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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months

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DCxDP fic: Copyright

The first time it happened, the Waynes were walking around a street market, glancing at the art, when a woman wearing a Red Hood jacket and drinking out of a Red Robin coffee traveling mug struts by.

The heroes stop to stare, more in shock, to see how well the two items are done, which grabs her attention.

She grins at them, waving her cup. "You guys like the bats? You should check out both nineteen. He sells all official stuff."

"Official?" Dick repeats.

"Yup. He has it all trademarked." She says, pulling out a business card. She hands it to Dick with a smile before bidding everyone goodbye. Babs reaches up, snatching the card from Dick's slack hold, pulling out her phone to research the name.

Babs hisses through her teeth when she finds out that, yes, whoever the artist is, they did, in fact, trademark their designs. But not only did they cover their art, but they also put a copyright over the idea of all the Gotham heroes.

"He copyrighted Batman!?" Tim demands, reading over the baby's shoulder. "The symbol, the technology, the fighting moves- his shadow!? How!?"

"No one else did," Bruce answers with an amused smile. "He probably realized this and decided to slap one on while he had the chance."

"He can't do that!" Tim shouts. "Batman should sue him."

"Kinda hard to take someone to court regarding vigilantes." Dick shrugs his shoulders. "The Bats are illegal themselves, and they didn't copyright before this guy did."

"He owns Robin!" Jason announces with a laugh.

"That son of a-!!" Dick shouts, twisting around and stomping down the booths. People who recognize them jump out of the way for the raging celebrity. The rest of the Waynes were right behind him, a few slightly surprised by the pure anger on the eldest face.

Not Bruce or Jason. They see and personally know Dick's rage.

"How dare he try to claim Robin!" The eldest hisses, rounding the last row and stumbling to a halt. The rest are unprepared for his sudden stop, so they stumble into his back.

Grunts of pain and slight soft swears are heard as the group tumbles over onto the ground. Dick is unfortunate enough to end up on the bottom, feeling the total weight of his family. He's pretty sure Bruce's elbow was digging into his lower back, and Tim's head had slammed on the back of his neck.

Maybe Alfred was right about them going on a stricter diet. Ouch.

"Get up this instant. We are ashamed of the family name." Damian hisses from where he is standing above them. Of course, Cass is next to him with a cheerful smile.

Both of them had danced out of the collision in a way that appeared accidental to the untrained eye. Bruce likely let himself fall because he enjoyed causing scenes as Brucie Wayne, no matter how much he denied it.

"Dick." Jason groans, taking the hand Cass held out for him with grace. "Why did you stop?"

"Look at both nineteen." Dick hisses feeling Tim delibertly dig his elbow into his back. His brother offers him a sweet, innocent smile that does not hide the anger in his eyes. Sometimes Dick wonders if anyone can spot the pettiness in Tim or if his madness hides it.

"Oh," Steph whistles when she hopes off of Bruce to stare at the booth owner. "Yeah, I get it. He's hot"

"No!"Dick shouts, rising up from the ground. There is horror in his voice that makes the Bats all tense. "No, he is not hot. That's disgusting Steph. Look at him. Tell me who's face that is."

It's Bruce who spots it first. "I have more chidlren?"

Damian gasps. "Father, you have more blood, children!? How did you recognize him, Richard?"

"He looks exactly like Bruce at that age." Dick hisses, leaning closer. "The Titians and I met Bruce when he was sixteen during a mishap with a time wizard. I may have pretended to be a butler sent to Wayne Manor for training to get access to the cave. The cave was the location that we had to use to go home."

"That was you?" Bruce demands. "I thought that was an idiot who was in love with Alfred."

"Ew, why?"

"You kept complimenting his cooking, doing chores for him, and trying to take him out for a fun night in town!"

"Well, excuse me for wanting Alfred to have a week's vacation from the broodiest and most troublesome teen!" Dick shouts, throwing his arms in the air. "You were literally hissing at him whenever he told you to bathe!"

"I didn't like water back then!"

"Hey guys?" Jason cuts in. "Tim left."

Both men swing to stare at the second eldest with twin looks of confusion. "What?"

"Tim. He's over there. Yelling at kid-Bruce." Jason points to where a crowd is slowly building around them. Tim is in a screaming match with the owner. There is a lot of hand-waving, faces turning red in anger, finally ending with the owner throwing himself over the Red Robin merchandise with a protective little snarl.

Tim reels back and punches him in the face.

"Oh shit," Steph sighs, running towards the both as the owner is quick to tackle Tim. The Waynes find it odd that they must show off their bat training to break the two apart.

And that's how the Waynes get on the front cover of almost all media coverage that tells the story of Danny Fenton (Wayne). Bruce's second secret love child with a married woman (Jack and Maddie had briefly opened up about their marriage back then, so neither was mad) and who had met his biological father after a public fight with his adoptive brother.

Danny would like to go on record as saying that he was unaware of why Tim cared so much that he saw a fantastic business opportunity and took it. It's not like Batman could challenge his copyrights, and if the crimefighter came for his kneecaps over it, he would find himself against the Ghost King.

True the Ghost King in name only, but the Bat didn't know that.

Danny will be honest if asked how he felt about finding out Bruce Wayne is his father. He already knew. When he was around twelve, his parents sat him down and told him. It was how his dad explained where babies came from, the genuine Welcome To Puberty! Talk and what open marriages meant—which was as horrific as it sounds—and they never bothered with it again.

Because Jack Fenton had been the one to raise Danny, he had been the one who held him after his mom gave birth and had been the one who loved him with all his heart despite not being blood-related.

He had a bigger reaction to having to fist-fight Tim Drake over the fact he made Red Robin the official LGBT+ member of the Bat family because he is bi, no matter how much Tim insists Red Robin was straight.

It sounds to him like Tim is deep in the closet and in denial. Bisexual Red Robin forever!

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Copyright #Part 1 #Danny is Bruce's bio kid #Dick was shock to see Teen Bruce again #Tim is so in denial he's in the Nile.#Teen Bruce had beef with the butler in training #Danny saw the dollar signs for the bats

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igotanidea · 7 months

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Stuck: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

A/N: seriously, I almost titled this chapter "idiot" , XD (and that's also the spoiler alert XD)

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

***

One year ago

„When will you get those irrational thoughts out of your head Y/N?”

“What irrational thoughts?”

“About marriage out of love. No such thing exist in the world, my dear and if you do not start living in reality you shall become a spinster!”

“Mother!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the harsh and unjust words. She was still so young and to almost be called an old maid—

“Do not raise your voice young lady. You shall marry this season otherwise you would be putting our noble house in a very compromising position.”

“But-“

“Ah! Do not object your mother Y/N. You’ll do as I say. I know what’s best for you and you shall follow the lead. And that is precisely why you’ll accept when Lord Bridgerton proposes to you.”

“Lord Bridgerton!? Which one!?”

“The viscount, dear.” Her mother fluttered her fan imperiously. “Lord Anthony Bridgerton.”

“There is no possibility that I-“

“Hush!”

“Mother I –“

“You’ll say yes.” The tone of voice became much more commanding, leaving no space for discussion. It was like Y/N’s fate has already been decided.

“And why shall I? Because the viscount has decided he has enough pleasantries exchanged with modistes and actresses and other ladies free of the burden of the title. Because mighty Lord Bridgerton decided it is time to tie bounds with a young noble lady, who will be naïve and foolish enough to look at his antics without as much as a blink of an eye. Who will – dear lord – bear him an heir to the title and be the perfect little wife he would order around.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” her mother raised from the chaise longue with cheeks flushed due to her daughter impertinence. “You will accept the proposal!”

“I will not!”

“Your father has already made the appropriate commitments!”

“Commitments!?”

“You shall be courted like a young lady should and get married in the fall.”

“Mother!”

“It has been decided. Now, you go and make yourself presentable. Lord Bridgerton has announced his visit in the afternoon.”

***

The visit was a disaster, to use the light words.

It was clear as day that neither Anthony nor Y/N were fully content with this arrangement and subconsciously tried to discourage the other. That way, when one of them would actually break it off, said one would be to blame for the disgrace, that would undeniably fall on both families.

However-

Despite some many character discrepancies they were both pertinacious and individualistic, ready to go the greatest length to have one’s own way. Neither of them was even thinking of surrendering easily.

Therefore, during his first appointment as a suitor Anthony was met with cold stares, minimum exchange of words and very noticeable distance on his future bride’s part.

Immediately matching the atmosphere and repaying in kind, only doubled in intensity.

Getting burned with the tea in response.

Causing a lot of havoc, many fake words of apologies and even more words of assurance that is must have been an unfortunate accident and he holds no grudge.

For obvious reason the time spend in L/N;s household was cut extremely short and Y/N was send to bed without supper to think about her erratic behavior.

Next few visits were no better.

Especially not the one when Anthony and Y/N were to reveal to a wide audience the nature of their acquaintance by strolling on the promenade, beaming with happiness due to their soon-to-be marriage.

“Dear lord, you are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony hissed in Y/N’s ear grabbing her arm with a bit more force than needed “Smile.”

She put on a fake grin when they were passing by some familiar face, but as soon as the woman was gone she turned to Anthony throwing daggers at him.

“Giving me orders already, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Hopefully you can be tempered if we start getting you used to it this early.”

“Oh! Perhaps it should be you to change the perspective my lord. See the real face of a lady you decided to meet at the altar?”

“And here I though your wonderful mother raised you better.”

“Do not dare speak of my mother the ill way!” she almost yelled, almost yanking her hand free from his grip, stopping the walk and challenging him to do something reckless.

“Forgive me.” He became serious in an instant and the words of apologies actually seemed honest. “You are right, I overstepped.”

“Thank you.” She responded with a deep sigh. God knows how much it took for her to stay calm. Regardless of the on-going conflict and differences in views between Y/N and her mother, the young woman would never let anyone offend her family. Not even Lord Bridgerton. And he should know that straight away.

“Perhaps we have started off the wrong foot, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I believe so. Seemingly we have a way to bring out the worst in each other, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Is that a way to tell me I have already seen you on your lowest behavior?”

“Compliments, Lord Bridgerton, you have endured my greatest efforts to cause you dispiritedness.” Despite herself she let out a chuckle.

“I am known for my endurance even in the least favorable circumstances.”

“I shall keep on my efforts, nonetheless.”

“I am deeply convinced that this will be the case”

***

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to this writer’s attention that the affection between Viscount Bridgerton and young lady Y/L/N is in full bloom.

Despite the initial misunderstandings and noble behavior, that hasn't deceived any member of the ton, even if have been well played, recent news and observation has shown that maybe there's less pretending and more truth to it.

Much to the ton’s discombobulation, young pair has been seen laughing together while the viscount resorted to courting in the way that resemble his late father and Lady Violet Bridgerton manner.

This writer daresay that no elite member would have ever do as much as dream of Lord Anthony Bridgerton picking meadow flowers for his chosen one while walking in the fields, away from prying eyes. Neither anyone would ever think about the forever dreamer lady Y/l/n actually so close to fulfilling her dream of marrying out of love. Irrational thoughts, as someone may put.

It is yet to be decided whether the on-going courtship between lord Bridgerton and lady Y/L/N will be a source of impending scandal in the society or whether those two will actually succeed in keeping this lovable atmosphere for following years.

After all – real love is not easily found and even less easily kept once the obstacles arise.

***

Now.

“You are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony murmured taking Y/N;s arm and bowing to the passing nobles “Smile.”

Those words brought back some memories and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the history that was in fact repeating itself.

“What is so funny?”

“Your memory does seem so be failing my lord. Won’t you remember the last situation when you told me to express my happiness and contentment to the ton?”

“I—” Anthony cut off, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Seem like you do after all.”

“Y/N…”

“Been a while since I had to pretend I was content though, given the fact that I truly was, of late.” The hint of sadness and melancholy was not to miss and did not make it easier for Anthony to pursue on the apologies he was tirelessly pursuing.

“Y/N…”

“Good job on choosing the right name since the person, whose hand you are now holding for display seem to be too much for you, my lord. To say the full truth I am fairly surprised you chased me here instead of focusing on spending time with one of your-“

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

“Oh, I shall not, god forbid. I shall keep the pretenses as any lady married into a good family will.” She send the brightest smile to some kids that were running around, preached by their parents, holding her walls up.

At this point, mockery and distancing herself from the entire unfortunate events, if not fight, was the only way to prevent the emotional and mental breakdown and falling into tears. She was hurt. She was deeply hurt on a level she never thought existed. Anthony’s behavior hit precisely in all the sensitive spots, leaving her overthinking and wailing inside. Reminding her of all the years in her family’s household, being forced to act according to the standards, which she constantly broke, defying all the rules of ossified society and paying a heavy price for being herself despite the odds.

Being called too much, constantly.

Until she met Eloise, which was freeing. Y/N could finally feel like herself, spending a lot of time with Bridgertons.

And then meeting Anthony.

And actually creating a happy story with him, believing she would once and for all be free of the typecasting and tag putting.

But he started behaving in the same way to which she was exposed her entire life.

Too much.

Not enough.

And it made her angry.

“Please do forgive me for not easily being shaped in the wife you want me to be.”

“Shaped? I never wanted you any different!”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly and it got her furious glance of her husband’s and the tightening bruising grip on her wrist. “you’re hurting me. Again.” The emphasis put on the last word actually made Anthony realize that he was not made of stone, but the words he wished to say were not coming easily.

“Y/N…” he clenched his jaw. She was mocking and challenging him even now, when he was trying to admit he was wrong and trying to apologize for the wrongdoings.

“Yes, my lord?” she took a step back, smiling in that light way that made him even more furious.

“I believe you wanted to spend time on an intellectual conversation with my sister. Forgive me-“ he bowed in a distant manner reserved for strangers rather than spouses “-for being as impertinent to interrupt ladies’ time. I shall withdraw and leave you to continue on your – surely important- exchange”

And with those words, much to the shock of not only Y/N, but also Benedict and Eloise, who were still following them, Anthony bowed again and started walking away, raising clouds of dust due to the speed with which he rushed off from the place where he left his beloved wife.

Feeling the weight of failure and heartbreak on his shoulders, without a single way to make up for his mistake and keeping the face of a viscount at the same time.

Convinced that she hated him and there was no way to regain her favor and affection.

next part (finale!) : Just right

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

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mv1simp · 15 days

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for anon's request: max with another driver's younger sis, same age gap <3

Girls Need Love ♥️

Max Verstappen x Sainz!Reader

girls can never say they need it, girls can never say now, oh now (give it to me like you need it, baby)

You're the youngest cousin in the Sainz family, your papa's most precious princessa. Unlike your cousins and brother, who get to openly show off their many romantic conquests, you have been raised to be demure and shy about boys. But when you meet your older brother's friend, Max, you can't control the desires within you. You want him, and you're ready to show him just how much.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, sexual tension, size kink, dom!Max, sub!Reader, 5k WC

It was no secret that your older brother, Carlos, was a notorious playboy. He gets it from his father, your tias had always gushed, he was always a ladies' man too! Growing up, you'd always see Carlos easily charm his way with younger and older women alike, his devilishly good looks just too hard to resist. And he wasn't discreet about it either - you'd had to bang many a time on the wall separating your rooms on family vacation when him and his fling of the month had been a touch too enthusiastic with their activities. Your large family would always laugh when they'd emerge from their room to join brunch, well into the late morning, and tease Carlos that the tequila and oyster paella last night must have had a kick to it, ay carino?

You'd join in on the teasing, giggling and enjoying the blush Carlos would always get when you called him el estupido rompecorazones, an idiotic heartstealer. When you were younger, you had always thought that one day your tios and tias would tease you too, on family vacation when you returned from a lazy afternoon stroll with a boyfriend, all flushed - but as you grew older, you'd accepted it as just a childhood fantasy. You weren't shy by any means (you had Spanish blood after all! A Sainz through and through) but you didn't possess that natural flirtatious nature, the ability to give those romantic smoulders that your older brother seems to have been born with. And when you focused on your career more and more, working as a sought after financial advisor to your brother and many of his athlete colleagues, you found that by age 26 you'd only had a small handful of short relationships.

The one time you'd brought a college boyfriend home - your first and only serious relationship - your father had certainly had a very different attitude towards him compared to his usual friendliness to Carlos' girlfriends. You'd told your papa afterwords how embarrassing it'd been that he had interrogated your boyfriend over dinner, wanting to know what his future plans were on a first meeting, only for him to ruffle your curls and press a kiss to your forehead to melt away the upset expression you had. Ay, mi princesa, I have to make sure all these tontos are good enough for you, hmm? You're far more precious to me than your idiota brother and cousins.

Although his words were meant to soothe your frustrations, they just made you feel uneasy - you were also a hot blooded Sainz, you also wanted to passionately love and be loved! But it seemed that as time passed and everyone around you brought their paramours to the Mallorca vacation home, you would always remain the sweet little princessa, the youngest and innocent cousin.

You'd put your love life to the side for the past year, focusing on your rapidly expanding business portfolio. So when Carlos mentioned one of his friends had signed a very generous contract this season, and needed advice of how to invest a good chunk of it, you'd immediately said yes without knowing who it was. You hadn't expected to find yourself sitting across the table from Max Verstappen. Of course, you and Max had met many times when he and Carlos had raced on the same junior team - but you'd been much younger then. You remember always thinking the serious, intense Dutch boy had been so handsome, had even developed a schoolgirl's crush on him - but as your older brother's racing team mate who was notorious for enraged outbursts, he was off limits to you in your family's eyes and had ignored you most of the time.

But now, years later, things were quite different with you being a 26 year old woman, fully matured into your gorgeous curves and thick lips, and those famous Sainz wide brown eyes, framed with long lashes. Even now though, the tall Dutchman made your heart flutter when he laughed at your apology for the delay in setting up a meeting, your idiota tonto of an older brother had conveniently forgotten to mention that his friend happened to be the current F1 world champion. You two shared a delicious lunch at the beach club overlooking the stunning Monaco marina, stimulating conversation flowing over a glass of light white wine and fresh oysters. Although you discussed various business plans, you were surprised to find how easy it was to laugh at many other things with the handsome driver, from childhood memories to how you’d found college in London to his two cats named after nightclubs and your one dog dutifully named after your childhood favourite apper - Snoop.

You couldn't help but blush whenever Max smiled at you with his enticing lips, looking so gorgeous with his tousled blonde hair and dressed in a rare white linen shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and thick biceps.

After you'd covered the different investment options he could go for and he had selected the ones that peaked his interest, you wrapped up the business meeting by reaching into your Chanel purse to pull out your card - you always had a rule to pay for your clients and give them a first class experience.

To your surprise, Max had already given his black Amex to the waiter when you had touched up your lipgloss in the bathroom earlier. At your gentle protests, he explained that his mother would kill him if he didn't look after Carlos' younger sister - as would your father, he joked. You laughed easily with him as he walked you back to your car, a cute Mini Cooper, agreeing that yes, your papa probably would have the head of any man who didn't treat his princessa right. As you drove off, you couldn't help the longing in your heart for wanting Max to pay because he cared for you, found you to be a beautiful woman, rather than because he was looking after Carlos' younger sister.

You made sure to put those unprofessional desires to the back of your mind at your next meeting 2 weeks later, this time at your small but luxurious office in a ocean-facing building in downtown Monaco. You'd recently moved here with your small team, you explained as you greeted him at the entryway to guide him to the elevators, as so much of your clientele was based in the area. In the reflective surface of the elevator walls, you don't miss how his intense blue eyes rake down the back of your curvy figure, taking in how the dress you’d specifically chosen for today hugs you just right, especially over your ass - where his gaze lingers for a second too long.

You’re blushing again as you exit, pleased that you had drawn his attention. He remains the perfect gentleman for the rest of your meeting, listening intently as you break down the personalised investment plan your company has created for him. He’s very impressed with your selection, every option carefully curated to preference he’d mentioned at your lunch, even in passing, and presented in a minimalist layout, just as he liked it. His praise brings back the same desire and want you felt, unable to dampen it this time.

Over the next three months you meet Max to review the physical investment options you’d agreed on. If you’re being honest, this sort of task would generally be managed by a more junior executive at your small firm - but you told yourself that you were choosing to meet him yourself because he was such a VIP client, and not because you felt a rapidly growing attraction to the handsome blonde. And after touring the various developing high rise complexes or promising start up businesses that his investments were going to, you two would always end up going for lunch and a drink together afterwards. And sometimes you’d see him on his morning jogs while you walked your dog. Seeing Max kneel down to play with Snoop had been so adorable you’d asked if he knew a good bakery in the area, hoping he would join you. To your delight he did, taking you for a rich hot chocolate and freshly baked croissant that ended up happening regularly, especially once he invited you to join his group for padel. But even when you started seeing him so often, Max remained the perfect gentleman, never letting his gaze drift or hands wander after that one time in the elevator. So you reminded yourself not to read into it when he offered to show you his favourite sights of Monaco, as you’d still recently moved here, taking you for long drive along the beautiful Azure coast.

Despite your internal turmoil, you’d dressed in a pretty floral minidress, hoping he might enjoy the view of your soft thighs. But instead, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from admiring how sexy he’d looked when driving, one hand on the wheel, showcasing his thick, veiny arms and the other resting on the console. As he’d chatted away, confidently navigating the winding roads, you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do if you redirected his large hand to grip your thigh instead. You’d instantly blushed when you heard him calling your name, realising that you’d tuned him out and blamed it on the heat. So he took an exit and next thing you were enjoying the most delicious strawberry gelato you’d tasted, moaning from the taste and licking up a rivulet that had run down your hand. When you looked over to Max to thank him for introducing this place, you have to hold back a gasp at how hungrily his gaze is fixed on your pouting lips. But then the sun catches your eye at a sharp angle and you blink, and when you look again the look is gone and he’s laughing at the sight of Snoop desperately trying to lick your ice cream out the car window.

Your poor little heart can’t take all this one sided attraction, you desperately needed to know if Max felt any desire to you like you felt for him. So a couple of weeks later, when you were meeting him for the last official signing of asset acquisitions at one of the downtown Monaco high rise buildings, you make sure you’re wearing another one of your irresistible dresses in an effort to catch his eye. As you reach past him to grab the pen he’d sign with, you can’t resist pressing your soft, plush tits against his large bicep, which looked so good again in a half zipped knit sweater. His gaze automatically flickers down to your low cut sweetheart neckline, lingering on your cleavage pushed against him a beat to long to be considered polite, before he draws his attention back up to your blushing face, to your pink glossed lips that you now bite. You don't miss the dark hunger swirling in his blue eyes, the tension thickening and sparks crackling, his hand reaching up to brush your cheek as both of you lean in-

Then your phone rings, your brother's contact photo lighting up the screen, ruining the moment. You curse internally at Carlos for cockblocking you even when he wasn't physically present, but you take his call just in case it was important (it wasn't. The idiota just wanted to complain about how Spain had lost the football to England). When you furiously whisper at Carlos to shut the hell up before hanging up and turning back around, Max is back to the almost infuriating gentleman self he is around you, handing you the signed papers with a polite smile. You try not to let the disappointment on your face show, because you couldn't figure out why the Dutchman didn't seem interested in pursuing you when you'd seen him out at the Monaco clubs, arms around pretty girls and flirting easily. Did he not find you pretty like he found them?

After the paperwork is all done and Max is walking you back to your car, he offers to take you out for a final celebration, this time an intimate dinner instead of your usual sunny beachside lunches. You spent the better part of an hour trying to pick the most tempting outfit, and then another hour applying your makeup to flatter your already pretty, dark features. You wanted to look absolutely perfect for him, knowing this might be the last chance you'd have in a while to use work as an excuse. And when Max saw you walk out as he leaned against his sleek discreet black Audi, you couldn't stop the pleased flush that spread across your cheeks when he raked his gaze over your short form, taking in how the elegant burgundy full length dress clung to your curves, complimenting you on how lovely you looked tonight, even more so than usual. You sweetly returned the compliment, which wasn't hard to do as Max looked so handsome in a baby blue button up and fitted pants, his broad muscles and large frame perfectly highlighted for you to ogle.

And after intimate Spanish dinner over soft candelight, laughing and sharing your latest stories of the week, enjoying more than a single glass of red wine for once, you couldn't help but hope that this would be it, the night where something finally happened between the two of you, because surely Max had just been holding back out of professional boundaries, yes? So after Max generously paid for dinner - as per usual - you accepted his offer to drive you home. The gold sparkly heels you'd worn worked very well to make your ass pop even more as you confidently walked - something that you made sure to capitalise on by walking ahead of Max as you left the restaurant.

And you'd been so sure all signs pointed to romance when he pulled up in front of your apartment, and you asked if he'd like to come enjoy the night view from your balcony with another glass of wine, and he'd briefly hesitated before saying Yes, of course, Schatje. You beam at him, melting at his use of the Dutch nickname, which he'd told you meant sweetheart when you'd curiously asked him when he began absentmindedly calling you that a few weeks ago. And it felt so natural to be up on your balcony with him, giggling with a bottle of wine after trashing him at Monopoly, sitting so close that you could feel his warmth radiating through his shirt as you kicked off your heels and sat down on the outdoor settee. And when he continued talking easily about all the ways he was certain you cheated when you lean your head against his strong shoulder, you took it as another promising sign. But then, when you'd looked up at him with your brown doe eyes and thick lashes, desperately hoping he would lean in because you thought the moment had been right - you'd only been met with disappointment after a long, long moment when he turned his soft blue eyes away. He’d tensed, saying he was sorry for keeping you up so late, he should head off now - avoiding your gaze as your eyes swelled as you watched him leave out the front door.

You didn’t see Max for the next two weeks after that, avoiding walking your usual weekend route or tagging along to the padel games. You felt so embarrassed that perhaps you’d read the signals wrong, and also so frustrated that you couldn’t be more like your older brother who had no problem flirting blatantly with others or giving them an open mouthed kiss. Would Max even like a girl who did that? Wasn’t he meant to make the first move as proof that he wanted you? Glumly, you moped about at work and at home, watching Bridgerton and eating strawberry ice cream out of the carton. When your family chat blew up as it approached the time of the year where you’d all meet up and spend time at the Mallorca home, you had already texted that you weren’t coming - but then found yourself having to answer multiple angry calls in Spanish from various relatives and decided it was just easier to give in.

Packing a bag with the essentials - sunglasses, bikinis and raunchy romance novels - you headed to the vacation home a week early to unwind and prepare yourself for the chaos that was your loving family, knowing that everyone would turn up with their latest boyfriend and girlfriend and you’d be teased about how you were too sweet and shy as usual. Sweet and shy your ass, you thought moodily, sipping on a frozen margarita you made as you lounged in a bikini by the pool.

Schatje?

You whirl around, thinking you were imaging things now, but there Max stood, looking as hot as ever in that favourite white linen shirt of yours. And it was open down the front too, revealing his toned broad chest to you for the first time. You got so distracted that you didn’t hear him the first time asking what you were doing there - to which you had to each arch a brow and haughtily reply that this was the Sainz family home, shouldn't he explain why he was here?

Turns out Carlos had apparently thought Max was too keyed up the past few weeks and getting twitchily close to the Ferraris on race weekends. So your idiota brother had tossed him the spare keys to unwind in the empty villa before everyone showed up - except for you. But I’ll leave, you were here first - Max had said, but you sighed, still wanting to be an accomodating host like your family had raised you to be, despite your hurt feelings, and generously said the villa was huge, you two could easily just stay out of each other’s way?

So you did both stay, keeping to opposite ends of the villa - at least for the first few hours, anyway. Max had been unable to resist the smell of the enchiladas you’d cooked up for dinner and you hadn’t been able to stop drinking the ice cold G&Ts he poured whenever you asked. And a couple of days passed like that, you two easily slipping into friendship again, ignoring the tension on your balcony from last time. But seeing Max in your summer home stirred up that desire within you, made you ache for him and leave your bikini bottoms all sticky and wet after you’d stare at his shirtless, muscley back from behind your sunglasses all afternoon. It was pathetic, really, that you had the real man right there in front of you but couldn’t seem to charm him.

And the torture didn’t stop even when he was out of your sight, when you woke up flushed in the middle of the night, heady from the pleasure of a recurrent dream you’d been having lately about a certain tall blonde Dutchman having his way with you as he bent you over your office desk and dirtily whispered a you going to let me cum inside you, schatje? Instead of helplessly pining, you decided to give your frustrated little pussy some well deserved relief that night. Opening your French doors out the the garden, you made yourself comfortable on the soft outdoor sofa on the patio as you slid up your silky nightdress and took your favourite bullet vibrator right where you ached the most. It was risky, sure - but it was your house, and it was far too hot in the summer heat to get worked up indoors. Besides, Max was asleep, all the way on the other side of the villa. There was no chance of him hearing what you were doing this many doors down.

So that’s why you didn’t hold your sweet moans back, getting louder and louder, eyes fluttering shut from the delicious pleasure your toy was bringing you, moaning his name on your lips just like you’d been doing in the dream. What you hadn't yet realised was that Max was very accustomed to being up at odd hours, gaming and sim racing away - but the summer heat had been intolerable as he ran warm anyway. And you certainly didn’t notice that your pretty show had caught the attention of the very man it was dedicated to, who was out on a late night walk to cool off.

He’d planned on minding his own business, truly, when he’d seen you throw your head back in pleasure - knowing that you were forbidden fruit as Carlo's little sister, having grown up protected and so naively experienced to the world of sin Max had been exposed to. You were far too precious, too pure, for someone as destructive and aggressive as him to touch. Really, he had planned on walking right back to his room, taking a cold shower and maybe jerking off to hypnotising image of you in a silk slip under the moonlight.

But then he heard you breathily call his name, your sweet voice calling out for Maxie, all high pitched as you remained lost in your fantasy. It’s what you’d called him when you were little, watching him admiringly from the junior Redbull garage as he and Carlos walked back from a race.

All shreds of self control he’d had to avoid getting involved with his friend’s sweet, protected younger sister - all got tossed aside. So when you became frustrated with your toy, biting your lip and scrunching your eyebrows cutely because it just wasn’t hitting the way you wanted - he couldn’t resist huskily asking if you want to try out the real thing, prinses?

You gasped, snapping your soft thighs closed and jolting upright, only to look horrified as you saw Max leaning against the patio railing, thick arms crossed across his shirtless figure. His hungry gaze and wicked smirk made it clear he’d seen you playing with your most intimate parts while moaning his name like a desperate little slut. You’d stammered out an apology, trying to talk your way out of the embarrassing scene, half painfully embarrassed and half furious he'd watched you so intensely even though he'd rejected you before. Max tilts his head, expression unreadable as he takes in your weak excuses. To your surprise, he stalks forward, standing in front of your seated form, murmuring that if you were truly sorry you’d make it up to him by picking up where you'd left off your cute little show.

You blinked, face flushed, asking him confusedly that you didn’t understand, you’d thought that he wasn’t interested in you, hadn’t found you pretty, after all the months of tension he’d walked away on the balcony-

Oh, schatje, Max sighed, large palm reaching out to brush your plush cheeks as he looked down at your upset face, his finger lingering against your pouting lips. I wanted you the moment I saw you in that black dress at our very first lunch. Your doe eyes widened as he continues, explaining how truly, he’d held back on his twisted desires for his friend's little sister, who he was expected to look after - but instead had been having filthy thoughts about, hmm? He’d used his other hand to palm the growing bulge then, making you gasp at the size even though his sweats. The things I’ve been thinking about, sweet girl…they're far too dirty for such a pure angel like you.

Heat spread through your body at his words, a dusty pink flush on your face. Shyly, you spread your legs wide open again, letting him see all of you, all of the wetness that dripped down as you weren’t wearing any panties underneath your nightdress. You wanted to show him just how much you wanted this, how you weren’t some precious little doll that everyone thought you were. So even though it made you blush furiously, you looked right at him as you leaned back on the settee and slowly slid a cute manicured finger down your slit before entering yourself. The desire in Max's wide pupils was obvious as you moaned his name again, coyly mentioning that you'd always wondered if he'd be able to better stretch you out, your tiny fingers and toys couldn’t do the job?

You finally break him then, and he growls and bends down to pull you towards him, his broad shoulders blocking out the sky but his sea blue eyes just as gorgeous to look at as the stars. You giggle at how enamoured he looks gazing down at you, but then you’re gasping into his mouth as he leans down to capture your lips with his. And your gasps turn to moans as the filthy kiss preview what comes next. Soon his lips are trailing down your arched collarbone, over your sensitive tan nipples that Max swirls his skilled tongue around, murmuring that your tits were so goddamn pretty as his large hands squeeze the juicy flesh. You’re tangling your fingers in his soft hair as he teasingly suckles on your hardened nubs, arching into his mouth and tossing your head back.

And his wet kisses move lower, over your thick hips, and then he’s blowing softly over your exposed dripping pussy, holding your soft thighs open with a strong grip. Then he’s leaving slow licks up your dripping slit with a broad swipe as he chuckles that he’d been dreaming about this, too.

It’s all too much for you and you’re cumming all over his wicked tongue, and then his wide fingers, and then - once you beg for it and make his ears go pink from hearing you moan Maxie - you also cum on his thick cock. It’s just as pretty and swollen as you’d fantasied about, splitting you open in a way no man had ever been able to before. You’re screaming and squirting around it, eyes rolling back at the mind blowing pleasure you’re finally recieving.

He kisses you sweetly after you both have had your fill of multiple rounds, murmuring how good you’d been for him, how much he loved it, loved you. You blush under the praise and fall asleep on his broad chest, still lying there on the outdoor settee and enjoying the warmth of his muscled arms protecting you from the cool night’s breeze.

And when morning comes you’re suddenly anxious that it was just a one time thing, that he would tell you he disliked it, that he should never have slept with Carlos’ sister. But to your delight it it seems Max had been holding back on how much he’d been falling for you too. He shows you just how much after the two of you go for a swim in the azure seawater and eat a lazy brunch by the pool. He’s raking his heated gaze shamelessly over your juicy ass, droplets still drying off as you lounge on the sunbed in a little bikini. You’ve barely finished your mango smoothie when he’s yanking the knots and palming greedily with his large hands. Fuck, do you know how many times I thought about ripping open those tight dresses of yours and doing this?

You smirk rather smugly and turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, where he’s begun sliding his raging erection along your bouncy cheeks, your soft flesh enveloping the hard length. Why do you think I wore them? You respond teasingly. Definitely not what I normally wear to a client meeting.

He growls, speeding up his thrusts along your fat cheeks and delivering harsh smack to your ass as punishment for your seductive techniques. You squeal excitedly from the tingles shooting to your clit from his forceful slap. You jiggle your hips tantalisingly, pushing back on him and he licks his lips before delivering more harsh smacks to your quickly reddening ass. You moan wantonly, ass lifted up in the air and your blushing face buried deep in a cushion when he splatters his cum all over your back, coating your caramel skin.

You swipe a finger through it to teasingly lick it up, sultrily commented on how tasty his cum was. His eyes widen at your unexpected dirty words, blood rushing to his cock again. And then you’re walking off to go prep dinner ingredients, letting him enjoy the view of your bouncing bum and leaving him on edge. He’d certainly made you wait, after all. A Sainz was nothing if not petty when they wanted to be. You play nice that afternoon, before springing your attack in the evening by slyly asking him if he’d teach you how to please him with your mouth next?

He’d choked on his empanada, his expression cutely flustered at the pleasurable idea. You’d fluttered your lashes and said please, Maxie, I want to make you feel good like you did to me last night and he was a goner when he looked into your brown doe eyes. So he taught you, his fingers threading through your pretty curls as you look up adoringly at him from where you kneeled. He quickly realised that although your eyes looked wide and innocent, your sweet mouth was anything but.

Safe to say, when your family finally joined you later on and took one look at how their princessa had ensared a 6 foot Dutch millionaire who followed her around like a lovesick puppy, you eared a new nickname. El tentadora de Monaco. You’d giggled from your seat in Max’s warm lap, ignoring the bewildered gaze of the idiota Carlos as even your father had given the new couple his blessing. The temptress of Monaco had a nice ring to it, sí?

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed anon!! As always lmk what you think and feel free to send more requests!!

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #18+ mdni #carlos sainz

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wraithdance · 1 month

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Good Boy [part 1/2]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, loss of virginity (Simon), using sex as self harm, my man being traumatized and bitch-less, awkwardness, eventual reader mention, lots of internal dialogue I’m setting sumthn up for the next part

Simon is aware he wasn’t pretty or particularly personable. He didn’t ever really need to be.

Even before the scars and the night terrors that kept him up as he meticulously arranged and dismantled his service pistol, he’d never been one to get the girl.

The years spent supporting his mother and saving Tommy’s ass, while also surviving his father’s blows, took up what was a joke of a childhood. There were no movie dates or pretty birds under his arm or texting his phone (not like he had one). Not even the time to wank to whatever model graced the cover of the cheap magazines his mother hid.

He’d lost his virginity in the most clinical way in the back of the butcher shop he’d worked as a teenager. Couldn’t remember the face of the bold older girl that offered to suck his cock when he went on break. Simon had been befuddled that she’d wanted to repay him with a quickie because he’d discounted the cut of meat she’d been sent to pick up for her mother. He’d accepted nonetheless and followed as she lead him to the back of the alley between the shop and laundromat.

Simon had been stiff, unable to enjoy the feeling of her hot, pink glossed mouth taking his prick as far as she could manage. He’d been too preoccupied with the fear of being caught by his boss and the uncomfortable feel of her teeth snagging the sensitive skin of his shaft. He remembered her offense when she’d asked him if she was making him feel good and he’d said no.

At 18 he was still unaccustomed to the concept of lying to spare another’s feelings.

Expecting her to give up he’d tried to thank her (which offended her more) and stuff his cock back into his work jeans. Instead she’d rolled her eyes and lifted her skirt, positioning herself against the brick wall. She’s all but snapped at him to hurry the fuck up and put his cock inside her.

His hands had trembled as he worked himself into her cunt. She’d hissed around the gum in her mouth when he’d pressed the head of his cock past her slick hole, barking that he was too big and to go slow. He tried, the restraint it took to not chance her ire and rut into her like a dog made his teeth crack with how hard he clenched his jaw. She’d yowled like the female cat that made home behind the trash can when it was in heat. He’d nearly slipped out of her afraid he’d hurt her. She’d called him a fucking idiot and demanded he fucked her until she said stopped. So he did.

The force of his orgasm nearly made him black out, through the muffled roar of his blood in his ears, he’d been able to heed her warning to pull out.

He’d been apologetic about the cum that dripped on her open toed shoes. She’d ignored him and scrapped what she could off with a business card he kept in his apron, while he buckled his pants. She’d come inside to grab her parcel of meat and ignored him. His boss had come from the back office and took one look at the retreating girl before shaking his head at Simon.

When he’d joined the military he’d lost what was left of his naivety. There was no room for apologies and mincing words when seeing the life drain from your enemies eyes. For the first time in his life his roughness and straight speech was an asset.

Tactical. Strategic.

Those were the kind of things they said in praise as they pat him on the back.

He’d embraced it, embraced the part of him that would always be his father’s son and he raised hell in honor of his majesty.

He couldn’t look himself in the eyes in the mirror much less imagine the kind of life MacTavish went on about. Always talking about a house in the highlands and a pregnant wife with a barn full of children.

‘Ye can’t tell me ya don’t want the same L.T’

Johnny would say in the dead of night. Always while ‘keeping company’ at Simon’s shoulder while he watched the world through his sniper. Simon’s hands had always sweat beneath his gloves at the talks of imagined lives outside of the shithole safe house they were holed up in. Sometimes he’d grunt noncommittally and Johnny would take the hint and entertain himself with something else. Other times it took a gruff

‘Shut the fuck up MacTavish’

Johnny would be blissfully quiet awhile and the part of Simon that was still his mother’s son would rear his head long enough to transmute a sense of guilt. It was always short lived because Johnny was persistent, forgiving.

He’d bounce back after some time and laugh at whatever joke Simon had in his arsenal in lieu of an apology.

‘It’s alright L.T we’ll find ye a nice Lass to settle down with’ MacTavish’s eyes would sparkle in mischief. Convinced that was the solution to every problem.

Simon thinks about it often when in the bare apartment he calls home when forced on leave. On nights he can’t think of anything but of the echoes of blood and blows across his body, he thinks of what it would be like to have something to come home to. He never gets too far because there’s no frame of reference to use. Just a nameless girl who’d taken his cock in an alley way.

Simon learned that the more he lost himself to the entity that was Ghost the more women gave him the time of day. It was like the self loathing and dark acerbic energy that kept him tethered to the living was a beacon.

The first time it happened he’d made a mousy girl cry. She’d been dared by her friends to approach him at a bar. He’d felt her eyes on him throughout the night, choosing to ignore her. The mask protected him from the itch that came with being perceived in civilian life. He’d been somewhat prepared for her to get the courage to come up to him, having learned that some people were stupid enough to go against their predator/prey instincts. He hadn’t been prepared for the soft hand that trailed across his back to get his attention.

He’d humiliated her. Towered over her and cut her down with words until dark spots danced at the corner of his visions, until she’d burst into sobs. He’d thrown down cash to cover his tab and left. The echoes of her friends calling him a fucking bastard on his heels.

Much like the first time he’d had sex he responded better to blatant requests to be fucked. The requests nearly always when out at drinks with his team. He’d gotten good at recognizing the telltale signs of desperate interest. The glance over of his mates, the dilated pupils as they took in his mask and covered form. On the days he couldn’t be arsed he ignored them. When he needed to feel something other than nothingness he’d meet their eyes. Signal with his head to meet him in the dingy hallway or the back alley.

Always the same as the first time. Spreading their legs against the brick, rutting deep and wasting his spend on the asphalt. With experience he’d learned to grip their necks and maneuver their bodies just so. Overtaking their senses and giving them the fantasy of being just a cunt for him to fuck. In the end he always felt like the one being used.

Sometimes they wanted more from him. A kiss, a call, a second time. He’d occasionally entertained it, the prickling desire to have that dream Johnny painted. It always ended the same. His career kept him away, he was too closed off, the novelty of fucking the guy who scared their friends wore off. And he was left feeling more like a shell.

He stopped recognizing himself in the mirror after a while. A stranger stared back at him with lifeless eyes and a body that belonged to someone else.

The night he met you he’d been unprepared. You’d stared at him like the others. Flickering eyes back and forth taking him in with interest. Gaz and Johnny had noticed and made jokes that set his teeth on edge. He’d told them to piss off.

He caught you staring at him once more, holding your gaze with lidded eyes. You didn’t look away or act coy and embarrassed.

Good.

Subtly he motioned to the bars entrance. You frowned.

He watched you stand up and collect your bags and he took down the rest of his tepid beer. Gaz and Johnny whistled loud and obnoxiously, until Price rallied them in with a half hearted threat.

Simon is making his way through the crowded pub keeping track of your movements. He’s got a cigarette out and lit when you cautiously tip toe out into the night.

He’s watching your nervous shuffling from behind the tendrils of smoke. You seem to make up your mind about something because your shoulders set apart and you straighten your back. Brave little thing.

“Can you model for me-“

“Lift your skirt-”

Your eyes are peeled wide in disbelief. He’s honestly just as confused but hides it with a flick of the cigarette ash.

“Wot?”

“Uh? I asked if you could model for me,” you’re not quite fidgeting but you aren’t really focusing on him. Your eyes are looking just past his shoulder in a facsimile of eye contact. Something about it bothers him.

He flicks the half spent cigarette to the concrete and pulls away from the wall. You don’t step back from his size or flutter your eyes like a pretty bird. You’re taking him in like you’re categorizing him.

“Wots this about modeling? I thought you followed me out to ask for my cock.”

Your nose wrinkles at the crassness.

“No sorry, I thought you just wanted to talk in a quieter area,” you look around at the alleyway for a spell before facing him. “Honestly it seems a bit unsanitary to have sex out here don’t you think?”

He snorts. He’d never heard any objections before. He’d also never had sex in a bed either though.

Simon had long since learned he was good enough to fuck in alleys or cars between shifts. Sometimes couches if he made it across the threshold. Never had any qualms around it until you mentioned it.

It’s a grating thought he doesn’t want to dwell on. He’s turning to leave when you step in front of him with arms raised.

“Wait!” He is glowering down at you unimpressed.

“I’m sorry I really did want to ask you to model for me!” You’re panicking and inching closer to the bar door as if hoping to block his exit with your body. A laughable thought. You must realize it too because your hands drop listlessly to your side.

“Listen, I’m an author and I need someone to pose for a cover mock up for a series.” He scoffs.

“And you thought I’d be a fit?”

“Well yeah!” Your eyes light up in excitement and you ramble out a stream of things he doesn’t quite catch. His focus on the curve of your cheeks and the sense of life you emit. His cock is half chubbed in his pants watching you.

After awhile your rambles trail off and you stare at each other. Realizing he had no plans to respond you sigh in defeat.

“Look take my card,” you’re reaching into your pocket for a wrinkly square. “I’m serious I really do think you’d be a great model for my series and I’d really like to treat you to coffee if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Simon isn’t sure why he takes the card, but he does. He’s looking at the hand doodled picture of a dog and the chicken scrawl beneath the text stating ‘Expert Dog Walker’. He gives you a flat look that causes you to grimace.

“It’s my day job, you know what they say about starving artists and all.” You joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

He instead pockets the thin square and steps around you. You’re on his heels following him inside. He gives you a look as a sign of dismissal that you scoff at but you take the hint.

He watches you leave from the corner of his eye while he settles down at the table with his team.

‘You’re back a little early mate.” Gaz prods.

“The lass dinnae look too happy with your performance LT what did ye do? Do ye need me to tell you how to put it in.” Soap claps a hand over Simon’s shoulder that he shoves off.

Price observes him quietly with arms crossed. Simon doesn’t tell them about your odd little request at all.

He fingers the card in his pocket throughout the night. He looks at your scrawled name as he washes the eye black from his face, your card tucked into the mirror.

He has the number memorized by the time he’s done.

#wraith king #simon ghost riley

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piratefishmama · 3 months

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Just ONE chance

Stephanie Harrington never intended to be a whole presence online.

She hadn’t even really understood the whole thing at first, it didn’t exist when she was a kid! An if it did it sure as hell wasn’t in every nook and cranny of the globe like it now seemed to be. Kids with iPads, hands glued to phones, six year olds who simply had to have the latest Apple thing.

It was all Dustin’s idea. King of the Gadget. Overseer of all things technology. Gargantuan nerd. Stevie’s little brother.

Not biologically, Claudia, Dustin’s mother had basically adopted Stevie when her own parents had tragically lost control of the wheel during a storm and wrapped their car around a tree back when Stevie was still a teenager. Back when Stevie was still Dustin’s regular babysitter and very suddenly found herself alone having been babysitting when the news reached her.

They’d been coming back from a business trip that she hadn’t been able to go with them on because of school. They’d been so close to home. She’d heard the sirens. They’d been that close.

It was fine though, in one fell swoop, yes she lost her parents, but she gained Claudia, and Dustin, and that was enough, because she sure as hell didn’t get anything else from them. It was all swallowed up, snatched away by her parents business partners because people are sharks and she just… wasn’t prepared to fight them on any of it, especially not when her parents had stupidly left her without a will.

Apparently they believed they’d live forever! The money vanished, the house was sold, she was left with nothing.

With growing up in the Henderson house, came choices, some great, some really stupid, and some that’d led to the very happy accident of Rosie.

To be fair to herself, she’d been in quite a long term relationship at that point! It was a happy one too! She’d thought he’d be it. Sure he’d been a lot rough around the edges, at the start, it’d been a shame cycle at the beginning since he was in fact, a colossal prick, but he was also the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Like, unfairly attractive considering his personality, and he knew exactly how to touch her to melt her icy resolve into a watery mess.

But once he’d gotten away from his dipshit of a father, his step mother dragging him with her when she escaped the man too, once Stevie had laid down the law of how little of the bullshit he’d learned from said father she’d personally tolerate before he’d get a boot out the door, he’d come around.

The racism had stopped immediately. The attitude had ebbed bit by bit as feelings set in, and he’d become a regular ol handsome teddy bear, he’d allowed himself to soften after he’d escaped the only reason he’d had to protect himself.

He’d even started getting along with his step sister, one of Dustin’s friends.

Then stupidity happened when they ran out of condoms, her cycles stopped, and three months in, two drunk idiots in a pickup ran a stoplight while he was getting her some ice cream. Doctors said he probably hadn’t felt a thing.

Rosie came along, a beautiful little thing, had her dad’s soft cheeks, his stormy eyes, thick dark lashes and soft curls, but she took after Stevie in everything else.

Stevie didn’t date after that. A personal choice really. She’d lost her parents, lost her love, and now she had a little girl to focus on, she was done. She felt herself complete! So what if she was still in her mid-twenties. Life had dealt her a hand, she was going to run with it.

Rosie would always come first, and she didn’t like explaining where Rosies father was, she didn’t like the look of pity on people’s faces, the apologies, the rinse and repeat cycle, and so she just. Didn’t bother!

It was easier! She had Rosie, she had her adoptive mother, she had Dustin, she had Billy’s sister Max and her other half Lucas, she had Susan, she had Robin, her co-worker and platonic soulmate from that dumb job at the mall she’d picked up to help Claudia with the bills, she had a whole support network, and she was fine.

Soon Rosie was in preschool, and then middle school, and the internet became a household thing, houses had computers, kids had phones, then smartphones, laptops, tablets, and suddenly the internet was everywhere and everyone had to be on it.

So there she was now. Mid-thirties, with a little girl, and a house paid for by her little brother.

Dustin had struck gold with a job at NASA, he’d put the downpayment on a little two bed house with a cute picket fence lined garden for her when Rosie was born without consulting her, just did it and “SURPRISE STEVIE, now get the hell out of mom’s basement, Jesus Christ.” Kept paying until it was all hers, and that was that… until he came round with computers and gadgets and then she had the internet because Rosie would need it for school because while libraries were awesome he’d had to suffer the five books at a time, Dustin rule one too many times and the internet had UNLIMITED books.

And now Stevie had a smart phone, and apps, and Instagram was fun! Doomscrolling the FYP took up chunks of her days off work while Rosie was at school! She never intended to be a name on there. She’d heard that people could become known for stuff, go viral or whatever.

She never intended to do that. She was a mother. Not even a hot young mom either. She was in her thirties! She remembered when the world didn’t have internet, she was there.

She posted work out videos, never having lost the competitive streak she’d always had as a teenager, sports were her thing back in high school, Gymnastics specifically, which led into cheering. She’d done some competition once with the team but nothing huge, she was fit, healthy, and the subject of many a thirst comment that she pointedly ignored.

She’d posted the occasional rant about Sally the PTA bitch with the self-proclaimed “best potato salad in the State” while doing her morning makeup, still never paying much mind to the comments section, the little rapidly climbing number that signalled followers, or the occasional DM from brands wanting to ‘collab’.

She didn’t care for that, she just wanted to post her little videos in peace. In retrospect, if peace was what she wanted, the lunch trend… probably wasn’t the best one to pick up. It was just a trend though! She’d seen a few moms doing it! Just posting little harmless videos online of what they’d pack their kids for lunch every day!

Harmless, fun! She loved making Rosies lunches, she saw no harm in sharing the fun!

They were always affordable, packed with healthy options, and creative too! She tried her hand at sushi, Rosie hated it, Robin loved it, so Robin got the sushi rolls in her lunches instead, picked up every morning when she grabbed Rosie on the way into work, they were both going to the same place after all, Robin taking on the music teacher role at the Middle school Rosie attended.

She tried noodle jars, cool wraps, made shapes and fun little animals out of fruit, she got creative, but they were all very cookie cutter videos, they all had the same vibe, similar content, it was something to fill her free time that she enjoyed so never in a million years would she have ever predicted that ONE of them, would cause so much chaos.

It started with the beeping.

The incessant pings sometime in the early hours of the morning. Notifications on her phone going off one after the other until she was forced to sit up, bleary eyed, and stare with squinted eyes at the far too bright screen of her phone, then she silenced it and went back to sleep.

With the chaos of the morning routines, getting Rosie up, washed, dressed, packed up for school, and out the door, she didn’t think about the incessant little beeping she’d silenced. It was a distant memory buried under the fog of a heavy sleep and continued to be a distant memory right up until Dustin appeared at her doorstep at around one in the afternoon midway through her afternoon workout, ruffled, stressed, flustered, and frankly just a little too sweaty.

He bypassed all niceties, as usual, bulldozing straight to the point, he pinpointed her phone, which sat comfortably on the countertop, seemingly oh so innocent, grabbed it, brandished it up as if to highlight its very existence and just “Woman, do you LOOK, AT YOUR PHONE?!”

Now, Stevie was not in the business of accepting a tone like that, especially not from her little brother. No matter how much he’d shelled out for the house, the attitude had to go. “Tone problem you little shit, fix it now or get the fuck out of this house and try again later.”

To his credit, he took a breath, and fixed it “Sorry, I’m sorry, but—look! Look at it, please, for the love of Christ, the internet is freaking out.”

“What?”

“Your video yesterday! The one with the like… teddy bear thing you did? With the rice an the—”

“Rosies lunch?”

“Yeah! Have you seen the comments on it?” Stevie rolled her eyes and went about picking up her things, workout sufficiently disrupted, she wouldn’t be able to pick that pace back up now. “Stevie?”

“You know I don’t look at those, people get weird on the internet, it’s like it gives weirdos the perfect place to be their weirdest selves and not in a good way.” She’d looked at them once, curiosity had gotten the better of her once upon a time and wound up having to ask Max what ‘OF?’ meant. She’d taken the win, let it momentarily boost her self-confidence, and decided to never look again. She was done with all that.

“Stevie, this time… one of those weirdos, is famous.” Since it was the age of the internet, Stevie regarded him with a look of disinterest, ‘famous’ could be anything, it could be some dweeb behind a computer screaming obscenities at a mic hooked up to some ridiculously overpriced gaming PC for likes. It could be a podcast bro with half a brain cell kicking its long since dead other half, it could be—“rockstar famous.” Dustin clarified. “One of the guys from that band I like? Corroded Coffin, they just—” he swiped the phone, letting out a soft scoff as the screen just flicked to life, no security pin to be seen of course, no matter, he’d probably berate later, he had a video to find and—“Ah-hah! Look!” and a phone to once again shove into his big sister’s face.

“That’s not even my video!”

“I know! They took the comment down already, but it’s EVERYWHERE, look!” Someone had screenshots. It wasn’t just one video covering it, Dustin scrolled, another popped up soon after, someone getting a little too excited about what was probably the most unfortunate of accidents.

“Don’t they have like… I dunno, people running their accounts? A person? Maybe their internet person just forgot to log out of that account?”

“No! Eddie runs it! The guitarist? Eddie Munson, he usually runs it all himself so everyone thinks it’s him, AND—AND LOOK!” Dustin clicked on the Corroded Coffin’s account, then tapped on the most recent post. Just a big black square, with the word ‘Whoops’ in big bold white lettering, captioned ‘I regret nothing. Just ONE chance, sweetheart, just one.’ With a little prayer hands emoji. “He’s ASKING you out!”

“He’s being a freak on the internet” hands found her hips, the classic mom pose. Immovable, stubborn.

“He’s always a freak! But he’s really cool! He does like, Make A Wish stuff, and—and visits children’s hospitals dressed up like fantasy characters, and he runs DnD things on the account every few months an he’s just REALLY cool, I mean they’re all really cool but Eddie is really cool maybe—maybe you could—”

“Upend my life, Rosie’s life, for a guy I don’t know, who has a job that takes him all over the world, who probably has his pick of whoever the hell he wants so what exactly could I bring to the table to keep him around? I’m done with all that shit, Dusty… I had my time, I have Rosie, I have everything I need. What makes you think I’d even like him?”

“You liked Billy.”

“Get out.”

“No, wait, not like that, I mean, they’re the same! Well, okay, not the same, Eddie didn’t start out a giant prick an he’s never been racist, but they’re sorta similar, similar music tastes, shit fathers, he’s rough round the edges, lil scary looking sometimes but he’s just a big softie when you get past the whole, scary dog thing. Eddie’s like… if Billy never had a shit dad. I just think that maybe… if you looked him up, maybe you’d… I dunno, you’d like him… maybe he’d be your kind of guy… maybe you could finally find someone who appreciates you… you’re not supposed to be on your own, Stevie.”

“Yeah well, I’m not. I have Rosie, and Robin, an you guys… an y’know. Bob.”

“Bob?” One of her patented looks told him all he needed to know, he jerked back in revulsion “ew! God! Fine, could you just! I dunno, look him up or something? Just think about it, I swear he’s really cool an I’d—”

“You’d love free tickets to their next concert.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Alright then, nice to see you Dustin. Always a pleasure to have you round, please get the hell out of my house.”

“UggGGGGGHHHHH, STEVIIIIEEE!!!”

“Uggghh, DUSTIIIIN! You interrupted my work out for internet pervert nonsense.” She began shooing him toward the door “Shoo, shoo. I have a family sized bar of chocolate to work off my hips before it gets stuck there.”

“He’d love your hips! With the addition of chocolate bars or not!”

“Weird! Out!” Out the door he went, it closed behind him.

That of course didn’t stop him from yelling through the door, “Just look him up!! I promise you won’t regret it!” But she mostly ignored him, until he went away.

Mostly because… Dustin never spoke up in favour of men before. He’d even gone through a period of hinting at maybe just switching sides and dating Robin when he found out Robin was a lesbian, but both women had promptly shut that down every single time he tried bringing it up.

He wasn’t a huge fan of men.

He’d been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d had a strong female role model in Stevie who’d pushed through every trauma life had thrown at her, he had Robin, he had Max, Jane, Erica, he had Nancy his friend Mike’s older sister, one of his friends had also been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d been surrounded by strong women his entire life with only one real solid male figure.

And that was his middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. Which was kind of sad when you thought about it.

For him to really vouch for a man, it meant something! It wasn’t something to ignore, even if every instinct Stevie had told her to just. Leave it. What kind of man could a rockstar lifestyle have created. What kind of red flags could Eddie Munson be hiding that Dustin couldn’t (or didn’t want to) see.

Did he really even mean it?

Was it actually Eddie, and not someone else from the band? Would she be seen as foolish for even entertaining the thought? It wasn’t like she’d ever paid attention to the bands Dustin liked, so surely nobody would see her as a weird fan for thinking about it, right? She didn’t even approach him!

He approached her!

Shit like that didn’t just happen though. Or did it? Could it? Was she stupid to even entertain the thought?

Before she knew it, it was time to pick Rosie up, and she hadn’t even finished her work out. it was fine, her hips could handle a chocolate bar. For now. Its days were numbered.

#Piratewrites #justonechancefictlet #Part 1 of 4 #Rosies dad could have been ANYONE but i thought this would be fitting #Steddie #Fem!Steve Harrington #Stephanie Harrington #tw: past character death mention

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arthenaa · 10 months

Text

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

#arthenaa #mizu #the blue eyed samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu smut #Spotify

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spicysourchimken · 1 year

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Danny and Constantine's completely regular road trip

So I've had this fic idea rolling around my brain for about 3 months and I've decided to finally set it free into the ether (I have it mostly planned, about 9 of the 18 or so chapters). Its mostly because my energy has been down the drain

Constantine hears word of a new occultist practising some very advanced magic out in the US, he decides to investigate. It's not for league business, it's solely because he's annoyed someone is encroaching on his area of expertise (and also may or may not be a demon, but that's less of a concern for him)

Cue Constantine dropping in on Danny, who is about to preform an exorcism. Alone. And is a child. The two proceed to bicker where Constantine takes care of the problem himself, leaving Danny in the dust

Now 18 year old Danny Fenton, vigilante turned occultist is out for revenge. He rocks up to Constantine's next gig and handles it for him

Let's just say Danny isn't exactly thrilled when he realises its Constantine whose been screwing with him

And so goes the fic, two idiots following eachother around trying to sabotage eachother and get the job done before the other even has a chance

Constantine magically locks doors, Danny freezes things shut. Stealing things, purposefully messing up the others work. Dumb hijinks

At some point Danny loses his car and ends up (with the help of the sentient car) hiding in the trunk of Constantine's and getting away with it for at least a week

So now they're stuck together as they begin taking care of the supernatural goings on across the US.

Constantine and Danny are rivals to friends to father son dynamic

(Also yes I am Aware that this is essentially just supernatural but with a dp x dc coat of paint. It haunts me)

#dp x dc au #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc

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yandereend · 4 months

Text

Yandere Househusband

The wedding

P. 2/?

TW : normal yandere stuff, dubcon, reader is into it?, Tyler talks about children, both are like 18 or 19

Btw English is not my first language so please keep that in mind

🩵Also thanks to everyone who wrote nice comments under the first post🩵

You sometimes watched those trashy shows about the bridezillas who were obsessed with their weddings and made everyones live hell. Like many people you hopped to never be in a situation like this. But here you were sitting besides your fiancé while he discusses flower arrangements, acting like a giant brat.

Is it so hard to put together bouquets with ALL pink flowers?!

Sir we dont have enough pink lillies for all your decorations. You should reconsider some of your choices-

I‘m surrounded by idiots!! My spouse wanted pink lillies so i don’t care if you don’t have them stocked!! Just buy them!

That would be even more expen-

Just do it !!!

And with that Tyler took your hand and you both exited the flower shop. It was almost comical how such a small thing could affect a grown man so much, but hey it’s his day. Tyler had a big pout on his face so that called for your attention and pampering.

Tyler don’t be upset.

But its our day my darling, everything should be perfect! We spend so much time picking out your (suit/dress/whatever you want its your wedding) and my suit. The flowers have to match or everything was for nothing my dear!

Not everything has to be perfect.

Oh yes it does! Have you never been on pinterest ?

That was the whole wedding planning in a nutshell , just an avid pinterest user placing together the wedding of their dreams( yandere style). Sometimes it was cute seeing Tyler being so invested in the wedding, other times it was more than annoying to cater to his perfectionism.

You also often thought about how quickly things progressed. I mean you just graduated high school and are already engaged and working for your fiancés father. Tylers father, Eric, was a great boss, you often wondered why people were scared of him. It’s just your nice father in law! Always explaining everything to you and hyping you up as the next in line of the family business. I mean you’re almost a part of it.

And Tylers mother, Ramona, was the same, always acting like she’s your real mother and caring for you. Not to mention Tyler himself. You were not suprised when he didn’t went out to look for a job or university, he always promoted the idea of a traditional family with you as the breadwinner in the center. And hey, his parents gifted you a house as an engagement gift, so its safe to say that you wont suffer in the presence of those saints.

At least that’s what you thought of them, little did you know that they were the reason why most of your friends cut contact and your family hardly called after you moved out. But hey who needs them anyways.

So while all these thoughts ran through your mind here you were, walking down the aisle with your father and finally seeing the man of your dreams in his perfectly tailored suit and styled hair, with tears in his eyes witnessing your beauty.

Your wedding vow was rather short but still packed with the love you felt for your husband. And after he put himself together, because of his happy tears, he read the most beautiful wedding vow you ever heard touching your heart and everyone else’s in the chapel. So when you finally get to put the rings on each other’s fingers you both stand up there with tears in your eyes.

And when you both finally unite in a grand kiss your fate was finally sealed. Tyler had you finally completely in his grasp, even if you didn’t realize it. And he,as well as his family, will never let you go. So enjoy your wedding party with your family and friends, you won’t get to see them any longer my dear.

Till death do you apart.

🩵Thanks a lot I hope you enjoyed it, I am planning on making this a series so please comment ideas for your life with your new husband 🩵

#yandere fic #obsessive yandere #yandere community #yandere core #yandere x reader #yandere househusband #soft yandere #yandere fiction #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere husband #yandere bf #yandere boy #sub yandere #yandere writing #yandere #yandere stories

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plussizefantasia · 5 months

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More Body, More Money

Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

warnings: Allusion to smut towards the end, references to a female body and that body being bigger

an: holy shit sorry for disappearing for so long. I make no promises as to when I'll come back as I seem to have a habit of breaking those. I've been in a Bridgerton mood recently though and typed this on my phone in like an hour so no promises that it's all that good. I will say though that I've been working on a request recently and it's currently at 4k and counting which is by far the longest fic I've ever written and I'm not even to the good part yet. I've also finished outlining the rest of the parts for my Kili x reader fic. I think that's it though, thanks for reading this far if you did and for putting up with my bs.

“Darling, could you come here a moment?” Your husband called from his desk. Recently you had taken to reading while lounging on the couch in his study. It was a great way to spend time with your busy husband while also letting him get his work done.

You didn’t exactly know what he was working on at the moment but apparently, your presence was needed to solve whatever issue he had stumbled upon. It wasn’t until you got closer to his desk that you noticed the receipts and ledgers sprawled across his desk. He was updating the families' books and tracking the spending that you and the rest of his family had done that month.

“Yes, my love?” You moved to rest your hand on his back and traced it across his shoulders and on his neck. It was as if you two were magnets, unable to keep apart for very long. If you were close enough then you would feel your hands gravitating towards him. And if the way his arm moved to rest on your back as well, he had the same urges when in proximity to you.

“I’ve noticed something odd in the charges from the modiste.” Anthony handed you the papers. Both you and Eloise had gone to the modiste at the beginning of the month to be fitted for some new gowns to prepare for her second season in the marriage mart and your first season as the Viscountess.

“I’ll admit to not being the most knowledgeable about gowns and other frivolities my love, but is it normal for the cost difference to be this large? I mean when Ben and I get new suits the price is almost always similar.” He pointed to the two prices listed on the bill from Madame Delacroix.

You didn’t know how to respond to this, you knew the reason behind the price difference between yours and Elioises dresses, of course, it was something that you had thought of already. After all, it was the same reason that your younger sister always got more gowns than you every season that the two of you attended growing up. You were larger, and as the modiste you had gone to grow up with had said “More body means more fabric means more money.” more money that your father had deemed unnecessary so you had only ever gotten one or two new dresses while your sister would be fitted for five or six of the newest and most flattering styles.

But how could you explain this to Anthony? That your dresses cost more than his sisters because you were bigger, and that meant more money.

You knew Anthony loved your body, he worshiped it often in fact but there was a difference between getting lost in the softness of your embrace and seeing the real-life sometimes the financial consequences of living in a bigger body.

“Oh, Anthony, it is uh- just a matter of resources I suppose.”

He raised a brow at you. “I’m not sure I understand. What do you mean by resources?”

“Well dear husband, you and your brother are very similar in height and build which means the two of you have very similar resource usage, whereas myself and your sister are quite different in the… resource usage department.”

“My love, I need you to speak to me as if I am an idiot.”

You deeply sighed and prepared yourself to have the conversation that you had been trying and failing to get out of. “Eloise is small, therefore it does not take as much fabric to make her dresses, whereas I am quite well endowed and my dresses require more material. More body means more fabric means more money it is as simple as that.”

“That is preposterous, are you both not getting dresses?” His tone was getting more defensive, and it warmed your heart to know that he was willing to get upset at the simple fact that Madame Delacroix had charged you more because your dress was bigger. You had expected him to be embarrassed, and deep down somewhat afraid that he would realize that he had signed himself up for these extra expenses for the rest of his life by marrying you.

“Well darling, think about it, would you expect to pay the same amount for a child as you would for yourself? Do you not pay more for your suits than you do Greg’s?”

“No, I see your point darling.”

“That is all this is my love, different sizes of clothing cost different amounts. If it is a problem I can just see about getting some of my old gowns altered to make them somewhat nicer for the new season, that way you would not have to spend as much.”

“What? No. Darling, this is not about the money, I was merely worried that that woman had tried to take advantage of you, charging you far more than Eloise for the same thing. I couldn’t care less about the money. In fact, I think you should get ten more gowns made, show everyone in the Ton that I am married to the most voluptuous, sensual, and desirable woman in the world.” He pulled you closer to him so that you were standing in between his spread knees, you still standing over him as he leaned back in his chair.

Anthony began training kisses up and down the arm that he had grasped within his hand. Turning your wrist over so that he could place one at the center of your palm.

“I do not need ten new gowns, Anthony, that is far too much.” You giggled and protested, feeling more enamored with the man you married with every word out of his mouth.

“Perhaps I shall buy you ten diamond necklaces then so that I can have an excuse to stare at your chest as often as I’d like.” You snorted and gently smacked the back of his head. “Anthony Bridgerton, that is scandalous talk and you know it.”

“Nothing is scandalous between husband and wife, especially when the two are alone.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and lifted the corners of his lips into a sultry grin, one that had your knees feeling weaker by the second.

“All I really need, dear husband, is you.”

A smile that you could only consider adoring spread across your husband's face.

“And I you, my love.”

“No Anthony, I need you.”

His grin turned to a full-blown smirk spreading across his face, “Well, what the Viscountess needs she gets…”

;)

#anthony bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x wife!reader #anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #plus size reader #fanfic #plus size!reader #fluff #requests open #requests wanted

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [29] - Enticing

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: It’s important to have a plan in mind before certain meetings.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Fine, maybe Bucky did have a point.

You were two seconds away from jumping his bones and to annoy you even more, he was so busy with work that you could barely see him.

But thankfully, you had a solution for that.

“Take these home please,” you told your driver as you stepped out of the car, motioning at the multiple bags of lingerie sets on the backseat. “Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” he said and you closed the door, then made your way to the building. You took the elevator, then approached Bucky’s office and smiled at his assistant.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes Mrs. Barnes,” she said. “With his father.”

You raised your brows, then heaved a sigh and knocked on the door before opening it. George looked over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the couch and a smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there, am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, come in!” Bucky said as he walked to you and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. George smiled at you and stood up as well as you approached him.

“Hi honey.”

“George,” you greeted him back and let him kiss your cheek, then sat down next to him on the couch.

“I was thinking we could have lunch?” you asked and he made a face.

“I gotta meet Nat in half an hour sweetheart. Sorry.”

“About the raid issue?”

George raised his brows, looking between you as if he was surprised that you knew about it, but neither you nor Bucky commented on it.

“Well she also lost half a million,” Bucky said. “Needless to say, she’s furious.”

“Everyone is,” George said. “That cousin of yours is an idiot, Y/N. I mean there’s a difference between being new and being an amateur.”

“Stark called for an emergency meeting,” Bucky said with a smirk. “So did Clint, and I’m guessing so will Nat.”

You tried to keep your expression serene and heaved a sigh. “They will eat him alive.”

“Business talk can wait,” George told you. “How is your day going sweetheart?”

Not retorting to the condescending tone he thought he could hide was rather challenging, but you managed to control yourself. There was a time for everything, and you had to make sure not to look not as interested in just how Ian had screwed up, at least in front of George. You exchanged glances with Bucky who rolled his eyes, then turned to George.

“It’s going good,” you said. “I had coffee with Becca, then went shopping.”

“Oh what did you buy?”

All the lingerie sets you bought flashed in your mind and you bit back a smile as you stole a look at Bucky, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Jewelry,” you said, holding up your wrist to show your bracelet. “And yours, George?”

“Enjoying the retirement,” he said. “Something your father can’t do anytime soon, as it seems.”

You scoffed a small laugh. “He likes the job too much.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he muttered and you shot a look at Bucky who smirked.

“Yeah well, bad choice in heirs.”

“Has he talked to you?” George asked and you pulled your brows together, feigning confusion.

“About?”

“About what he’s going to do now that Ian screwed up in front of people that badly?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about the job,” you said. “But I’d say he made his choice. Now he just needs to train Ian.”

“That training was supposed to have started decades ago.”

You hummed. “And yet here we are.”

“If I remember right, your prenup said your second child would have claim on the territory, no?” George asked with a laugh. “Maybe you two should hurry up, Arthur does desperately need an heir it seems.”

The joke made your jaw clench. Of course he didn’t even consider you just like your father didn’t, but he was more than ready to accept your hypothetical child as the heir.

Anyone but you, apparently.

“Father…” Bucky muttered and George held up his hands.

“Just saying.”

“And that’s my cue,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch and George chuckled.

“Y/N, I was joking.”

“Oh I know, I just think it’s a good idea to see if my dad is alright now that you mentioned him,” you said, shooting him a fake smile before walking to Bucky to peck him on the cheek. “See you at home?”

“Absolutely,” he said and you walked out of the office, anger still poisoning your system.

Your father’s assistant told you that he was home today, so you went straight there without dropping by the company. As usual, the foyer and the rest of the house were full of your father’s or Ian’s bodyguards and his assistant was by the study door. You waved at her but before you could approach her, you heard your aunt’s voice echoing in the foyer.

“Y/N, hello!”

You tried not to grimace, then turned to smile at her.

“Auntie.”

She came closer to kiss your cheek. “Arthur is taking a call, let’s catch up in the meantime.”

“I’m actually in a hurry, I just wanted to check whether he’s alright—”

“He is,” your aunt assured you as she gently steered you to the living room. “Albeit a bit tense but you know, it happens.”

“Does it though?” you muttered as you sat down on the couch. She waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Ian’s tiny little mistake?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I have heard about the million dollar mistake though.”

She pressed her lips together.

“He is under tremendous amount of pressure,” she told you solemnly. “Running around everywhere.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Is that right?”

“And I told your father the same thing, I think he’s being too harsh with him lately.”

“Well, a lot of bosses want his head on a spike,” you pointed out. “I’d say he is being quite nice to him, actually.”

Your aunt shot you a glare but you only smiled, making her heave a sigh and clasp her hands in her lap.

“Arthur says people are pushing for a sit down,” she said. “And that Ian must be there for some reason. I don’t know why he insists on it—”

“Because if he didn’t attend it’d make him look even worse,” you said. “No one would take him seriously after that.”

“He’s not the boss!”

“He’s the heir,” you forced yourself to say. “Bosses can take heirs with them to the meetings. Father has a point, he can’t coddle him especially in a situation like this.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she insisted. “I’m sure Bucky has made them too.”

“He hasn’t,” you said, aware of the proud tone in your voice. “He was raised for this shit, so he actually pays attention. Unlike Ian.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Well you must talk to him,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“To Bucky? Why?”

“Ian needs someone in that room that will have his back.”

You tried to stop the laughter threatening to spill from your lips.

“And you think Bucky will do it?”

“He will if you ask him to.”

“Why on earth would I ask him to?” you asked with a scoff and she threw her hands up.

“Because we’re family!” she said. “Ian would do the same for you.”

“Ian would throw me to the wolves if the roles were reversed,” you pointed out with a chuckle. “You know it as well as I do. They’d eat me alive during that meeting and he wouldn’t lift a finger, he’d encourage it.”

“You’re being very unfair to him, Y/N.”

“Maybe you just forgot what your son’s personality is like because you barely spend any time with him,” you said calmly and she narrowed her eyes.

“Careful.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue and held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Bucky wouldn’t help Ian even if I asked him to,” you said. “He doesn’t take him seriously.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m gonna go on a limb and assume it’s because Ian makes mistakes that cost my father and the other bosses millions of dollars.”

“What’s a couple of millions in this business?” she asked with a small laugh. “Nothing.”

You heaved a sigh. “It gives a message, auntie.”

She crossed her legs, sticking her nose in the air.

“Either way, talk to Bucky,” she said. “Everyone says he listens to what you say, so it might be a good idea to put in some good word for Ian before that meeting.”

You arched a brow, but before you could comment on it, your father’s assistant entered the room.

“Y/N, he says he can see you now.”

“Oh thank you,” you said and got up from the couch. “Auntie. Always a pleasure.”

She just shot you a smile and you shook your head slightly, then followed your father’s assistant to his study.

When you got back home, Bucky still wasn’t back so you had enough time to put your plan into action. The set you had chosen for tonight was black; the lacy corset matching the garter belts holding your stockings. You were just done with fixing your hair when you heard Bucky opening the front door, so you threw yourself on the bed and grabbed the book on your nightstand to open it.

“Charm?”

“Upstairs!” you called out, turning on your stomach and swinging your legs back and forth lazily, trying to bite back your smirk as Bucky walked into the room, reading something on his phone.

“I have so much to tell you about the meeting today,” he said without taking his eyes off of the screen and went to place his gun on the small coffee table and you hummed.

“What?”

“Nat is furious, and she and Clint actually—” he stopped talking as soon as he raised his eyes from the phone and you looked over your shoulder to see him frozen in his spot.

“She and Clint?” you asked him as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and he blinked a couple of times in complete silence, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you said and he swallowed thickly.

“What the fuck—am I dreaming?”

“Why would you be dreaming?” you asked and rolled over to lean back on your palms, crossing your legs. “We should talk by the way.”

“Oh we’re not talking,” he said, pulling you by the ankle to the edge of the bed and you let out a squeal that turned into a giggle before you pushed at him and got up from the bed. He let out a groan.

“Charm…”

“What?”

“Is this a new way for you to torture me?”

“No, I just think we should talk.”

“I can’t contribute anything to the conversation because I don’t have any blood in my brain right now, it’s all rushing south.”

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned on your hip. “Can you focus?”

“No.”

“Bucky!”

“You’re in a corset and garter belts and you want me to focus?” he asked, taking a step towards you but you took a step back, smirking.

“Calm down.”

“Come here.”

“No because we need to talk first.”

“If this is about who breaks first,” he said. “I broke first, you won, now come here.”

“I’m glad you agree but that’s not it,” you said. “About the sit down, is there a date yet?”

“A lot of people would start with dirty talk—”

“Business talk is my dirty talk,” you stated. “So?”

“Next week,” he said, pulling at one of the ribbons on the corset and you swatted his hand away.

“Ian is going to be there so—”

“Take it off.”

“Good lingerie is wasted on men I swear to God…” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip. “So if Ian is there, I need to be there.”

“Done.”

“The only way—” you batted his hand away again. “The only way for me to be there is if others believe I’m your heir in case of an emergency, because—”

“Done.”

You let out a laugh. “That easily?”

“Sweetheart you could ask me for all my possessions including the company right now and the answer would still be yes,” he said, making you let out a laugh as he wrapped his vibrainum arm around you and easily lifted you up. He carried you to the bed to drop you there and got rid of his shirt, letting you see his muscular before he got on top of you, his lips finding yours. Your eyes fluttered close and a happy sigh left your lips when he pulled back to look down at you.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You could feel the fire warming your cheeks and a giggle escaped from you before you pushed at him slightly so that you could straddle him. He quickly pulled at the ribbons holding the corset together and you tilted your head.

“So I win?” you asked again and he nodded, grinning.

“You win babe.”

You smirked, then let him pull the corset off of you to throw it somewhere in the room and leaned down to kiss him again.

Chapter 30

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