stay here but we are going to the botanical gardens and then getting lunch. I want you there. Is that fair?”

It was a type of compromise, a rarity.

“Yes.”

He had still gotten his way. As usual.

<><><>

Lauren was a sweet girl, eleven years old. She was headstrong just like Hank, and you had to smile watching them go back and forth about their opinions. She was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

When she got you alone for a moment, she was watching you closely.

“What’s up?” you asked, trying to hide your unease.

“I told my dad that daddies don’t get lonely when he asked me who I wanted to live with when they were getting divorced.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They move on quick.” Your stomach clenched, worried where this conversation was going. “But my mom was dating someone before he was. Like almost immediately. It’s just weird. But I’m glad he has someone now.”

You relaxed and nodded before you told her, “Me too. He makes me happy.”

<><><>

A week and a half later, there was a voicemail on your cell phone. You did not recognize the number.

You pressed on it and your blood chilled hearing Rich’s voice.

“Y/N, what the fuck is this about all these boxes of my shit showing up at my parent’s house? You know they don’t have the space in their two bedroom. And what the fuck are you sending it away for in the first place? If you’re even thinking about kicking me out, you’ve got another thing coming, you little bitch. Do you understand me? Moving on like a fucking hussy now that I’m in here and you’ve got space in the bed? I know you’re helpless when it comes to providing for yourself but if you think I’m gonna let it slide that you are spreading your legs for some other fucking guy cause you can’t hack it on your own, you are sorely mistaken! I—”

The voicemail cut off. He must have run out of time.

Your lip was warbling as you stared down at your phone.

“What is it?”

Hank’s voice startled you. He was rubbing his hair with a towel, another one wrapped around his waist, straight from the shower.

“Nothing,” you said wiping at your eyes.

Hank’s arm dropped from his head, and he stalked over. He reached his hand out, gesturing for you to hand over your phone. He did not buy it when you said nothing. You slowly relented and he took it from you. Pressing play, he replayed the button and you flinched, the words hurting just as much if not more than the first time you heard them.

Snorting, Hank deleted the message. “Fuck him. And his condescension. You’re doing what’s best for you, and you are hacking it on your own. I say it’s about time you got a new number, Hmm? To avoid that bullshit.” Your lips parted in surprise, and he held your phone back out to you. You took it as he said, “I’ll add you to my plan, baby. We can go tomorrow. I don’t have meetings in the afternoon.”

With that, he turned and walked back towards the bathroom. He had not waited for you to respond.

<><><>

As soon as you were two weeks late, Hank brought home a test. He had stopped using condoms months ago when things had progressed. That same night, he had taken you out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. He had taken you there before and you had adored it. That time though it was like a fog was clouding the room. You were happy, you had wanted to be a mother, and he was happy. But you were still married.

Hank had obviously been thinking about that too because a couple days later, he brought it up bluntly as he was watering his flowers.

“You should get a divorce.”

Pushing your sunglasses up, you stared at him in shock. You were reclining on a lawn chair, reading a magazine.

When you did not respond, he looked over his shoulder. You knew this conversation was coming but the knowledge of that did nothing to soften the blow.

“That seems heartless.”

“What? Fully leaving? Or are you telling me you’re planning to go back to him?” He was using that challenging tone.

“No!” you blurted. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

He turned the hose off and dropped it turning to face you.

“Y/N, he’s been in jail for over a year. You’ve already sent his shit away, he’s gotten mad about it, you don’t know if his family cares cause you aren’t at the apartment, you’re living with me. And you’re not at your old job. So, they can’t find you there. And you got a new number so no one can contact you. I think the writing has been on the wall where this is going. So what’s with dragging your feet?”

“It’s… hard.”

“A lot of things are hard, but we deal with them. Look, you’ll feel better once it’s over and done with and so will I. I don’t like knowing you’re still legally tied to that bastard. Can you understand that? Not just as the man you’re with but from an attorney’s viewpoint. It’s not good news. I’d sleep easier at night knowing he’s not gonna try to pull some shit.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest if you initiate and oversee this?”

Hank gave a brief chuckle, “No. I’m allowed to represent blood family even. I’m supposed to be unbiased of course but it’s legal to do it. I’m allowed to represent anyone.” He came closer, looking down at you on the chair. “And honestly, if I have it under my belt I represented him — that is if the bastard decides to take it to court, which I’m doubtful he will — and ‘saw the errors of my choice’ and now I’m trying to help you out, that’ll help in court.” He saw the look on your face and shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t mean to be insensitive but that’s how juries are swayed. Sob stories. And I could hit that shit out of the park.”

Swallowing, you contemplated. You had been thinking about divorce for a while. Even more so now that you knew you were carrying Hank’s baby.

You had taken too long to respond again, and Hank added, “Free of charge for you of course.”

You gave a small smile and said, “Hank… yeah, fine. I know.”

“‘Fine’? ‘You know’? Doll, you know I like you to elaborate your firm feelings.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. And I need to take a plunge. I wanna be invested in us. Fully.”

Hank nodded, “That’s better.” He nodded once more. “I’ll get them drafted up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“And?”

“Don’t you wanna enjoy the weekend?”

Hank simpered, “What’s a weekend?”

<><><>

Hank strolled past the security gate and swooped his briefcase up. The visiting room in the prison was bare and beat up. He was seated at the table, waiting, reading emails. As soon as the prisoners were trickling into the room, he kept an eye on the door.

The moment Rich walked in, he hesitated seeing Hank. Unlike with Y/N, he ventured into the room and pulled the chair back, sitting across the table from Hank.

“Surprised you haven’t found yourself in max yet. I was expecting to talk to you through glass. Whatever works though,” Hank clipped, sitting up straight.

“What are you doing here?” Rich asked, his tone tight. He ignored Hank’s jab.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hank said, opening his briefcase and pulling out the pile of papers. He tossed them onto the table and leaned back, waiting for Rich to respond.

Rich stared at them for a few moments and shrugged, “What are these? Early release? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you representing me anymore.”

“Ah, no,” Hank laughed. He was unable to hold it back. “Divorce papers actually. And I’m not representing you. I’m representing Y/N.”

Rich’s face darkened and he snapped, “What?”

“She’s divorcing you now that she’s not afraid you’re gonna bash her in with a monkey wrench. You’re right here, my man. And she’s free out there.” He leaned in closer and said, “Seriously, you fucking up the way you did worked out best for everyone. She’s positively glowing.” He tapped the papers and said, “So, it’s all in here. Just need you to read it over, get your signature, and it’ll be solid.”

Rich was staring harshly at Hank and Hank could pinpoint the moment the realization washed over him. He looked murderous. “You.”

“Yeah, me.”

“You son of a bitch. Just swooping in when you saw weakness,” Rich growled, slamming his hand on the table. The guards took notice and he immediately reeled it in, much to Hank’s amusement who had not even flinched. Through gritted teeth, Rich vowed, “You’re not going to get away with this. She’s my wife—"

“Yeah, a wife you have refused to see for over a year because what? You’re mad you had to come to her rescue because you were rolling too hard to pay proper attention as she almost got assaulted? Great. Husband of the year award right for you. I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”

“I’m not going to roll over on this!”

Hank waved him off, quipping. “Take it to court then. We know how well that worked out for you last time.” He smiled cruelly, “Do you understand how even more easy it would be for me this time to get them to turn against you than the DA did last time? I could easily paint myself as the white knight and yeah, sure, you would get a day out of the prison to come to court, which might seem worth it to you, but it is worth the cost for good representation? I don’t think so. You will get the floor mopped with you and the end result would be the same.”

Rich looked furious and Hank threw his hands out. “Think about it this way. Once you’re out, you can find another woman who was just as naïve and young as Y/N and do what you will. It’s wiping the slate clean for you, fresh start. Plus, Y/N’s already pregnant, so she’s pretty settled in already with me. Don’t wanna go messing that up cause trust me, motherfucker, I will make that hell for you. I’ve got the resources to do so. And man, do I have a vendetta against your ass. So, do you really want to try me?” If Rich could look more furious. His fists were clenched on the table, shaking, but he was keeping himself from lunging across the table. Hank was even impressed; the bastard really did not want to go to max.

Clearing his throat, Hank leaned over and grabbed his briefcase, standing up. “Anyways, you can wipe your ass with that if you want, but it’s still going to go forward. And I have more copies. Just let me know what you wanna do.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and carelessly tossed it onto the table. “In case you forgot my number, champ.”

<><><>

Hank came up behind you and kissed at the nape of your neck. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“You weren’t home when you normally do it,” you told him, running the water from the hose over the hydrangeas that he cherished so much.

“I’m only thirty minutes late,” Hank chuckled.

“But you are particular.”

“That I am,” he breathed, kissing you again on your shoulder. He nuzzled in and nipped at your ear, drawing a smile out of you. “I got the papers back today.”

That caused you to stall, your hand dropping every so slightly, the water not arching as high. It had been a couple weeks since Hank had gone to the prison and all he had told you was that he had left the papers with Rich. You had not heard anything since. Hearing that he had actually sent them back signed…

He noticed your demeanor and his hands came around you, coming to your stomach. He held you protectively there and breathed reassuringly, “Looks like our family is going to be okay.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx

[hb-writes]

Twenty Minutes or Less

It was an impressive view. Nothing like the view from her brother's apartment, but nice enough and it was all hers, something which none of her family was particularly happy about. Emma didn't want a roommate though. She wanted to be on her own, or as on her own as one could be with a security guard for a shadow.

She glanced at her brother as he came out onto the balcony. He looked as tired as she felt. They’d been at it all day, lugging around boxes and putting furniture together. Christian had offered to pay for movers, but Emma declined, declaring that was what siblings were for. 

He didn’t agree with it, but like Mia and Elliot, he had arrived at her new apartment building at eight in the morning to fulfill his sibling duty and stayed throughout the afternoon.

"Mia and Elliot went to pick up dinner."

Emma nodded before looking back out at the view. She knew she was being terribly ungrateful, leaving her brothers and sister to unpack her own boxes and fetch dinner while she brooded on the balcony in the chilly Seattle air, but it was where she ended up, away from their banter and joking.

"What are you doing out here?"

She shrugged. "Just needed a little fresh air."

Christian leaned over the rail beside his sister, looking down into the alleyway outside her building. "Promise me you won't walk down there by yourself at night."

Emma shoved her elbow into Christian's side. "I'm not an idiot, Christian."

"I know," he answered catching her elbow and pulling her into his side with an arm over her shoulder, "but you are alarmingly… we’ll call it adventurous."

Emma smirked because though he often refrained from calling his sister an idiot, Christian had no reservations about labeling her actions as such – idiotic, stupid, careless. He was also partial to labels like impertinent and disobedient and infuriating. Alarmingly adventurous was quite mild comparatively. 

"That's an awfully kind description coming from you."

"You sound surprised."

Emma shook her head and leaned against him. "I'm not. You can be nice when you want to be."

"It's a nice little place, Em."

"You think so?"

"It's no Escala, but—"

"Well, we can't all be flashy billionaires."

"I told you I'd gladly—"

"I don't want you to pay for it."

It bothered him that his sister continued to cut him off, but it bothered him more that she refused to let him pay for her apartment. If she had, then he would have felt entitled to have a say in it rather than being forced to sit back and watch as she viewed apartments in less than desirable neighborhoods, finally settling on a 1-bedroom in a small building across town. 

Emma would have been safer in a larger building, something with secured garage parking and a doorman. He dreaded the idea of her going out to the car late at night to retrieve something she’d forgotten or coming home late and needing to walk a few blocks from whatever spot she found on the street to get to her building, a building nearly anyone could get inside if they stuck around long enough to get the code.

But she’d been insistent that Christian wouldn’t be paying for her apartment. And that it wasn’t his choice. She knew it was a privilege to be able to make a declaration like that, to be able to afford it. She had savings set aside from the time she was a kid, from her parents and her brother, and had never wanted for much of anything material. Maybe that was why she was so insistent on doing as much on her own as possible, going so far as to insist that she wouldn’t touch those accounts to pay for her apartment. 

She had her own spending money. SIP paid well enough that she could get by with the money she'd earned working full-time over the summer and during breaks combined with her regular part-time wages.

Christian still paid for her school though. That had been non-negotiable. A gift, he insisted. There was no reason for her to take out loans when he could pay it outright. 

He assumed his parents would be trying to help her as well, supporting her in subtle ways she'd be less likely to argue against, like grocery store gift cards and neglecting to remind her to pay them for her portion of the cell phone bill, sending her home with extra household supplies which their mother insisted were “cheaper when bought in bulk!” 

He'd done a little of that type of trickery himself. Emma hadn’t paid her own car insurance since the first payment and she was none the wiser to that fact. Christian had no intention of reminding her that it was an expense paid twice per year and he was grateful that stubborn as she was to do things on her own, Emma was still figuring things out. 

"It’s time for me to have my own place."

Christian nodded. "Well, you know you always have a room at Escala,” he offered. “And I'm sure Teddy wouldn’t mind having you back as a roommate."

"Did he tell you that?" Emma asked. "That's some pretty impressive communication for a baby."

Christian glanced at her. "Your sarcasm is duly noted."

Emma smiled as he said it. "Good. I prefer it to be noted. It’s a waste otherwise."

As irritating as her brother could be, overprotective and demanding and guided by seemingly endless rules, Emma would miss him now that she was on her own. She’d miss just knowing someone was always there and though she hadn’t had a nightmare in over a year and she was supposed to be an adult, capable of managing that type of thing on her own, she dreaded what it would be like to wake up and realize the only one there to comfort her was herself. 

And she would miss the baby nephew she’d grown accustomed to spending much of her time with, too. 

Emma reached up to wipe her wet eyes and Christian glanced at her. 

"What's wrong?"

Emma shook her head. "It's nothing," she answered, but the tears started to come faster as she said it.

Christian turned her towards him, his hands on her shoulders. “Emmeline.”

She sighed and met his eye. "It’s stupid. I've just never been on my own before."

Christian pulled her into a hug. "You're not on your own now, either. Do you want one of us to—?"

"No!"

"It'd just be for tonight. I can call Ana and let her know I’m staying or I'm sure Mia would—"

“No, Chris.” Emma shook her head. "I have to do it on my own."

"Well, you won’t really be on your own,” Christian answered. “Ryan is always nearby."

Emma raised her hand to smack him, but Christian caught her wrist, laughing as she groaned.

"I think you should give Ryan some time off,” she answered, pushing him as soon as he dropped his hold. “The man deserves it.”

"After dealing with you? I'm sure he does. I've had to up his pay much too often as compensation for your behavior," he said, "but I trust him and I wouldn't be able to get by without knowing there's someone I trust looking after you."

Christian sighed as she began wiping tears from her cheeks again and pulled her in for another hug. "Don't cry, Em. You’ll be fine."

“But what if—"

"If you need anything, you call me. Same as always. I don't care if it's two in the morning. You call me and I'll be here. It's a twenty-minute drive without traffic."

"It is not. It’s at least—"

"Not with you driving. You're not allowed over the speed limit, but I can be here in twenty minutes. Less than that if it’s an emergency."

-----

Fifty Shades Masterlist

[pixiebuggiewrites]

Sorry Wrong Number!

Masterpost - Previous - Next - Ao3 link

Chapter 2:  Hawkmoth has really bad designs and perhaps even worse timing

Since it was her off night from patrol, Ladybug was the last one onto the scene. She landed down on a building next to Viperion, who was observing the akuma’s skillset as Kuro Neko played distraction down below them.

The villain of tonight's look was... interesting to put it nicely. They were a boy around the same age as the heroes that seemed to be wearing a slightly oversized purple and blue three piece suit with a not-so-subtle lightning pattern running up the arms. His hair was shock white and seemed to be defying gravity while his eyes were protected by bright blue goggles-possibly where the akuma was residing. More importantly, he seemed to be covered in electricity, which was gonna make it difficult to get any hits in. He also had a laptop with him- another contender for the akuma’s hiding place but most likely just a weapon.

Not Hawkmoth’s worst design, but it definitely wasn't his finest work either. Though to be fair she had run around in spotted spandex for two years before she found out she could change her costume, so those in glass houses she supposed.

Viperion, noticing the team leader's arrival began to fill her in on what they knew so far.

“They're calling themselves ‘Elect-Trick’, keeps sending out shockwaves to try and knock us back which is frustrating but our suits seem to take the brunt of it which helps but Neko’s staff is a no go at the moment since there's no way to know if it’ll conduct the electricity.”

It likely would, something they had found out the hard way during the last weather akuma they had to face. While magical it was still metallic in nature sadly, which meant she needed to also be careful with her yoyo. She still isn't really sure what it’s made of besides magic, but this was not the way she wanted to find out.

“Alright, in that case we’ll continue to keep him away from the Eiffel Tower, it’s likely the akuma’s going to try and use it as a large conductor. I’m gonna head down, stay up here and be ready to use your second chance at the signal.” She instructed

Viperion nodded and went back to watching the fight just as Ladybug swooped down to join in. She was just in time as the akuma had begun to corner Neko, who had no choice but to rely on playing defense while her staff was out of the mix. The two heroes nodded their heads in greeting as Ladybug yoyo-d her cat themed friend over putting the duo back on even ground with the villain, who seemed to be ranting about school elections of all things.

Which would be a probable explanation for the first half of his name.

The two continued to fight back against the akuma, neither side quite able to grab the upper hand. Ladybugs yoyo-as it turned out, did not conduct electricity afterall. And, seeing as it's practically indestructible she was able to land hits on the akuma without getting shocked. But the akuma had realized the issue with Neko’s staff and was using that to their advantage, aiming a decent chunk of their attacks at the cat hero which forced them to go back on the defense.

As the fight had been going for over an hour at this point, the spotted heroine decided to bring out the big guns. After doing a silent signal letting Viperion know to start his timer, she got in position to call on her lucky charm.

But she didn't get a chance to. Just as she went to throw her yoyo in the air, Viperion called out a warning that sent a feeling of dread through her.

“LB watch out, There's an amok headed straight for the computer!”  

Sure enough, there was an all too familiar purple feather floating through the air on track for the laptop that she quickly caught and purified it before it could land. Thank the Kwami for the power of second chance, nobody wanted to deal with a sentimonster on top of everything else tonight.

Keeping Kuro Neko on the lookout for anymore feathers, She finally activated her lucky charm. Throwing her yoyo up she manifests… a slingshot! She could work with that, just needed to find ammo. Looking around her eyes land firmly on the window of a small toyshop.

Bingo!

Having Viperion keeping an eye out in case he was needed temporarily as backup, she sneaks over and breaks the window with her yoyo. Typically, the heroine would feel bad about causing this much property damage but tonight she’s tired and wants to get this over with so she can make a plan of action for the whole ‘Mayura seems to be back’ thing with her team and maybe get at least a couple hours of sleep. Anyways her miraculous cure would fix the window and return the bouncy balls she was actively stealing so no harm done? After finishing committing what was technically a misdemeanor, she made her way over to the roof Viperion was on and handed off the slingshot supplies before making her way back down.

Luckily Neko had managed to keep Elect-Trick distracted enough for the team to catch him off guard. On Ladybugs call Viperion began to pelt the Akuma with rubber balls, drawing his sight away for long enough to tie him up and take his glasses. One cataclysm later, the teen had been successfully deakumatized and she was able to cast her cure, fixing the decent chunk of property damage caused that night. After making sure the teen was okay to get home safe and getting his address for the interview she would have to conduct later, she turned to her team.

“Good work today guys, let's meet back at base in 30.” Her eyes communicated the urgency of the meeting despite the neutral tone of voice she tried to maintain.

From there the teens all departed in separate directions to recharge their powers and head to the team's secret base.

----------

Okay so secret base was a bit of an overstatement. It is a secret place that the team uses as a base of operations but it was less of a Batcave and more of a repurposed hotel room in Le Grand Paris.

Chloe had brought up the idea after one too many close calls with Marinette's parents while the girls were investigating Hawkmoth. They needed a place to discuss hero work safely without having to talk in code but the question was where. Obtaining an apartment would be difficult as all of them but Luka were still underage, not to mention the issue of trying to pay rent without any parental suspicion. Luckily for Chloe, it's surprisingly easy to just claim a hotel room without being questioned when your Father owns the hotel.

And while it was no Batcave, it wasn't anything to scoff at either. The four teens had been able to pool together enough money in the beginning for the basics, which meant that now any small snuck away chunks of commission money, music gig payments, competition winnings, and allowances were all able to go to improving things bit by bit.

The room was already quite nice, having a separate bedroom that they used as a gym and a kitchenette that was kept well stocked with kwami snacks. Then there was the  main area, which had been split down the middle. The first side was dedicated to the investigation and housing Marinette's Guardian materials, While the second half was a hangout zone where they could chat or decompress after any particularly rough fights.

The base was also secure, Marinette had put so many spells and protections on the room with the help of the kwami that it might as well be a pocket dimension of sorts. The magical security system of sorts was extremely complicated, being tied to the teams auras in a way so that the only way to even find it without being one of them was to be taken there by Ladybug herself. It had taken weeks to pull off but was well worth it to give her team a place that was safe from the outside world.

Ladybug was the first to arrive this time, having flopped down into a chair at their meeting table as her two friends entered the room and joined her. They all sat there for a moment, processing the fact of Mayura’s return. Of course this would happen when they were down a member, it wasn't a complete surprise that the peacock miraculous would come back into play at some point but it was really bad timing.

“So what exactly is the plan?” Viperion asked, finally breaking the silence.

Ladybug sighed, knowing that their workload was going to increase once again. At least it was close to summer vacation.

“First we need to increase patrols- especially around the typical hot spots, Neko do you think we’ll be able to finish those jars by this time next week?”

The cat hero nodded “They're almost done, we’ll need to test them somehow though.”

The two of them had recently been working on a variation of an object enchantment technique mentioned in the grimoire. The original object was dubious in nature, having been used as a cage of sorts that kwami wouldn't be able to phase through. Marinette was disgusted by the thought, further feeding into some suspicions she had about the old order. As she was ranting about it to Kagami about it, her fencer friend got an idea for a way to repurpose the spell to trap akuma when Ladybug couldn't easily get to a fight. It would also allow them a new way to prevent possessions when Ladybug wasn't actively on patrol.

“That's good. Lastly I need Bee’s new number, I was going to ask you for it tomorrow but I need to give her a heads up to start on a new case file. We also might want to move up our plans to contact the heroes there.”

Kuro Neko quickly jotted down the number on a nearby notecard and handed it to Ladybug. After hammering out a few last details about their new patrol schedules the heroes were all free to head home for the night.

The trip home was uneventful, and she arrived home to see that it was just past midnight. She also noticed that her bath bomb had been fixed! It was sometimes a gamble on if something like that would count as akuma damage so it was a nice victory after the day she’s had.

Marinette quickly put in Chloe's number, eager to get to bed. She sent her blonde friend a summary on what happened and let her know to be on the lookout for an email tomorrow with the information to assemble a case file. And with that, Marinette drifted off to sleep.

She had made a small mistake though. In her tired state the young designer’s finger slipped, putting a 5 where there was meant to be a 4.

Meaning Chloe Bourgeois was not the recipient of her intended message.

Good thing she wrote the message in code?

----------

Across the ocean, Damian Wayne received a strange text message.

--------------------------------------------

Taglist (open!!): 

@queencommonsense

[dcbbw]

Would you ever 📝 AU Romance. Riley having a pregnancy scare or how would Liam would react?

@gkittylove99!!! THIS ASK! THIS.ASK. I have to thank my pre-readers and idea bouncers @sirbeepsalot, @burnsoslow, and @ao719. And to all the folks I sent random snippets to, thank you for not thinking I was crazy!

Warnings for this full-blown fic: Slightly NSFW, Frank discussion of pregnancy termination

I awaken to feel Liam’s weight pressed against my back. His palms cover the backs of my hands as his cock sits in my center, throbbing and twitching.

“Are you awake yet?” His breath, warm and stale, tickles the back of my neck.

I respond by arching my hips upwards; I feel his groin  grind against me as he alternates his thrusts between teasingly slow and hard and rough. His teeth scrape my skin between groans of: “Throw that pussy at me,” and “You like how this dick feels?”

The head of his cock is pressed against my spot and I cry out as I release over his shaft; the pillow muffles it. Shortly thereafter, I feel his orgasm splashing against my still clenching walls. He pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

We start every morning with some form of sex. Sometimes it’s oral for me, a blowjob in front of the bedroom mirror for him, or intercourse. It’s always vanilla; we save the kinky for the nighttime.

I stay laying on my stomach; I have been tired lately. And unfocused. I think I need vitamins, maybe an iron supplement. Liam’s voice rouses me, and I turn my head to look at him.

“You need to get up, Riley. It’s time for your shower.”

“I don’t feel good,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a cold?”

I shake my head. “I just don’t feel good.”

He gives me an odd look before speaking. “I’ll make you some tea and arrange to telework today.”

And then he rises naked from the bed, leaving me alone in the room.

One Week Later

It’s Wednesday, and I am in the office. Chase and Penelope have gone to make the Starbucks run before staff meeting. I didn’t order anything; I am still queasy and it’s strongest in the morning. I feel even more rundown, and there is some heartburn. I am booting up my laptop when my desk phone rings. It’s Lynn, my boss.

“Hey! Come back here and talk to me,” she requests in her signature cheery tone.

I tell her to give me two minutes and hang up. The phone rings again. “Need me to bring you anything?” I answer, sure it’s her again. But it’s Liam.

“Don’t order a car this evening. My car will pick you up at 4:30.”

I stare stupidly at my screen. “Why?”

“You’ll find out.” And the call is disconnected.

I feel uncertainty twist my already roiling stomach as I head into Lynn’s cubicle. She looks up at me, a bright smile on her face. Her hair is in loose waves and falls just past her shoulders; her skin is clear with a rosy glow.

“You look great!” I compliment her. “How do you feel?”

Lynn is entering her fifth month of pregnancy. It’s her fourth; she’s carrying twins.

“Thanks! I feel like I’m hauling around a pod of whales. Sperm whales,” she giggles at her pun.

I offer her a weak smile as I sit in the only empty chair in her cubicle. She frowns slightly. “Was that HR offensive?” She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t know and too fat to care.”

I shake my head slightly. “You’re fine.”

She begins to dig into a styrofoam container that holds her breakfast: corned beef hash, sausage links, grits, potatoes, toast, and sunny-side up eggs. The sights and smells turn my stomach even more. As she eats, Lynn prattles about her weekend, possibly hiring a new person to help Coco in IT, and maybe putting together an employee handbook.

I say nothing because if I open my mouth, the water and yogurt I had earlier may come up. Noticing my silence, Lynn looks up me; her eyes are critical as she studies me.

“Riley, are you okay? You look … listless.”

“I’m fine!” I force myself to respond cheerfully. “Just a little tired.”

One of her hands rests lightly against her burgeoning belly; the other firmly grips her fork as she drags it through hash, grits, and egg yolk. “Go home. Get some rest for the remainder of the week.”

“I’m fine,” I protest.

“Then go home and get even better. Answer a couple of emails, take a call and you won’t have to use your leave.” She speaks around mouthfuls of food.

My eyes fall to her belly. “Do you have names for the babies yet?”

“Peanut butter and Jelly.” She sees my surprised expression. “There’s a story there, but it’s definitely NSFW. I’m not dealing with HR today.”

She waves her hand at me in a “shoo” motion. “Go home! See you Monday.”

I rise from the chair and make my way slowly back to my desk. I shut down the laptop. I pick up my desk phone and call Liam.

“What?” His tone is curt. I wonder if he’s busy or doesn’t want to hear from me.

“I’m leaving work now. I’m off until Monday.”

A pause before he speaks. I hear papers being shuffled and him typing on his keyboard. “Call the car, go to the penthouse. Shower. Don’t answer the door for anyone, don’t be a Nosy Parker, and I’ll be there shortly.”

And he hangs up.

Once inside the penthouse, I wander around before I shower. It’s rare Liam leaves me alone here; I find it feels strange without his presence. The quiet sounds different, the sun slants through the windows at an altered angle. The stovetop and counters gleam in the bright kitchen; usually both are filled with pots and pans and food in various stages of preparation. I open the refrigerator; there is a platter of homemade meatballs, perfectly rolled and shaped and filled with onions and peppers, ready to be cooked for our dinner tonight. I wonder what else we’ll have.

As I cross back through the living room, I look up at the staircase; only when Liam requests me in his study do I venture into the upper level of the penthouse. There’s a study, home gym, full bathroom, guest room, and the only ingress/egress to the outdoor space upstairs.

I keep walking until I reach the bedroom. I pass Liam’s chest of drawers and frown; one of the drawers isn’t fully closed. I set my phone on top of the furniture and place my palm against the gleaming wood to push it close, but I hesitate. I wonder what’s inside. I look around, even though I know I am the only person in the house.

I’m going to be a Nosy Parker.

I pull the drawer open cautiously and peer inside: neatly folded stacks of boxer shorts in white and black greet me. Next to them are wife beaters, also in white and black, and short-sleeved undershirts in white. There is a wooden tray on the right-hand side of the drawer; it’s mostly cufflinks and tie clips, but I see two photographs, face down. I look at them curiously; just as my fingers reach out to touch them, my phone rings.

I jump and let out a small yell before pushing the drawer shut and looking at my caller ID. I don’t recognize the number; I toss the phone onto the bed before stripping and entering the shower. By the time Liam arrives home, I am wearing his robe and wrapped in a blanket on the living room sofa. There is a talk show on the television. He stands in the doorway looking at me, carrying a brown paper bag. It smells delicious.

And I am now starving.

His eyes look me over as he passes me the food; it’s a grilled cheese sandwich and cup of tomato soup with basil. I look at him gratefully before I bite ravenously into the gooey, melted cheese and hot buttered bread. The cheese melts against my tongue; a droplet of butter rolls from my lower lip down my chin.

Liam sits next to me; he turns the television off.

“You’re feeling better?”

I am drinking savory soup directly from the container. “I’m still tired, but my nausea has passed.”

He nods thoughtfully. “You haven’t used your supplies this month, Riley.”

The sandwich is at my lips, but my mouth does not open. I’m trying to calculate the last time I had my period. Liam watches me for a few seconds before speaking.

“You’re 10 days late, Riley.”

I stare at him, struggling to come to terms with what this meant. Or could mean. Even the most regular women were sometimes late due to hormones or something.

But I was sick in the mornings. I was fatigued constantly.

The image of Lynn’s hand on her pregnant belly flashes through my mind.

I set my food down; my mouth is suddenly dry. “What … what if I am?”

“Pregnant?” Liam asks as he stands, then makes his way to the television set. He stands there, arms folded across his chest. His burgundy tie is blood against the crisp, white shirt he wears.

I nod slowly.

“You’ll get rid of it.” His tone is calm, matter-of-fact.

A coldness spreads from my belly to chill my entire body. I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. “No,” I whisper. “IF I am, it’s my body!”

“But my child. I don’t want children, Riley.”

“Then you should’ve taken better precautions!” I yell as I stand and get in his face. The robe falls open. I am naked beneath it, but Liam isn’t looking at my body.

“YOU said you were on birth control!” His voices thunders throughout the apartment. He takes a deep breath as he composes himself.

“However, I should have ensured that no … accidents could occur. I’ll be rectifying that situation.”

My eyes search his. He returns my gaze, his eyes steady. How could he be so callous, so cold towards a possible life he helped create?

“I’m not getting rid of our baby. This isn’t something you can throw money at to make it go away, Liam!”

He looks at me incredulously. “It’s a BABY! I will ALWAYS BE THROWING MONEY AT IT!” He shakes his head. “Best to make a one-time payment and be done with it.” He looks at me with hard, dark eyes. “And you either get rid of it or give it up. Those are your only options, Riley. You can’t have us both.”

He steps around me, headed for the stairway that leads upstairs. “Finish your food before it gets cold.”

The heels of his shoes tap against hardwood as he jogs up the stairs. And I am alone.

All alone.

I look around and my glance falls on my lunch. I gather it and take it into the kitchen; I watch red liquid splash against the stainless steel of the sink as I pour the soup out. I wrap the sandwich in its paper, put it back inside its bag, and ball the whole thing up before tossing it in the trash.

Back in the living room, I straighten the sofa cushions and fold my blanket; I carry the blanket with me to the bedroom. I place it back inside the closet; I look at my clothing. Clothing that Liam bought. My fingertips run across the various fabrics: silk, wool, cotton; it causes the hangers to tinkle against each other.

I am standing at the window, the robe belted tightly around my waist, when I hear Liam’s voice behind me. He says I have a doctor’s appointment Friday morning to determine if I am indeed pregnant. I say nothing as my eyes stay fixed on sunlight glinting off the East River, barely visible behind buildings of stone and steel.

I feel him behind me; I smell his cologne and hear his breathing. I feel tears prick my eyes.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whisper.

“I don’t,” he answers softly.

His arms come around my waist and I feel his face drop into my hair. Then he steps away. “Dinner in an hour.”

“I’m not hungry.”

His footsteps pause. “You should eat.” And then he is gone.

That night, we do not have sex, but we do the next morning. We then spend the remainder of the day avoiding each other and not speaking.

I sit on his ridiculously oversized bed, chin resting on my knees, wondering what I will do if I am pregnant. I have my job; I have the alimony from Maxwell. I would need to find a bigger apartment, a two-bedroom at least.

I would not ask Liam for any child support, nor would I accept it if offered.

Friday morning, we are sitting in a doctor’s office. I fill out paperwork and give the receptionist my insurance information. Liam sits in a chair, an ankle resting on a thigh while he reads a magazine. When my name is called, he walks with me into the examination room.

The nurse is cheerful; she asks me questions that I answer in a dull tone.

No, I have never been pregnant before.

My period is now two weeks late.

The nausea is worse in the morning. I also have heartburn.

No pain.

Liam’s eyes stay fixed on me.

The nurse draws blood; I go to the bathroom to pee in a cup. And we wait.

The doctor comes in 20 minutes later. I am not pregnant. But she wants to do an ultrasound. I feel relief, sadness, and fear. I look at Liam, but his expression is stoic, giving nothing away. I agree to the ultrasound.

There is cool gel. Pictures of my insides show up on a screen. There are white spots on my right side.

I have gallstones; that is why I am nauseous and have heartburn and fatigue.

My surgery is scheduled for a month from Monday.

Liam asks if there is anything that can help relieve my discomfort for the next month. He inquires about foods and drinks to avoid. But he doesn’t look at the doctor when he asks his questions.

He is squatting in front of me, his thumb brushing my cheek while his eyes hold mine captive.

The doctor answers as she scribbles on paper: Ibuprofen to help with pain, and I need to limit my dairy, fats, grease, and fried foods.

At the reception desk, Liam pays the co-pay costs. The receptionist smiles at him. “Dr. Marion will see you Wednesday. Did you receive your paperwork?”

Liam nods, and tells her he will return it no later than Monday before he takes my hand as we walk to the elevator. I want to pull away because I don’t think he would be holding my hand if I were pregnant.

He won.

But I let my hand stay wrapped with his.

“Who’s Dr. Marion?” I ask.

“My urologist.”

“Is it a routine visit?”

I feel my stomach sour even though I haven’t eaten anything.

The elevator car arrives, and we board. He pushes the button to take us to the lobby. His eyes stay fixed on the metal doors as we begin our descent downstairs.

“I’m getting a vasectomy.”

And he says nothing else.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @queenrileyrose @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @ritachacha @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @cordonianroyalty @superharriet

   #tw discussion of pregnancy termination #tw slightly ns*w #dcbbw answers #UnRomance AU ask #liam x riley #this isn’t Cordonia

[writefinch]

Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears,  pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

[nastasyafilippovnas]

santhony + “No one will ever compare to you.”

better late than never, right? lol 

santhony + no one will ever compare to you, pre-canon, 1.5k (ao3)

It was two in the morning and the couple on the apartment upstairs was arguing again. From his place in bed, seating with his back against the headboard, Anthony could hear their shouts loud and clear through the thin material of the ceiling. Next to him, Siena slept soundly, unbothered by the confusion. Since they had started seeing each other three months ago, it had always been like this. She had told him she learnt early on to get her rest whenever she could, because you never knew when a rehearsal would run late. Before her, Anthony had never thought how much work went into becoming an opera singer, now it seemed like every moment she wasn’t with him, Siena was either rehearsing or performing. Her hair was sprawled on next to him and he played mindless with it, his father’s watch on his other hand. Soon he would have to leave her. He wanted nothing more than lay down and curl next to her, enjoying the few hours they had left together.

Unlike her, though, he had always had trouble falling asleep. There was always so much going on, problems with the state, Daphne’s dowry to secure for her season next year, it felt like his brain could hardly shut down. And when he did manage to close his eyes, even then the smallest of noises would wake him up. Needless to say, he never got much sleep whenever he spent the night at her place.

The apartment itself wasn’t that bad. Anthony had seen the awful conditions in which the lower classes lived, among the filth, sewage and rats infesting their houses. Her place, despite being terribly small, was at least clean and in a decent neighborhood. Unfortunately, in order to pay the rent, she had to share it with four other singers and there were only two bedrooms. That meant that, whenever one of them was entertaining a male companion, at least one of them had to sleep on the threadbare couch on the living room. Tonight was Lisa’s turn, if he was not mistaken. And then tomorrow or the day after it would be Siena’s turn to spend the night on the couch as Lisa had her gentleman over. Anthony frowned at that thought. Her bed was already uncomfortable, the mattress too hard and thin. He didn’t like imagining her on that couch, on the cold living room, sleeping without any of the comforts he was so used to having every night.

A loud bang echoed through the room, indicating that one of the members of the couple upstairs had finally had enough and had decided to leave, taking his frustrations on the door. Instead of just leaving, however, the man continued the discussion outside and woke up the entire floor above them.

Anthony sighed in frustration. That was the last straw. They couldn’t continue like this.

“Siena…” He shook her shoulder lightly to get her to wake up.

“Anth…” She woke up fully before finishing his name, leaving Anthony disappointed. He had already told her she could call him by his first time and yet she insisted on keeping the formalities between them. “My lord, is everything okay? Are you leaving already?” Siena asked, glancing at the open window for a moment, to confirm that it was still dark outside. She wasn’t a clingy person, but she still felt like her time with Anthony was always cut short. It worried her sometimes she was getting too attached to something that would end, sooner rather than later. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going through her mind, Anthony thought. He had promised he would stay the night. And he had wanted to. Nothing gave him more pleasure than the smile on her face when she woke up and realized he was still there, wrapped around her. He had thought they could even have breakfast together. Staying with her wasn’t the problem. 

Her annoyingly loud neighbors who were the problem. That and the threadbare couch. And the shared bedrooms. And the twin-sized bed with the thin mattress. And the one communal bathroom down the hall, now that he thought about it. This whole place was the problem. Siena couldn’t continue to live like this. 

“You need to move.” He said, instead of answering her questions.

She laughed at him, seating up next to him. It was cute how he thought she could just up and leave because her neighbors kept him awake at night. The rich were really something else.

“Do you know how hard it was to get this place with this price? Lisa had to seduce the landlord. I know you hate all the noise but it’s not that bad really.”

Just to contradict her, another loud sound came from upstairs and Anthony could swear he heard the ceiling cracking under the weight of whatever they had thrown around.

He raised his eyebrows at her and she could feel herself flushing under his stare. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t understand how this was an improvement.

“So they get loud, who doesn’t sometimes? We certainly did too last night, my lord.” He was about to protest, but she continued, “Maybe once I start getting cast as lead, I can get my own place. Mr. Piazzi told me he would pay me more once that happens.”

“Siena…” Anthony turned around, caressing her face and trying to get her to relax. He hadn’t wanted to make her upset. “You don’t have to worry about the money. I can get you a better place. A nice house in a good neighborhood, some servants…I could give you some money for expenses too. You don’t have to live like this.”

Siena had had an arrangement with an older gentleman before Anthony, just as she had started at the opera. She wasn’t ashamed of it, she would’ve never survived in London otherwise. But her and Anthony had never discussed payment before. Oh, he had given her stuff, a new dress, some pretty expensive earrings, a necklace once. It was standard practice. Siena wasn’t stupid to not know what it all meant. He had been showing his appreciation for her services. And yet, for a moment, she had forgotten who they were. She had let herself pretend they were just two people who liked each other. 

“And what am I supposed to do in exchange of that, my lord? Sit around and wait for you the whole day? Open my legs whenever you want?” She couldn’t hide the anger in her voice. She hated Anthony at that moment for reminding her what she was and what she would always be for a man like him. Just another convenient whore.

“No, of course not! You…you can do whatever you want. You are still going to be who you are.” Anthony paused, his hands going through his hair in frustration. “This is not coming out like I wanted it to.”  

“Try again, my lord. How did you want it to come out?” The words were still biting, but less so. 

Anthony looked down, and Siena noticed he was turning around the watch in his hand. 

“I don’t know how to do this right. I’ve never been in a relationship before.” He had been with other women, of course, but none had lasted as long as what he and Siena had. And none that he wanted to last for a lot longer. “I just…I thought about you spending the night in that sorry excuse for a couch in the cold living room and I wanted to do something about. There’s no reason for you to live in these conditions when I can give you something better.”

Siena bit her lip. He was still staring down at the watch and she moved closer, until she was seating in his lap. She took the watch from his hands and carefully placed it on the bedside table.

Anthony finally looked her in the eye.

“I want to take care of you.” He said simply.

She could hear the honesty in his words and see it in his eyes. Her left hand went up to his hair, caressing it softly, while the right one settled on his bare chest, above his heart.

“What happens when you grow tire of me?” Anthony opened his mouth, but she quickly put a finger on top of it to stop him. “Or when you finally marry someone?”

He kissed the finger still on top of his mouth. “If I may speak now…” Siena removed her hand from his mouth. “I think you’re forgetting a couple of things.” He said, his hand going around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

“What?”

“I have three brothers, two of them already old enough to have children, so I don’t have to get married. And…” He caressed her chin and brought her closer for a slow kiss. Before Siena could deepen it, he pulled apart. “Why would I marry? No one will ever compare to you.” 

He saw her smile for a moment before kissing him hard in the mouth and he knew it meant she had accepted his proposal.

“I can’t wait until I have you on a proper bed.” He said between the kisses.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”