#Chosen actually likes the dress but is too embarrassed to admit it

[ninjagirlstar5]

I got an art request :3

can we have TCO, TDL, TSC, and Victim doing a karaoke night in pretty pink dresses? (Victim, TDL, and TCO lost a bet with TSC)

Nothing like bonding with your fellow creations!

[theemporium]

[3.5k] married life has perks that you hadn't ever imagined. and it came with duties you never considered to exist in a totally fake, accidental marriage with a three time world champion who was not what he seemed.

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As stupid as it sounded considering he had messaged his confirmation, you hadn’t actually expected Max to show up. At most, you expected the question for your address was just going to be him sending the McDonald’s to you with a note saying ‘just this once’.

So when someone knocked on the door a little past ten o’clock, you really weren’t expecting to find Max standing on the other side with a bright smile on his face and two bags full of groceries in his hands. 

You stood there, dumbfounded and blinking at the world champion in front of you. “You were serious.” 

His brows furrowed together slightly like you were the one being out of character. “Yeah, I was,” he said, waiting a few moments before he continued. “So, are you going to let me in or—”

“Oh, yeah!” You flashed him a shy smile as you stepped to the side, pulling the door open a little wider as he stepped into your apartment. You made a brief, noncommittal noise and muttered something about a kitchen in the direction you waved your hand, but Max walked in the right direction almost like he owned the place. 

Like he knew his way around your apartment with ease. 

The thought shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did.

You glanced down at your attire with a frown, your cheeks burning at your chosen outfit but, in your defence, you really hadn’t expected Max—or anyone—to come over tonight. The shirt was an old one of your father’s you had stolen from his closet many years ago, the pyjama bottoms were from a Christmas set your family had got a couple of years ago and your hair was pushed back from your face in some messy hair-do that probably wasn’t the most flattering.

And definitely not the outfit you would have chosen if you knew Max was coming over. 

But you pushed down the urge to grab a hoodie or a blanket or anything else to cover yourself up, and instead made your way towards the kitchen. 

There was something oddly domestic about the sight: Max standing by the counters, emptying the contents of the bags as he murmured away to himself like he was accounting for what he actually bought. He was dressed in just a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie (a Red Bull one, unsurprisingly). His hair was messy, dishevelled even, like he hadn’t bothered to put any product in it today. 

You decided you preferred it much better like that.

“Are you okay with quesadillas?” 

You blinked, looking at Max with raised brows. “You can make quesadillas?” 

Max glanced at you over his shoulder, something quite like amusement shining in his eyes. “You say that like it’s a hard dish to make.” 

“I still burn toast,” you admitted with a shrug. “So anything that isn’t charred is impressive to me.”

Max snorted, almost like he thought you were joking. It was embarrassing that you weren’t, and almost impressive itself that you had managed to stay alive this long by yourself after you moved out of your mother’s house.

“Yes, I can make quesadillas,”  he said, finally answering your question as he began to move through the kitchen like he belonged. “It won’t take long, maybe thirty minutes at most.” 

“I may starve to death by then,” you whined, a playful tint to your words as you pulled yourself to sit up on the empty counter space on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. “McDonald’s would have been faster. And I would have eaten by now.”

Max turned to glare at you, his eyes narrowed. “You hadn’t eaten all day. I wasn’t going to let your first proper meal be McDonald’s.”

“And you said you wanted to be husband of the year,” you murmured, returning the glare and you could see his lips twitching upwards. “Plus, I was too busy to even attempt to cook for myself!” 

“Too busy to eat?” He questioned, not quite convinced. 

“I got wrapped up in my work,” you admitted, feeling your face burn as he watched you closely. You waited for him to get the same look on his face—the one your brothers’ or your mother always gave you—that screamed ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’. But it never came. 

Much to your surprise—something Max had been doing consistently over the last few weeks—he looked intrigued, interested, fascinated. 

“What work was it?”

You told yourself it was a throwaway comment. That he was just being polite. 

“Are you trying to stall the fact you don’t actually know how to make quesadillas?” You teased, head tilted slightly to the side as Max smirked in response. 

“I can multitask,” he assured you. “I can listen and cook.”

“Max Verstappen? Being the listener instead of having people listen to him?” You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Now, that is just unheard of.”

Max rolled his eyes, though you didn’t see the fond action. 

“Maybe everyone else just isn’t interesting enough to listen to,” he stated simply as he began to work, collecting the vegetables he had chosen and taking them to sink to wash. 

You watched him closely. “And I am?”

“Always,” he said, flashing you a smile over his shoulder before his focus returned to the food.

Despite his offer, you changed the conversation to something that was…well, more of a two way conversation rather than you talking about yourself and your work uninterrupted. Though, you pushed down that kernel of something warm and fuzzy and kept it hidden safe, even if his words were just a polite offer covered in sweet words. 

Around forty minutes later, you sat beside the boy on the counter as you both happily ate your quesadillas, a bright smile on your face as he began to retell some old story about him and Charles back in the karting days. Once you had both finished, you took his empty plate and waved away his offer to wash the dishes as you assured him you had a dishwasher that did the job just fine. 

Your back was turned to him as you loaded all the dishes into the dishwasher, not seeing the way his eyes drifted to some papers hidden under a pile of magazines. 

“Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“These drawings.” 

You froze for a moment before you turned around, finding Max spreading a few sheets across the counter. Your body burned in realisation when you noted they were some of your more recent designs, the ones that didn’t fit the pretty box your professors and teachers wanted, the ones that you liked to just draw for yourself in between projects.

“Those are nothing,” you waved him off, resisting the urge to rush over and snatch them from his hands like a mad woman. “Just silly, little—”

“They are amazing,” Max interrupted, the sincerity in his voice knocking the rest of the words from your throat. “Like, insanely good.” 

You put your focus back on cleaning up, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted—almost pleasantly—at his words. You felt like you were moving in a trance as you cleaned down the counters and turned the dishwasher on before you made your way towards Max. 

His focus was still on the sketches, his eyes scanning every little detail like it was important for him to memorise it all. You don’t think anyone outside of your teachers had ever looked at your work with such…focus.

“They really are nothing,” you said to Max as you stood beside him, fingers tracing over the drawings like they were gentle strokes of a pencil. “Just some fun on the side.” 

“Charles mentioned you went to school for this. Fashion, no?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together like he tried to remember the sliver of information he learnt about you years ago.

“Fashion designing and business management,” you said, letting out a sigh. “I love it, I do. It’s just…” 

His attention focused fully on you. “Just what?” 

“Constricting, I guess,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. You turned to look at him, expecting judgement but there was nothing but understanding in his eyes. “I know in the long run these classes will help be but sometimes I just…”

“Want to do what you want?” Max finished, a small smile gracing his lips and it looked so pretty with his flushed cheeks. “I get the feeling.” 

“One too many team orders ignored?” You questioned, your voice light and teasing and you were glad when he laughed in response. 

“Something like that.” 

A few moments passed with neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t silent, it never was in Monaco. There was still plenty of noise outside: cars revving, people laughing and cheering, the distant sound of music playing from some party who knows how many streets away. It was never quiet in Monaco, but there was something comforting about the blanket of outside noise when you were in your apartment with Max. 

“Come with me.” 

He had blurted the words out so suddenly that it took you a few seconds to realise what he said, what he was asking. You blinked once, then twice and still your brain was confused. 

“Come with you where?” 

He paused before his cheeks burned a light pink colour, like he realised he hadn’t given much explanation or context before he blurted the words out. He cleared his throat, his shoulders looking a little tense as he tried again.

“Come with me to the FIA ceremony,” he said and, if you didn’t know better, you would have sworn he was nervous. Max Verstappen—three time world champion—looked nervous. “I mean, you’re my wife and…stuff.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And I want you there.”

Your lips parted in surprise, taking a few moments before the shock washed away and the questions started. “I—don’t you already have someone as your plus one?”

He looked a little embarrassed when he shook his head. “I honestly planned to go alone.” 

Your heart lurched a little at the idea. “Don’t you have to tell them in advance?” 

“I’d say a few days is enough,” he replied, a small smirk on his lips once again as realisation dawned on you.

“Oh my god.”

Max frowned a little. “What—”

“I only have a few days to find something to wear!” You hissed, your eyes widening as Max let out a loud, boisterous laugh. You slapped his arm, a wave of panic washing over you. “Max, this is serious! I have nothing!”

Max tried to fight his laughter. “It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to wear—”

“Yes, it is a big deal! It’s the official ceremony! I am the world champion’s date!” You said, looking at him like he had grown another head. “Oh my god, I am going to have to go shopping tomorrow.”

Max’s nose wrinkled. “Please tell me husband duties end at quesadillas and don’t extend to shopping trips.”

...

...

“When you said to come visit you in Monaco before heading home for the holidays, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

The curtain pulled back enough for you to poke your head out and glare at the blond sitting on the purple velvet futon. However, Logan just stared back at you with an absolutely bored expression on his face.

“You said you didn’t mind what we did,” you argued back.

“That was before we knew we would be sucked into dress shopping,” Oscar muttered under his breath, his focus on his phone screen. However, Logan quickly nudged his ribs with the point of his elbow and the Aussie let out a hiss as he snapped his head up. “What? We are, like, the two worst people you could have brought with you.”

“And it’s not fair Arthur got out of it,” Logan added with a pout.

“Who else could I have asked?” You retorted, looking between both boys with an expectant look. “Plus, I want to spend some time with my best friends before Christmas.” 

“I know you are only saying best friends to butter us up but I have to say it’s working for me,” Logan admitted with a sigh, ignoring the way Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Charles likes his fashion,” Oscar supplied lamely before frowning. “But not…good fashion.”

“Understatement of the century,” you snorted before pulling the curtain shut again and surveying the pile of dresses you had dragged into the dressing room less than an hour ago. This had been your fourth shop of the day and you still hadn’t found anything to wear for the FIA ceremony. “I don’t think he would have taken so kindly to me asking him which dress he thinks Max would think I look the hottest in.”

“And we would?” Oscar grumbled.

“Is he still pissed?” Logan asked, ignoring the Aussie before you poked your head out and took even longer to get through the dresses. “I thought he was playing nice at the dinner with Pascale.”

“He did,” you confirmed with a nod, even though they couldn’t see you as you frowned at the orange dress you had just slipped on. Definitely not the right shade. “But he has also been forwarding me divorce lawyers and articles on American Marriage Laws.” 

“Yikes,” the blond muttered. “He really hates the idea of you being married to Max.”

“He is an overprotective brother, he always has been.” You sighed as you glanced at yourself before shaking your head, moving onto the next dress which was an odd shade of moss green. “I think a part of him just blames himself for not stopping everything back in Vegas, so he feels the need to fix the mess now.” 

“Do you wish someone had stopped you?” Oscar asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

You paused, unsure how to answer. 

“It’s not like you could have stopped her, grandpa, you were in bed before the sun had even set,” Logan snorted, breaking the few seconds of silence as you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

“And where were you?” Oscar retorted. “If you were up, why did you not stop her?”

“I was busy myself.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business, Piastri.” 

“Out making your own mistakes?” 

“Excuse you—”

“God, maybe it was a mistake to bring the two of you,” you commented as the curtain was pulled open again, and you stood in the entryway of the dressing room. You looked at them, your hands on your hips and a grin on your face. “If I had to guess, I would have said the two of you got married in Vegas with the way you bicker.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “As if I would marry him.”

“Uh, people would love to marry me,” Logan frowned before his attention shifted to your dress, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Yeah no, puke green looks good on no one. Next!”

...

...

“Holy shit.” 

With the FIA Ceremony being held in Baku, it meant that you and Max had to fly his jet out to Azerbaijan the day before. You hadn’t even thought about the logistics of the trip until after you had bought the dress and Max had sent you confirmation that Christian had managed to book an extra room at the hotel so you didn’t have to share with him. 

It was incredibly stupid for you to be so nervous about the whole event when it wasn’t even about you. Yet, Max looked the splitting image of calmness as he sat across from you in the plane, tapping away on his phone as he played some stupid game Lando had got him addicted to.

His nerves remained calm once you landed, his hand on the small of your back as he led you towards the car that was designated with taking you to the hotel. He was a gentleman all throughout dinner as he kept one arm around the back of your chair as he indulged in small talk with Christian and Checo. He even walked you to your hotel room door—though it was next door to his—and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and walked towards his room before you could even say anything. 

Max Verstappen, three-time world champion, was completely unfazed by the fact he was about to step in front of hundreds of cameras with his new wife.

You, however, were two steps away from shitting yourself. 

You had practically clung onto Oscar the next day, needing a sense of normalcy before you had to start getting ready. Though, in an annoyingly predictable turn of events, even Oscar wasn’t fazed by the upcoming ceremony and the award he was about to collect himself. If anything, he found your freakout to be highly entertaining before the boring trophy ceremony began. 

You had paced up and down the hotel room more times than you could count as you rushed around, desperately trying to look as put together and elegant as a last minute invite could. Your heart had been in your throat in the minutes leading up to Max knocking on the door. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look so sure of himself. 

Max stood on the other side of the door—a sight that made your heartbeat pathetically fast as the memory of him showing up the other night at your apartment came to mind—with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He was dressed in a suit, his hair styled to perfection, and yet there was a flush on his cheeks as he took in your appearance. 

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit’?” You teased, though you tried to cover up your own doubt as you glanced down at the floor-length red dress you had finally picked after dragging Oscar and Logan to seven different stores around Monaco. 

“Good,” he breathed out, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance as he took you in. “Definitely good.”

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “You aren’t mad that it’s Ferrari red?”

“You could have chosen any colour and I’d still consider myself lucky that you’re standing next to me,” Max admitted, something sounding in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before you could ponder for too long, the boy cleared his throat and quickly offered the bouquet to you. “I know a boring awards ceremony isn’t exactly an ideal first date but….here.”

You took the bouquet with a wide smile, leaning down to smell the flowers appreciatively before stepping back into the room to place them on your bedside table. “Thank you, Max, they are beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said it so quietly that you almost swore you made it up. 

You turned back to him, mouth open and ready to say something before you paused as you took him in, blinking in surprise. 

Max frowned. “What?” 

“Is that the same suit you wore last year?” 

Max glanced down at himself before shrugging. “Yeah, and the year before that. And the year before that. And—”

You blanched. “You wear the same suit every year?” 

“I don’t see why I need to get a new one every year,” Max argued back, clearing his throat a little. 

“Max, you’re a three-time world champion. You are going to collect your third world championship,” you continued as you walked back towards where he was standing. “You should be wearing something special to commemorate the day.”

“I won the championship weeks ago though,” he said, his brows furrowed together like he didn’t understand your point. “What’s the big deal about collecting a trophy?” 

“You made history this season,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as though you were trying to size him up, trying to understand him. “You should be wearing something more special than a suit you’ve worn years in a row.” 

Max nodded like he understood what you meant but his lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Next championship, you can design my suit then.”

You blinked once. And then again. 

“You would wear something I designed?” You asked, almost wincing at how soft your voice sounded when you spoke.

“Of course I would,” he said before he offered his arm for you to take. “You have a year, so you’ll have plenty of time to work on a good suit. One appropriate for a four-time world champion.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “And you’re so sure you’ll win next season?” 

“Oh, I know it, baby,” Max grinned back at you, and something about the way he smiled made him look so young and mischievous. “Maybe you can make one of your own designs for yourself as well. We could be matching.” 

“Maybe,” you said with a smile, letting the hotel door close behind you as you tried to pretend like your heart wasn’t thundering in your chest at his implication of doing this again.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 372,947 others

yourusername 3x world champion and great personal carrier. would 10/10 recommend this verstappen guy

view all 21,930 comments

maxverstappen1 the stairs were steep, you would have decked it

oscarpiastri you would have

yourusername i take my thank you back

user SHE WAS HIS DATE KWEBFKBEFJWEF

user omg this keeps getting better

user it's like a fanfic irl

user the tiktok povs could never

landonorris you are so-

yourusername what did i do now?

landonorris you told me you picked the papaya dress

yourusername i said that so you would shut up

landonorris your wife is bullying me maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 good

user i can't believe this is real

user THE FACT SHE POSTED HIM WITH THE TROPHY TOO

user has anyone checked on charles?

arthur_leclerc he is currently breathing into a paper bag

user ARTHUR-

charles_leclerc i'm glad your loyalties still remain with ferrari

yourusername well it is RED bull so...

charles_leclerc i am blocking you

redbullracing our favourite wag!

charles_leclerc i am blocking you too

.

[spookykoolkat]

tattoo shop - e.m. blurb

main masterlist

an : something i was thinking about bc eddie obviously loves bigger women. should i turn this into a short story? :p

let me know! i love feedback <3

wc: less than 1k? maybe 1k? idk i didnt count LOL

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

the thing about eddie is that he noticed he'd only ever have crushes on bigger women. it started in high school, when he had a crush on one his literature teacher. she was full, round hips and thighs that forced the fabric of her pencil skirts to stretch, and the outline of the buldge of her tummy. eddie could tell she would wear things to flatten her figure out, and struggled not to be that one weird student and comment on her body.

maybe it's milfs. maybe it's older women you were attracted to.

well, he leaned that way for a while. until he started his new job as a tattoo apprentice. you worked there, not chosen with talent or skills to actually tattoo pieces of artwork on bodies, or pierce flesh with needles all day. you settled for doodling at the front desk of the tattoo shop, and eddie managed to watch your every move.

you dressed in tight tops and baggy pants, always hanging off of your thick hips enough to show the hemline of your boxer briefs you wore. somehow you managed to look feminine while masculine at the same time.

you noticed him staring, but being too shy to say anything to the shaggy haired metalhead, you kept your distance and gave small, blushing smiles to him. he took it.

he didn't think he'd go from getting small smiles from you to bending you over his dining table at his place after a party he threw. but he did. eddie came on to you, told you how sexy you looked that night, asked if it was weird working at a tattoo shop with zero tattoos. that's when you asked him, who said i didn't have tattoos?

eddie quickly found out that you did. and you had a lot. they were littered over your stomach, your thighs and shoulders. how he managed to never see them was shocking, but what became even more shocking was when you accepted his flirty invitation.

i have to see it to believe it, sweetheart.

so, the house emptied towards the night, not a single person in sight besides you and eddie. you were in eddie's kitchen cleaning up solo cups and alcoholic residue when he walked in, thick with silence. he was watching you from behind, bending over his counter slightly to scrub away the stickiness.

"you don't have to do that, honey," eddie said as he walked toward you.

you stopped scrubbing with the rag, and faced him with the small of your back digging into the counter. "i know. just, felt like i should." you blushed, feeling heat rush to your cheeks from the mix of alcohol and embarrassment.

"you're a sweet girl, you know that?" eddie said with a cheeky smile, moving to stand in front of you as you stayed put.

"you don't have to compliment me," you said and averted your gaze. it was enough you had the epitome of your dream man standing in front of you, but he had to call you a sweet girl too?

"why wouldn't i compliment you? i think you're a real pretty girl. a real pretty girl who i didn't know had tattoos." he said with a smile, easing your nerves with a small joke and you felt yourself melt.

"they're just hidden. a surprise for whoever gets to see me with my clothes off." you admit and your face heats up even more, making eddie take a few steps closer to you.

"those lucky fuckers." he breathed, somehow closer than you remembered. close enough for his hand to ghost yours, and move to your hip.

"mm, don't know how lucky they really were if they never talked to me again afterwards," you said with a soft chuckle. he scoffed, moving closer and placing both his hands on the curve of your hips. you let him, the feeling of his large hands squeezing the parts of you that you hated.

"psh, you'd might need to get a restraining order on me if i ever saw these tattoos of yours," maybe he should've said something less forward, but the silence that rang through the house was so defining — he had you alone.

still, you played dumb. not necessarily dumb, you just wanted to hear him say it. "why would i get a restraining order on you?" you laughed. your hands instinctively rested against his abdomen as he brought himself closer.

"don't think i could ever leave you the fuck alone even if my life depended on it."

"eddie," you warned, as if you felt he was unsure about what he truly wanted, "you don't want me, i know you're acting like it but, that's not true,"

it came out weak, sad and almost insecure until eddie moved his hands up your curves, over the rolls of your back, and grabbing you with your cheeks in his palms.

"i don't really think you can tell me how to feel, isn't that right? i think i'm allowed to want whoever i want." he said confidently and your eyes went wide, doe like as if you were struck with the most impossible words you'd ever heard.

"you want me?" you squeaked, your voice not cooperating with you.

"will you let me have you, pretty girl?"

[soxcietyy]

Aima University

Vampire Yuta x reader

Tw: blood, assault, biting, vampires

You have been chosen to tour one of the most prestigious University’s in the country. It’s known to be very hard to get into and not many people talk about what goes on inside. It seems like a great school at first until you stumbled by a horrific scene.

You’ve won… you couldn’t believe you had won a chance to step into a prestigious University. This gave you a better chance of actually getting in to attend the school. One of the best and hardest university’s to get into. Everyone you knew was dying to get into it and you were no different. It was your dream to become part of the school ever since you were little. You couldn’t help but read the letter over and over not being able to believe it. Those shiny cursive letters printed into the paper spelling out, congratulations.

Your hands shook as you held the paper to your face, tears wanting to fall from your face as you felt almost relieved that your hard work actually got you here. You would have to hold them in for now because you wernt fully admitted yet. You had to remind yourself that this was a tour for the people who had a chance to get in.

The day of the tour you made sure to dress in a way you stood out but not too much. That being a black skirt, your favorite top, and some loafers. Knowing other people would dress more in the comfortable side you felt confident. The second you got off the bus you felt so nervous. You stood in front of these huge gates that blocked the outside world from peeking inside this gorgeous building. It was a huge Roman styled building that had so many statues surrounding it. You couldn’t believe how pretty it looked from afar.

"Alright girls we’ll be taking you to the event room where we have everything se up. Please follow me and don’t stray around. We won’t tolerate such behavior and you will be black listed from ever attending here." An old man that appeared out of no where says as he waved you girls to follow along.

From what you’ve heard male and females were separated during the tour for a better experience and it also made it easier for the higher ups to pick who they want admitted.

As you girls walk through the gates you made your way deeper into the campus. The girls couldn’t help but point and gasp whenever we passed one of there male students. You couldn’t lie they were good looking men but that’s not why you were here. Dating wasn’t even a thought of yours because you were so focused on your academics. Such a thing would distract you from your goal an oh my g-.

Your eyes caught sight of one of the most handsome boy’s you’ve ever seen. He was surrounded by other guys and a few girls. He laughed and smiled at the people who spoke to him. You didn’t have a type but if you did it would absolutely be him. He was a tall, pale guy, with jet black hair, dark blue eyes, and had such sharp features. He wore the schools dark blue uniform that complimented him so much.

It’s almost as if he knew you were looking because his eyes went from his friend to making direct eye contact with you. You looked away feeling embarrassed about being caught. Dragging your eyes back to your guide you continued to follow along making sure not to get lost.

Eventually you made it to the event room that looked so bougie. It had so many round tables that had plates and tea cups placed on them. The interior was decorated very nicely but it was a bit dark inside of here. It could use a more light or they could simply open up the windows.

You girls were soon directed to sit down and talk among each other while they went around collecting everyone’s phones. They had a no recording rule and knowing that not everyone follows the rules they had to do something about it. As the girls in your table spoke you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger around the room. You wernt sure what you were looking for but they somehow managed to find themselves looking at the same guy from earlier. This time he was looking back at you with a odd expression.

"I heard that you have a way better chance of getting in if you swoo the students or higher ups. At least that’s the word around here. Goodness I’m so excited! You girls have no idea how long Iv been waiting for this opportunity to come!" An olive skinned girl said as she played with her cured hair.

"I think there might be more to it. I mean they do really heavy back ground checks and more." You put your finger on your lips.

"You’ll see I was right when I get in. I’ll swoon that guy over there." She points at a blonde guy who was standing against the wall.

You looked at her with an amused look. "I’ll get in for being special then." You wink at her.

"Ah you girls must be the future students!" You view was blocked by someone who stood in your way. Looking up you see a guy with pink hair in front of you.

"Oh no! We’re just here for touring! You have an absolutely beautiful school!" The girl that was talking not too long ago said. If you recalled right she had introduced herself as Sabrina

If all it took was to Swoo the people here then that’d be disappointing if that was the case. You thought it took brains and standards to get admitted. The boy introduced himself as Yuji Itadori one of the captains to a sports teams here. He said that he was going to give us a tour of the place. That being the sports arenas, dining hall, library, and more.

"Before we can do any of that I have to give the mandatory speech. If I don’t I will be killed, literally haha." He said as he sat down in the chair infront of him.

Another boy ran and whispered something in his ear before he could even speak. It seemed to be something about the girl who was talking not too long ago because they both looked at her after talking. Yuji gave his friend a firm nod before continuing his speech.

"Today is a special day for you girls, it’s our fifth year anniversary of finally accepting women into the school. After it being an only boy school for so long. This is your opportunity to show off and stand out. We want to see your excitement and determination to getting in here. If it becomes too much for you please advise me. You have no idea how many girls have gone missing because they felt overwhelmed… anyways let’s start the tour!

Remember no wandering around, such behavior Will Not Be Tolerated."

He said as he stood up.

Your group of ten girls followed him along the school but you couldn’t help but get the feeling of being followed too. He talked greatly about the school and what they had to offer. The clubs, sports teams, organizations and there famous plasma donation event they held every year. It wasn’t something that peaked your interest but clearly everyone did it here. He continued on talking about the plasma donation and how you girls would be blood tested after leaving here because they care about the health of the students. Sounded more like they didn’t want anyone who was diagnosed with something. So much for a non discriminatory school.

Aa you guys continue to walk you noticed that the good looking guy was now in the lavatory building with you guys. As you almost awed over him you felt a sudden cold swish of air hit you making your skin crawl. Goosebumps appeared on your arm making you turn your attention towards the direction. Thought there was nothing in sight. You found it quite odd seeing how that happened while you were indoors. Your eyes glazed around the area. Then a swinging foot caught your eyes.

Your look back at the group and noticed someone had gone missing. You counted heads and noticed that the one that had gone missing was Sabrina. Could it be that she escaped so she could find that guy?

"Um excuse me but I think someone has gone missing." You say point into the group.

Yuji stops speaking and looks blankly at you as he tilts his head. "Is that so?" He puts his hand on his chin.

You give him a nervous nod seeing how he was boring holes in your face.

"Students tend to do that when they can’t handle the environment. That’s why we do this tour, to see who’s capable of handling the stress before it even begins!" He smiles.

It didn’t make sense, how could she run away? She seemed very determined and excited about coming here. There’s no way she would have ran away just a few minutes into the tour.

"Do you think we can go look for her? I think she might be in trouble." You say.

"It’s prohibited for non students to wonder off by there own. We’re also on a tight schedule so we won’t be able too look for her. Don’t worry though if our students or staff find her she’ll be escorted to the authorities." He says.

For some reason that answer didn’t sit right with you.

"If I go look for her and catch up to the group later do you think I’ll get in trouble?" You ask him.

He lets out a sigh,"If you get back here before the tour ends I’ll pretend nothing happened. If you get caught running around I won’t be able to protect you."

"Fine," you say as you turn around and start walking towards the doors that were swinging not too long ago.

The door ended up taking you into a long hall full of portraits and decorations on the wall. There was so many windows making it probably the brightest place you’ve been into. Quietly you make your way down the hall. You didn’t know where to start but you had to figure it out quick before the tour ended. If you remember right on the pamphlet it was stated that it would end around five pm. It was currently three.

Looking down the hall you decide to walk all the way down towards the door at the end. The closer you made you way there the more you got the whiff of something metallic lingering in the air. You found it odd but you remember your tour guide mentioning you where in the science building. Maybe it was the chemicals they were using.

At some point you found it unbearable and had to cover your nose with your hand. The more you smelled it the bigger your headache became. Not only that but your gut was feeling sick.

As you stood near the door you could hear a muffled groans and whimpering coming from the other side of the door. Could she have gotten hurt? Before you could open the door you realize it was cracked open enough for you too look inside. It would be better to make sure it was her and not someone else, if you got caught then this would be the end of your journey to get into the school.

Putting your left eye by the crack you look inside the room to see a group of guys huddled on the floor. They seemed to be arguing over something. Well thankfully you didn’t go inside because there was no sight of her but then what was the woman like cries? The more you looked the more unsettling the scene became.

Not only was the metallic smell so strong but it made the air seem so thick. The guys where all huddled around something on the floor. You look around the area to get any hints and that when you saw it. A leg that had some familiar black Mary Jane’s with a star anklet around it. Your breath hitches as you realized that these men could potentially be doing something to her. Her leg twitched as one of them ran there disgusting hand over her leg.

You felt enraged and wanted to put a stop to the situation but what were you going to do? A weak girl against four men. Maybe you could report them to the higher ups.

You watched as one of them got out of your way to hold her delicate arm, bringing it up to his face as he ran the flesh under his nose. Another guy with blonde hair licked her neck before sinking his teeth into her. She lets out another whine as the other men skin their teeth into her. Letting out groans of satisfaction as they used her.

"Fuck, she’s taste so good and on top of that she’s so fucking gorgeous." One of them said.

"She made me feel so thirsty the second I laid eyes on her." Another one said but you remember him. He was the guy who whispered something to Itadori. Could it be that they both were in on it?

You let a shaky breath escape your lips making one of them snap there heads towards your direction.

You eyes widen as you notice them stand up and make their way to the door. Your legs began to move backwards on their own but you feel your back press against something… or maybe someone. Turning your head back you see their hand fly to cover your mouth, your eyes widen as he wraps his arm around you and drags you into the other room next over. You flare around trying to escape your kidnapper but it was no use he was abnormally strong.

Tears began to run down your face as you beg him not to do anything to you. Muffled cries and words came out as his hand still over your mouth.

"Shhh, everything is going to be okay. Let’s just stay here for a second." His soothing voice said as you were surrounded by the darkness in this pitch black room. He let his tight grip of you go and quickly turned you around and brought you into his embrace. Pressing you tightly against him as he holds your head against his chest. You couldn’t help but hyperventilate as everything was happening.

It was almost as if he knew someone was going to come in because a second later the door swung open. You flinch at the sudden slam and tightly hold his uniform shirt.

"I thought I heard something." The person at the door said.

"Yea?" The man’s chest you head rested on vibrated as he spoke.

"Y-yuta is that you?! There’s no way I just caught you feasting. Here I thought you were going to die of starvation. Guess instincts kicked in huh? " The man laughter.

"Are you an idiot or did you forget who your speaking to?"

"You no fun huh. Common man have you been pretending to not eat so people wound underestimate you?" the guy said before leaving.

When he was fully gone you push yourself off of him and fell to the ground. With the light that was now coming in through the door you could see a little bit better. The guy over you was the really good looking guy you’ve kept seeing throughout the tour. You couldn’t help but let out a sob from how scared you were.

His cold hands reached your face and wiped the tears away. "No need to cry, I’m not going to hurt you but everyone else might. You need to get going." He says trying to make you feel better.

"Are you also one of them?" You ask with tears still filling your eyes.

He looked at you sympatheticly but chose to ignore your question. He tried pulling away but you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back to you. He looked at you shocked before your hand touched his cheek, your thumb reaching his mouth. Pulling the upper right part of his lip to reveal his fangs. You let out a shudder as you pull your hand back. For a second you could have sworn you saw him blush.

"Sorry the smell of blood is really strong because of the room next to us. We should get going." He said with a sick look.

He pulls you up with him. Putting his arm over your shoulder he lead you down the hall and back to where you came from. It was a really quiet and awkward walk. He made sure to listen carefully and to make sure you were out of everyone’s sight. He made it his priority to get you back safely.

He ended up basically giving you a tour of the place because everywhere you guys searched leaded to empty rooms. Where in the world could they possibly be? There’s no way they finished early. Walking behind him you thought about different possibilities of there location. It was hard to think though as you noticed how he would sway and stumbled as he walked Infront of you. He seemed to be very weak and unhealthy. It like he could collapse at any given moment.

"Are you okay?" You ask him.

He hults his movements and turns his head a bit to look at you from the corner of his eye. He closes his eye before slowly opening them again.

"Just tired."

You decide to walk next to him and examine him. You understood that he didn’t eat from the conversation he had with the other vampire. Would he die if he did not eat soon? You would feel bad if he did since he helped you after all. Maybe you should offer him something. Would it be weird if you offered him your blood?

"If you want you can have a bit of m-"

"No" he cut you off.

Well he ended that quickly…

It took him a second before he frowned and said, "Sorry, I just can’t consume blood. I have the instinct of wanting too but when I do I end up throwing up and I’m just loosing more if I try to eat rather than not eating.

Why am I even telling you this?… I think I’m going mad." He sighs as he starts to walk again.

He didn’t seem to noticed that his pace quickened, making it harder for you to catch up. Damn him and his long legs. As you tried to keep up with him you end up falling onto the ground.

Luckily the floor was tiles and not concrete. It would have been bad if you somehow got injured. You would have probably started bleeding and Yuta might of thrown up if he smelled it. He quickly helped you back up and put you back on your feet. You put your hand on your chest for support but quickly jerked it back as you felt a sharp pain. He looked at you confused on the sudden action before you showed him your palm.

It was impaled with the pin that should have been on his shirt. It somehow ended up losing the backing to it. Most likely when you pulled his shirt in the room. You bit your lip as you tried to pull it out but you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a thing.

"I’m so sorry but can you pull it out? I can’t do it I’m too scared."

Yuta furrows his brow as he grabs your hand. You quickly look away as he pulls it out fast. The pain was quick but it was soon over. Well except for the part where blood was oozing out of your hand. You gasp as you tried to stop it.

Once again Yuta had an unhappy look from not liking the situation. He patted his front pocket for his handkerchief just to find it missing. He cursed under his breath as he realized that he had to do.

"I’m going to have to suck it, if I don’t everyone else’s is going to smell it and start running here." Yuta grabbed you and shoved you into another room. This one seemed to be like a study room because there was only a white bored, a table, and a chair. The interior was also quite dark but cozy at the same time.

He quickly grabbed the small trash bin that sat on the corner and placed it on the table so he had a place to throw up. He then dragged the only chair in the room and took a seat while he sat you on his lap. Did he do this with anyone because he just sat you on his lap like it was no big deal.

He then quickly brought your hand to his mouth. He hesitated for a bit before actually beginning to suck.

He didn’t bury his teeth into to you, he simply sucked on the spot making you feel ticklish. You squeeze your eyes shut as the feeling felt a bit overwhelming but you couldn’t help but peak at his facial expressions. Would he throw up? Or would he actually like the taste of your blood.

You watched as he calmly sucked on the spot for a few seconds before swallowing what he had in his mouth. When he did his eyes had widen a bit as he licked his lips. He pulled your arm more to him making you get closer to him. Giving your hand soft small licks on the wound before going in once again to have a taste of your blood.

You were secretly glad that he enjoyed the taste of your blood. Maybe he was just really picky when it came to such thing? The more you looked the more he reminded you of a small animal that was feeding off of their mother. Small little moans came from him as he kept drinking. That was until he started to bite down unconsciously. Once you felt a sharp pain you gasp and tug your hand back a bit.

His eyes fluttered open as he looks at you. It was as if he was in a daze because after a few seconds he seemed to have snapped out of it. He now looked shocked and more alert. Not only that but he looked in disbelief about the current situation.

"I- I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me. I totally blanked out and I didn’t mean to suck so much, I was just trying to help and stop the blee-"

"Yuta," you interrupt him causing him to tense up.

"It’s okay, I understand you’re pretty hungry. I can give you more but no biting." You say as you run your hand over his flushed face.

You grab him and make him sit on the floor next to you so both of you could rest comfortably rather in one old wooden chair. As you got comfortable he carefully grabbed your hand and brought it to his soft lips making sure to not loose any time.

He inhaled the smell of your blood and gave it small pecks before going in once again. Is this what it felt like when a vampire sucks your blood? Would it be different if he was biting into it? You remember in books and shows that when they would bite down the person giving would get this euphoric feeling. Thought you also heard that if you got bit then you’d turn into one of them. You wernt sure if the shows and books were accurate but you didn’t want to take any chances.

He rested his head on your shoulder as he continued to eat. You could feel as he would relax on your body and hold your arm firmly. Making sure you wouldn’t take back your hand any time soon.

"Why do you taste so sweet, so fucking good, I just can’t seem to get enough." He inhaled deeply after swallowing. "Iv never enjoyed blood until now, I’m afraid that I’ll end up draining you." He rubs your hand on his face.

"Don’t drink too much or you’ll get a stomach ache, your not used to drinking human blood remember?"

You jolt at the sudden intrusion of a female voice. Yuta immediately stood up and had his fist ready to fight until he noticed who it was in front of him. He felt so embarrassed being caught so off guard. He was usually on his toes on high alert. Nothing would ever get past him until now.

"Shoko"

"I came in here because something felt off. Now I see what it is and I’m rather surprised. You found a human blood source that’s compatible with you. Do you know how happy the higher up are going to be when they find out you’re not going to die anymore? I was getting ready to hear news about you dying of starvation."

"Shoko please keep this between us. If other people find out then who knows what would happen to her." Yuta said.

The woman looked past Yuta to look at you who still sat on the floor. She looked at you up and down before asking if you were in today’s tour event. You give her a firm nod as she took a notebook and pen out of her doctors coat.

"I’m going to recommend her to attend this school. You’ll be a great use to one our best students here. Not only that but you’ll gain so much knowledge and recognition for just joining." Shoko held her hand out for you too shake. "It’s a win, win situation."

You look up at her and shook her hand.

"Welcome to Aima University."

[wheneverfeasible]

Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts: a Mafia AU

Chapter 3

chapter wc: 6k || rating: M (for now) || main tags/warnings: alcohol/drug mention and use, sex trafficking, past rape/non-con, violence/blood/bruises, mean dom!Eddie, mob boss!Eddie, (forced) sex worker!Steve, feminized!Steve, see ao3 for full list || chapter on ao3

chapter cw: violence, threat of sexual violence, choking, G-slur against the Romani people

disclaimer: while Eddie may make threats and do a bit of non-consensual touching, he will never actually force Steve or anyone else into non-consensual sex, either with himself or others. just wanted to put that out there for anyone who might be concerned, especially after this chapter.

1, 2, 3, …

~

It was getting harder to remember that Porzio was dead. Though the man standing there, watching him, looked nothing like his former master, Steve found himself reverting back into the headspace that he always escaped to when summoned to this specific room. It still smelled like Porzio in here, that heavy musk of his cologne, the smell of his sweat, even the scent of his damned laundry detergent.

At least it seemed like Munson had the bedding freshly laundered. Steve would have too, especially considering Steve knew exactly what got up to in this room.

The eyes watching him now, however, were not Porzio’s. Porzio’s gaze had made the air feel almost oily, made Steve feel like something disgusting was crawling just beneath his skin. Munson, on the other hand, stared at him with something almost mocking on his lips. Strange as it was, even though Steve knew his life hung in the balance here, he found he almost preferred it.

It wasn’t that Munson wasn’t staring at him with appreciation. As Steve carefully unzipped the dress he’d chosen for that night, he could feel the way Munson’s eyes tracked the way the straps slipped off of him, taking in every inch of flesh exposed as he shimmied the material down his chest, hips, and then his legs.

“Fuck,” Munson breathed once the material was pooling around Steve’s heels, leaving him in nothing but said heels and the pink lace panties. The exhale seemed to have been unintentional, judging by the way Munson lifted a hand suddenly to rub over his mouth.

Perhaps Selena had been right. Daddy Kas certainly did look like he wanted to gobble Steve up, or maybe make Steve do the gobbling. Still, Steve couldn’t help but be a little self-conscious.

His body had certainly changed since high school, beyond the length of his hair. He was slimmer than he’d been back then, due to the only exercise he got being what he got in bed (or wherever else his masters wanted him), not to mention his caloric intake had also fallen by the wayside. He was used to shaving and waxing for swim meets, but now it was a regular occurrence to keep him as otherwise hairless as possible. There were faint scars littering his body as well, almost as numerous as his moles.

Despite all this, Steve knew he was attractive. Hell, you didn’t get sold and passed around like he did when you weren’t. Even as a male, he had been desired and sought after by men and women alike. Hell, half the scars he had now were probably from the wife of his last owner before Porzio. It was how he ended up with Porzio after all.

However, Munson knew what he had looked like in high school. Sure, it had been probably nearer than he would like to admit to being almost a decade since they’d last seen each other, but Steve had certainly flaunted himself back then and he knew his physique—among other things—had been the stuff of bathroom stall gossip.

Steve has always been good with his mouth.

Munson didn’t look like he was disparaging Steve’s changed physique, however. No, there was an almost embarrassed crease to the bridge of his nose actually, which was even more evidence that his soft exhalation had not been intentional at all. It boosted Steve’s confidence ever so slightly, making him hopeful that Munson would judge his performance tonight fairly.

At least, he did until he was carefully stepping out of the dress’s circle and bringing his hands to the lace underwear to begin sliding the garment off.

“Stop.”

Steve froze at the command, middle and ring fingers beneath the waistband of the panties to slide them down. Fuck, had he miscalculated? Had he gotten Munson’s gaze wrong? A brief look down at the man’s dark trousers didn’t give him enough answers in the lowered lighting, but certainly the heat behind his eyes was good? If he had somehow failed before even being able to properly try—

“Turn around. Slowly,” Munson ordered, bringing a hand up to twirl a pointed down finger into a couple circles to indicate what he wanted Steve to do.

Right. Munson could just want to see the goods properly in the material. The panties weren’t quite a thong, but the scalloped edges only partially covered his ass, which he thankfully retained despite no longer being active in sports anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time he was fucked wearing his undergarments either, the crotch of which either being pushed to the side or torn entirely.

Carefully, slowly, Steve slid his hands back to rest demurely on his hips as he spun in a circle to show all of himself off. He was just glad Porzio had wanted his mark somewhere always visible, seeing as how the thought of Munson seeing it somewhere like his ass probably would have ended the night prematurely. And not in a good way.

“Tell me…Vee,” Munson began when he was halfway through his turn, and Steve felt a flutter of hope when the man called him by his persona’s name instead of his surname. “Were you given any choice in your wardrobe at all? Because I must say, those cute little things leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Munson as he slowly completed his circuit, keeping the man in eyesight the whole time. His tone, and indeed even his body language, seemed a little more at ease than they had previously. Hope once more fluttered through Steve, hope that he might at least be able to see his girls one more time. Perhaps even more than once, if he did tonight well enough.

“Porzio bought us our wardrobes based on what he thought would look good on us, but I chose what to wear tonight. I picked something I thought you might like, Daddy. But if I was wrong, please let me take it off and make it up to you,” Steve murmured, letting a small amount of playful confidence seep into his own tone.

Munson drew his hand over his face with something muttered that Steve couldn’t make out, though he wasn’t given enough time to fret when Munson strode up to Steve and quirked a brow up at him.

Porzio had been a bit rotund, but he’d also been tall, making him a solid figure. As such, Steve’s average height for a man coupled with his slimmer figure were no issue when he’d worn heels, putting them at more or less equal level. Munson on the other hand…

Steve had to suppress a smirk as he realized that, while he and Munson were probably equal in height barefoot, he now had several inches on the guy. Of course, any merriment he felt about it was quashed the moment Munson put his hand on him, reminding him that current height difference aside, Munson was still very much in charge.

Munson’s first two fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Steve’s panties, just barely to the first knuckle, but the message was clear. Steve’s humor had been noted and it had not been appreciated. He swallowed nervously, waiting for Munson’s next course of action.

“Did it gall you, sweetheart, the first time you were shoved into a dress and pretty little panties like this,” Munson murmured, a mocking sort of concern twisting his lips.

Steve resisted the urge to cross his arms, though he did quirk a brow. “I’ll admit, the panties are new, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve worn a dress.”

Munson’s brows skyrocketed into his bangs at that, his eyes widening in genuine shock. He looked almost like the kid Steve remembered from high school like that. Almost. There was no denying that this man before him, with his tattoos and scars that put Steve’s to shame, was no longer the dorky little guy he’d once seen in passing. The one everyone assumed was dead in a ditch somewhere.

Of course, Munson recovered quickly from that. His fingers tugged a little more at the waistband of Steve’s underwear, but he made no more to pull them off. Instead he just narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied Steve, his gaze darting over his face as he seemed to take him in more fully. Then he released the waistband and, with a hand flat to Steve’s chest, pushed him back on the bed.

Steve sucked in a small breath, steeling himself for what was to come, prepared to roll over and present himself, but…Munson just let out a small scoff and moved around towards where Porzio kept his own private little bar cart.

“Take off those heels. I dislike looking up at you.” He glanced over his shoulder at Steve with another mocking look. “Don’t get me wrong. Your ass looks fantastic in them, but they’re just going to get in the way tonight.” He shrugged as he turned his back once more towards Steve, but Steve wasn’t stupid. He knew a test when he saw one.

There was a certain rigidity to Munson’s back, though there was nothing that spoke of discomfort or unease about it. No, it was more like the coiled muscle of a predator ready to lash out at any moment. Munson was waiting to see what Steve would do with his back turned.

Steve watched Munson as he inspected the different liquor decanters, lifting the lids of some to sniff at. When he picked up what Steve knew to be Porzio’s favorite and most prized bourbon, Munson made a small appreciative grunt before pouring a healthy amount into a waiting tumbler.

Munson glanced back over his shoulder at him, prompting Steve to duck his head quickly and work at removing his heels as ordered. Compliance was the surest way of making it out of this mindfield alive. Especially if Munson was drinking. Porzio was always a little more vicious when he was drunk, though he tended to pass out almost immediately after climax.

Once, a girl had tried to end things for him permanently after one such night. Steve had been newly purchased, hadn’t yet caught Porzio’s focused interest, not when he had a different favorite at the time. Deliliah. She had secreted a knife from dinner in the sleeve of her fur shrug before she was summoned to the bedchamber.

The night ended with Porzio sporting a wound that would become a new scar along one side of his neck and a vacant position for Porzio’s favorite. Steve and the others only saw the broken aftermath of Delilah’s body, a warning, and for the next fortnight they had dealt with the brutal consequences of her actions.

It was also how Steve had so quickly claimed the spot of favorite. He worked his tail off for that spot, not because he wanted it, but because he wanted to save the others from what it meant to have so much of Porzio’s undivided attention. Sure, he occasionally got little treats or favors from it, but it was hard earned.

He, and the rest of them, had learned their lesson well though. None of them tried such a thing again.

A ringed hand holding a tumbler full of rich amber liquid jerked Steve from his thoughts as it was positioned beneath his bowed head. He looked up quickly, startled, letting his now bare feet settle on the rug under the bed to look up at Munson. Munson, who was sipping at his own cup while holding out another with a raised bow.

For him?

Steve swallowed, hesitating only a moment before reaching for the cup. He had never been allowed anything from Porzio’s private stock before. Yet the smell was unmistakable; he had smelt it often enough breathed into his face while Porzio tore him apart.

“Th-thank you, Daddy,” he forced himself to get out, still uncertain if he was actually allowed this drink. Munson only gave a small grunt with a shrug, moving around the bed to settle along one side, leaning back against the pillows propped up against the massive headboard.

What the hell was going on?

Steve had expected immediate pain upon being summoned here, had expected fists and rings and…whatever else Munson wanted to do to him. He hadn’t expected a glass of bourbon that was old enough to vote, something he only got to taste as an aftertaste whenever Porzio shoved his tongue into his mouth.

Steve watched Munson as Munson watched him, though the hunger wasn’t really quite there any longer. Sure, Munson’s eyes dipped occasionally to take in Steve’s form where he was sitting at the foot of the bed, one knee curled up as he twisted to keep Munson in eyesight, but overall Munson looked more calculating than horny.

“Drink up, sweetheart. No point letting it go to waste,” Munson drawled, indicating Steve’s glass with his own.

Flushing slightly, Steve ducked his head to look down at the glass in his hands. Could he really? Had Munson put something in it while he wasn’t looking? It wasn’t like he needed to roofie Steve or anything; Munson owned him, making him a done deal. Still, suggestions were just orders couched in false niceties.

Bringing the glass to his lips, Steve closed his eyes for the briefest moment to inhale the scent straight from the source instead of soured by Porzio’s breath. Then he was tipping the glass up and felt the room temperature liquid pass his lips, the intense flavor exploding across his tongue with something almost caramel and smoky, the burn of the alcohol immediately going through him causing his cough a little in surprise.

He remembered, as a teenager, stealing his father’s good scotch with Tommy and Carol whenever he thought they could get away with it, passing around one shared glass amongst them. It had been good, but it was obvious that, compared to the shot Porzio drank, it was hardly all that fancy.

This though…this was good shit.

It also immediately made Steve feel like the warmth of the alcohol was spreading through him entirely, leaving his head buzzing with just the one sip. Granted, it wasn’t like he’d had much to eat that day, what with the change in management.

“I’ll say this much for Porzio. He had good taste,” Munson said with a grin, and when Steve cast his eyes to him again, he flushed all over again when Munson’s eyes dragged over his form again before meeting his eyes with a wink.

He was used to being ogled, used to being looked at with disgust too, actually. However, outside his girls, he wasn’t used to being teased anymore. Especially not by a man who not too long ago had him fearing for his life. His wrist still smarted from where Munson had grabbed and twisted.

“Porzio was accustomed to the finer things in life,” Steve murmured, dropping his head to look at the glass in his hands, lightly tapping his nails against the thick glass. “He liked good drink, good drugs, and good sex.” Taking a deep breath, Steve looked back up at his new master. “There was a reason I remained his favorite.”

Munson gave him a more sardonic look this time. “I’m sure. I’m sure you brought many assets to the table.”

Steve almost wished he was brave enough to throw the rest of his drink at Munson’s stupid face, but besides the punishment he knew would be swift to come, he also couldn’t bring himself to waste something so damn good. So, instead, he took another annoyed little sip.

A voice in the back of his mind was telling him getting buzzed, possibly even drunk, with Munson right now was a bad idea. Steve was typically quite good nowadays at keeping his bitchy little inner thoughts inside his head, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to manage that with a tongue loosened by expensive alcohol.

“Isn’t that what you summoned me here to find out?”

A soft snort left Munson as he brought his own glass for a slow draw, his eyes never leaving Steve, that sardonic, mocking smile that Steve hated so much on his lips. If Steve wasn’t so used to his current state of undress, he might have felt uncomfortable sitting there in nothing but women’s underwear while Munson sat there in his trousers and wifebeater. As it was, he thought Munson was entirely too overdressed.

Though, it wouldn’t be the first time he was fucked while the higher person was fully clothed.

“Well,” Munson began after a brief silence, “it is true I had plans for you tonight. Now that I’m certain that you’re not hiding any secretive little weapon on your body, I suppose there’s no further point in delay.”

Right. Steve threw back the rest of the bourbon in his glass with a small grimace. It was smooth and almost sweet, but it still burned on the way down and, sue him, he would have preferred it on the rocks if given the choice. But Steve never had the choice nowadays.

Sure, he could pick out what dresses and skirts to wear, what panties to put on under them—if any at all—but they were preselected choices chosen by others. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn something simply because he wanted to. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex just because he wanted to.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t sometimes get off. But that was more just a biological reaction than genuine enjoyment, even when ordered to have sex with his girls. That was certainly a bonding experience in their shared traumas. He always felt so shitty afterwards, especially with Mona and Zuri who…well, it just was, even if every single one of them never blamed him for what he had to do. Just as he never blamed them for what they had to do to him.

So when Munson stood from where he was reposed on the bed and walked around the frame to pluck Steve’s empty glass from his hand, his own tumbler on the bedside table, Steve was ready to do whatever was needed. He was a survivor, and he’d continue to survive, would convince Munson that he could be a good girl and behave.

Except Munson walked back to the cart, poured another two fingers in the glass, and walked back over to press the now refilled glass into Steve’s hand. He smirked at the confused look Steve gave him before he could regulate his expression into something more docile and complacent.

“You were Porzio’s favorite, as you’ve taken great pains to remind me,” Munson remarked, tapping a finger under Steve’s glass to encourage him to lift it to his lips for another drink. “Which meant he kept you around more often than most, correct?”

Steve frowned as he took the commanded drink, feeling the high alcohol content already turning his body into a buzzing haze. “Yes,” he answered slowly, licking a stray drop of the bourbon from his lips and not missing the way Munson’s eyes zoomed in on the notion. “He always said my pussy was the tightest.”

Munson’s brows jerked at that, but Steve was used to referring to his ass as a pussy nowadays. That’s what Porzio typically called it, especially when he made Steve get all dolled up. It just was what it was. Munson seemed to take a moment to process that, however, before he was shaking his head and moving on to what he really wanted to know.

“You say that I have your loyalty, yes?” he murmured.

“If you guarantee my girls’ safety,” Steve butted in, reminding Munson of that necessity.

Rolling his eyes, Munson waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, your little harem of whores. And tell me what does this safety of yours include?”

Oh. Right. Steve cleared his throat, taking another hasty swallow of the burning liquid in his glass. “I know what we are, and what we’re meant for. I know that won’t change,” Steve rushed to get out. “But…if any of them need to be punished, let me be punished in their stead. Don’t let them be used too roughly, let that happen to me instead. Give them time to recover as they’ve done their job. And if…if one of your enemies comes, keep them protected. Just…keep them safe.”

Munson quirked a single brow at Steve. “You know, your loyalty only matters if I think I’m at a disadvantage. The loyalty of a whore is inconsequential, and I’m sure you’re well aware of the consequences should you displease me,” he smirked, trailing the back of his fingers—his rings—over Steve’s cheek, causing Steve to flinch. “I could do whatever I wanted to you and your girls and there isn’t a single thing you could do about it.”

Steve knew this. He knew this with every fiber of his being. Knew that his loyalty meant nothing, knew that he was always one tiny breath from having his face caved in by those rings that had just grazed his cheek. He didn’t actually have any bargaining chip in this situation, not really. Any information that Steve had could be found out sooner or later from other sources.

“I know, Daddy,” he whispered. “But I’m begging you. Please. You can do whatever you want to me, but please go easy on the others. I’ll never fight back, never make things difficult for you, and tell you everything I know about Porzio’s operations.” Steve thickly swallowed, steadying himself for the next part. “Including the embezzled money he stole from you that he’s hidden away.”

Without warning, Munson’s face transformed into a snarl and the hand that had grazed his cheek so softly was suddenly in his hair at the base of his neck, tightly fisted and forcing Steve’s head back with a pained gasp.

“Oh, so you do know about that, sweetness.” Neither Munsons words nor tone matched the look on his way or the way he forced Steve’s head back, the pain bringing with it a prickle of tears behind his eyes. “And here I thought you might just be a pretty face and a good pussy to fuck.”

Though one hand kept a firm grip on his tumbler so he didn’t spill it anywhere, the other reached out behind him to try to keep his balance and not put too much pressure on Munson’s grip on him. He refused to actually cry, however, blinking his eyes rapidly as he stared up at the man now towering over him.

“Y-yes, Daddy. I was in the r-room with him when he br-brought it up,” he whimpered, wincing as Munson’s grip tightened, the silver rings ripping at strands of his hair.

“And you think you can blackmail me with that information, do you?” Munson sneered. And then he was bringing his other hand up to grab Steve by the throat, causing Steve to finally drop the tumbler, spilling the bourbon over his lap and down his leg as the glass fell into his lap and then the floor, miraculously not breaking. “Withhold information on what’s mine so that I don’t treat you exactly like what you are?”

Steve’s now free hand grasped on to Munson’s wrist, eyes wide as Munson applied pressure to the side of his neck, making his already alcohol fuzzy head go stuffy from the restricted access to oxygen.

“No!” he gasped, jerking his head in the negative as much as he was able to in Munson’s grip. “N-no, I-I’ll tell you no matter what.” How had he not considered this? Obviously he knew he held no real power here, but even as he reminded himself that this man wasn’t the boy he’d once known, he still somehow kept thinking of him like that.

No, this man was a killer. He claimed his name by being merciless, ruthless, by never letting anyone have the upperhand over him. By making certain everyone knew not to fuck with him.

And here was Steve, acting like he could convince the man to…what? Not use his own property however he liked? Implying that Steve had information he wouldn’t share unless Munson caved to his demands? Fuck. If nothing else, Steve had just guaranteed worse treatment of his girls, and his own death.

This time, Steve couldn’t stop the tears that leaked from the corners of his eyelids, feeling them drip down the side of his face and over his ears or hairline. “Please, Daddy,” he whimpered. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything I know. J-just…please only punish me. The g-girls don’t know I was going to ask this. They don’t know what I know. I-I was never going to ke-keep it from you, I swear. This w-wasn’t a demand, or b-b-blackmail.”

“No?” Munson sneered, mockingly, his fingers tightening until spots danced in Steve’s vision. “I think being the favorite has gone to your head, Harrington. You’re still the entitled little bitch you’ve always been. Perhaps I should simply pass you around my men until you remember your place.”

Terror gripped Steve, gasping against Munson’s hold, trying to suck in air as he stared up into Munson’s dark eyes that were so richly brown they looked black as death in that moment. His own fingers gripped Munson’s wrist uselessly, his legs twitching where they hung off the edge of the bed, wanting to find leverage but having none. In all senses of the word.

“Please,” he gasped out pitifully. “I-I’m s-s-sorry…”

Munson’s eyes narrowed further at him, what could only be called a growl escaping him, and Steve was expecting for the pressure to increase, or for Munson’s hands to twist his head unnaturally and end it all there. Though it went against every self-preservational instinct he possessed, Steve forced his arms to go lax, to drop on Munson’s arm and to stop supporting his weight, closing his eyes at the inevitability.

Instead, after a tense moment, Munson gave another small growl and released the grip on Steve’s hair to throw him back against the bed, his rings tearing out some hair in the process. As his hand left Steve’s throat, a harsh gasp left Steve, followed by a round of coughing as he rolled to his side and greedily sucked in all the air that he could. His hands moved to lightly cradle his sore throat, choking on the need to breathe.

“Pathetic,” Munson scoffed from the foot of the bed as Steve drew his legs up, curling into himself as he fought for breath. “You played your hand too early, Harrington. You do realize that you’ve just revealed that the greatest punishment I could give you is forcing you to watch as I break each and everything one of your girls, don’t you?” he asked with mocking concern.

Steve’s eyes, which had clenched shut at the pain to his abused throat as he struggled to breathe, snapped open again in horror. He scrambled to push himself up on weak arms, staring at Munson with his terror clear on his face. “No!” he croaked, voice hoarse. It took a moment, the occasional cough still leaving him, but he twisted around to bring his legs beneath him, kneeling on the bed as he implored Munson.

“Please, Daddy, Master, don’t,” he whispered, clasping his hands before him. “I p-promise I wasn’t going to withhold the information. I was going to tell you, hoping you’d keep them safe, b-but it wasn’t a demand. Y-you can kill me immediately right after, I won’t fight you.”

“I hardly need your permission to use my toys however I want,” Munson sneered, but he was crossing his arms over his chest, not making a move to drag Steve forward again to finish what he started. “And it certainly sounded like you were hoping to blackmail me, Harr—”

“Vee!” Steve exclaimed around another cough, startling both himself and Munson at interrupting the man. He gasped, eyes wide, hands coming to cover his mouth for a moment. When no immediate retaliation occurred, Munson still shocked by the outburst, Steve dropped his hands and hastily tried to recover.

“Please, Master. I’m not him anymore. I haven’t been in a very long time. I’m Vee. I’m just a whore, your whore, and I know my life is entirely in your hands. I knew the moment I saw you that my death was coming, but please…don’t hurt my girls. I know I can’t stop you, but please…”

Steve sucked in a painful breath, trembling under Munson’s gaze. He racked his memory for anything to appease Munson for just a moment longer, to prove he could be good and loyal.

“Th-there’s a m-mole,” he whispered, and though he wanted to shy away from Munson’s intense gaze, he kept his own firmly on him to prove he was telling the truth. “I don’t know who it is, only that he’s one of your elites. He was working with Porzio to bring you down from the inside. It was the only reason Porzio was brave enough to move against you.”

“What?” Munson asked in a flat tone, not really sounding like a question at all.

“I swear I don’t know who it is, Master,” he pleaded. “I never saw him, only heard him mentioned. I was only in the room once when Porzio was on the phone with him, and they talked in code. I was…otherwise occupied, and couldn’t hear anything clearly. I just know he said something about a…a Gypsie bastard after he got off the phone with him.”

Something sharpened in Munson’s expression. His hands, which had loosely been clasped to his upper arms where they were crossed over his chest, tightened into fists as they dropped to his sides. Steve’s gaze followed them briefly before snapping back up to Munson’s face.

“They worked together to embezzle your money,” Steve breathlessly continued, wary as Munson’s mood seemed to darken, but needing to get this out and prove that he wouldn’t hold anything back. “They hid it in some offshore account. I d-don’t have the details, but the plan was to try to get other families to rise up against you and take you out. Porzio was in talks with the son of the Fumagalli Family.”

Munson, whose attention had started to drift inward, snapped back to him with narrowed eyes. “The Fumagalli Family has been an ally for years,” he said, not quite dismissively, but with a sense of distrust. “Why should I believe you?”

“It’s not the Don,” Steve rushed to reassure. “It’s his youngest son. He intends to stage a coup. I know this because I…I had to service him when he visited Porzio,” he said, having to resist a shudder at the memory. “As Porzio’s favorite, I am only given to those Porzio is trying to curry favor with. Giacomo is the youngest son of Don Fumagalli, yet I was given to him and told to do whatever he wanted.”

A tense silence followed his words, Munson studying him with distaste. “Convenient, isn’t it, that you had all this information and are only telling me now. Trying to preserve your life, sweetheart?” he asked, tone once more mocking.

“No,” Steve wheezed out truthfully, no longer resisting the urge to reach up to rub at his throat. Munson’s eyes tracked the movement, but made no other response. “I know I’m as good as dead. I just…I want to prove I’m loyal to you. No other master had my loyalty, but you do.”

“Why? You said it was quid pro quo, didn’t you?” Munson scoffed. “You yourself said you would give me this information if I kept you safe. Still sounds like blackmail to me, darling.”

Trembling, Steve moved slowly towards the end of the bed. “I know,” he whispered. “I was wrong. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t actually keep the information from you. I just wanted to keep my girls safe, that’s all, I promise.” He bowed his head, dragging in an uncomfortable breath. “I may not be who I was any longer, and neither are you, but…”

Steve chanced a glance up through his lashes. “But we still have some sort of past connection to each other. I know your name, and you know mine. We went to school together,” he whispered, his own tone once more pleading.

“So what, because your friends used to throw me against lockers, broke the bones of my friends, and got me kicked out of school, suddenly you expect me to trust in your loyalty to me?”

“They got you kicked out of school?” Steve asked before he could stop himself, sounding genuinely confused because he was. He looked up at Munson with that same tilted head confused look from earlier, while Munson just blinked at him, also looking mildly thrown.

Munson regained himself quickly, however, clicking his tongue in another annoyed tsk before waving a hand dismissively. “More or less,” he muttered. “But truly, you expect me to believe that you are willing to have your ass ploughed by me, shoved into ridiculously pink women’s underwear, because of some hometown loyalty?” Munson sneered.

Recovering, shoving the little clue about Munson’s past away for later—if he got a later—thought, Steve shook his head. “No, Master. Daddy,” he breathed, wanting to firmly indicate he knew exactly what their relationship was. “Just that I…I didn’t know you then, but I knew of you now. Only an idiot would move against Kas the Bloody-Handed. And…and you are who you are…so my loyalty is yours. Whether you decide to kill me now or not.”

Carefully, slowly, Steve slipped off the bed, keeping his gaze firmly stuck on Munson’s own. He closed the very short distance between them, reaching out to settle his hand lightly on Munson’s chest. Munson made no move to hurt him, however, so he licked his lips and pressed onward.

“Everything I do is a plea for my girls, yes. But also…” Steve let out a shaky breath. “Fuck Hawkins. Fuck Steve Harrington. But if I’m going to put my loyalty behind anyone, it’s going to be someone I know, even if it’s just a minuscule way.”

Amusement curled at Munson’s lips. Steve tensed ever so slightly when his arms came up, but one merely came around Steve to settle on his lower back, the hand warm and possessive, while the other cupped his jaw. A shiver left Steve as that hand slid down to the curve of his neck, thumb stroking over the new reddened mark there.

“Fuck Steve Harrington?” Munson let out a low, slow laugh, bringing his lips close to Steve’s ear. “And what if that’s entirely what I plan to do?” he whispered. “Sweet Vee.”

Steve brought his other hand up to settle on Munson’s chest next to his first one, trying to quell his nausea. “I told you, Daddy. I’m yours. You own me. I only exist for your own amusement until you tire of me. Fuck me, beat me, kill me. Whatever brings you most joy, Daddy.”

A huff of laughter against his ear. A brush of lips that caused him to tense. Munson’s hand on his back slid down to the swell of his ass, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his panties.

“What brings me the most joy?” Munson lightly teased in a whisper. “What brings me the most joy…would be having my fucking money.”

Steve was suddenly pushed away, causing him to stumble back against the bed and fall down onto the mattress once more. He stared up at Munson in shock, but Munson had turned away from him. Was walking towards Porzio’s wardrobe and digging around in it until he pulled out one of his silken dressing gowns, a terrible chartreuse color with a paisley print.

“Your little panties are definitely leaving nothing to the imagination now in their sodden state, and they are doubtlessly sticky. Take them off, and put this on,” Munson ordered, throwing the robe at Steve dismissively.

When Steve could only stare at him in continued shock, Munson rolled his eyes and moved to reclaim his own glass of forgotten bourbon. He tossed the rest of it back in one go.

“As I said, Sweet Vee, we have a lot to discuss.”

~

tbc…

~

I mean, this is all based off of Google, but fun fact: Fumagalli is Italian for “smoked poultry” but in context is used as a nickname for poultry thieves using smoke to fill henhouses to quietly steal chickens. Giacomo means “supplanter” which is a little more obvious lol. I don’t always give OCs names with specific meanings, but when I do, it’s just to make myself laugh.

Also, “Sweet Vee” may or may not be a reference to ‘Always Sunny in Philadelphia’ which is also just a thing I did to make myself laugh, but is also a way of address from Eddie that limits some of the forced feminization Steve is under without drawing attention to it.

Please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

Hostage hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[farewllyouth]

okay well it only took me all morning but here's a whopping 25 sentences for the wip challenge poll I ran the other day. @mothmanwashere look what you made me do.

royjamie get together fic, but it's only the angsty middle bit lol. of course if u want to see the beginning or the happy ending u can comment or swing by my inbox to encourage me to keep going bc lord knows I need it. approximately 500 words.

under a readmore bc my lit major ass loves run on sentences

you stirred something in me (i admit defeat)

"You still alive over there granddad?"

Roy grunts, all he can manage at the moment, still trying to catch his breath. Damn Jamie and his youthful endurance and his still-functioning body and his fucking face that Roy knows is all done up with that smug fucking smile.

When Roy manages to work up the nerve to look over at him, Jamie's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

He looks fucking… concerned or some shit. Not like he actually thinks Roy's old man heart has stopped in his fucking chest or whatever, but it's familiar and he can't quite place it. It makes Roy feel something between anger and discomfort that he can't put a name to, and he's about to open his mouth to say something defensive and maybe a little bit mean, but Jamie speaks up first.

"Mind if I borrow your shower?"

Saved from embarrassing himself further, he points to the en suite. Jamie rolls over to plant his feet on the floor and stand all in one fluid motion. Roy can't help but envy him as an ache starts to settle in his own knee.

Roy hears the water running, and this is the part where he usually starts to fall asleep but he's wide awake, his knee protesting and his mind racing and Jamie's face burned into his memory.

Because there is a memory there, rising to the surface of Roy's hazy brain.

Back when he first came back to Richmond, Jamie had been the only person who hadn't seemed excited to have him back, that same nervous look on his face. And Roy hadn't expected things to change from the way they were before, when he and Jamie hated each other, but maybe Jamie didn't really hate him anymore – maybe he never had, but Roy couldn't let himself look too close at that yet – because he wasn't picking fights, at least not until Roy had forced his hand, and even then he'd only wanted Roy to make him better.

Roy generally isn't good at reading people, but he knows now that Jamie had been expecting something. Braced for disappointment.

Jamie had told him as much, later, after they got into that truly childish fucking fight over Keeley and gone out for kebabs. Roy had been feeling mean and made Jamie watch him eat without letting him order anything. And then Jamie had opened up and told him something really fucking sad, because apparently they did shit like that now.

Thought you were just waiting for a reason to get rid of me, he'd said. Cause Roy was such a fucking arsehole that Jamie had fucking resigned himself to getting booted from the team at Roy's say-so, even though he was trying so fucking hard to be a better teammate and a better man, because he believed they would've chosen Roy over him.

And there's that fucking face again, making his stomach churn both in the memory and in the present.

"Fuuuuck," Roy groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Right," Jamie says, suddenly standing next to the bed, half-dressed, hair still dripping, "well, I should probably be off then, yeah?"

[plethora-of-imagines]

Plethora's Pleasant-mas Advent Calendar: Day 18

Words: 735

Warnings: None

Sipping your drink to hide your fond smile as one of your favorite co-workers stumbled away from you and Steven to join the mass of bodies all tangled together on the dance floor. The fancy glimmering ballroom your work had rented out for the company holiday party was massive. In your mind it was a little bit overkill. Almost everyone was far too drunk to enjoy it properly, and would scarcely remember it. But it wasn’t your money.

You had loved the chance to dress up in a fancy dress for once. And it was even better to get to see Steven in a suit. He had chosen one that reminded him of his moon knight suit but was different enough to avoid dangerous comparisons. The cream color of the suit, suiting his skin. The tight fit showing off his well maintained body. Overall he looked better than you did! No matter how much he claimed otherwise. 

The two of you had mainly come for the excuse to dress up, and the free fancy food. Which due to the founder of your company being vegan had been mainly vegan. Basically the two of you had treated it like a fancy date night where you were going to run into a bunch of people you knew. 

While your coworkers got plastered, the two of you had savored the fancy cocktails and decadent desserts. Just enjoying each other’s company. Humoring the drunk conversations of your peers while the two of you talked- in the moments of time you got to yourselves- about the new project Steven had started at the university he had become a professor at this past year.

The music choice had gotten more and more subdued as time went on, the DJ trying to encourage people to leave to start moving to the pubs as time ran out on the venue. The last several songs being slow dances that people were growing tired of trying to grind to. 

Smiling at Steven you teased, “I think the DJ is trying to tell us to slow dance at least once tonight Steven.”

“I- ummm, don’t really know how to dance. Might be best not to, I know that all your fancy coworkers are plastered but I don’t wanna embarrass you...”

“You wouldn’t,” you assured him. “But it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

Steven’s face changed, brows furrowing and lips tightening.

“Oh, he wants to, he just isn’t going to take the initiative.”

Marc’s rough American accent had you relaxing. You had feared that his tightened expression had been due to Khonshu coming to put an end to your relaxing evening. Marc gave you a small smile as he brushed the curls Steven had carefully styled back. Pulling at the suit trying to get comfortable in it.

“It’s odd seeing you in Steven’s suit,” you admitted.

“Yeah, I’m just much more of a mummy suit guy, aren’t I,” Marc snarked back.

Grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the dance floor against what you assumed were mental protests from Steven. Marc smoothly guided you into a slow dancing position, fondly rolling his eyes at the music that started playing.

“What don’t want to dance with me in the moonlight Marc,” you teased as you both swayed.

“Nah, much rather dance in here, you’d freeze out there.”

Laughing at his comment as you laid your head against his shoulder and enjoyed the gentle sway. You had not expected to see Marc tonight, he had claimed that work parties were not his thing.

“Steven is actually a better dancer than me, he actually knows ballroom dance. Of course he’s never actually danced with a partner so he’s too nervous to show off,” Marc slowly explained his earlier fronting. “He’s backseat judging my dancing right now in fact.”

With a playful wink Marc silently told you that he was being bad on purpose, helping to encourage Steven to take control. He was getting you, your dance. A shutter went through the body before Steven took back control. Fixing both your postures subtly and starting to lead you into a simple waltz.

“Can’t let Marc keep almost stepping on your toes. LIke a bull in a china shop on purpose I swear!”

You laughter filled the air as Steven and you danced the rest of the night away together until the venue came to kick the rest of you out.

[little-earthquakes-rp]

When he snapped her panties a nervous giggle escaped and instinctually raised up on her knees granting him access to where she really craved his attention. No sooner did he slide against her did a small whimper escape as the tip of his finger teased her clit. Again she found herself lustfully grinding against his touch one arm holding onto the front of his shirt while the other rested over his shoulder steching across his back. The moment he spoke her eyes met the depth of his and were spellbound. She wondered how many people over the centuries had lost themselves in those twilight eyes. The instructions were simple enough, but the authoritative nature and tumble of darling from his lips was almost too much.

Already rhythmically rolling her hips the slow drag over her clit caused her to shudder, and gasp as a euphoric swell swept over her body. A promise of something more to come.

She should've taken his words as a cautionary warning, but it was exactly why she'd chosen him. Chosen made it sound like there was a list or something. In actuality, it was just him, as he inspired the desire. At the threat of being left in a babbling blissed-out state, she nodded and whispered, "Please."

When he gently pushed a finger into her she found her nails suddenly digging into his chest and back, and immediately apologized with a whisper, "Sorry." She glanced up slightly embarrassed by it, and noticed a gold-trimmed mirror on the wall just behind them and caught her wanton reflection as she rode his hand. The moment he called her a 'good girl' another swell bloomed throughout her body, and she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, arms gripping around him tightly again. The truth was she wanted to be a good girl for him. She wanted him to be pleased.

The moment he pulled at the top of her dress she knew she needed to steal that kiss she so coveted before he made use of his beautiful mouth elsewhere, and bent her head slightly down capturing his plush lips. With the next lift of her hips, she pulled at his bottom lip trying to gain access to taste him.

The kiss felt intimate but was broken when he shared that his first instincts upon meeting were wicked. A blush bloomed across her face and while she wanted to share her thoughts on their introduction he pulled her taut nipple into his mouth and added another finger to ready her for him. A pained moan escaped, "Ehh," at the addition of a thick second digit filling her to his knuckles. Sasha kept her hips lifted as he began to mercilessly pump as he played with her breast. His mouth was so talented she could come from it alone.

Suddenly, a need to have more contact with his skin took over and she pulled the front of his shirt from the waist of his pants and slid her hands onto his sculpted abs in time to grab and hold on as her body complied when he demanded she come on his hand. Again calling her a 'good girl' she lost her ability to keep their rhythm, and her eyes closed just as they were about to roll into the back of her head. Leaving her to see the stars. She could feel herself milking his fingers as she fell forward hiding her face away as the powerful wave finally struck. Biting her bottom lip trying to contain the scream of ecstasy her legs began to tremble uncontrollably followed by the rest of her body as her slick trailed down the upper thighs.

Only after she began to come down from the crest did the need to desperately pull at his shirt again take over. This time she made quick work of unbuttoning it and pulling it off his strong shoulders. All she could think about was his confession upon finding her and wanting to do explicit things. She smiled and played with the back of his hair, already close to being blissed out, and breathly admitted, "It felt so powerful to summon you." Lost in euphoria she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled herself into his chest. It was then the overwhelming realization came that Cassian was able to bring her to climax and completion, and she indeed wasn't broken. Tears welled up in her eyes as she embraced him skin to skin trying to catch her breath before the next round.

Whoever made Sasha feel undesirable deserved to die in the worst way imaginable. He'd pierce their souls until there was nothing left to send to hell. Such was how Wrath felt at this time... to the being who held the power of Lilith's Grimoire in her hands and yet, submitted to him so willingly.

She'd make a fine and powerful succubus with that well of power and magic inside her... at least his demons thought so. However, Lust reminded them that they were getting ahead of themselves. There was a matter to be completed first.

So, she was smart even when aroused; she wouldn't give him the man's name now, but he would find out. He knew how to extract information very well, after all.

Fingers gripped her bare rear, dragging her core along his clothed length. "I accept... but you'll have to accept the consequences that come with getting fucked by me. We are all broken one way or another, but you're not leaving this room until you're drunk off my cum. Until you've released so many times, you can't recall your fucking name."

That treacherous hand slipped between her legs, finding her thong and snapping it easily with his fingers before they played with her folds. He ran his fingers along them leisurely, thumb playing with her clit, blue eyes fixated on her face. "First, you're going to come on my hand, darling-- that's it," he crooned as she rocked her hips against his fingers. His thumb circled her clit before he sank one finger into her tight heat, his motions gentle. "Mm... good girl, you're doing so well," he praised as she began riding his hand. His other hand dragged up to her chest, groping the soft mound against the fabric before he pulled the fabric of her dress down entirely, revealing soft, perky breasts.

"If you knew the wicked things I wanted to do to you when you first summoned me, you'd probably faint," he inserted another finger inside her before leaning forward, capturing her nipple, sucking, swirling his tongue around the hardening peak as his arm wrapped around her waist, guiding her hips forward and back as his fingers became more insistent, DEMANDING a release.

His tongue dragged up the valley between her breasts as he tasted, sucked, bit to his heart's content, enjoying the sounds she made, knowing she was close to her release as her hip movements became erratic, her legs tensing, her walls tightening around his fingers. "Cum on my fingers, baby, like the good girl I know you are," he crooned.

[prismuffin]

Hello could u do a yelena belova x ftm reader

A/n: Ofc! You didn’t specify a plot so I just did what I felt was comfortable! FTM aligned, please don’t read if you’re not trans! Or if your fem/fem aligned!

You’re looking quite masculine tonight

Yelena Belova x FTM!Reader

( Summary: you’ve been worried about going to Tony’s gala for weeks, Yelena notices and helps you go outfit shopping )

[Reader has not had top surgery yet!]

Request?: Yes

!-! More under the cut !-!

"What about that one?" Yelena tapped her finger against the screen of your laptop. You hummed, looking over the suit before shaking your head. "It dips down too far, and the shoulders look bulky." You heard Yelena huff from beside you. "Well you have to pick something! The gala's in like, a week."

You cringed at the cruel reminder and sighed. "I know! It's just, I wanna look..masculine." you looked down, messing with your hands a bit. It was embarrassing to be admitting something like this out loud. I mean, everyone knew you were trans that's not the problem; the problem is that you're surrounded by gods and men that look like the definition of "masculinity" and sometimes it can make you feel like a little less than a man. You felt as though you had to compete to be seen as a man in the tower, despite everyone respecting your pronouns and who you are as a person.

You felt a hand rest on your arm, it seemed to pull you from your thoughts completely. "You'll look perfectly masculine in whatever you choose to wear Y/n." You looked towards Yelena and muttered a quiet thanks. She gave you a friendly smile in return, though it quickly turned into a smirk. "Now, let's find you a suit! Woo!" you chuckled at her enthusiasm and continued scrolling through the options.

---

You ran your hands over the fabric of your dress shirt and shook off your nerves. Tonight was gonna be fine. The suit you'd chosen had arrived on time and it fit perfectly. You actually look quite good in your opinion. You smiled at yourself in the mirror and grabbed your blazer, throwing it on. You turned to the side in the mirror and smiled at yourself as your chest seemed to get lost in the fabric of the shirt and blazer. You faced forward again and pulled at the sides of your blazer to straighten the fabric a bit more. You grabbed a bottle of cologne that Steve had gotten you and sprayed yourself, adding to your super fancy attire.

A knock on the door caught your attention and when you heard Yelena's voice calling out for you, you were quick to open it. "Are you done in here? The parties already started ya know." You smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, I was just adding some finishing touches." There was a beat of silence as you surveyed her outfit. She was wearing a relatively long dress, it was black with gold accents. It was super flowy and very pretty.

"You look-"

"I like-"

You both stopped and laughed, though yours was more nervous than hers. "Sorry, what were you gonna say?" She apologized and you scratched the nape of your neck. "I was just gonna say you look very pretty uhh.." you chuckled nervously, "your dress," you pointed to it "it's very beautiful." She did a little spin "You think so? I like it a lot ya know when I saw it in the store Natasha thought it was a bit much but I think it's just enough personally no?" She looked down at the dress and grabbed the ends of it, letting it move with her hands. "I think it's perfect Yelena." She looked back up at you with a wide smile before looking you up and down. You saw her eyes light up as a smirk crossed over her face "what?" You looked down towards yourself. "Nothing, just-"

"Can you two hurry the hell up?" You both turned at the sound of Natasha's voice. "Sorry Tasha!" Nat rolled her eyes and motioned for the two of you to follow her as she mumbled about how long Yelena was taking to get you.

You apologized to no one in particular and closed the door to your room. You held out an arm for Yelena, which she took, and together you both started walking down to the party. Her eyes traveled to your outfit again before she spoke up, saying the words that brought the biggest smile to your face; the words that boosted your confidence for the rest of the night. "You know Y/n, you're looking quite masculine tonight." It was as if she knew what affect those words would have on you.

Oh who are we kidding, she totally knew.

--

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day/night!

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Masterlist

[wardenparker]

You’re So Vain - Chapter 8

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.  

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+! We finally made it! Word Count: 10.9k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, fake dating, angst, a dash of fluff, and a surprising amount of yearning. Summary: Date #5 is a bust, but Taco Tuesday is the real test of what lays ahead for you and Dieter. And what lies ahead is nothing like either of you expected... Notes: I have nothing to say for myself this week, guys. I just *really* love these two idiots.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

It’s been two days since you’ve heard from Dieter. Surprising, considering the fact that you’ve now slept with him, and you would be lying if you claimed it didn’t hurt a little. Maybe you were nothing more than convenient in the moment and that’s all it was. Just a moment. But you have to begrudgingly admit to yourself, standing on the Santa Monica Pier waiting for him to show up for your fifth scheduled date, that you’re hurt that he hasn’t even texted.

Of course, you hadn’t sent anything either. Too afraid of being rejected in the very sober light of day to brave even a “Hey”. You had left a note, and he had chosen to ignore you. That’s what you get, apparently. You get rejection. He’ll probably show up tonight like nothing is wrong and not even acknowledge that anything ever happened.

If you had begun to let yourself hope that you were more than a contract to him, the message is now clear: you are a means to an end. He’s probably forgotten about taco night, too, and you’ll have to explain to a heartbroken Nora why her newly minted uncle won’t be showing his face around the house again. And it’s your fault for getting your hopes up. Looking out over the water, you check your phone again and sigh. He’s late. Only five minutes but still, he’s late. Figures.

******

“I’m not going.” Dieter has been arguing with Libby for forty-five minutes. Staring darkly up at his manager as he very pointedly sits in his boxers and a bathrobe, not dressed for his date. “I’m never going again. So just fucking forget it. Let her out of that stupid ass contract, because I have no intention of doing anything else.” That was entirely true, because apparently Nora knew about Taco Tuesday and he wasn’t disappointing her, but after waking up alone, he wanted nothing to do with you.

“If you would tell me what the hell happened, I might consider it.” She’s asked five times now and he keeps dodging the question, and it’s making her more and more aggravated. Dieter can be evasive in general, but this is bad even for him. “You’re already late, so what’s the five minutes it’s going to take to tell me why you hate her all over again?”

He stares at her for a few moments, about to continue the stubborn silence but he finally huffs. Looking away in embarrassment and a little sadness, he mumbles, “She took off while I was asleep.” He confesses quietly.

Libby stares right back for a second, jaw almost dropping open before she can stop herself. That was not the response she had been expecting, and judging from the pout on his face it’s actually something that is upsetting him. “No note?” She asks, leaning back against his sink. “She seems like the note type.”

“Fucking nothing.” He sneers, shaking his head. “She’s made it clear that she regrets it. Didn’t even text me. So I’m not going to bother.”

“Maybe she thought you would regret it and didn’t want to hang around just to be asked to leave.” If anything, Libby would be a damn liar if she claimed nothing like that had ever happened to her when she first got to LA. The doubting expression on Dieter’s face is unshakeable, though, and she shrugs. “I don’t know, Dee. Neither of you has ever been particularly excited about the whole thing but it’s doing exactly what we want it to.” She puts on her most excited face, trying to entice him into some kind of positivity. “The contract from Paramount that just came through has a clause for two more pictures and they approved your entire rider.”

“No.” Dieter shakes his head and huffs. “I don’t care, it’s enough.” He tells her. “Once I get through Taco Tuesday and leave for Switzerland, I’m happy to never think about her again.”

“Taco Tuesday?” She raises an eyebrow at him in question. Usually he’s not one to participate in cutesy shit like that.

Dieter rolls his eyes and huffs again, feeling a little self-conscious. “I promised Nora I would watch Toy Story with her, and Tuesday is the only day that would work and it’s apparently Taco Tuesday in their household.” He explains, making sure to emphasize that he was going for Nora. Kids don’t deserve the shitty end of the stick because their aunt sucks.

“Tuesday is tomorrow,” Libby tells him gently, in case he hasn’t looked at a calendar yet today. He made his costume fitting earlier but that was because the studio sent a car for him. “You’re gonna go have dinner with her tomorrow after standing her up tonight?” Her shoulders tense, seeing the obvious flaw in that plan. “You know I can’t let her out of the contract, Dee. It’s too important. But if you post the tiniest bit on your social media from dinner tomorrow night, I’ll call her right now and tell her to go home. Can we call that a deal?” There’s still the sixth date to consider, and she’ll have to figure out what the hell to do about it, but she can cross that bridge on her own and tell him the plan later.

Dieter bites his lip but after a moment of consideration, he blows out a sigh. “Fine.” He narrows his eyes at Libby. “But I’m not doing a sixth date.” He promises. “Sue my ass, I don’t care.”

“I’ll figure something out.” She’s good at that. The problem solving of having movie star clients is something that she’s very good at, in fact. He doesn’t always like her solutions at first, but she definitely gets her desired results four out of five times. That’s why she’s worked for him for so long - she works for him.

“Yeah.” Dieter rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat; happy he’s gotten his way. “Don’t tell her.” He decides, smirking slightly. “Let her sit there.”

“She’s not the Wicked Witch of the West, Dee.” Libby shakes her head. She has no intention of letting you stew, but judging from how hurt he is she might wait a little while before calling. “I’m guessing this was about the party?”

“It’s about the fact that she snuck out of bed and left and didn’t even give me a ‘fuck you Bravo’!” He leaps up out of his seat and turned to the window. The sheets had been changed and he was honestly thinking about getting rid of the entire bed.

“Dee.” Libby almost groans at the realization but smothers it with a sigh. “You like her now. Don’t you? You did a complete 180.”

“No.” He refuses to look her in the face, staring out at the pool as if he can magically transport himself to it. “I don’t and drop it.” He warns, turning around to level a glare at her.

Holding up both hands in a show of innocence, Libby takes a step back out of range of his glare. “Okay, okay.” He absolutely fucking does like you. She’s only ever seen him go from childish to angry like this when his heart is completely on the line, so she definitely has her answer. And that is enough to let her change the subject. “Are you packed yet?”

“Yes.” Dieter shrugs one shoulder and gestures towards his closet. “No. I’ll be ready by the time I leave.” Because of the locale and what it means, he will dress a little better. As if in tribute to his sister. She would have pulled his ear if he tried to walk into a museum in a bathrobe.

“I’ll get you packed.” Like with everything else in his life, Libby knows Dieter’s most and least favourite things, and also the things that are bad habits that she can help break him of with a little gentle prodding. Like packing shirts that fit him properly as well as the soft, shapeless t-shirts that he loves. “I’ll come by tomorrow while you’re doing your at taco night and pack you up. We won’t do it tonight so that you don’t have to think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Dieter shrugs and turns away from the window. “I’m gonna go for a swim.” He announces, eager to get away from the questioning eyes of his manager.

“Okay.” Libby nods, knowing that that is the end of the conversation for tonight. “Try to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dieter glances at the woman studying him and gives another halfhearted shrug. “‘Night.” He tells her. “Go home to your soulmate. Stop worrying about mine.”

“I worry about you,” she clarifies, but turns for the door. “I haven’t stuck with you for twenty years just for the pay, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He huffs, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes. “It’s because you’re secretly in love with me.”

“Our little secret.” Libby offers him a smile, and turns to leave. She’ll come back tomorrow and pack some of his favorite treats into his suitcases for Switzerland. With Dieter the little things make all the difference, and if he’s nursing a broken heart then he deserves all the big and little things in the world.

Dieter peels off his robe and dives into the pool, not even caring that he’s not wearing swimming trunks. The cool water surrounds him and instantly relaxes his volatile emotions. He hopes you are standing at that pier a long time, although he figures you probably didn’t even show up yourself.

******

It’s been two hours, but you haven’t dared to call or even text him. If he didn’t bother contacting you after fucking you, and now he’s just not showing up for one of his manager’s precious arranged dates? He’s done with you. The message couldn’t be clearer: You served your purpose and now he’s done. The worst part isn’t that you’re being rejected by your soulmate. Sure that’s fucking heart breaking to think about, but the worst part is that you’re going to have to explain to Nora that she isn’t going to see him ever again.

******

Dieter huffs to himself as he stands in front of the door he would have been happy to be in front of just a week ago. Or at least not as upset to be here. He knows you will be here, but he’s just going to focus on Nora. The gift in his hand for her. Sighing, he presses the doorbell at seven on the dot.

Your neck nearly snaps when the doorbell rings, and you can hear Nora happily cheering from the living room where she and Steph have been setting up the movie and TV trays around the sofa for movie night. Your time in the kitchen is usually soothing but all you’ve been able to think about is actually joking with Dieter in the car about taco toppings like some kind of normal couple getting to know each other instead of the fucked-up mess you are together. For whatever godforsaken reason, though, he’s here. And on time, to boot. “I’ll get it!” Steph calls, hurrying to the door before you can even put your knife down. She’s heard you crying the last couple of days and she hates it, so beating you to the door is an effort to prevent immediate shouting.

He’s relieved to see a face that he considers friendly. “Hey Steph.” He greets her breathlessly and bites his lip. “I, uh, Nora and I are supposed to watch Toy Story?”

“Yeah,” she nods, being plenty aware of the plan. She had thought it was a great sign until she saw your mood the last few days. “Come on in. It’s…uh, it’s a family thing, so that includes you.”

“I don’t know about family.” He murmurs, feeling self-conscious and apprehensive about seeing you again. “But I appreciate the opportunity to see Nora before I leave.”

“You’re family.” Steph assures him quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Family doesn’t always agree or get along one hundred percent of the time, but they matter to each other. And Uncle Deedee matters.”

“Maybe to Squirt.” Dieter huffs and reaches into the bag to pull out a bottle of tequila he had brought her. “For my hostess. Can’t have tacos without tequila.”

“Thanks.” She really is at a loss for what to say beyond trying to promise him that he is not the enemy. Not to her and Nora. Your stance is a little shaky at the moment. “Come on in. There’s fresh guacamole and queso and more chips than have ever been in one place before.”

Dieter is saved from more awkward conversation by a loud, happy squeal. “Uncle Deedee!” He turns and grins when he sees Nora rushing towards him, outfitted in her Jessie costume. “Hey, Squirt!”

Steph shuffles into the kitchen guiltily to grab the appetizer tray and you nearly wince. “I can’t believe he came.”

“Well, he’s here.” Steph murmurs softly.

“Yeah.” You nod in the vaguest way possible, feeling small and petty for being hurt over it. “I know it’s just for Nora. I know that. But—” But he couldn’t at least text you to tell you that he had gotten what he wanted? “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t go out there.”

Steph sighs and rolls her shoulder back, listening to the sounds of Dieter and Nora chatting animatedly. “What happened?” She’s tired of assuming the worst, but she’s determined to figure out how to advise you.

“We—” You sigh, putting down the knife in your hand and looking down at the kitchen counter instead of up at your friend. “We slept together. And I don’t remember much, to be honest. But I had to leave the next morning to get home and I couldn’t wake him up, so I left him a note. Apparently that wasn’t good enough because he hasn’t spoken to me since and he stood me up yesterday.”

“Oh shit.” Out of everything, Steph hadn’t expected that. Not even with you coming home the next morning. You had looked hung over, so she had just assumed you had crashed. “I— are you—was it—?” She can’t get the words out because she doesn’t believe Dieter is that type of man, but…

“I don’t know.” Shrugging deeply, you scrub both hands down your face and groan. “I know I enjoyed myself. I remember that much. But clearly that doesn’t mean shit.”

“How do you know you enjoyed it?” She asks, concerned.

“I started remembering little bits.” It was a shock, the first time a little memory had come back to you, and you had pushed it out of your head immediately, but a few more memories had followed over the last few days. “Just a few flashes, but graphic ones.” And it hurts so much worse knowing it had been good before it all went wrong again.

She feels a little better at that, knowing you aren’t the type of person to just give in if you don’t want something. “And of course, talking isn’t an option.” She murmurs to herself, amazed at how stubborn the two of you are. A perfect match in her opinion.

“The ball is still in his court.” You have no problem saying that, but he better have a hell of an apology for yesterday. “I left him a note. He chose not to talk to me after that.”

Steph bites her lip, knowing that you wouldn’t appreciate her putting in her obvious questions. You already feel like she’s ‘team Dieter’ so it’s best to not ask where you left the note. “Just— hopefully tonight goes well.” She murmurs finally.

“I’m not going to cause shit.” Of course not. You wouldn’t do that to your niece. “Tonight is for Nora.”

“For Nora.” Steph nods, reaching out and rubbing your shoulder gently. “I’m here if you need to talk.” She offers, knowing that you normally run to talk to her, but this time you’ve been quiet.

“I’ll get over it.” It’s barely a mumble as you go back to slicing radishes to add to the tray of taco toppings. “He obviously got what he wanted from me. No use pretending it was anything more.”

Your best friend sighs and shakes her head, wondering why they hell you haven’t learned your lesson about communication. “If that’s what you want.” She comments as she walks out into the main living area.

******

Dinner would have been pure torture if not for the movie. Nora happily chatters along with the dialogue while the adults eat much more slowly, and you park yourself in the armchair next to the end of the couch he isn’t sitting on to put some distance between you. Not that he’s even glanced in your direction the entire night. Not one single time. And no matter how many times you tell yourself that it is what it is, it still fucking hurts.

Dieter can feel the aching hurt just crawling under his skin. Making him want to scratch endlessly along his body and tear it out. He wants to yell at you, demand to know why he wasn’t good enough. Worse, he wants to kiss you again.

It’s bullshit that you have to sit here and pretend everything is okay, and you practically jump up out of your seat when Nora yawns and stretches as the credits begin to roll. Picking up plates and cups and loading everything onto a tray to bring back to the kitchen, everything is fine until you reach to snag the plate from in front of Dieter without realizing that his hand was touching it. Touching him is not what you needed tonight.

Dieter yanks his hand back like he’s been burned, hating the way that his stomach twists and clenches almost painfully. “I gotta go, Squirt.” He murmurs as he all but leaps up off the couch and pats his pockets for his keys. “You be good for your mom, okay?”

“Uncle Deedee nooooo!” She pouts, yawning again. “Don’t want you to go!” She’s had fun tonight and even though she knows she’s going to have to go to bed she wants him there until the very last second.

“How about I carry you up?” He compromises, heart melting towards the little girl. She has a special place in his heart. A reminder of everything good and sweet that was still around.

“Really?” She just about lights up, arms already open wide to sling around his neck. “Yes, please!”

He pretends to grunt, huffing at her playfully. “Bigger than you look, squirt.” He teases. “Might have to carry me upstairs.”

“Noooooo.” She giggles, grabbing on to him like she used to do to with Shawn when he carried her the same way. It makes you want to scream and cry and ask him what the hell you did wrong this time, but you can’t even open your mouth or move.

It’s a fucking shame that this wonderful little girl was your niece. Especially since he was certain that eventually you would prevent him from seeing her or Steph again. “Okaaaaay.” He grumbles and starts for the stairs. “I’ll carry you this time.”

Steph disappears after them as you pile things up on the tray and bring them back to the kitchen. There’s a lot to clean up and you’re probably going to have a hell of a lot to drink once he’s gone, drowning the remnants of chips and guac in tequila like it will somehow make you less sad.

******

Upstairs, Dieter is fascinated by Nora’s bedtime routine. Nodding as she shows him her toothbrush and humming in approval when she reappears in a Toy Story nightgown. When she’s in her bed, he winks at her and bends down to kiss her forehead. “Night, squirt.”

“Night night.” Nora hugs him tight before reaching for her mother, demanding more hugs from a second source. “Night night, Mommy. And night night to Auntie Gigi.”

His stomach twists at the mention of you and he gives a small smile as he backs out of the doorway. Having every intention of sneaking out without seeing you again.

An intention that backfires when you’re standing in the living room collecting rejected drink glasses when he hits the bottom of the staircase. “Thank you for not punishing her for things she has nothing to do with.” Twenty minutes alone in the kitchen and that’s what you decided to say to him. No yelling, no anger, no self-pity.

Snorting, he can’t even begin to fathom the audacity you have. “She speaks!” He cries softly, scornfully. “She’s innocent.”

“I speak?” And just like that, the self-righteous fury is right on the surface. “You have been freezing me out, not the other way around.”

He probably resembles a fish the way that his mouth works for several moments, opening and closing without any words coming out of them. Indignation fills him and he narrows his eyes. “Considering the way you snuck out and didn’t say a goddamn word, I figured it was exactly what you wanted.”

“I told you exactly where I was going.” You shoot back, glad the cups in your hands are all plastic and all empty. “But I’m sorry a damn note isn’t good enough for Dieter fucking Bravo. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

“What note?” He demands, hands on his hips and his voice creeps up a notch. “You didn’t leave a fucking note!” Sneering, he shakes his head. “I woke up, alone, after a great night to find out my soulmate would prefer a walk of shame rather than stay in the bed with me.”

The way your face falls is complete – understanding dawning all at once. “On your sketch pad. It was the only paper I could find.” You tell him, voice strangled in your throat. “I left you a note that I had to come home to take care of Nora but that we should talk.” At the time you had been afraid of him not being happy to see you there in the morning but now he’s calling it great? “I tried to wake you up…but you wouldn’t budge.”

He wants to call you a liar, to scoff and say that there was no note on his sketch pad, but he hadn't looked at it. Especially after waking up alone and feeling the overwhelming disappointment that had crept over him. He had searched the entire house for you, until Rico told him that he had taken you home, although he had cut the man off before he could even finish the statement. "I—" His voice cracks and he shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you. Trying to shield himself from being vulnerable as his shoulders round. "I didn't see it." He admits, voice low. "I just – I thought you regretted it and I – when I am completely relaxed and....happy, I'm a heavy sleeper."

“When I just didn’t hear anything from you, I thought you regretted it.” And you had cried yourself to sleep at the thought of your soulmate regretting you, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t actually remember much…but I had promised Nora a trip to the zoo that next day, and I…” He looks so wounded, like a spurned puppy, and all of your anger completely melts away. Of course he was freezing you out if he thought you took off. You would have done the same thing. “If you called after you woke up, I was going to ask you to spend the day with us…but then I didn’t hear anything and I—I was afraid to call just to find out that you didn’t want to see me again…”

“I—” He’s horrified that you don’t remember, especially since he remembers everything. “I was looking for you.” He promises. “Wanted to— wanted to take you out to brunch. And maybe even bring you to the appointments I had, if you had wanted to.” He had woken up happy, not ready to let go of that date. “I thought you skulked out because you were upset you had— that we had slept together.”

“No.” Shaking your head and shoving your one free hand in your pocket purely out of nerves, all you can really do for a moment is stand there. “I wasn’t upset. I just wish I could remember more than a few flashes here and there.”

Dieter goes a little green, shuffling on his feet and reaching up to scrub at the back of his neck. “It was— uh, shit…” He hisses. “I didn’t coerce you; I promise.”

“I remember enough to know that,” you promise him quietly. And Rico had also assured you of it that morning. “I’m sorry we got our wires crossed, but I really—” Your drooping shoulders pull up in a shrug. “I’m sorry I was too scared to call. We could have had this conversation days ago.”

“I thought you still hated me.” He confesses, dropping his eyes down to the floor and staring at his feet. “That it was a mistake you had made when you were drunk.”

“I was definitely drunk.” That is definitely something you can say without hesitation. “But I hope it wasn’t a mistake.”

“What do you remember?” He asks, biting his lip as he thinks about that night. He had tried to avoid thinking about it after he woke up alone, but he was definitely thinking about it now.

“Um…” Glancing up the stairs, it’s clear that Steph is either reading Nora a second bedtime story or lingering on the top floor to give you privacy, and you make a mental note to thank her for it profusely - probably with cookies and booze. “I remember some specifically placed body shots…and feeling like you were going to rearrange my damn organs while you were inside me…” Saying any of it out loud - even slightly mumbling and quiet - just isn’t your normal kind of behaviour and you feel like your face is going to overheat and set on fire. “And that you wouldn’t let me go down on you because it had been a while.”

“So you don’t remember the car?” He asks quietly, cock twitching when he hears you telling him what you remember. The bottle of rum was still sitting on his bedside table. Even if he hadn’t slept in the bed since that morning.

“Wh—what did we do in the car?” Oh Jesus…you’re never going to be able to look Rico in the face ever again…

“You— I fingered you.” He tells you. “You were on my lap, and we couldn’t wait to get home.”

“That…” Even with one hand covering your face, you groan slightly in embarrassment. “That tracks. For me anyway. I’m—” Oh, the irony. “I’m kind of a horny drunk. In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Oh.” He nods, wondering if it was just because you were drunk. It must be, considering he doubts you would have slept with him sober. “That’s okay.” He tells you.

“No! No, shit, that’s not what I meant.” Having kept yourself from breaching the three feet between you, it seems like now it the time. He doesn’t step away as you step forward, so you’ll take that as a good sign as you gently reach out to touch his arm. “It’s like…if I’m with someone I like…it takes away the fear. All the voices in my head telling me why I shouldn’t, or trying to convince me that the other person doesn’t like me the same…they go away. Not that I’ll just throw caution to the wind and fuck anybody around after two glasses of champagne.”

Relief and honestly, fear, washes over him. Fear that you will find him lacking. That he will be everything you expected. “Okay.” He understands needing something to be relaxed enough. Fuck knows he’s done enough drugs to understand that. “I understand.” He swallows down the way his stomach rolls. “I didn’t— I don’t— it was really good.” He murmurs softly.

“Then I hope I remember more.” It’s been a little bit every day, and before right now, that has been a devastating thing to deal with. “I get why you stood me up, if you just thought I left without a word.”

“I didn’t see the note.” He murmurs, shuffling closer to you, as if drawn to you. “I’m sorry.” He knows now that it seems like he was a dick. “I just – I wish you had texted me. Or that I had woken up.” He blushes slightly.

“We’re sensationally bad at this.” It actually makes you laugh despite yourself, a wry little chuckle as he steps closer. “Maybe…” It’s a wild, crazy, flying leap, but it’s on the tip of your tongue and didn’t you just say how bad you are at communicating? “Maybe…I don’t know what filming is like…but maybe we could talk sometimes?” The part of you that wants to grab on to him right here and right now and start making ludicrous promises is definitely not the part to let free, but talking is good. Talking is responsible and positive and hopefully won’t backfire. The last few days have made it perfectly clear to you that you don’t want to just lose him altogether. “I know you’re leaving in a few days and you’re probably super busy…”

“We can talk.” Dieter interrupts, nodding quickly. “I— if you text me, I’ll answer when I can.” He doesn’t want to leave things in such an awkward place, hoping that at least the two of you can be amicable even if he wonders if it will ever be more than just that night.

“I can do that.” He’s so close that it would take almost no effort to just lean forward and kiss him but you’re sure that would be crossing a line. “By the time you get back, I’ll be back in school, so my schedule will be a little tighter. But that’s okay.”

He nods, now slightly regretting taking the project. He couldn’t have ever anticipated actually not wanting to leave so he could spend time with you, but here he is.

“Are we…” You hate how small your voice sounds, and how you’re still afraid to reach for him despite the small touch to his arm a second ago. This man has literally been inside you - you shouldn’t have to be afraid of touching him. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah.” Dieter nods, giving you a very serious look. “We’re okay. I’m sorry again.” He murmurs. “I—I would have texted you.”

“Thank god for Taco Tuesday, I guess.” Without it, you’d both be too stubborn and proud to have ever spoken up, and you would have gone on assuming that he regretted sleeping with you.

“Thank God for Taco Tuesday.” Dieter grins, shaking his head. He bites his lip and decides that while it will be too much to kiss you, but he does pull you in for a hug.

He’s a completely enveloping presence, with a broad as he is and as well as his arms fit around you. Both of your arms go around his waist, and even with the cups you’re hanging onto with one hand, you still feel like it’s the best hug you’ve had in years. You don’t want to admit that you’ll probably miss him while he’s gone, but right now you swear you’re so relieved at knowing he isn’t mad at you anymore that you might not let him go.

“So, let’s make a deal.” He murmurs, not wanting to quite let go of you. “We work on this communication thing.” He chuckles quietly. “Obviously we aren’t good at it. And my job is communicating with my audience.”

“We suck at it.” You snort, laughing a little against his chest. “Like we’re probably the poster couple for shitty communication.” It’s the first time that word has ever crossed your lips in reference to the two of you and you can feel the way you hold your breath instinctively - worried that you’ve stepped too far somehow. The only person who’s ever called you a couple is Libby or sometimes the media, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants to be with you.

“I don’t think Mate Marks wants to advertise that.” He huffs in amusement, unable to describe how light he feels when you call the two of you a couple. Even though he’s never wanted to think in those terms, since him…it just clicks in his brain. “We might have to just keep these stories an inside joke.”

“The world doesn’t have to know everything.” They definitely don’t know all of how rocky your beginning was, even if Fuck you, Bravo! did turn into an immediate meme. You do feel pretty bad about that one. “What are you thinking? Like phone chat dates? Or are we instituting an honesty time and banning sarcasm all together?” Pulling your head away from the sound of his heartbeat, you end up smirking a little. “Because if you ban sarcasm, I’m going to lose my sense of humour completely.”

“I like just the idea of before we put our foot in our mouths and assume, we just be honest first.” Dieter pulls back and smirks at you.

“So, completely the opposite of what we’ve been doing until now?” You huff at him, playfully indignant in the moment. “Fine, I guess.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I better go.” He murmurs, sad that he has to. “I have an early morning.” With as much as he has to do, drinking and partying would have been limited even if he was still using.

“Okay.” It twists your gut in a way you don’t really know how to handle, but you hug him one more time before forcing yourself to let go and step back. A month is a long time, but maybe reducing your contact to only conversation will be good for this new resolution of better communication.

“Goodnight.” If the past few days hadn’t happened the way they had, he would kiss you, instead he just offers you a smile.

“Goodnight.” There’s an ache in your chest that you refuse to name as he walks through the front door, but at least this time you know he’ll be back - and it won’t be to yell at you.

******

Libby lets herself into Dieter’s house, unsure of what exactly is still going on between you and her client. She had called you as soon as she left, making apologies but not lying about why Dieter wasn’t showing up to the fifth date. Just that he wasn’t. She had heard the hurt and confusion in your voice.

Packing Dieter is simple. She knows his taste and what he needs, which things he prefers and which things he’ll only wear or use if she forces him. Since he’s going to Switzerland, she moves to gather up his favourite art supplies and stops short. A scrawled few sentences in handwriting she doesn’t recognize — signed by you. She knew you were a fucking note person! From how hurt Dieter was yesterday there’s no way he lied about not seeing it. He must genuinely have not picked up his sketchbook since then. The idea dawns slowly, but as she stares at the note that innocently explains having to take care of your niece and wanting to talk about what happened, she pulls her business phone from her pocket and opens the recent calls list to find the airline Dieter is flying to Switzerland. One more ticket needs to be bought, for a later flight to the same destination. In your name this time. The two of you are going to work this out if it kills you.

******

Dieter both loves and hates traveling. He loves visiting new places, physically seeing things that he would draw in his art classes in school. Trying new cuisine and learning local traditions. He hates everything to do with TSA and Customs. Finally on board, he sighs and reaches for his phone, deciding that he will at least send you a text before he turns it off for the flight. “Want Swiss chocolate when I come back?”

“The Lindt factory tour is on my bucket list 💗 that would be amazing of you.” The text comes back almost immediately, practically beaming through the phone.

Dieter grins and sends back a few emojis before the intercom on the plane come on. “👍🍫 🍫 🍫✈” He shuts off his phone and wonders when he can get a drink.

******

You’re still smiling at your phone over your breakfast when it unexpectedly rings. Libby’s name splashes across the screen and you scrunch your nose, wondering what she might have to say. Dieter just got on the plane; she can’t possibly be trying to schedule a date. “Hi Libby,” you decide not to send her to voicemail, knowing she’ll just call back if you do.

“I need you to pack your bags.” Libby announces without preamble. “You have a flight in three hours to Switzerland.”

“Excuse me?” Your jaw nearly hits the table, eyes blowing wide.

“The fifth date didn’t happen.” Libby reminds you, not that you are at fault. “You are going to join Dieter in Switzerland and stay with him while he is shooting the movie.”

“You’re serious?” There’s a mild panic in your voice, not because you don’t want to see him again but because his manager just expects you to pack up and rearrange your life at the drop of a hat. “Exactly how long are you supposedly sending me halfway across the world? I don’t exactly have the funds for that. And that means Steph will have no one to help look after Nora.”

“Actually, that’s already been taken care of.” Libby announces. “Rico will watch Nora; he has experience with managing Dieter so a four-year-old is a piece of cake.” She jokes with a small laugh. “And the ticket is already booked. First class. Everything will be covered for you while you are there.”

“What, you’re just going to hand me a copy of Dee’s black AmEx card and send me off to Europe?” You practically scoff into your phone but eventually sigh. The contract you signed never stated where or when the six dates would occur, so technically she is within her legal rights to say that visiting him there is one of them. “Does he know I’m coming?”

“Nope.” Libby practically sings the one-word answer. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him, but I’m sure he will be thrilled.” He hadn’t come home in a bad mood according to Rico when she checked in this morning; so it was promising.

“Didn’t get a chance to tell him or intentionally didn’t mention it?” Face dropping into one upturned palm, you huff another sigh and admit to yourself that it will be whatever it will be. “How long am I supposed to be there for, and do I get to wear my own clothes? Logistical questions are what I’m going to ask you instead of getting indignant at being surprised.”

“I’m going to have a selection of clothes waiting for you, but you should also bring your favorite things.” Libby pauses and decides that she’s going to give you leverage if you need it. “Dee likes you, just— think of it as a long-deserved vacation with your soulmate. And learning how hard he works.”

“Are you coming by to drop off my tickets?” Considering you haven’t flown out of any airport in nearly ten years, the intricacies of digital check ins and in-app boarding passes escape you. “I’ll have to talk to Steph about all this. Three hours isn’t a lot of prep time.”

“I can come by and make sure you have everything you need.” Libby promises, having already put together a travel kit for Dee’s soulmate. She likes you, despite the way the two of you seem to clash. And now that Dee has done a 180 on his feelings for you, she will be your biggest supporter if it means you make her client happy.

“Okay.” You take a sip of your coffee and lean back at the breakfast table. Steph and Nora are outside in the backyard gardening, so you might as well go talk to them now. “I’ll see you when you get here, then. I’m going to go talk to Steph.”

“Okay!” Having expected far more of an argument, Libby quickly agrees and hangs up the phone, doing a little victory dance in the hallway of her office.

Shoving your cell phone into your pocket and pushing back from the table, you grab your coffee mug with one hand and the remnants of your bagel in the other and head outside. “Nora baby, do you wanna head inside and wash your hands? I need to talk to Mommy for a second.”

It’s never a good sign when you sent Nora away, especially when she’s outside. Steph paints a smile on her face and nods at Nora. “Go on, sweetheart.” She urges her. “Adult conversations aren’t fun.”

“Libby called.” You start, as soon as Nora disappears past you into the kitchen, and you finish chewing the end of the bagel that you shoved into your mouth. “Apparently the fifth date has been rescheduled.”

“Oh?” As far as Steph knew, Dieter was leaving for Switzerland today. “Did his departure get delayed a week?”

“No. He texted me from the plane, he’s already left.” Both of your hands wrap around your coffee mug, and you blow out a nervous sigh. “It seems I’m going, too.”

“Do what?” Her mouth drops open in shock and she stares at you in shock. “I – I thought—” she doesn’t mention how upset you had been yesterday. After Dieter left, you had gone to your room, and she had been hesitant to go in to check on you.

“That was pretty much my reaction, too.” You admit, sinking down next to her in the chair that Nora had just vacated. “We talked before he left last night, and we said we’d talk while he was away and try to be better about communicating instead of assuming. But this…this is a lot. And by calling it the fifth date, it falls under the contract and I kind of have no choice.”

“I— you’re going to Switzerland!” Steph is shocked but one thousand percent happy for you to be able to travel. She chews her lip and nods. “Nora will just go to daycare and you better send me a million pictures!”

“Libby says she’s arranged for someone from Dee’s staff to help out. You know Rico? The guy from his security staff that drives him sometimes? Uh…apparently he has childcare qualifications.” It makes you tighten again inwardly, guilt for leaving mixing with excitement at being able to travel — and to be able to see Dieter. You have to admit that to yourself – you do actually want to see him. “You can say no, and I’ll tell her to just forget it. But I don’t want you to be without help while I’m gone.”

“Rico?” Steph arches a brow and shakes her head at you. “There is no way you are turning down an opportunity to travel.” She insists. “I’m assuming you aren’t having to pay for it?”

“Apparently it’s all-expenses-paid as far as I’m concerned.” You’ve never paid for a single thing where Dieter in concerned, and though that makes sense considering the contract and the fact that he makes literally millions more than you, it still makes you a little uneasy. The idea of taking advantage of him doesn’t sit well. “Libby’s on her way over to drop off the tickets and some other stuff.” Shuffling in your seat, you look over at your best friend and sigh. “The only thing is…he doesn’t know I’m coming. Libby clearly thinks making it a surprise is some kind of genius move.”

“I— he doesn’t know?” Steph frowns and sighs. “Does she know about what happened between you two?” She asks. “You said you two talked last night.”

“I don’t know what he told her, but I’m hoping she’s not gleefully sending me into what she thinks is a lion’s den.” A surprise is one thing, but a bad surprise is entirely another. “I guess we’ll do my birthday when I get back? Except it’ll be a reverse birthday since I’m definitely bringing you guys souvenirs.”

“Maybe she –” Steph bites her lip. “You think this is because he said something to her? To convince her that you needed to be there?”

“I really don’t know,” you admit, more than a trace of sheepishness in your voice. “But do you guys want to come upstairs with me while I pack? We can explain to Nora where I’m going together?”

“That sounds like a plan.” Steph quickly climbs to her feet. “It’s great.” She gushes. “You’ve wanted to travel more and now you get to.” She turns halfway to the door and grins. “You are going to have an amazing time.” She predicts.

******

Even in first class, eleven hours is a hell of a long time to be on an airplane. The nonstop flight included luxuries you didn’t even know airplanes offered, and you managed to finally finish reading the book you had started two weeks ago but could never find time for. Amazing food, drinks always just a polite request away, but still - eleven hours took its toll. Landing in Geneva at 10pm, you found yourself appropriately exhausted as you looked out into the sea of people waiting at the international arrivals gate to retrieve their travelers. Though you secretly hoped he would be there to pick you up you knew that it wouldn’t be the case, and sure enough a uniformed woman with white-blonde hair and a generous smile is holding a sign with your name on it.

Suitcases in the trunk, you pour yourself into the car for what the cheery woman promises will be a short drive. She hands you an envelope once you’re settled and pulls the car out into the streets of Geneva, headed for the Hôtel Métropole. A credit card with your name on it (clearly attached to a business expense account), a room key marked for the Calvin Suite, a map of the city, and a visitor’s pass for the studio you assume Dieter is working at, are all sitting inside waiting for you. Three weeks. Three weeks spending every single day in a country whose languages you don’t speak, spending hopefully just a tiny bit of time with your soulmate each day. This…might actually be fun, despite the layer of scared that’s coloring your outlook. You just wish Dieter knew you were coming.

******

Dieter groans as he steps out of the shower. It had been a grueling day, unfortunately the moment he disembarked and got through customs, he was busy. Meeting the director and taking care of the last-minute issues with his costume and character. A true ‘hit the ground running’ situation and he was exhausted. Thankfully the next two days were devoted to jet lag, allowing other pour souls to filter in from around the world to make this movie. As soon as he throws his robe on, he’s ordering too service and passing out. After he sends you a quick text to check in.

The hotel staff is kind when you are ushered inside, greeting you in French and then English as you pass by. The elevator would be distractingly gorgeous if you weren’t so tired, and you figure you’ll just get upstairs and order some room service and text Dieter before passing out. Steph already got a text to say you landed safely, and that was that. Since Dieter has no idea you’re here, you’ll surprise him fresh in the morning. Not in the crinkled linen shirt and jeans you just traveled half a day in.

Dieter had just put the hotel phone down, room service ordered, when he hears the electronic lock on his door gets accessed. Turning in bewilderment, he watches the door swing open slowly, as if someone is cautiously making their way in, wondering who the fuck has a key card to his room.

The second you’re through the door he’s right there, and you swear you couldn’t feel like more of an idiot if you tried. Libby has completely played you without effort - sending you on a surprise visit and giving you a key to his room so casually that you didn’t even stop to consider that you wouldn’t be given your own space. Of course not. This is all about getting the two of you seen together. Well…at least there’s a sofa for you to sleep on, since you’re not expecting an invitation back into his bed any time soon - despite having to admit to yourself that you would probably accept if it was offered.

“Surprise,” you manage to murmur, obviously as shocked as he is for you to be walking through his hotel room door with a pair of suitcases.

He stares for a moment, wondering if he’s having some kind of dream or if he taken ‘shrooms without knowing it. You aren’t supposed to be here, but you are. “Hey.” When he gets over his shock, when he can think again, he’s rushing forward to help you with your stuff. You look as worn out as he feels.

“Hey.” His suite has a full front sitting room and more beyond that, but you don’t have time to think about what else might be waiting for you because he’s ushering you inside as soon as the door clicks shut behind you. Wet hair, worn t-shirt, pajama pants, robe. He must have been getting ready for bed. “Libby arranged a little surprise for you…I, um…I hope this is okay?” You swallow down the fear that he won’t be okay with you being here. Don’t assume. Let him tell you how he feels about it.

“I— yeah.” Dieter nods, wiping his hands on his pajama pants and looks around the room. “I— it’ll make it easier to text.” He jokes.

“Yeah, definitely.” Looking around you, even a little further into the suite, it’s clear that he must have told Libby everything that happened between you, because through the open doors you catch sight of only one bed. “Nora and Steph asked for pictures,” you murmur, defaulting to talking about the two people you both universally enjoy. “So I might tourist a little while you’re working. I—I don’t want to…you know. Be in the way.”

Dieter realizes you are in his room, with your stuff. “I— are you okay staying with me?” He asks, not knowing what she might have said to you about sleeping arrangements. “Or do you want to see about your own room?”

"To be honest?" Honesty is what you agreed on, after all. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch if sharing a bed makes you uncomfortable, but...three weeks in a foreign country where I don't speak the language and don't know why way around? I… I think it might be nice to share space." As soon as it's out of your mouth, you're rolling your eyes at yourself, knowing that it didn't sound as good out loud as it did in your head. "If it starts to bug you that you don't have any privacy, I'll ask for my own room. But it...it might be nice to share?" It would be a comfort to be able to share space with the literal only other person in the country you know. The fact that it's him? Well...you said you wanted to get to know each other, right?

“We don’t have to have sex.” Dieter immediately assures you. “It’s not— I don’t mind sharing a bed with you.” He had slept incredibly well next to you. “It’s a king-sized bed, you won’t even know I’m there.” He jokes, wondering why Libby sprang you on him and didn’t book you a separate room.

You can't help but chuckle, mostly at yourself, and offer him a shrug. "I've never shared a bed with anybody but you and a very cuddly toddler, so if I end up rolling over too close to you in the middle of the night, just push me away."

“I don’t mind that.” He admits quietly. “I’m kinda a cuddler.”

"I guess we'll see what happens." As casual as you can possibly sound, your body's reaction to being able to be in the same bed as him again is definitely louder - the distinct feeling of arousal making you feel much warmer all of a sudden. "Don't let me interrupt whatever you were doing...I can unpack tomorrow if you were headed to sleep."

“No! I, uh, are you hungry? I ordered room service and I can add on to it for you.” Dieter offers.

Nearly groaning, you barely manage to stop yourself from the obscene sound you would have made and nod. "I'm starving," you admit with a laugh. "I was too nervous on the plane to each much."

“Okay.” Dieter nods and walks over to the book with the room service menu. “Pick out what you want, and I’ll add it to your order.”

The room service menu, like the hotel, is incredibly fancy and some of the items are unfamiliar. With as tired as you are, you're not up for a lot of experimenting, and the discovery of a few different kinds of upscale sliders being offered is delightful. After pointing out the item to Dieter and thanking him again, you're ready to just leave your suitcases where they are for now except you have to dig out some pajamas before exhaustion completely takes you over.

"This place is huge." You observe rather uselessly. "Which way is the bathroom? I'm just...just going to put on my pjs. We can eat and hit the hay? I'm guessing you have a lot to do tomorrow."

Dieter nods and points to the doorway through the separate bedroom. “If you want, go ahead and shower and I’ll make sure that I call you when it’s done.”

"Thank you." Snagging your new, Libby-provided backpack with all your toiletries and a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt stashed in the bottom, you instinctively reach to squeeze his hand as you walk by him in the direction he pointed. "I won't take long."

“Okay.” Dieter grins and nods. “I’ll order it right away.” He tells you. “You shower and get the travel grime off you.” He is happily reaching for the phone to order more food as he talks.

******

About twenty minutes later you're clean as a whistle and feeling like you finally don't smell like an airplane anymore. The toiletries provided by the hotel are just as luxurious as everything else, and your feet dig into the plush rug as you pad back out into the main room in your pjs to see Dieter accepting a tray of room service from a young man in the obvious uniform of the hotel's staff. "Looks like I have perfect timing."

“You do.” He snickers and turns around with the trays. “Now we can pig out and sleep for twenty hours.”

"You don't have to work?" You grab the drinks he ordered off the tray to make balancing a little easier for him and follow him through a doorway you hadn't even noticed before - one that opens into an enormous formal dining room with seating for ten. "Holy shit, this is just...part of the room?" Who hosts dinners in a hotel room?

“Yeah.” He laughs and shakes his heads. “Apparently dinner parties are a thing?” He asks. “So if you want to have one, go for it.”

"Who would I even invite?" The two of you pull out chairs and you pop the tops on the San Pellegrino cans that were included on the tray after sitting down beside him. "So, I guess you don't have to bring me home any chocolate," you joke, thinking back to that text he had sent you early this morning.

“I guess not.” He’s not upset about that. “You can do that Lindt tour if you want.” He hums and grins as he unrolls his silverware. “And I have every intention of going to the museum the first chance I get.” He knows you will understand which one, he’s talking about.

"Do you mind if I tag along?" In no way do you expect him to want to spend every free second with you, but there are a few things that you might actually have fun doing together. The Kunstmuseum Basel being one of them.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” Dieter hums as he forks up a bite of his food. “Anything you want to do. I’ll give you my schedule and If you want an exploration partner, I’ll go with you.” He hovers the fork next to his mouth. “And you can come to set anytime you want.”

"Really?" The extremely upscale sliders on your plate look amazing, but you find yourself looking at Dieter instead of just digging into your food. "You wouldn't mind me being there?" Somehow you had expected him to be more resistant to the idea of having you infringing on his time in his favourite place, but you're...pretty thrilled that he's so receptive, actually. In a way you never expected to be.

Since he found out that you wanted to spend the day with him after sleeping together, he’s been craving more time with you. This seems like a windfall and he will have to thank Libby, in his own way. “No, unless you don’t want to be there. You don’t have to. I know it’s not exactly interesting to some.”

"No, I want to." Like most people, the most insight you've ever gotten into what goes on, on a movie set are behind the scenes featurettes for movies you've seen. And for the longest time you told yourself that you didn't care. That you didn't want to know. But the fact is...now that you know him a little? You're curious to see what his work is like. "I mean what the hell do I know about being on a movie set, right? It could be fascinating. I'll save days where I want to do stuff you're not interested in for the days when you have the most demanding work, and we can do the stuff we both want to do together."

“That sounds good.” He agrees and takes a bite. “Although after we eat, I’m going to pass out and sleep until I can’t sleep anymore.”

"Definitely." Reminding yourself that you were starving just a second ago, you pick up one of your sliders and dig in, moaning unrestrainedly at the gorgeously flavourful bite - only to laugh at yourself a second later for the shamelessly enthusiastic noise.

Dieter chuckles and shifts in his seat, ignoring the pangs of lust that race through him. “At least you enjoy the food.” He jokes with a wink.

"Shut up," you mumble around another bite, laughing at yourself despite being a little embarrassed. "I'm not dainty, you knew that already."

“Oh I remember.” Dieter huffs and immediately bites his lips to stop himself from saying things that could completely offend you. Instead, he gives a shrug. “I don’t mind that at all.”

"Okay." Two more bites and the first slider is gone, giving you a second to sit back and wipe your hands on a napkin and take a sip of your drink. "I want to know what happened." Since you talked to him about it you've only dredged up a few more flashes of memories from that night - mainly the car ride back to his place from the party - and it was enough to have you excusing yourself to your room to remember in private. "You said you remember everything."

“What do you want to know?” He arches a brow as he takes another bite of his own meal. “How I suffocated myself in your pussy despite you being shy about the trim job?”

"It's not like I ever have anybody to trim it for." The protest is mumbled at best, and you shrug like it doesn't matter even though your cheeks are on fire. "I do remember you like having your hair pulled..."

“Yeah.” Dieter has zero shame in admitting that. He liked it, he liked it a lot. “You liked my reaction to it too.” He reminds you with a playful wink. “And you liked riding.”

“I do like riding…” That, at least, you already knew about yourself, and you grin a little as you take another bite of your food. “I’m almost afraid to ask if anything embarrassing happened, since everything I remember was good.”

“Nothing embarrassing that I think is embarrassing.” He shrugs with a grin. “Just a lot of orgasms and fun.” He reaches for his water and takes a sip, trying to act like he’s not remembering every single second of being inside of you that night.

“Well…good.” What else can you really say to that, except to be relieved that you didn’t fart in his face or something? Talk about mortifying. He’s the first man in a decade to actually see you naked, but that’s probably far too emotional of a fact to be brought up when you’re both jet-lagged and scarfing down your late-night snacks. Instead, you huff a small laugh and shrug, offering him a sheepish smile. “With three weeks and one bed it seems like Libby is banking on a repeat.”

“That might be my fault.” Dieter admits with a wince. He remembers the conversation with Libby. “I didn’t handle you slipping away very well. Told her to let you out of the contract because I wanted nothing to do with it and I wasn’t seeing you again.”

“I should have texted you when I didn’t hear from you.” You can admit when you’re at fault, even if it stings your pride. “This—this whole trip might actually be good for us. There’s no way to avoid each other if something upsets us. We’re kind of…forced to deal with our shit. And we said we wanted to work on our communication anyway.” The second slider is gone with a happy hum and you have to admit that this - just sitting and talking - us kind of nice.

“This might be the first meal we’ve had together without being upset.” Dieter muses. “Quick, throw the salt at me.”

“Maybe I want to set a dangerous precedent,” you grin at him, a little wider than you expected. “Not constantly fighting with my soulmate sounds really nice.”

“Unheard of.” Dieter jokes, throwing your grin back at you, admiring the way that your eyes crinkle slightly when you’re happy. “What else would we do?”

“Not a damn clue.” He looks so much more comfortable - so much more himself - when he’s relaxed and it almost surprises you that the first word that flits across your mind is handsome. He looks so much more handsome when he’s relaxed. “I guess we’ll have to figure it out.”

“I’m sure we will.” Dieter nods and tries to smother a yawn. Now that you are here, he doesn’t want to sleep, but he’s about to pass out. Needing to close his gritty eyes and unplug from the world for some hours.

“You were up early, you should tuck in.” The only reason you know that is because he texted you from the airport, but it still feels nice to have a better sort of handle on what’s going on with him. Not that you have any sort of claim as a partner, but just as a friend. Because really - it would be excruciating to find out that your soulmate wants nothing to do with you, so the least you can be is his friend. “I’m going to have my last few bites and I’ll leave the tray outside the door before I join you?” Yeah…getting into the same bed as him is going to be…well, your heart rate definitely jumped saying it.

“Yeah.” As much as he doesn’t want to turn in, he has to. “I’ll brush my teeth and then let you have the bathroom again.” He offers, standing up and sending you a tired look. “If I’m snoring, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Offering him one more smile as he trudges from the room, you dig your phone out of your pocket and shoot a quick text off to Steph as you hungrily demolish the last few bites of your delicious room service.

To Stephy: Got to the hotel to find out Libby has us sharing a suite. There is only one bed. I am living a fanfic trope. Update you in the morning.

Dieter brushes his teeth and shuffles into the bedroom, wondering what side you want to sleep on. It can be something that you discuss tomorrow. Instead, he just chooses his normal side and climbs in.

It’s only about ten minutes later that you’re crawling into bed, too, feeling self-conscious enough to stay on the edge of the other side of the bed despite freshly brushed teeth and a freshly showered self. Your awkwardness has nothing to do with cleanliness, but everything to do with the fact that you wish, however secretly, that he might actually roll over and get closer to you in the middle of the night. Whatever happens over the next three weeks, it’s sure to be an adventure.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat​ @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri    

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape​ @sammus-white​ @spanishmossmagnolia  @frasmotic @quietpainter

My Masterlist!

[littlebosleepmusings]

Somebody's Watching Me - Chapter Two

On the Edge

Wanda leads you down the red line.

MASTERLIST

9:00 PM

All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for the daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere

You and Wanda walk side by side along the tracks of a New York subway station. For the time being, no words are said between you, but you’re perfectly fine with it. Sure, your friendship is still new, but Wanda feels like someone you’ve known your whole life. Talks with her are always easy, and the silence is never awkward. It’s more of a peaceful quiet that you share together. Not something you need to force to fill.

Sure, you’ve got your other friends. Thor, Steve, Monica, Maria, Tony, Sam and company, but those always felt like Nat’s friends. People you’ve met through her or because of her. This time around, it feels nice to have someone of your own. Someone you don’t need to share. It’s nice to feel chosen, not because you have friends in common, but because someone actually enjoys your company.

You both come to a halt, as you spot the train light coming from up ahead. You angle yourself out of the way for the people passing behind you. Small crowds of bodies are to both sides of you.

Everything is fine, until you feel a particularly heavy stare on the right side of your face. It’s deliberate and razor focused. You try not to pay it any attention, but there’s there’s this gnawing feeling on the back of your neck, that won’t go away. Not until you force yourself to look.

So you stop fighting it and turn to face the random man. All the while, he keeps staring at you like there’s something wrong with you.

Finally, he speaks.

“This is not a dream,” he says to you. He doesn’t sound like a person at first, so you aren’t even sure you heard him correctly.

“What?” you ask him.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being yanked backward. The point of your high heeled shoes wobble, as you try to replant your feet.

“That’s a bit close," she says, as she releases your arm. It’s Wanda standing beside you now. Or maybe it was always Wanda.

You take in her face, like it’s the first time you’re seeing her. She looks beautiful, but tired. Then you look down, noting how close you were standing on the yellow designated line. An embarrassed giggle escapes your lips, but Wanda doesn’t look amused.

“Yeah. Sorry Wanda. Just-” She doesn’t let you finish.

“It’s fine.”

Right on cue, the train quickly whirs past, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I'm dying Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you I find it hard to take When people run in circles it's a very, very

Mad world, mad world Mad world, mad world

Both of you step onto the train in silence. Wanda still looks visibly uncomfortable. Then, she turns to you.

“First time out of the house in a while, I bet.”

“Pretty much.”

Wanda turns to the map hanging high on the wall. She stares at it for a few moments, before turning back to you. “We get off on 18th Street, right?”

“Yeah. That’s the one.” You turn to her again. “You’re a good friend, Wanda. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like you’re real."

“I’m real,” Wanda smiles back.

After group, when Wanda admitted to having a tough time, you were reluctant to leave her. When she heard you were headed to meet some friends after the meeting, she offered to escort you there instead. It isn’t more than thirty minutes away by train. She waited at the centre while you got changed into a nice red dress and some heels that you stored in your handbag. You even invited her along as a spur of the moment thing, but she politely declined.

Currently, you’ve exited the station and are walking down a city side street. The chilly late October air hits you like Winter. Or maybe you’ve been underground too long.

“Thanks again for letting me tag along for a bit," she continues. “It’s just ...you think you know someone and what they’re capable of, and then you realize just how wrong you were. It’s like a stab to the gut.”

Wanda is continuing her personal tale about her past relationship troubles.

“I don’t want to go back to that,” Wanda muses. “I don’t want to be second guessing every single thing I do.”

Looking at her, tugs at your heartstrings a bit. You’re reminded of why she likely offered to join you in the first place.

“Remember to call me if you feel like you might do something drastic,” you tell her.

“I will," Wanda promises.

Suddenly, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Sorry. I gotta take this,” you reach into your coat for you phone.

“Go ahead.”

Jane texted and called you again, but you missed it both times. never checked for more until now. First time being before you headed underground. Her last message reads, “are you close?” Maybe she meant to text that to Thor.

You let out a small sigh, once you don’t see her name. Only Natasha’s. You stand off to the side and take the call, while Wanda stops to wait beside you.

“Hi, Nat. Yeah, almost there.” you smile, knowing exactly what she plans to ask you.

“Are you close? I’m impatient.”

“Super close.”

“Great. I won’t keep you then. Da skorava.”

“Later.”

Once you hang up, Wanda speaks. “Was this someone else calling you? You seem almost relieved.”

“Yeah, I thought it might be my friend, Jane. Truth is, I’ve been avoiding her. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell her, but I can’t bring myself to. Maybe it’s not my place, all things considered.”

“Does it involve her?”

“Yes…but someone else too,” you admit.

“Where exactly is your place in all this?” Wanda questions.

“Just unfortunately caught in the middle.” You dread thinking about all the things you’ve been keeping to yourself lately.

“That’s never a fun place to be.”

You finally reach the entrance of the luxury club, taking in the luckily small line of people waiting out side it. Still, you let out a soft groan. You know you should have no problem getting through due to friends in high places, but the thought of being turned away, still scares you.

“Thanks for travelling with me, Wanda.” You turn back to her. You already asked her once, but feel like you should again. Just in case. “Are you absolutely sure you don't want to come in? I’m sure Thor’s celebrity will allow for a plus one.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Wanda waves you off. “I’ll just wait for my Uber right here.”

“I’ll wait with you,” you offer.

“There’s no need.” She takes out her cell, and makes a few taps, but at a certain point, she looks confused.

“Need help?”

She hands you her mobile, with a rueful smile. “I usually walk or take the train most places. My brother is the one who usually helps with the apps and whatnot. He’s more of the tech person in our family.”

“You have a brother?” You question, while mindlessly opening the app for her, and waiting for the screen to load. Wanda never mentioned him before. You wonder what his thoughts are about Wanda’s…situation.

“Yeah, a twin,” she specifies.

You nod your head, quietly shrugging off the new information you just learned. “It’s simple. Just type the location you want to go to…”

“23 Spector Lane.”

You type it in and tilt the screen to show her. “It shows you price options and how long it’ll take. All you have to do is hit confirm.”

Wanda nods her head in understanding, so you hand the phone back to her. You watch as she taps the button herself.

“On it’s way.”

“I can wait with you while they get here,” you offer.

Wanda shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside even just for a bit? I’m sure Steve won’t mind another guest. I also kind of want you to meet my friends.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. Plus, I’m not even dressed for it,” she says, gesturing to her outfit. She’s sporting a thin grey coat, jeans, and a beanie.

“No one will care,” you try to persuade her.

Wanda just shakes her head. “Plus, I have stuff to take care of. It’s sweet of you to offer. It really is. Next time,” Wanda says with assurance.

“Alright. Next time,” you agree, choosing to respect her wishes. You plan to hold her to her promise.

She waves you off and regretfully, you head for the door to join the lineup.

When it’s your turn, you tell the bouncer you name, showing your him your ID. He barely glances at it, and is telling you to step inside within seconds. You turn to find Wanda standing by her lonesome on the curb. You don’t like leaving her to wait alone, but with the small crowd outside, you feel a bit better about it.

Instead of searching for the VIP area, you make a turn toward the washrooms. You take out your cellphone and dial.

“Hello?”

You hear shuffling in the background, before it gets quiet again.

“Bad time?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

“So I’m here,” you say with an airy sigh. “Any chance of you getting a cab and meeting me for emotional support?”

“That’s definitely not happening,” the male voice on the other end speaks. “Is this really why you called?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I thought you said it was okay to call you after hours, if I ever had an emergency…”

Stephen lets out a heavy sigh. “Not for this and I said emergencies. You’re meeting your friends, not members of Al Qaeda,” he states. “They’ll be glad to have you back.”

“Then why am I panicking so much?” You place a sweaty palm to your forehead, delicately as to not smudge your makeup. “I did a beeline straight to the washrooms, instead of going to find my friends. What’s wrong with me?”

“You only think you need support to do this, but you don’t, and you definitely don’t need me,” Stephen reminds you.

You’re good as staying quiet as he gives you one of his pep talks. He’s always had a way with words that calmed you down whenever you would freak out in sessions. It also helps that his voice is soothing.

Stephen continues. “Your trauma may have changed how you react to things, but not who you are as a person. They’d never see you any different, but we've talked about that already haven’t we?”

You find yourself absentmindedly nodding along, and forget he can’t see your response.

“These are you friends and you care about them, correct?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer out loud.

“So there should be nothing to be afraid of.”

You’re still hesitant, but deep down, you know Stephen is right. These are your friends. They’ve been with you through a lot. Not everything, but enough. Why would things be weird now?

Now you feel stupid for even bothering to worry about all of this. “You probably think I’m being pathetic right now.”

“I could never think you’re pathetic.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly, you mouth upturns into a slightly devilish grin. “I still think it would fun if you did show up.”

“And I think, I’m starting to regret giving you my personal number.”

“Wow,” is the only response you can muster. Your cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling.

“You can do this. I have faith in you.”

It’s such a generic response, but for some reason, hearing it from Stephen, you actually believe it. Maybe because he’s so deliberate with his words and never says things he doesn’t mean.

Stephen says your name after you’re quiet for some time.

“Yes?”

“Have some fun tonight. Please. You’ll be glad you did.”

You take a deep breath. “I will try. Thanks.” You pause as you hesitate on what to call him. Dr. Strange or Stephen. You end up choosing neither. “Have a good night,” you add.

“You too.”

After putting away your phone, you look down at your trembling hands and force them into fists. You don’t know why, but you’ve always done it to calm yourself.

You take a final deep breath, as you exit the Ladies Room and venture deeper into the club.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Is This On?

Also on Ao3

Muggle things weren’t that complicated. If Potter could master them, then so could Draco. Refrigerators were a godsend and whoever invented the telly was a genius. He had figured out the function of a light bulb instantly, it was the electricity itself that he still hadn’t fully grasped. Where did it come from? How did it know when to work? Some things, however, didn’t make any sense no matter how many times it was explained to him.

The internet.

Draco didn’t understand where it began, where it was located or how it worked. All he knew was that he could ask questions to the phone Harry gave him and it would answer back. Sometimes the lady trapped in the phone would send him to the internet to provide information or other times to a little telly inside the phone too.

Which led him to his current predicament.

Harry sometimes used the internet to talk to Granger. There was a little camera on the computer. At least that’s what Harry said but hadn’t really ever showed him much more than that. Could he use it to talk to Harry?

Draco poked the little camera several times, trying to get it to work. He typed in the password that Harry wrote down hoping that would help. When he was met with a photo of the two of them, he tried not to be endeared. Potter would be such a sentimental sap.

“How does this work?” Draco muttered to himself as he stared at the little icons. He couldn’t remember the steps Harry had taken to talk to Granger. Would it even work if he had remembered? He didn’t want to talk to Granger, he wanted to talk to Harry.

“Internet show me Harry.”

Nothing happened.

Draco huffed. It had been a long shot anyway. Reluctantly, Draco pulled out his phone and hit the button that brought out the lady inside. “How do I call on the internet?”

She repeated his question to him as if that was going to help somehow before he was brought to a list of options.

“Skype.” Draco wrinkled his nose. That didn’t sound familiar. He set his phone down and opened the same icon on the computer that his phone had brought him to and typed in Skype.

The first thing that popped up was a little telly. Harry called them videos, but Draco liked that they were little tellies and didn’t care what Harry said. The little telly was boring and showed him too many steps to follow. What drew his attention were more little tellies that he could select from. Some were about Skype too, but others were about all kinds of things.

Make-up. Music. Food. Books. Sports.

There were too many to choose from. So he watched several different little tellies. A lot of them were boring and he ended up either leaving for another one or skipping to the good stuff. Some people weren’t the actors that they thought they were. Honestly, where was the charisma? The charm? He could do it much better.

Draco paused, thumb over the mouse as he thought about it.

He could do it better than most of the people in the little tellies. He had the charisma that they didn’t, he had the charm, the looks, the better smile. And his life was much more interesting than these people. Those with boring lives shouldn’t talk for an hour unless their aim was to put people to sleep. Oh, that was another thought. Were there little tellies to fall asleep? There were little tellies for everything. He rather liked the internet, even if it made no sense.

Draco watched a few more little tellies before he figured he knew enough to do it too. It wouldn’t let him make a little telly until he created an account, which he thought was kind of rude, but it was their rules. A lot of people didn’t use their real name, so he chose not to either. It took him longer than he wanted to find something that suited him.

Slytherin’s Heir.

Finding out that Harry and his idiot friends thought that he had been Slytherin’s Heir had been flattering. Oh, they hadn’t thought that, but they didn’t realize the kind of compliment it had been. What he wouldn’t have given to be Slytherin’s Heir. That kind of power and social status would have made him untouchable.

With his name chosen, it wanted a photo, but Draco didn’t have any photos of him on Harry’s computer. So he didn’t do anything, let the internet do a blank one. Draco’s foot tapped a few times as he realized his account was complete. Now all he had to do was make a little telly.

It took a few times to find the right succession of buttons to find the live option. He didn’t really understand what being live meant, but he did know that meant that he didn’t have to have a little telly already made, that he could create one right there.

“Is this on?” Draco asked, lips pursed as he poked the camera. “I’m not really sure if this is working. Honestly, I was trying to talk to Harry when I decided to make a little telly. Harry’s my boyfriend. Hi Harry.”

Draco waved at the camera with a small smile. He wished he could see Harry’s face.

“Harry’s actually mad at me right now. He’s an annoying prat who likes to think he’s right all the time.” Draco paused; one side of his face scrunched as the thought about what Harry’s reaction would be to his little telly.

“Maybe mad is an exaggeration,” Draco sighed, one hand pushing through his hair. He hadn’t slicked it back in a few days, too out of sorts to feel up to it. His hair fell into his eyes which was an annoying reminder of why he liked his hair slicked in the first place. “He’s more disappointed.”

Draco grimaced as he remembered the last time he had seen Harry.

“He loves me,” Draco whispered, hating that his cheeks were warm. “He says it all the time. At least he used to.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped as he slumped in the chair with wheels that Harry insisted on using even though Draco thought it was a safety concern.

“When I say all the time, I do mean all the time,” Draco grinned. “He didn’t hear that growing up at all and I think he says it so much because he’s trying to make up for lost time. I don’t mind. I like hearing it. Makes me melt a little bit to know that he loves me so much.”

Draco frowned, sitting up straighter.

“You better not tell him that though. That’s embarrassing.” He waved a finger at the camera in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“I didn’t hear I love you growing up either. It was rare to hear my parents say anything even hinting at love. But the thing is, I’ve always known they loved me. I could see it in the things they did. When my father would show me a new spell or help me with my hand movements. My mother would bring home my favourite sweets whenever she went out. They would stay up later than was presentable with me and listen to the radio.”

The smile on his face was bittersweet. As much as he knew that his parents loved him, it would have been nice to hear it more than they did.

“I guess I picked up their habit,” Draco winced. “I tell Harry I love him… sometimes. I try to tell him more, but the words don’t come easy to me. My parents knew I loved them, and they certainly didn’t need me to say it. But I try to show Harry too!”

Draco’s hands had begun to move in the beginning but were now thrown in the air.

“I make sure whenever he’s on a case to keep his plants watered, even if the one Neville gave him has it out for me and tries to kill me. When he’s having a bad day I make sure his duvet smells like mint because I know he’s going to collapse on our bed and not move for longer than is healthy and for some reason mint is his favourite smell. I don’t really know how to cook that well but the lady in my phone helps me order from Harry’s favourite restaurant and I do that when he’s feeling sad and sometimes when he’s really happy too.”

Draco’s lips turned downward the longer he talked. It bothered him that Harry couldn’t see that he was loved.

“I’m not a people person but I willingly go with him on what he calls adventures around London. Adventure is accurate because wherever Harry goes, trouble follows. Last month we had to run from people with sticks on horses. Harry said they were the law, but I feel like if you were lawmen then you should dress better but that’s beside the point. Then there was this one time we got kicked out of a library. That was more my fault, but Harry was the one who didn’t tell me that the books didn’t talk or yell. Who wants to go to a library with silent books? That’s like going to a gallery where the paintings don’t talk. What’s the point?”

Muggles were weird, honestly. There were a lot of things they did that were smart, and he wished that Wizards would adopt too. But a large amount of what Muggles did was boring. They lived boring lives and he felt bad that they didn’t have Magic to spice it up.

“I try to show with actions how much he means to me, and I thought I was doing a good job at it, but I guess not.” His eyes closed as he remembered the hurt expression on Harrys’ face.

“He told me he wished I would tell him I loved him more. I told him there was no point. Which in hindsight, I’ll admit was a mistake. I don’t take it back, mind you. But I wish I had explained better before he left. I meant there was no point in saying it more if I could tell him through actions. Which I have been doing since I realized I loved him. I thought he knew. I thought he could see how much I love him.”

Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. He wasn’t worried about their relationship, not really. Harry sometimes needed a few days to cool down when they argued. Only usually, it was anger that was the parting goodbye and not a heartbreaking sadness.

He looked back to the camera, hating that his eyes were wet.

“I love him, so much. I could talk about all the things he does for me that I love. Like the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel loved and whole. The way he holds my hand too tight, like he thinks I’ll pull away. As if I ever would. Or the way I feel like I’m high on liquid luck whenever we’re together. But those are selfish to point out. I don’t want to talk about me when I bring up what I love about him. That’s conceited.

“I love the way he throws a fist in the air when he gets an answer on the telly right. I love his stupid hair that has to be sentient at this point, never lying flat. I love the softness in his eyes when he’s happy, the way they shine so brightly. Almost as bright as his smile. I love how kind he is. I know I give him shit for that, which I should, but there’s a goodness to him that isn’t common anymore, and I love that. I love how much he cares about other people.

“I love how hard he works—puts every ounce of himself into whatever he’s working on no matter how big or small. I love how smart he is, even if he doesn’t see it himself. He thinks of the world in ways that others don’t—a genius to him that fascinates me. I love how much he loves. He loves with everything that he has. He loves people in general. Wants to see the best in them, has a faith that never wavers. His friends are his family, his family is his world and the love he has for all of them is another extension of himself that is everlasting.”

Draco blinked through the wetness as he sniffled.

“I’m honoured to be part of that love. To know that he could care about me a fraction of what he feels for others is overwhelming. I know he loves me; Merlin knows that I do. How could I not? He doesn’t just say it, he shows it. And I just wish that he knew how much I loved him too. I know I don’t say it enough, and I try, I do, but I had hoped that he could see it. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I didn’t show it enough, maybe I didn’t try harder. Maybe I should have done more.”

Draco wiped at his cheeks hating that he let his emotions get the best of him. Especially on his first little telly!

“What hurts the most is that I don’t know how else I could have showed him,” Draco laughed bitterly. “I really don’t. I give so much of myself to Harry, perhaps that’s not healthy, but it’s true. I love him so bloody much and I hate that he doesn’t see that, that he doesn’t know. How could I not love him? Harry, how could you not know that I love you?

“I love you…”

Draco took a deep breath, wishing it wasn’t as shaky as it was as he twirled in the chair. That had to be the reason Muggles had such dangerous chairs, so they could twirl.

“My first little telly wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Draco smiled wryly as he placed his chin on his palm. “I was supposed to charm you all with my good looks and witty personality. And what did I do? Cry over my relationship issues. Like anyone wants to see that. Maybe I’ll tell you the story of how Harry and I fell in love next time. Or maybe the first time we met. Something happier than my tears. Pansy always said I’m an ugly crier—the jealous bitch—so no sad topics next time, I promise.”

Draco leaned forward; lips pursed as he tried to figure out how to turn it off.

“I’m not sure anyone is going to see this. Maybe that’s for the best. I just know I look like a cross between Doxy droppings and Weasley on a good day. I hope you all are having a better day than I am. I’m going to go as soon as I shut this off.”

Draco frowned, clicking a few buttons before he gave up and shut down the whole computer. The simplest solutions were for the best. He spun in the chair one more time facing the rest of their flat, wishing not for the first time that Harry hadn’t taken his happiness when he left.

——

Watching his little telly back was a painful experience. His charm and charisma were there, but it didn’t look as polished as some of the other little tellies he had seen. He’d just have to keep trying.

Draco was about to start a new one when he noticed that there were a lot more numbers than there should have been at the bottom. It had been two days since he had made it, and he expected there to only be his replay.

Not the 819,543 that stared at him. And every passing minute the number grew by the tens of thousands.

Draco double checked that he was on his little telly and not someone else’s before he covered his mouth. Did that many people see him cry? Merlin, what did he do? While the thought was horrifying, what truly scared him was that there were comments.

There were comments.

Oh no.

Draco groaned, already blaming all of this on Harry. And the internet, the internet could take the blame too. With one eye closed, he scrolled down.

NamelessHope 1 day ago Anyone else find this endearing? He’s like an old grandma that doesn’t know how the internet works.

Sorrymum 5 hours ago He’s so cute. Why can’t you be single?

Michael the Sexual Taco 2 minutes ago His partner is trash. It’s so obvious he’s in love. How could Harry not see it?

Bleach 2 days ago First!!!

CubesAreTriangles 13 hours ago Go bottom go!

Potatoes for Life 7 hours ago Nooooo don’t cry! If you cry I’m going to cry

Draco squinted at the comments. Why were Muggles so fucking weird? And what did they mean bottom? Did people just assume things like that? He liked to fuck and be fucked, thank you very much.

Meaty Meat 10 minutes ago Y r u gay

Draco snorted. Okay, maybe Muggles were entertaining.

Casey J 1 day ago I can’t tell if you’re just ranting or want advise. If it’s the former, then ignore me. But maybe Harry does know you love him. I think it’s obvious that you do, so he must know that. Maybe he needs it said too.

Randy Rants 8 hours ago You need couples therapy not the internet

ParsleySnips 2 days ago I totally cried

Pearl’s Pearly Pearls 2 days ago I want to be loved like you love Harry.

SwiperNoSwiping 1 hour ago If you two don’t break up you should do another video with him.

Draco scowled. They weren’t going to break up. A touch of hesitancy filled him at the thought. It had been 6 days since he last saw Harry. Not their worst fight, and he would’ve tried to find Harry and talk to him if it had been completely silent. But Harry sent a Patronus every morning that nuzzled him awake. The Patronus didn’t speak a message but the love he could feel was a message all on its own.

Karla S 1 day ago Am I the only one who caught that he said spell? Is your father a devil worshiper?

Gigi’s my Daddy 2 days ago Little tellies. That’s so cute. That should be our fandom name when you blow up.

Gay4You 20 hours ago I’ve never been invested in someone else’s love life this much. If you and Harry don’t make up I’m going to riot.

Draco looked through several more comments before he pushed away from the computer. There were a few rude ones and a lot more supportive ones, but all of it made him nervous. He didn’t like that so many people knew about his feelings. It was his own fault for making the little telly, but he didn’t think anyone was going to see it!

Part of him was panicking. He could delete it, probably, if he asked the lady in his phone how. But did he want to? Draco bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he deleted it, all those people who saw it would still remember it, so he’d only be stopping new people from viewing it.

Before he could go over the pros and cons of either option, the front door slammed open, causing him to yelp and jump out of the chair.

Hands raised, Draco glared at Harry, who was staring at him intently, chest moving rapidly.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco sneered. “I nearly came out of my skin. If you’re trying to kill me, you almost succeeded. Merlin don’t do that a—”

Draco cut off when Harry marched toward him, eyes still intense. His mouth was still open, ready so say something, but nothing came out when warm hands cupped his cheeks.

“Draco, I’ve always known you loved me.”

Oh no.

He closed his eyes tightly. Harry watched his little telly. How? Why?

“Hey,” Harry whispered, thumbs moving in a gentle caress. “Look at me.”

Draco shook his head. He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry.”

That had his eyes opening before they widened. “What?”

“We’re so different,” Harry began with a wry chuckle. “Everything about us is different. And for some reason I forgot that. I assumed that our love language was the same. But the beautiful thing about languages is how different they are. I expected yours to be the same as mine and I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Draco hated that his voice wavered.

“You’re right, I do say I love you a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Draco hurried to explain. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”

“I know,” Harry shushed him, a thumb placed over his bottom lip. “I say it because I don’t want you to forget that I love you.”

Draco shook his head, wanting to tell Harry that he could never forget. How could he? But he didn’t want to interrupt.

“When I was little, I didn’t just want to be loved by my relatives, I wanted to love them too. But they hated me, and the feeling was mutual. I wanted to love someone just as much as I wanted to be loved. And I guess I say it so much as a reminder to never forget that. I love you, Draco and I can’t help but say it over and over again.”

“I know,” Draco parroted as he pressed a kiss to the thumb still over his lip. “I love that you say it so much. I don’t want you to stop. Lately, you’ve been saying it less.”

Harry’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry. You don’t always say it back and that hurts. I thought you didn’t want me to say it. I thought—”

“No,” Draco shook his head again, this time more violently. “Please no. I’m sorry. I want to say it more, and I promise I’ll try but please don’t stop saying it if I can’t.”

Harry shushed him again and if he wasn’t so close to crying, he’d probably have hexed Harry for treating him like a scared child.

“You do show me that you love me,” Harry said, eyes soft and full of the love that Draco wasn’t sure he could live without. “All the time and that’s your love language. You show me through actions, and I needed the reminder.”

“I want to give you the love you deserve,” Draco whispered, blinking rapidly, willing himself not to cry. “You deserve to hear it just as much as you give it. And I’m sorry I don’t do that.”

“I don’t need it,” Harry argued, eyes narrowed. “And don’t you dare presume to know what I deserve. I get to decide that, and I’ve already given you my heart. So it’s up to you to keep it safe.”

Draco inhaled sharply. Harry’s love was special. “I want to love you vocally too. I want to love you the way you love me.”

“The way you love me is exactly what I need.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I feel like you’re settling.”

“Not your decision.”

“Harry—”

“Draco,” Harry began, flicking him in the forehead. “If you want to say it more, I won’t object. I’m just telling you that I don’t need it like I thought I did. We’re in love and it doesn’t matter how different we show it. The love is still there.”

“Okay,” Draco sniffled, wiping his nose on Harry’s shoulder when he was pulled into a strong embrace. After days of no contact, he basked in their combined warmth. A feeling he had missed more than he thought possible.

Draco turned his head, mouth near Harry’s ear as he whispered,

“I love you.”

If Harry held on tighter, and Draco felt a wetness on his neck, well that was no one else’s business.

~Fin

———

Short Extra

“Hi little tellies!” Draco waved at their new camera, one that Harry now manned, taking in Draco’s new hobby in stride.

“I had planned an intro like all the rest of them do but that’s so boring. Over here we’re better than everyone else. So I said fuck it and tossed it away. Let’s just get to the good stuff. You’ll never guess what Harry did yesterday. It was so embarrassing.”

“Do you have to embarrass me to so many people?”

Draco grinned, nose scrunching at Harry’s glare. He knew his followers wanted to see Harry, but Harry didn’t want to be in the little tellies like that. Plus, Draco kind of liked that it was just him.

“What do you mean?” Draco blinked, adopting an innocent expression that had stopped working on Dobby when he was three. “I’m just telling my friends.”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, eyes on the subscriber count that was rapidly increasing. “All 3 million of them.”

It still blew his mind that so many people wanted to hear him talk about his life. He had known from the beginning that he could pull it off. Had always known he had more charm than everyone else on the internet. His little tellies were clearly superior.

And to think it all stemmed from his love of Harry.

-----

This is a story for @rieraclaelin who I know has been having issues reading fic lately so please don't feel like you have to read this at all. I just wanted there to be a gift for you whenever you do feel like readings stories. I adore you!

[keijislove]

Pureblood Mania: Sirius Black X Reader

A/N: Warning: toxic mother-daughter relationship. Mentions of drinking.

Sirius Black was one of the most arrogant, thick and inconsiderate prats anyone would have the misfortune to meet. He found his pleasure in staying with random girls who truly fell for his charm all while he didn’t even look back once he got what he needed. Which is why to say that he was furious at the moment was a complete understatement.

His ‘beloved’ mother had decided to pounce upon him this very morning and Walburga Black was not one to beat around the bush. Authoritatively, she stormed into his room and snapped her fingers in front of her face, saying, “We’ve got to talk.”

Sirius supressed a massive groan – this couldn’t be good.

“I can see your future is going nowhere, boy!” she snarled, “You shall, under no circumstances, besmirch the ground that my forefathers have bestowed upon me by ending up to be a – a street dweller!”

Sirius rolled his eyes. Trust her to say something dramatic like this.

“Therefore, to improve our situation and get rid of you,” she added nastily, “You will be getting married at the end of this month.”

If there was anything Sirius was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. He got up so fast that his chair crashed to the ground. He did not care.

“Wha- married?!” he sputtered, “To whom?!”

“You shall see this evening,” his smother snapped, “She’s a lovely girl. They will arrive at around five. Wear something respectable. And fix your hair!”

She stormed out of the room, leaving Sirius mouth agape.

Married.

She would probably be some swotty pureblood. The very thought disgusted him. Though, deep down, Sirius always knew he would be married this way, he wasn’t ready for that level of commitment. He was used to variety. Now he’d be stuck with some dull girl for the rest of his life. This day could not get worse.

------

“I’m ready, mum,” you spoke in a monotonous voice.

This morning, your darling mother had announced that you’d be getting married at the end of this month to a ‘charming’ young man. You knew she didn’t care who you married. Pureblood was the word.

You were wearing a F/C dress and your hair was styled neatly – very unlike you.

Your mother came bustling into the room saying, “Good. We should leave now, they’re expecting us. And don’t embarrass me.”

She glared threateningly at you.

You rolled your eyes.

As you stepped into the car, very much aware of what you were signing up for, it drove ahead through the beautiful town you’d once called home. Your car stopped in front of a handsome manor – one you’d never seen before.

As the front gates opened to reveal a scrawny house elf, you followed your mother inside. The moment you reached the living room, something felt off.

“Ah, Y/M/N!” a richly dressed woman greeted, “And dear Y/N! How lovely to see you!”

It was at that moment that you spotted one of your oldest friends, Regulus Black. Your eyebrows rose. This was better than any random pureblood, however, you were quite incapable of thinking of Regulus that way and you were sure he was too.

You looked at him and he looked back. You pointed to yourself and then him and mouthed, “Seriously?”

Regulus looked sickened and shook his head in disgust, mouthing, “Not me.”

You frowned slightly. Regulus didn’t have a cousin, did he? After all, the only other person in the house was –

Oh. Oh, OH.

Your face morphed into an expression of absolute horror as you registered the other person who had just entered the room, mirroring your expression.

Realising you were gaping, you cleared your throat and spoke, “Sirius.”

Your voice was three octaves higher than usual and you hated it.

“Y/N.” Sirius breathed, still in shock.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Mrs Black clapped happily, “How lovely.”

“Yes,” you muttered, “How lovely.”

You glared his way as a pang of immense guilt welled in Sirius’ stomach, eating at him like termites as he relived his only memories of you at Hogwarts.

A girl was laughing and chatting animatedly to an otherwise quiet boy, who reciprocated her actions. Y/N L/N and Regulus Black were almost inseparable.

“Oi, Y/N!” a dark-haired boy with a handsome face called, “Is it because you pity my idiotic brother that you hang out with him? Or is it just that you’re so pathetic that no one else wants to hang out with you?”

His mates howled with laughter as you blushed furiously. Regulus threw a disgusted look their way and tugged at your sleeve, muttering, “Let’s leave.”

-

The same girl was now attempting to carry a large pile of books to the library to help Madame Pince with her work, when they tumbled out of her hands and she fell to the floor with a thud.

“What’s that, L/N?!” Sirius Black yelled from nearby, “Bite off more than you can chew?”

James and Peter positively roared with laughter as Remus suddenly became interested on one spot in his book, his brows furrowing into a frown slightly.

You gathered your books in embarrassment before practically running to the library with them.

-

As he relived these moments, he realised how much you’d actually grown. You weren’t the same old dorky girl from Hogwarts. You were now a quiet, reserved and admittedly extremely attractive young woman who looked ready to burst into tears.

“Sirius dear, take Y//N up to your room, will you?” Mrs Black gave a nasty fake smile.

“Yes, uh, okay, come on,” Sirius stammered.

You walked up the stairs in silence, not daring to look at each other. The house was indeed, very beautiful. As you reached Sirius’ room, you clambered inside before he finally spoke.

“So,” Sirius awkwardly began, “H-how are you, where’ve you been?”

“Do you really care or are you just being polite?” you muttered, upholding a deadpan stare out the window and on the handsome garden.

“Listen, Y/N, I know we got off on the wrong foot-”

“Yeah, we damn right did!” you snapped, pouring out seven years’ worth of feelings at once, “You never had the right foot when it came to me, Sirius, and I doubt that you have it now.”

“Look, I know you don’t want to do this,” Sirius desperately said, “I don’t want to force you into anything but-”

“Oh yes, there’s always a but when it comes to you, isn’t it?” you spat, “I can’t call off this marriage because my mum will kill me, you understand? Kill me. And I’m not like on of the many girls you screw every night-”

“I never said you were,” Sirius angrily spoke.

“Thank Merlin, you’ve finally done something wise, Black,” you snarled in his face, “We’ve got to grit our teeth and do it. Will you please try not to be a complete and utter arse and make it harder for me than it already is?”

At that moment, your mother burst into the room, “Y/N darling, we’ve got to leave now, and get your dress picked.”

Trying not to gag at the fake ‘darling��, you threw one last nasty glare in Sirius’ direction before following your mother out of the room.

-------

DAY OF WEDDING (A/N: sorry 😉)

“Bleurgh,” you blankly stated to your friend Lily Evans, who was getting you ready for the wedding alongside another girl called Marlene McKinnon, to whom you’d never really talked but she seemed nice anyway.

“What’s wrong, you look gorgeous!!” Lily gasped.

“Spiffing, Y/N,” Marlene grinned at you, “Let’s get your hair done, Sirius is a lucky man!”

She hastily added, “Joking!” as you glared murderously at her.

Soon your hair was styled and your veil perched on top of your head along with a bouquet of roses in your arms.

As you walked alongside your father down the aisle, you fought the urge to turn and run on the spot. Sirius was gaping at you from the front. He looked quite nice, you had to admit.

His face formed a cocky smirk as you fought another urge to throw the bouquet at his face.

You didn’t register any vows the priest made, your mind wandering over to glimpses of the future you were signing up for.

The word that caught you by surprise was, “You may kiss the bride.”

“Oh shit,” you thought, trying not to panic.

Sirius threw an anxious glance at your face, as if asking for your permission and you closed your eyes and nodded slightly. You could feel his minty breath on your face as his lips captured your own. They were gone the moment they appeared.

You flushed. How foolish of you to think Sirius Black would ever like you. You were looking anywhere but his face, refusing to fall for his charm. As the guests congratulated you and the food was eaten, the speeches delivered, it was finally time to go home. You were to go to a honeymoon destination your mothers had chosen and Merlin you were going to regret this.

The moment you stepped inside your bedroom; something was off. The whole room smelt like flowers and there was this tiny ass bed in which the two of you would have to squeeze.

“Ugh,” you moaned into your palms, grabbing your clothes and heading off to the bathroom to change out of this awful wedding dress and into your nightclothes.

By the time you washed off your makeup and brushed your teeth, your new ‘husband’ was already sitting on the bed, changed into his own nightclothes.

You sat warily on the bed, as far away from him as possible. Sirius threw a questioning glance your way before speaking, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ignoring this mildly hurtful jibe, you spoke, “You don’t care how attractive the girl is, as long as she’s ready to shag you.”

“Nice,” Sirius sarcastically muttered, “I can see why Regulus liked you. You’re a bloody psychopath.”

“He’s a damn sight better than you are,” you retorted.

“I’m the handsome one,” Sirius cockily stated.

“I’d rather marry Severus,” you coldly spoke, “At least he knows his manners.”

“You really know how to wound a man.”

“It’s midnight, go to sleep. And no funny business, Black,” you warned.

“Can’t make no promises,” Sirius chanted as you threw a pillow at his face before turning the other way and falling asleep.

------

Married life didn’t suit you at all, especially when your husband was such an arse. He would leave early morning and go out with his stupid friends and sometimes even bring them over. Let’s just say you didn’t fancy quietly sitting in the corner, watching James Potter and Sirius Black taking turns shoving pencils up their noses while Peter cheered them on and Remus sat with his head in his hands, continually apologising to you.

You drew the line when Sirius returned one day, apparently been out with his friends.

He silently hung up his coat before turning to walk to the bathroom when you shut your book and spoke, “Enjoyed ourselves, did we?”

Sirius turned around to face you, confused, “Huh?”

“We need to talk,” you spoke, struggling to keep your voice even.

“’Kay, but first I’m going to-”

“NOW.” you spoke with such a ringing force in your voice, Sirius was surprised at himself for not recoiling several steps.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah, OK. What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you what’s up,” you fumed, “Where do you get to these days? I go to bed and you’re not there; I wake up and you’re still not there and you turn up for lunch then disappear again to wherever you go!”

“So?” Sirius shrugged, “’Smatter with you?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Sirius, I’m your wife,” you spoke, “I have a right to know where you go-”

“You’re not my wife,” Sirius frowned slightly.

“I – what, sorry?!” you sputtered.

“I thought we just married for namesake,” Sirius’ frown grew deeper.

“Yeah, but that still makes me your wife, git!” you yelled angrily.

“Why do you care where I go?” Sirius furiously asked you, “It’s not like you like me any better when I’m around-”

“If you’re married, I hope you realise that you can’t sleep around anymore, namesake or not,” you coolly stated.

Sirius looked taken aback, “I don’t sleep around.”

“A likely story,” you snarled.

“You know what, you’re being ridiculous right now,” Sirius huffed in annoyance, “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, no,” you hurried forward and made to seize his forearm but he roughly shook you off before slamming the door in your face.

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

“I’d make fun of you right now,” Regulus was trying to control his laughter, “But you seem pretty miserable already. Care telling me what’s wrong, brother?”

Sirius scowled at his younger brother. Trust the little shit to try and get back at him for possible blackmail material.

“I need something to drink first,” Sirius stated.

Regulus snorted before summoning a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses with a wave of his wand. He poured some out for himself and gave the other glass to his brother.

Sirius took a swig before speaking, “It’s Y/N. She’s acting weird.”

“You always found her weird,” Regulus coldly stated.

“Nah, now she’s weirder than usual,” Sirius shuddered, and with a deep breath, began to explain.

By the time he finished, Regulus was staring at him with incredulity and exasperation.

“Are you really such an idiot?” he asked disbelievingly, “You’re supposed to be smarter than this, Sirius, dogs are smart!”

“What’s intelligence got to do with this?” Sirius asked, confused.

Regulus rolled his eyes, “You’ve no idea, have you? Imagine, brother, my situation at Hogwarts when she used to burst into tears in front of me after you’d teased her, telling me that she was no good and how Sirius Black would never like someone like her back!”

Sirius’ look of confusion morphed into one of comprehension, followed by horror.

“She-?” he asked.

“Yes,” Regulus nodded, staring at him in disgust, “Now go apologise to her, or I’ll hex you so bad you’ll shoot flames out of your-”

“No, okay, no,” Sirius made a disgusted face before proceeding to down the entire bottle of Firewhiskey.

--------

A knock on your door around midnight told you that your delightful ‘husband’ had come home. Scowling, you got out of bed to open the door to reveal and extremely drunk Sirius standing there.

“What the-”

“I’m sorryyyyy Y/N ieeeee,” Sirius sobbed, flinging himself onto you.

“Uhm,” you awkwardly patted his head, “What’s going on-?”

“All the time I thought you – hic – fancied my – hic – brother, when you were really – hic – oh, I’ve been a complete – hic – arse to you and – hic – now I’ve – hic – ruined everything,” he rambled.

“Sirius, what-” you got cut off as his lips sloppily grazed over your own. You closed your eyes for a brief moment before realising he was drunk. He probably didn’t know what he was doing. This was wrong.

“Sirius,” you muttered, pushing him off slightly, “You don’t mean this, trust me, you don’t.”

“I do, I do,” he howled, still sobbing, “I wanna be your husband – make lots of little kids with you!”

“OK,” you spoke, this was where to draw the line, “Tell me this when you’re sober, with a straight face, and I’ll believe you.”

His face morphed into a dorky grin and his head lolled over to your shoulder as you practically carried him inside before the both of you fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were surprised to see him leaning impatiently over you, showing no sign of a hangover whatsoever.

“Ready to make those little kids?” he asked cheekily as you gasped, a realisation hitting you.

“I’m going to kill Regulus.”

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

Nct Masterlists

Multi group Masterlist

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics

I was challenged by @ashotofspotchka . So I did it.

The Prompt

Made this a Tech x Reader fic. I got inspired. And became a bit longer that intended.

I heard y'like Tech?? @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick (tag a fan!)

The Wedding

Well this was a right mess to be in. How had you even gotten into this situation? Oh of course… Cid. As much as you admired her, she was a tricky one. If not for her you would have never been invited to her salon, nor would you have met the most frustrating band of men you’d encountered. And their adorable little sister of course.

Had you not taken that job with them a few months ago, you would not have gotten to know them so well. Not been put in so many ridiculous situations and nearly losing your head. You wouldn’t have that new scar across your thigh… and you wouldn’t have grown to like them so much.

Damn it. Your mentor always told you not to get too attached to people, one never knew when they would find each other on opposite sides of the field so to speak. Casual acquaintances were one thing. Friendship was not a good idea. Anything more was downright dangerous. You told yourself it was alright to have a little affection for them. That it was alright to laugh and make jokes, to share a meal with them, to make them smile. That was alright… wasn’t it?

You let out a sigh wishing the ceremony would soon be over. Not that it wasn’t lovely. Of course it was. The venue was beautifully decorated, from the flowers to the guests, everything was stunning. A perfect picture of romance and love and devotion.

You usually detested weddings. There was one incident when you were young and… well it spoiled the idea of them to you. Though this was… actually rather nice. The group, you included, were tasked with providing security for the wedding as a favour to one of Cid’s associates. It was one of the more ridiculous missions… though even you had to admit, you cleaned up alright in a silken dress and heels. It had been a while since you’d had to go undercover and this was… well it was rather fun.

The downside of course had been seeing the boys in their suits. It wasn’t good for your heart. If they looked a picture of badass intimidation in full armour, then the five of them in suits were just perfect.

Hunter even had his hair swept back, though it took you a second to recognise him without the bandana. Wrecker had been a little grumbly about feeling unprotected but was very pleased when you told him he was very handsome. Crosshair had rolled his eyes at first, but gotten very offended when you snatched his toothpick from his lips. Echo had a moment when he was finally dressed. You’d been tying his bowtie when he’d let out a little huff and gave a small smile, saying he “felt human again.” Your heart broke at these words because even with his brothers he still felt… lesser. You had been quick to assure him that he was more human than anyone you knew and that the prosthetics meant nothing on that. Seeing him puff up with pride again was worth nearly getting shot last week.

Even Omega had a pretty dress on and flats tied to her ankles with ribbons. You and she had picked a dress to match Hunter’s suit specifically, she looked up to her big brother so very much, you often thought he was more like a father really, but kept these thoughts to yourself for now.

The last one to join you was the one that affected you the most of course. Tech stepped out onto the landing platform looking like a million credits and like he should have a hot woman on each arm. Like he could make any woman swoon with just a wink.

Hot damn.

Of course he would not do such a thing, and was just looking around, observing the surroundings for possible points of attack, vulnerability and in general taking in the surroundings. As you were also meant be doing. Internally you swore and after drinking in his obliviously gorgeous self, you’d returned to praising the way Omega had pinned her hair without needing your help.

Tech had of course been one of the members of the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Batch’ that you had found the most interesting. He always knew at least five facts about the planet or target or mission that the others didn’t. Always reading, always observing. His eyes behind his goggles were never still. One could think him cold if they didn’t look close enough. But he had a deep passion for knowledge, for technology… its no wonder he had chosen such a name. Practical. To the point. You liked that about him. You like quite a bit about him as you recently discovered. The way he could fix anything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about learning new things. The way he was so damn efficient at his job, he knew the Havoc Marauder inside and out. The little smile when the two of you shared an inside joke. Or the way he rolled his eyes whenever one of his brothers exasperated him. The way he was always right there to help Omega over large stones or down the stairs of the ship. He was so thoughtful like that, despite not really talking about it.

Actually no. No, you didn't like that. It was just positive observations. That’s all. He was a colleague… maybe a friend. Maybe. There was nothing more to it, you told yourself. There wasn’t anything meant in the little brushes of your fingers when you two passed items between each other. Or passed in the hold of the ship. Or when you were squashed together when hiding from Imps. He didn’t think like that. Right?

Currently, you were standing on one side of the large room, waiting for the bride to arrive. On one side were you, Hunter and Crosshair, standing alongside the pews. On the other, was Omega, Echo, Wrecker and Tech. You wished Tech was on your side of the room, then he wouldn’t be in your vision at least. Not that it meant anything! You were allowed to admire the handsome technician of course, but that's all it was. He certainly wasn’t looking back at you every minute or so either. You were probably imagining it. You had to keep your eyes out for any breaches in security. Any guests acting strange. Certainly not staring at the drop-dead gorgeous clone in glasses across from you.

“Feeling alright, Feisty?” Hunter asked in a low whisper. You smirked at the nickname, apparently you had made an impression on them in the first mission when the client had gotten too mouthy. “Your heart rate is higher than usual.” He added, and you could hear definite amusement in his tone.

You pursed your lips together, trying not to smile from embarrassment. “I’m fine Hunter.” You replied out of the corner of your mouth. Another sweep of the venue with your eyes-- oh kriff Tech was looking your way. Your eyes met for just a second before you tore them away. You heard Hunter chuckle.

“You sure?” He muttered, folding his arms,

“Shut up, Hunter.” You retorted with a soft huff. He chuckled again and you felt your face grow hot. By the nine moons of Endor you wanted to run. It was then the music began and you steeled yourself. The ceremony was beginning.

It was lovely, really. Very sweet, lovely and romantic. The Togruta and his Twi’lek bride seemed very in love if the look on the groom's face was to be believed. He practically lit up like a beacon on seeing her. You had the brief thought... would anyone do that for you? Before immediately pushing it away. Those sorts of thoughts were dangerous. You were sure that it was going to be boring… but you couldn’t help but get a little distracted when they began to say their vows.

“...my darling. There is so much I want to say to you. So much I have felt and left unsaid, I am sure you know just how I feel just by the way I look at you.”

Your eyes instinctively flicked to the otherside of the room. You glimpsed his eyes on you and was immediately caught in the depths of his soft brown eyes. The gentle and kind look you had seen many times, but thought nothing of. He was just kind, that’s who he was. In this moment though-- you were sure there was… a little more to it.

“...It was not easy to let myself open up… to bring myself to acknowledge my feelings but in one moment I knew they were endless and unrelenting. I love you from the depth of my soul and I never want to be apart from you…”

Oh hells… these vows were so saccharine sweet that normally you would be gagging… but these ones hit a little too close to home. You couldn’t stop your eyes from being tugged toward the suited clone trooper opposite you, no matter how you forced them away, to scan the room for danger, they were always drawn back to him. Always him.

“...When I met you you were just so wild. Such a firecracker…!”

There was a laugh across the room and you almost jumped, reminding yourself you were in a crowd. Though none of them paid attention to you. Only one.

“...It was like seeing the sun for the first time, with you in my world colours were brighter, food was sweeter, I found myself longing for times when we could be together, even in the small moments…”

You recalled the times Tech and yourself had been together, doing maintenance, repairs, listening to the music through the entertainment channels. The little laughs, the simple things.

“...not everything was easy, and there has been so much danger…”

You remembered your last serious injury, the piece of twisted metal sticking out of your leg while you hauled ass back to the ship, firing behind you to cover the boys. The way Tech’s eyes had become as big as moons when you finally collapsed, and they saw how bad the injury was.

“... but I always trusted you to get me through anything. I love you, my darling. With all my heart, and soul and with every beat of my heart and breath in my body. I will be yours even after all the stars in the galaxy burn out.”

You had been unable to tear your gaze from Tech’s for the last minute or so and you could feel your face burn. It was only when the vows were done and the bride and groom kissed, their hands wrapped together in a red ribbon and the other guests clapped in support that you snapped out of your little reverie. You joined, half-heartedly in the applause but you felt… strange. You really wanted this mission to be over. Or a drink. Yeah, a drink would be good.

[tom-holland-parker]

Begin Again

Summary: 8 months after you broke up with Peter, you finally agree to meet up with him, but you’re still unsure if he deserves a second chance

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Warning: none

Word count: 1409

Masterlist

Notes: Wow another fanfic inspired by a Taylor swift song (did you honestly expect something different coming from me). Anyway this is Part 2 to “The Moment I Knew” which you can read here. Also shout out to @hommyy-tommy for asking if there's gonna be a part two because once they asked about it I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Side note: If you’re ever in The West Village in Manhattan I 100% recommend eating at Bus Stop Café, they have THE BEST bacon egg and cheese and don’t even get me started on their orange juice. Plus the people who work there are SUPER NICE. I pretty much spend every Saturday in the summer there and it’s really worth it.

You took a deep breath as you looked in the mirror. You couldn’t help but second guess your outfit as you adjusted your dress. “Maybe it’s too much” You shook your head, “I’ll wear sneakers instead” 

“What’s wrong with the shoes I picked out?” Wanda asked, watching as you moved back and forth from your closet to your mirror. “He hates it when I wear heels”, you shook your head again in frustration as you looked through the piles of sneakers you had, “He knows I’m clumsy so he gets scared I’m going to break my bones if I wear them” 

“Since when do you care about what he thinks?” Nat asked as you put on your black vans. You didn’t really know how to answer that question. It had been 8 months since you even talked to Peter. You ignored him for the rest of the school year and spent the summer vacationing through Europe so you didn’t have to see his face. You both ended up at the same college but lucky enough you had different majors and hardly ever saw each other. When you received that phone call last week you nearly threw your phone out the window. You couldn’t stop repeating that conversation in your head. 

“Don’t hang up” He said as soon as you picked up. You took a deep breath, “What do you want?” 

He sighed in relief, “I know you probably hate me right now but-” he paused trying to find the right words. You paced back and forth in your room trying to relieve the sudden anxiety that had built up inside you. “I wanna see you, I wanna try and explain, maybe make things better between us” 

You remained silent trying to process what he was saying. “Hello?” he asked, disappointment filled his voice. “I’m still here” you whispered, “Fine, next Wednesday, Bus Stop Café, how’s 5?”

“Yeah 5 is great” You could practically hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you then, bye” 

“I don’t know Nat” You sat on your bed, rubbing your temples in hope that it’ll relieve the headache forming in your head, “I just thought if I didn’t see his face, the problem would go away” You felt Wanda rub your back as you pulled you in for a hug, “Sweetie, sometimes you just need to face things head on”

You sighed, “I don’t think I can do this” 

“You got this kid” Nat said as she crouched down in front of you, patting your leg, “On the plus side you can always kick his ass and he won’t stop you”. You chuckled as you checked your phone for the time, 4:20, “I need to be in leave now if I'm going to make it to Manhattan on time”

///

You’d always been the type of person to take everything as a sign, maybe that’s why you became extra nervous when you noticed the rain outside. Maybe it was the universe telling you this was a bad idea. Happy dropped you off earlier than you expected but you didn’t mind, it gave you time to prepare for what you were going to say. “I’ll call you when we’re finished” You waved goodbye as you walked into the warm café. 

“Still using Happy?” You jumped when you heard Peter’s voice coming from the table next to you. You stared at him for a second, the fact that he was early took you by surprise. If you were being honest you expected him to be late. He stood up, pulling out the chair for you as you walked towards him. “If I didn’t he’d be out of a job” You smiled awkwardly as you sat down, “besides getting my own car would require me being able to pass a drivers test”

“Well you always were the bad driver”, Peter smiled as he sat down, his fingers fiddling with the straws, “I ordered your usual. I hope that’s okay”

You nodded your head looking around the room. You weren’t sure why you had chosen here, it was the place you and Peter had your first date. Maybe after talking to him for the first time in a while your brain subconsciously chose the place where you first fell in love with him. Funny enough it was in the same booth.

“So how’s school?” You asked, ignoring the thick tension that was growing between the both of you. “Oh schools great, engineering is kicking my ass but it’s fun, How are design classes?”

You shrugged wondering how he knew what classes you were taking, “They’re good I hate my professor but it is what it is”

“Alright we got one large plate of fries, one bacon egg and cheese with extra ketchup, one grilled cheese with avocado and tomato” the short waiter places the plates on the table, “and two large cups of freshly squeezed orange juice. Let me know if you guys need anything else"

"Thank you" you both said as the waiter walked away. You sipped on your drink as awkward silence filled the room. The fact that you were the only ones at the café didn't help. Maybe you should've chosen another day, at least then you'd have some background noise to distract you.

"So how was your Christmas?" Peter asked as he took a bite out of his sandwich. "It was fun. Finally convinced dad to buy everyone matching pajamas" you chuckled, remembering how annoyed your father was at your constant begging. "And you? Did May force you to watch love actually again?"

He rolled his eyes, "yes and it's still as boring as I remember". You laughed, "I could say the same about star wars"

He gasped sarcastically, "I see you still have terrible taste in movies"

"I'm just saying" you smiled, "all those movies and not one of them are good". He rolled his eyes, "you haven’t even seen all of them"

"That's because I've seen enough bad ones to know there isn't a good one" You laughed, watching as he rolled his eyes. You always loved to annoy him with your, in his words, terrible opinions. 

He smiled reaching across the table to grab your hand, “I missed your laugh”. You pulled away, looking down at your sandwich, not sure how to respond to him. Peter took a deep breath watching as you stuffed your mouth to avoid the conversation, “Look I’m sorry if I could go back and change it all I would”

“But you can’t” Your foot tapped on the ground nervously. He let out a heavy sigh, “I called you because I wanted a chance to explain myself”

“Well-” you sipped your juice, “Explain” 

“I let everything take over my life, The suit, the responsibilities. I was blinded by everything that I forgot the important people in life and I didn’t realize how much I was pushing everyone away until I lost the person who meant the most to me. Those 8 months were hell for me because i didn’t have you” 

“For months I thought you didn’t love me anymore”, You bit your lip, looking down to avoid eye contact. “No it’s not like that” Peter reached for you hand again, “I loved you, I still love you” 

You looked up, watching as his face turned pink with embarrassment. “Peter-” Your voice was barely above a whisper, “I can’t do this”. You stood up quickly, leaving 20 dollars on the table before rushing out the café. 

“y/n wait” Peter shouted chasing after you, “Just let me make it up to you”. You shook your head not bothering to look back at him. It wasn’t hard for him to catch up to you, you cursed yourself for being a slow runner. He grabbed your elbow gently pulling you to face him.

“Just give me a second chance” he said with pleading eyes. You stared at him for a second debating what to do. If you were being honest with yourself, having Peter back in your life was something you really wanted but you just had a hard time admitting it. You let out a deep breath as you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Don't think because we’re back together that I’m not mad at you” You whispered as you pulled away, “You still have to make it up to me”. 

He smiled giving you another kiss, “I think I can handle that”