#and I’m not opening debate on this so please don’t send me long winded asks on this I won’t respond
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
She sang a mash up of Robin and Never Grow Up in a pink dress the day before baby #2 was (supposedly) born.
This is why I’m still in the minority that one or both of the Kaylor kids may be girls. There was a lot of pink, a choice, around the announcement of baby #1. And I feel like tonight’s dress choice is keeping the girl potential thought in my head.
#I do believe Levi looks just like Karlie#so no I have no idea what’s real#and I’m not opening debate on this so please don’t send me long winded asks on this I won’t respond#because we might never know for sure#and that’s fine with me
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
Healing
pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)
warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie
a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333
based on: this and this
—————————————————————————-
You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.
You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.
When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.
Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.
By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.
When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.
The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.
If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.
Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.
Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.
That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.
During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.
You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.
“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.
“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.
“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”
“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.
“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.
“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”
“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”
“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”
“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.
“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.
“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”
He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”
“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.
“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.
“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.
“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.
“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.
Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.
After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.
Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.
And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.
You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.
But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.
In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.
He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.
When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.
You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.
Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.
“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.
“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.
“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.
“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.
“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.
“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.
“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.
“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.
“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.
Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.
Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.
You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.
Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.
You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.
“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.
“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.
“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.
“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”
You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.
“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”
“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”
“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”
“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.
“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.
“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.
“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”
You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.
The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.
Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.
“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”
You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.
When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”
“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.
“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.
“Oh did you!” you laughed.
“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”
“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.
“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.
When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.
Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.
You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”
He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.
“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.
“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.
“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.
“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.
“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.
You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.
I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.
Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.
Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.
Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.
He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.
Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.
You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.
“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”
He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.
“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.
“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.
“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.
“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.
“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.
“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.
“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.
“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.
“And were any of them your mate?”
“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.
“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”
“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.
“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.
“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.
“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.
“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.
“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.
The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.
“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.
“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.
He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.
One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.
He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.
“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”
You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”
“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.
“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.
“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.
“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.
“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.
“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.
“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.
“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.
He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.
And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.
“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.
“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.
“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.
He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.
“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”
You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.
You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.
“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.
“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.
He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.
“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.
“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.
“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.
Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”
“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.
“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.
“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”
469 notes
·
View notes
Text
Naive (3)
Masterlist
Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda
A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!
Previous part
Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed.
Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“You didn’t save my number, did you?”
“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”
“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”
“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”
“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”
“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”
“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”
The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.
-
Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.
“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”
“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”
“You are?”
“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”
She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.
“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.
“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”
“I am now.”
The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.
-
“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”
“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.
“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”
“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.
“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”
“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.
“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.
“What?”
“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”
“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”
“She told you her name?”
“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”
Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.
“Are you taking me to your house?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”
Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.
“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”
You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.
Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.
“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.
“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”
“Okay...so where are your pictures?”
“What?”
“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”
“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.
“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”
You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.
“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”
“I don’t know...”
“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”
You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.
“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”
If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.
“I can’t wait to make you mine.”
Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.
Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.
“Welcome home.”
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dark!wanda maximoff x reader#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#frosty's dark!fics
403 notes
·
View notes
Note
Just had the very distressing thought that if I ever want to have a girlfriend I'm gonna have to TALK to a girl?!?!??!?!?!?
I'd have to talk to a girl that I LIKE and HAVE A CRUSH ON?!?!? Impossible! Please help a distressed lesbian if you have any advice
okay so: in my personal experience 90% of all lesbian flirting is eyeing up fellow women to discreetly try to determine if they, too, are wlw. then you compliment each others button downs and never speak to each other again
BUT if you would like to painstakingly attempt to challenge the starfish fallacy then read on for my comprehensive guide on flirting w/ women! (credentials: i have accidentally flirted with So Many Women oh my god)
first up: start with the art of compliments! if you're too shy to tell a girl they're gorg out of nowhere, then focus on their clothing, their haircuts, their cool shoes, the patches on their denim jackets, etc. opening a convo with a compliment is one of the easiest shortcuts, as it neatly prevents you from having to come up w/ a witty rejoinder right off the bat (save those for later)
physical proximity makes it easy to do this to someone standing or sitting next to you. if, however, they're on the other side of the room/otherwise engaged, it gets trickier. if ur confident enough to walk up to a girl in a coffeeshop + compliment her, GO FOR IT. but if you're too anxious to just coldcall her, approach with a question.
you can warp the compliment to fit the question, i.e. "Hey! Sorry to interrupt [your reading], but your book looks super interesting/I've seen it around & am debating whether to buy it. Would you recommend it?" or, re: outfits/haircuts "Hey! Your ____ is super cute, can I ask where you got it [done]?" if they're a classmate/coworker, you can make it even less direct: "Hey! Do you know when we're scheduled to do ____?" (<- this one comes w/ the perk of, pending her response, immediately asking for her # to swap shifts or trade notes, which can quickly allow for inviting her to a study group/after work drinks with coworkers. speedrun!!)
once Conversation is Initiated, maintain eye contact, listen attentively to their replies, and keep smiling/smizing. if they're reticent, follow up with more questions unless you're getting fuck off vibes ("I'm trying to get more into reading lately, would you have any other reccs?" or, "I haven't found a hairstylist yet since I moved here from _____, are there any other local spots you'd recommend?")
BUT if they're returning eye contact, smiling, and keeping open body language towards you, make it a full-on convo! offer some personal details in return, don't be afraid to make (non-risky!!!!) jokes, and (if you can control when & where you're moving, i.e. not during a job or class) have a built-in exit.
even if convos are going good, it's polite (+ leaves them wanting more via scarcity principle, etc. etc.) to end a brief first-time convo after a few minutes, ideally before the energy winds down & you're left feeling awkward. "it's been so lovely meeting you! [insert name here], right? I've got to get going, but thanks for the ___!" if you wanna play the long game/are in a coffeeshop/aren't confident enough yet (no shame!) ask if she comes here regularly and say you hope to see her around sometime soon.
if you've managed to get a good enough energy going: ask if she has an insta/social media you could get for _____ purpose, i.e. letting her know if you like the book/music/media she recc'd or asking for more local spots. IF, however, you don't wanna put yourself at the whim of her generosity: give yourself a cheat code during the initial conversation.
namely; reference something you'd recommend, think she'd find funny, or can't believe she hasn't seen yet, etc. etc. then, at the end of the convo, you can naturally offer "Oh! Lemme send you that X I mentioned--do you have an insta/social?" et voila. asking for social is always less awk/direct than asking for phone numbers, AND it lets the flirtee decide whether she wants to offer that level of trust just yet
if you're not coldcall flirting a girl in public, but rather have an object of your affections at work or school: this formula works p. much the same, but on a slower scale (if you don't use my speedrun ofc) start building a rapport via compliments/questions, progress to chatting briefly whenever you see each other, and third step: say "I saw something yesterday that totally reminded me of you/I just have to send to you!! Here-do I have your insta yet?"
once you have someone's insta: continue chatting when you see them irl/replying to their stories over social, and see if you can pay close enough attention to what she likes to do. judging by the number of accidental lesbian dates i've been on, it's probably
art museum
botanical gardens, or
burlesque shows
however, hikes, used bookstores, underground shows, and grocery shopping together for a subsequent picnic also feature prominently. invite her to do whatever activity you think you'd both enjoy most (over social or irl, whichever you're comfortable with [tho irl gives you a better judge of facial expressions/body language]) and boom. if she says yes, shoot back "it's a date!" after setting the day/time, bc if she's anywhere near as clueless as i am (i'm so sorry wlw) they may honestly think you're still just friends.
if, over the course of your irl convos or DMs, you have the chance to casually mention your sexuality (patches, pride is coming up, mention "my teenage crush/my ex-girlfriend") and ask for hers, go for it. if you can be direct: ask directly. it will save you time, trouble, and mild heartbreak. but if you suffer from the conflict avoidance that plagues lo so many of us: just lean into the subtext.
offer your celebrity crushes and ask what hers are. mention an ex (BRIEFLY, in connection to another topic entirely [she recc'd this cool band to me!] and always in a positive context). wear birkenstocks or docs and say Portrait of a Lady on Fire is the best film of all time, say you listen to girl in red or w/e those charming youths do. just lay the foundation in barely-subtext and keep an eye on her responses, while accepting the risk of wooing what may or may not be a fellow wlw
once you are, in point of fact, ON the date: standard rules and rates apply. relax! be urself!! enjoy spending time with a cool person, regardless of what may or may not come of it!!!! if she seems into it lean into physical proximity, do the whole Tarzan hand-comparison wlw are addicted to, offer to feed her bites of food or swap sips of each other's drinks, and casually set intentions for future plans ("I've never heard of X cafe--we'll have to do that next time!" or, the infamous buy-her-smth-secretly and then offer "You can get mine next time c:")
again, the most important thing is to be sincere. it's good not to place too many expectations on the other person, but don't force yourself to be overly "chill" if you are not, in point of fact, a chill person. dating is always a process of getting to know one another, and it's important to be polite but pls don't feel like you have to follow a script or be someone you're not. just be you babe: you're already plenty lovable. godspeed + good luck!!<33
#long post#lesbian#wlw#how to flirt#lesbian dating advice#dating advice#sorry for the stereotypes but sometimes they're useful!!!#anonymous#reply
369 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hurricane, Shmurricane
Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader
WC: 1.4k
A/N: A small drabble-ish thing about Bucky and reader riding out Hurricane Henri together (even though the storm ended up not being too big of a deal lol).
-----
Are you sure you don’t want me to come home? I could be there in a few hours, sweetheart.
You stare at your phone, rereading Bucky’s text over and over, debating whether to give him the answer you wanted to or needed to.
You sigh, choosing the latter.
Hurricane, shmurricane. You don’t need to come all the way back from Washington for me! Though I appreciate the offer. :) <3
I would do anything for you, Y/n. You know that. Just let me know if you change your mind.
Will do. Try not to hit that Senator Ross guy or anything and get locked up in jail. You don’t have to come home right now but I will start to miss your face if you’re gone a few extra days than originally planned.
You don’t miss my face now? :(
I mean, I always miss your face. Just more so than usual.
Miss you, too. I’ll be home in three days. Love you.
Your phone dings with another alert about the incoming hurricane. You tried your best to prepare as much as possible, but you were still nervous. Your apartment was decent, but your current job did not provide the finances to get yourself a living situation where the building didn’t lose power when winds reached over 20 mph.
The truth is, you desperately wish Bucky could be there with you now. Unfortunately he and Sam got called down to Washington D.C. to discuss a potential assignment dealing with some lingering Hydra agents. This was before weather reports showed that a hurricane was landing much farther north than usual. You’ve never dealt with a hurricane before, so the idea of dealing with it alone was unsettling.
Still, you weren’t going to risk Bucky flying into a storm just to be there to hold you if you got scared. Even though you really, really want him to.
So instead, you spend the rest of the night charging all of your devices and doing nervous cleaning, preparing for whatever the storm would bring tomorrow.
----
You wake up to the crash of a branch hitting your window.
Luckily not enough to break the glass, but the whack was so loud that you let out a yelp as you were ripped away from sleep.
You get out of bed and look out the window to witness the chaos of the storm.
There were branches strewn all over the streets. Some had landed on cars and shattered their windshields or set the alarms off, the sound mixed with the aggressive winds and rain slamming against the windows roaring in your ears.
You close the blinds, attempting to tune it out and move to turn the light switch on. You flick it up.
Nothing.
“Fuck,” you murmur to yourself. “I thought I was at least going to have power in the morning.”
You check the news on your phone. Thousands of residents have already lost power, and it looks like it won’t be turning back on anytime soon.
Luckily, having been in this situation before, you head over to your storage closet and pull out a small generator. You decide not to turn it on just yet, unsure of how long you’ll need to rely on it before power comes back on.
Instead, you open the blinds to your window back up to let the natural light in, grimacing at the view.
Your phone buzzes as you’re in the kitchen pouring yourself a bowl of cereal.
How are you? I heard it’s looking pretty rough out there.
Your heart sinks, wishing that Bucky could somehow climb out of your phone and wrap you in his arms. You always try to keep a strong face, not wanting to be a bother to anyone. But right now, you were past not wanting to be a bother.
Not the *best* tbh. But hopefully it will be over soon.
I’m sorry, doll. Wish I were there. I’ll head out as soon as I can.
You send a heart emoji and put the phone down, blinking back tears and walking over to your couch, which now serves as a blanket oasis. A pine-scented candle acts as your main source of light aside from the windows. It’s the candle you always light whenever you’re missing Bucky, the scent reminding you of being in his arms, breathing in the smell of pine as your face rests against his shirt. There’s a stash of ten or so of them in your closet.
You try to distract yourself by reading, but after a few minutes of rereading the same sentence five or six times, you give in to the distraction of the storm and stare out at the window. A loop of endless worst-case scenarios play on repeat in your head.
A branch could break through the window and glass would be everywhere.
A pipe bursts in your apartment and water damages the whole building.
Hell, what if a fucking tornado appears and takes out your entire block?
You groan, throwing a blanket over your head, willing yourself to calm down and failing.
A huge gust of wind roars outside and you hear a crashing sound. Lifting the blanket off of you, you jump off the couch and look out the window. A lamppost has been knocked over and landed across the street, blocking anyone from getting through. Luckily people stupid enough to be driving right now had seen it in time to stop.
Right as you look outside, another branch makes contact with your window. You yelp.
Somehow, a second one hits it immediately after and cracks the window. You feel tears welling in your eyes once more.
This is it.
There’s a knock on your door and you scream.
“Doll, are you okay? Let me in!” a muffle voice calls from the other side of the door.
Bucky.
You run over and unlock it with trembling hands, yanking the door open to find a very wet, very concerned looking boyfriend standing in front of you.
Still looking gorgeous as ever.
“Bucky.” Tears stream down your face as relief overtakes your body. Bucky steps inside and wraps you in his arms.
“It’s okay. I’m here, love. I’m here,” he coaxes, swaying you from side to side.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask into his soaking wet leather jacket. “I mean, I’m beyond thrilled, but you’re supposed to be in D.C.?”
“As if I didn’t buy a ticket to New York the second after I texted you last night.” He chuckles, pulling away just enough to be able to look at you. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave my best girl here on her own.”
You smile and Bucky moves to wipe away your tears before kissing your forehead.
Now that the shock of seeing him has worn off, you frown, fully taking in the sight of him. “Come on, let’s get you into some dry clothes.” You try to pull him over to your bedroom where he has a stash of extra clothes in your dresser but Bucky holds you in place, grinning.
“What, you don’t want to spend the day cuddled up with a wet mop?” He pulls you in tighter and you squeal in protest, fighting back a smile.
“Honestly Buck, you could make anything look good. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable, babe.”
His smile softens. “Here? With my favorite person in my arms? What else could I need?” He leans forward until his lips find yours. You sigh, leaning into him as his kiss -- as always -- leaves you feeling dizzy.
“Thank you,” you breathe out once you pull away from him. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me. But I’d be lying if I said I had been wishing this whole time you would.”
Bucky frowns. “Y/n, I would do anything for you. I’ll always be there to make you feel safe.”
You smile. “I do. I feel like I could run outside and fistfight this damn hurricane now that you’re here.”
Bucky groans, though it sounds more like a laugh. “Please don’t do that, doll.”
You roll your eyes. “Fiiine. How about I pull out my laptop and we can watch a movie instead?”
“That sounds much better.” He leans forward for one more quick kiss before walking into your room to change.
You spend the rest of the day cuddled together in your blanket oasis, watching as many movies as possible before your eyelids grow heavy and you rest your head on Bucky’s arm and fall asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm raging outside your apartment.
Hurricane, shmurricane.
-----
Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here :)
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello! This is for @ketslketslketsl claws and creampies collab.
Summary: It’s not every day a pretty girl gives you her number, or pursues you so much. Sure, it looks like Mikasa is hiding something, but how bad could it be?
Pairings: Mikasa x Reader, Monster! Eren x Reader
Warnings: non human sex, noncon, violence, tentacles, gaslighting
WC: 4.8k
You look like an idiot.
There’s really no way around it. The dress your friend had all but forced you into is a little too tight, the straps on it digging into your plump flesh a little too much. The color on your lips is a little too red, the makeup on your eyes a little heavier than you’d ever done before. All of this to stand out, to show to the party at large that not only were you available but you were looking- something you hadn’t gone out of your way to advertise before. Your friends say that you look hot before you leave, but you think you look like you’re trying to hard.
It’s especially obvious when you’re handed a red solo cup as soon as you walk into the door, and immediately find a place on the wall to people watch. Nobody gives you a second glance (well, maybe a couple do, but at the resting frown on your face nobody gives you a third or tries to strike up a conversation). All of the makeup in the world can’t overcome the fact that you just don’t like talking to new people. Hell, even the friends you came with tonight basically adopted you into their friend group your first week of college, instead of you engaging them.
People filter through the home all around you, some dancing where there’s open space, grinding on each other to a low thumping beat that reverberates through your chest. You have to shift on the uncomfortable heels you’re wearing, trying to subtly grind your thighs together. It’s not like you don’t want that- it’s not like you don’t want to throw caution to the wind and disappear upstairs with some pretty boy or gorgeous girl. It’s just that you don’t know how- it’s like you missed that lesson in school, too wrapped up in a book to learn to relate to people who didn’t exist on a page.
Your mother says it’s not too late to get out there and learn about these things, but it feels that way sometimes. In times like these, it’s hard to gather up the courage to strike up a conversation, even when you’re on your second drink. At least you think it’s your second drink- whatever is in your cup is red and fruity, and it doesn’t taste like there’s much alcohol in it, which even in your limited experience you know is a sure sign there’s probably a whole bottle or two of something in it. It makes your head swim a little, it’s nice in a way but it mostly makes you sleepy.
Maybe you can call an Uber. You can find one of your friends to let them know you’re leaving, call an Uber and go to sleep at an almost decent hour. Let them have all the fun, and the hangovers, while you get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least it’s the weekend, and you have two days of freedom before your job takes up your time again. Your eyes start slowly scanning the crowd, looking for anybody you know- Annie, maybe, she’s tall and her blonde hair sticks out. Or Reiner, the lone male in your group, but knowing him he’s snuck off with Bertolt the first chance they got. Lucky bastard.
“You look lonely,” Someone says to your right, and when you look over there’s a girl standing there. She’s a couple inches taller than you, slender but the sleeves on her shirt are short enough you can see her muscles too. Black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a dainty gold chain resting on the pale skin of her neck with a little ‘M’ on it. Startling grey eyes that are doing their level best to bore into your skin. Definitely not the type to talk to you.
“Just trying to find my friends,” You say, but it mostly comes out as a whisper. She leans forward a little more, so you repeat yourself, a little louder. There’s a slight edge to her smile when she realizes you’re alone, you think, something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It must be a trick of the light, though, because the next moment it’s gone.
“It might be easier to find them if you’re in the crowd,” She says, murmuring right next to your ear, her breath dancing over your skin, “They could be upstairs, even. I could help you.”
You mean to say no, thanks but no thanks, you’ll be on your way. Your parents talked to you about stranger danger, and you’re on the wrong side of tipsy but what comes out of your mouth is, “Yes, please.” She smiles, victorious and promising.
“I’m Mikasa,” She tells you, putting her hand low on your back as you move away from the wall. The way the dress is designed, all wrapping layers, means there’s a gap in the fabric on your lower back, just enough that you can feel her hand on your skin, cool against you despite how warm it is in the room. You give her your name, watching as she repeats it to make sure she has it correct, eyes rapt on the way her lips move around it.
She doesn’t guide you upstairs, but closer into the makeshift dance floor. It feels like a scene out of one of the romance novels you have tucked away on your bookshelf at home. People seem to part around you, time stands still, all the cliche’s come to life. Her hands are on your hips as she moves behind you, steady and squeezing into you just enough to make your heart race. Mikasa isn’t especially broad but you feel remarkably safe with her right behind you.
“See anybody you know?” She has to lean down to speak in your ear, and between the alcohol and how close she is, you’re not sure you would even recognize your own face. You can feel her moving in time with the music, your own hips starting to sway with hers. Your eyes drift shut, letting her hands wander over your sides, skimming up to right under your breasts before the make a trail like fire back down to your hips. Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think, as you let yourself turn in her arms, her thigh moving between yours.
You’d think it’s a dream, that you did go home when you thought to, and your mind was wandering but the pleasure that courses through your when her jeans rub against your clothed cunt feels too good to be a dream.
“You do this often?” She asks, drawing you back to earth. All you can do is shake your head, arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She laughs at that, mouth forming words you can’t quite make out when you hear your name being called.
“I think your friends have found you,” Mikasa smiles, taking a step back as she eyes someone over your shoulder. Your hands drift back to yourself, helpless in the air before she catches one, grabbing a pen out of her back pocket to scribble something on the back of your hand. She presses a kiss on it when she’s done, giving you a warm smile.
“Call me,” She says, before being swallowed into the bodies behind her. On your hand there’s a phone number. You hold your hand close to your chest as your friends surround you.
“There you are!” Annie hisses at you, wrapping a protective arm around you, “What were you doing with her?”
“Mikasa?” You ask, glancing behind you like you would still be able to see her, “She was helping me look for you. You left me.”
“She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” Reiner huffs, Bertolt nodding in agreement. You roll your eyes at them.
“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” You suggest, pulling away from them, “Either way I think I’m going to head out. You know this isn’t my scene.”
“I’ll drive you,” Annie says, looking over your shoulder, “Armin is ready to go too.”
“Thanks,” You walk with Annie and her boyfriend to her hatchback, stretching out your legs in the backseat. You ignore their hand holding and longing looks. Clearly, when Annie said Armin was ready to go, she didn’t just mean home. At least the drive home is short. You say your goodbyes and make your way into your apartment, locking the door behind you before getting ready for bed.
Normally you would be tired, but there’s a thrumming in your veins, an undercurrent of excitement at the number written on your skin. You enter it into your phone, debating on sending Mikasa a text, but you hold off, not wanting to seem overeager. Still, you toss and turn, your skin feeling overly sensitive, each brush of your sheets feeling like the brush of fingers.
With a sigh you give up on sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand trailing down your neck while the other pushes up your sleep shirt, fingers skimming up, cupping one breast. You let your eyes close, imaging someone else touching you, Mikasa’s fingers being the ones to curl around your neck, her fingers tweaking at your nipples until they’ve pebbled. You picture her lips, her tongue, when you spread your lips, fingers making tight circles around your clit. It’s not you touching yourself, but her, playing your body like a fiddle until you cum, quicker than you can remember in recent memory, hard and fast, one hand smothering down your moans from your neighbors.
Maybe it should concern you though- no matter how hard you concentrate on Mikasa, picturing her above you, or between your legs, you can seem to recall the color of her eyes.
They only look red in your memory.
Dawn rises bright and early, pulling you from your sleep. You wake up with your heart racing, pounding in your chest. You don’t remember much of your nightmare, only that something was chasing you, nipping at your heels as you ran for your life. With a shudder you roll out of bed, thoughtlessly grabbing your phone to take it with you to the bathroom.
You gather courage as you brush last night out of your teeth, compose a text while washing your face, and hit send right before you step into the shower. It’s nothing special, a quick text that lets Mikasa know it’s you. Your phone balances precariously too close to your shower, music playing steadily out of it when the sound cuts off- your ringtone starts to play. You’re getting a call.
Grabbing your towel from where it rests you dry your hand, half your body out of the shower as you take the call without checking who it is. Nobody calls anymore, you assume it’s an emergency.
“Hello?” You try not to sound too panicked. The voice on the other end laughs, low and throaty.
“I thought I said to call me?” Mikasa teases you, can you feel your skin heating up for a reason that has nothing to do with the shower. There’s no way to turn the water off from where you are now, not without getting your phone soaked, and you’re sure she can hear exactly where you are. “Though, maybe I should give you a call back.”
“Give me ten seconds, don’t hang up,” You say, not listening for her reply as you place the phone back onto the counter. Reaching over to twist the shower off, ignoring the soap left on your body to grab your towel and wrap it around you properly. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do.
“Still there?” You ask as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. Your sheets are gonna get wet but it’s worth it. Your skin is cold where the air hits it, but you don’t wanna hang up, not yet.
“Of course,” Mikasa breathes, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I know it’s a bit old fashioned to call people now, but I find it’s a much better way of communicating with people, don’t you?”
No, you don’t. You get flustered and stutter over your words, so you much prefer texting where you can make sure you say what you want to, but you certainly can’t tell Mikasa that and so- “Yeah, I think so too. It’s hard to read tone over text.”
That part isn’t a lie, at least. Mikasa’s laugh is like honey in your ears. “You don’t have to lie, I can put you out of your misery now, if you’d like. Send some texts with the letter u as you.” Her teasing doesn’t sting you, not even a little bit.
“Or we could just meet up?” You suggest, breath catching in your throat as you wait for her reply. It could be that you’ve completely misread the situation, maybe she’s just being nice, maybe she doesn’t like girls, maybe-
“Give me an address and I’ll pick you up tonight at 7,” Mikasa replies, so smooth and confident it makes your head swim a little. You rattle off your address and she tells you to dress casual before hanging up. You have all day to get ready but you start immediately, drying your hair and styling it before picking out what you hope is a casual enough outfit- a soft white sweater over a sundress patterned with strawberries. A few swipes of pink makeup later and you’re set.
Now all you have to do is wait.
It feels like the hours manage to double themselves, or even triple themselves. A whole lifetime of waiting in one day until you manage to lose track of time and doze off on the couch. Three sharp knocks on your door startle you awake, sending you flying towards the door.
“I’m awake!” You practically shout, throwing the door open. “I mean. Hello. Hi. Can we do that again?”
“No, it was cute,” Mikasa says, smiling at you. You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, trying to ignore it. You’re not sure if you should invite her in but she solves that problem for you. “Are you ready? The place I’m taking you isn’t that far away.”
“Just let me get my shoes on,” You say, quickly turning to slide your feet into the first pair of sandals you see, strappy ones that make you trip if you’re not careful. But it’s fine. You know you’ll be careful tonight.
Mikasa leads you to her car, a silver hatchback. The interior looks spotless, and there’s an almost overwhelming smell of cleaner permeating through the car. You buckle yourself in before looking at her.
“Got it detailed just for me?” You think your voice is teasing but Mikasa stiffens, inhaling sharply as she looks at you. Her reaction takes you aback. “Whoa. Sorry. Teasing!” Mikasa relaxes almost imperceptibly at that, but you can see her shoulders sag down a little.
“Sorry, normally nobody notices how clean a car is,” She says, “Took me off guard. You’re very perceptive.”
“A lifetime of being a wallflower,” You reply without thinking, “You get good at people watching, all that jazz.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” She teases you back now, bringing a smile to your face. She’s right, the place she takes you isn’t that far away and the drive passes smoothly as she pulls into the parking lot of your towns oldest diner. You sit up straighter in your seat- you haven’t been here since you were a kid.
“It’s a little old fashioned, I know,” Mikasa says as she gets out, and you must be distracted because the next thing you know she’s opening your door for you, and there’s no way she moved that fast. “But the ice cream floats here are to die for.”
“Oh no, this is great!” You exclaim, walking next to her into the diner. She asks for a booth in the corner, something you didn’t know people did outside of your romance novels.
“Order whatever you want,” Mikasa says, barely giving the menu a glance. “It’s my treat.” Your mother didn’t raise you to take advantage of someone’s generosity even on a date so you order a small combination meal- though you do opt to upgrade your drink to an ice cream float at Mikasa’s insistence you try one.
“What do you do for work?” You ask, trying not to cringe at your attempt at small talk while you wait for your food to come out.
“I’m.. uh,” Mikasa hesitates now, looking anywhere but your face. It takes her a fraction of a second too long to answer, just enough time to make you frown when she continues, “I’m a caregiver.” Even to you it sounds like a half truth, but you let it slide, not wanting to be too pushy on a first date.
“Oh?” You say, shifting in your seat, “How did you get started in that?”
“It just kind of.. picked me, I suppose.” Mikasa still isn’t meeting your eyes and you figure it’s time for a change of subject.
“How do you know Historia?” There, that should be a safe question. She was at Historia’s party last night, after all.
“We were friends way back in elementary school,” Mikasa explains, clearly relieved to have moved to something different. “I live one neighborhood over from her, so we’ve already just hung out together.” That makes sense to you- Annie has known Historia since high school, and Annie seemed to know of Mikasa.
“Got any embarrassing stories?” You know you probably shouldn’t ask but you can’t resist. The Historia you know is almost regal in nature, prim and perfect at all times. You can’t even imagine her as a child.
“Oh, do I ever,” Mikasa says, voice a little lower as she leans towards you, launching into a story from her childhood. You hardly notice your food appearing, and then barely taste it as you eat, hanging on Mikasa’s every word. She’s funny and engaging, and it’s not until you hear the pointed cough of the man behind the register that you realize it’s closing time for them.
“Yeah, Zeke, we’re going,” Mikasa says with a roll of her eyes as she pays him. He huffs at her a little bit but soon enough the two of you are sitting inside of her car, an awkward silence growing. What do you say now? You don’t want this date to end but would it be to forward to invite her over? Or will she invite you over? You don’t get too far into your thoughts when the car starts moving.
“Do you wanna come over?” She asks, the car sitting long at a stop sign. She’s looking dead ahead, fingers gripping the wheel so hard it turns white. She’s just as nervous as you are, you realize.
“Yes, please,” You manage to breathe out before continuing on, not wanting to sound rude, “If you want me to, that is.”
“Trust me, I want you to,” Mikasa replies, something laced in her voice but she doesn’t relax at all on the drive to her place. The drive is quiet, tense in a way you don’t understand, but there’s still an electric current in your veins as her house comes into view. It’s one neighborhood over from where you were last night, just like she said, a small place that looks like a two bedroom.
“I got it from my parents,” She explains as she leads you inside, locking the door behind you. “When they passed.” You’re not sure what to say at that but the moment passes. Mikasa leads you to the couch.
Now what?
“So,” You start, barely getting the word out before her lips are pressed against yours, pushing you back onto the couch. Her mouth is firm on yours, insistent. Her hands are on you, sliding down your sides, teasing your thighs under the hem of your dress. Her mouth moves to your neck, biting and kissing and sucking her way down.
It’s a lot, almost too much. You want to tell her to stop, to slow down a little but Mikasa presses forward, your dress sliding up as she slides down between your legs. The shadows on the wall dance in a weird way, that doesn’t seem to move with the way the lights are. You can’t voice anything as Mikasa’s mouth covers your pussy, mouthing at it over your underwear. Her spit wets the fabric, her tongue dragging over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your fingers curl into fists at your side, legs spreading wider to accommodate her shoulders- which you realize seem too wide now.
You’re so close when your eyes finally open and you look down.
Mikasa isn’t between your legs.
Whatever’s taken her place isn’t human, the face looks human enough but his body (and he’s definitely a him- you think you almost recognize him) blends in with the shadow, tentacles sliding up behind him, reaching out for you.
“Hello,” The monster says, ignoring the way you scream. You manage to twist free, catching him by surprise as your hand shoots out to scratch right at his eyes. You’re on your feet, running as you hear two voices call out your name.
But your shoes, your stupid strappy sandals- your ankle rolls in them and then something grabs you before you fall completely, your head slamming against the front door as everything does dark.
“Wake up,” A harsh voice commands you. It’s a growl, in human and it seems to be inside of your head. You ignore it, trying to roll over, thinking you’re dreaming but you can’t move. That makes your eyes shoot open.
“You’re up!” The monster is looming over you, using it’s many tentacles to hold you down. Your clothes are gone, the cold air biting at your skin. You’re not even sure how it’s this cold inside of a bedroom, one that looks to be incredibly decorated as well. There’s a chair in the corner, a plush blanket under you. It almost looks like a hotel room.
“Mikasa brought you just for me,” It tells you , leaning in close, his tongue coming out to lick at your throat. “You’re so sweet, I can’t wait to play with you, can’t wait to eat you right up!”
“Let- let go of me!” You shout, trying to make your voice as loud as possible. Maybe a neighbor will hear you. Maybe the monster doesn’t like loud noises. “Mikasa!”
“You can scream all you want, nobody is coming to save you,” The monster seems to delight in the way his cruel words make you cry. “It’s just me and you.” It pauses. “Maybe I’ll let Mikasa play with you a little too, before I kill you. She really liked you, she almost didn’t want to give you to me.”
He leans closer, speaking into your ear, rancid breath sweeping over you, “But I insisted. And she won’t ever deny me.”
“Eren,” Mikasa’s voice comes from the door way, “There’s no need to be cruel.” She’s not looking at you at all, looking rapturously at the monster on top of you. She looks in awe, in love even.
And not even slightly afraid of him.
“You know they taste better when they’re afraid, Mikasa, how many times do I have to tell you that?” The monster, Eren, snaps at her, hardly giving her a second glance. A tentacle creeps up your leg, twisting around it, the tip grazing over your cunt. A shudder of revulsion runs through you when it taps your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. “It’s better when they fight it. It always is.”
“Whatever you say, Eren,” Mikasa gives a sigh, taking up the seat you saw before. She’s wearing sweat pants now, a sports bra, looking like she’s just came in from working out. There’s a light sweat on her skin.
“Going to watch this time?” Eren asks, shifting so he’s to your side now, his tentacles holding you open, putting you on display. You try to close your legs but he’s too strong, his grip too tight. “Normally you don’t. Is this one special?”
“You know as well as I do that she’s just like the rest of them,” Mikasa says, and that, more than anything is what breaks you. A sob tears from your throat, as reality comes crashing in. You’re nothing more than a mark- she was never really into you at all.
Of course, you think, why would anybody like her be into someone like you?
More of his tentacles come up, holding your pussy open to their gazes. Despite her harsh words Mikasa has a hard time looking away from it. Eren’s tentacles are softer than they look as one circles your clit, drawing wetness from you no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want this.
The tip of the tentacle is insistent though, circling your clit with more pressure until your hips jump up, chasing after it when Eren moves it back. He laughs, mocking and mean, before returning to his ministrations. He’s not soft in the way he touches you, one tentacle coming up to start to slowly push it’s way inside of you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before and it hurts.
“Stop,” You whine, hips twisting away from him as much as you can, “It hurts, please, stop!”
“I’ll stop when I’ve had my fill,” Eren replies, his voice mockingly sweet as the tentacle rams into you, splitting you open. The one circling your clit has left, leaving you reeling as your mind focuses in on the pain. The pace he sets is brutal, and his tentacle doesn’t feel like a cock or any of your toys. It squirms inside of you, pushing upwards along your front wall until-
“Fuck!” You wail now, thrashing on the bed. Eren smiles, and Mikasa gives a little whimper. You manage to look at her only to see her sat low in the chair, her own legs spread, with one of her hands down the front of her sweats, clearly touching herself while the other works at one of her nipples. “Please!”
“I knew you would beg,” Eren sounds delighted, “They always beg!” Your words seem to be what he was waiting for- the tentacle returns to your clit while the other attacks that spongy spot inside of you. You’re crying outright now, absolutely sobbing with- with everything, really. Your cries are of pleasure, of pain, of fear, of ecstasy. You cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.
But Eren doesn’t stop.
He keeps going, now moving to to lap up your juices with his tongue, cleaning you as one orgasm trips into the next, and then another. You can’t tell if you ever really come down from one. It’s too much, it hurts again, and you don’t want this- you know you don’t want this, you want him to stop and-
You pass out, somewhere after what you think is an hour, if not more. Your mind blissfully goes blank, locking you away behind a door, away from your fractured reality.
People are talking above you, in quiet, hushed tones.
“We can’t keep her.”
“You said you just wanted a snack tonight, Eren. Not.. not that.”
“She’ll go to the police.”
“They won’t believe her, you know that. They didn’t believe Historia.”
“Historia was a child.”
“I’ll convince her she fell asleep or something, you know I can.”
“Fine. But Mikasa?”
“Yes?”
“Next time she’s mine.”
You don’t hear anything after that.
“Hey,” Mikasa is by your side. You’re back on her couch, clothes in place. You jerk up, away from her, looking for signs of what happened but there’s nothing. You don’t see any bruising. You feel sore between your legs, but nothing that would match what you went through. “You fell asleep. After we fucked.”
That’s not true, you know it isn’t true but the only other explanation doesn’t make sense. Monsters aren’t real. You weren’t… assaulted by one. Mikasa has to be right.
“Oh,” You struggle to sit up, feeling sluggish. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not like that.” The smile on Mikasa’s face is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good. Can you take me?”
“Sure, of course,” Mikasa sounds relieved. That’s good, you think, she’s not mad at you. It must have been awkward for her when you fell asleep, had that nightmare. It felt so real. She helps you gather up your things. One of the straps on your sandal is broken. You’re not sure how but it’s a short walk to her car, you can go barefoot.
She starts it up, already talking to you about meeting up again, maybe next week if you want? You tell her it sounds nice, that you had a really good time tonight. You can’t tell how she’s lying through her teeth.
You give her home one last look as she pulls the car away.
If you didn’t know any better, you would think the shadow in the window had a face, that it waved at you.
But you know better.
Monsters aren’t real.
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let Me Comfort You
Let Me Comfort You
Fic Summary: After leaving your first date to chase a lead, Colin loses the chance to question their informant. Frustrated and feeling useless, Colin returns to your place hoping for some comfort. And you’re more than happy to provide it. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.
Fic Rating: 18+
Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader
Warnings: Language, Rough Sex, Oral (F receiving), Angst, Light Dom!Colin
Colin is in relatively good spirits when he gets to the meeting place. Your kisses are still on his mind and he hopes whatever work that needs to get done will happen quickly so he can get back to you.
As he pulls into a parking spot outside a local club, Mare climbs into the passenger seat.
“Hey,” she says. “Thanks for meeting me.” Her eyes take in his jacket and tie. “Did I interrupt something…again?”
“First date,” Colin admits.
Mare gives him a soft smile. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. She understands.”
Mare nods, turning her attention to the club. “Found out that one of our informants hasn’t been checking in. He’s said to frequent this club.”
“Let’s hope he still does.” Colin puts the car in park but doesn’t turn it off, letting the heat run. The temperature has dropped significantly and all he can think about is your warm bed and body waiting for him.
Time slowly ticks by and while numerous people come and go, Mare doesn’t react so Colin assumes the informant hasn’t been seen. By now he knows Mare well enough to try not to push conversation, so they sit in silence. To his surprise, his partner is the one to speak next.
“How did the date go?” Mare asks.
He’s surprised by her interest and excited to talk about you. “A little rocky in the beginning. We were both nervous. But, after that…” He smiles, remembering how stunning you looked sitting across from him in the restaurant. “Um, yeah, after that, things went well.”
“You gonna see her again?”
Hopefully right after this if it doesn’t go too late…
Colin nods. “Definitely.”
Mare nods along with him. He can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking and how she feels about him getting closer to you. It’s strange to think these things, to want some kind of validation from your boss. But Mare has the energy about her and Colin is a people pleaser.
“You two really like each other,” Mare notes.
He smiles, though her words do sting a little. “Should I be insulted that you sound surprised?”
Mare smirks as she shrugs. “You can if you want to be. I didn’t mean it as an insult or anything. I’ve just never seen my girl take a liking to someone so fast.”
Colin feels his cheeks redden and he smiles. “That’s nice to hear.”
Mare looks him over, studying him like she does a piece of evidence or a suspect. “You two will be good together.”
Colin opens his mouth to thank her, but her expression hardens and she motions towards the club.
“That’s him!” she says, nodding towards the guy headed their way.
Colin barely has a chance to look at the informant before Mare is getting out of the car. The second the man sees her he turns around and books it.
“Shit!” Mare exclaims giving chase.
Colin swears and jumps out of the car himself. He takes off running after them, doing his best to catch up. The freezing night air steals his breath away but he pushes through it, weaving between cars. The informant does the same, trying to trip them up. Colin dodges around the cars on his left in an attempt to swing around and cut him off.
He’s gaining in the man but suddenly, the informant turns unexpectedly then barrels right into Colin, sending him flying back into a car. The next thing he knows, he’s on the ground, his palm on fire from scraping against the asphalt in his attempt to catch himself.
“Zabel?!”
“I’m fine! Keep going!” He barely gets the words out after having the wind knocked out of him.
He hears Mare’s footsteps run past as he takes a moment to catch his breath. By the time he pushes himself to his feet, Mare is coming his way, looking annoyed.
“Lost him,” she sighs heavily.
Colin feels the bile rise in his throat and anger courses through his veins. “Fuck! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Zabel.”
“But I had him!”
“Don’t beat yourself about it. If anything, I’m the one to blame. He ran when he recognized me.”
Her words don’t make Colin feel better. His already shaky confidence is shattered. Resting against the parked car, he yanks his tie off, using it to wrap his injured hand.
“You alright?”
“I’m fine,” Colin says, terser than he means to. “So, what should we do now?”
“I’ll call it in. Let them know that he was spotted. At least this means he’s in the area. If they don’t find him on the streets, they’ll get him at his place. Someone will pick him up.”
“Should we do a quick drive around?”
“Nah. It’s late. You should head home.”
Mare walks with him to his car. Colin’s knee is killing him and his pants are covered in mud. What had started as such a great evening went downhill fast.
“Go home and get some rest,” Mare says as he eases himself into his car. “I’ll let you know when he’s picked up.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Colin sits in his car for a moment, watching Mare get into her SUV. A small part of him wants to just go home and wallow in his self-pity. But a larger, more vocal side tells him to go to your place. Picking up his phone, he pauses for a second of contemplation before shooting you a quick text to see if you’re still awake.
Awake and waiting ;) comes your response only seconds later.
He’s twitchy and fidgety the entire drive, his throbbing hand just reminding him of his latest failure. It seems like every time he’s finally going to prove himself, he only manages to prove himself wrong.
When he pulls up to your apartment, he doesn’t hesitate getting out of the car. This time the cold barely registers.
You’ve left the door unlocked so he lets himself in, making sure to lock it behind him. The warmth of your place makes him feel a tiny bit better. He calls your name when you don’t come to greet him.
“In here, Detective Zabel.”
Colin’s heart nearly stops when he walks into your room to find you lounging on your bed in the sexiest panties and bra he’s ever seen. The only source of light is the dimmed lamp on your nightstand. It’s just enough to cast everything in a warm yellow glow.
The second you see his muddy pants and his tie wrapped around his hand, you sit up, face etched with concern.
“What happened?” you ask, getting off the bed.
Colin looks down at his hand. “Oh, you know, doing big shot detective work.”
“Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Here, sit down. I think I have a first aid kit stashed somewhere around here.”
You gently lead him to the bed, having him sit before you rummage around your room. Colin kicks out of his shoes as he carefully takes off his coat and suit jacket. His body is already sore and he knows tomorrow he’s going to be in a lot of pain.
When you come back to his side, you gently take his hand in yours. He watches you delicately unwind the tie before examining the scrape on his palm. It doesn’t look as bad as he thought it was. You grab a wipe from your kit and clean out his wound.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Colin debates not saying anything, but one look in your eyes makes him sigh. “I let an informant get away.”
“I’m sure you didn’t let them get away.”
“No, I guess not,” Colin concedes, seeing your point. “But I didn’t stop him or catch him like I was supposed to.”
You fall silent as you finish cleaning his palm and put a Band-Aid on it. “Well,” you say in a quiet tone. “You tried and that’s all that matters. You guys will get him next time.”
Colin stares at you, eyes raking down your body, just casually sitting there in the underwear you planned to seduce him with. It sparked the fire inside his already antsy body. He cups your cheek and pulls you into a kiss. It’s harsher, with more tongue and teeth than he usually uses yet feels appropriate considering the storm of emotions inside of him.
Your mouth falls open in surprise and he takes advantage, licking deep inside as he crushes you against his chest.
There’s so much he knows he can’t do. So much of his job that he knows he’s not qualified for. He’s reminded of it every fucking day.
But this. You. Making you feel good. He knows that he can do. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt truly sure of himself.
Your hands come up to his shoulders and you push him back to break the kiss. “Colin, baby…”
You’re, breathless and hearing his name in that tone only fuels his lust.
“Please,” he whispers against your lips as he draws you closer. “Please, I just need…” He can’t finish his thought.
You study him for a moment, before running your hand through his hair, peppering him with kisses. “What do you need, baby?” you ask. “How can I help?”
Dominance washes over him and he gets his voice back. “Lay down on the bed.”
As you do as he says, he stands up and strips. Despite the heat of your room, he still feels chilled to the bone. All he can think about is getting his hands on you and making you moan. Planning ahead, he drops his wallet on the nightstand so the condoms will be just within reach when he needs them.
Naked, Colin kneels on the bed, eyes raking up and down your frame as he leans over you. He swoops down for a kiss, losing himself in the taste of your lips while his hand cups your breast, giving it an appreciative squeeze.
You gasp and shudder. “Your hands are freezing!”
“Then let me warm them up.”
He tugs the flimsy material down so your breast is exposed, fondling it just as roughly as he had a moment before. The heat of your skin sears into his palm and you gasp again, writhing underneath him until the temperatures balance out.
Colin doesn’t stop kissing you, drunk on your lips just as he has been every single time they touch his. You bury one hand in his hair and the other falls to his hip, urging him on with a gentle squeeze. His thumb rubs circles around your nipple before he breaks your kiss so he can take the bud in his mouth.
You bow your back when he does, pressing your breasts into his face even more. Colin moans, lavishing your nipple with constant attention until he decides the other has been ignored for far too long.
Both your hands cradle his head now, keeping him pressed against your chest until he decides he needs to taste more. He needs your legs over his shoulders and your thighs clamped over his ears. He needs you moaning his name as he makes you come undone.
Your panties are yanked down without much preamble or ceremony. As nice as they are, they only serve as an obstacle between Colin and what he wants. He’s rough when he throws your legs over his shoulders before tugging you down the bed towards him. With a strangled moan, he buries himself between your thighs.
God, you’re already wet. He tastes your arousal with a thorough swipe of his tongue, relishing in the notion that he’s the one who made you like this. He’s the one who has you moaning and squirming underneath him. Emboldened by your reaction, Colin sucks on your clit, grunting as you squeeze his head with your thighs. He can sense you clenching at nothing, feel your hips attempt to jerk upward for more friction. But he pins them down, doesn’t do what you’re silently begging for.
Instead, he keeps doing what he’s doing, alternating between sucking and flicking with his tongue. He’s just as warm as you are now, beads of sweat trickling down his neck and making your legs slip on his shoulders. He only holds you tighter.
When he finally eases two fingers into you, he receives a harsh hair pull for his efforts. It makes him grin, his cock pressing eagerly against the bed. He’s not ready yet, doesn’t want to stop pleasuring you for even a moment because it’s the surest of himself he’s been in years.
This time when you come, he feels your body clench around his fingers. He lets your pelvis rocks against his face and he loses all train of thought other than the feeling of you coming all around him.
The second you relax, he sits up, gasping for air and taking in the gorgeous sight of you, bra tucked under your breasts and legs spread wide.
He reaches for a condom before you even have a chance to catch your breath. You see him roll it on and wiggle out of your bra, tossing it somewhere off to the side.
Colin grabs your legs, wrapping them around his waist before pushing into you with one smooth thrust.
You throw your head back with a gasp, “Colin!”
With his hands on either side of your hips, he fucks into you. His eyes never leave your face, taking in every expression. The way your eyebrows knit together when you shut your eyes or how your teeth dig into your bottom lip…it’s intoxicating.
Your hands cling onto his arms, tugging as though you’re trying to pull him closer. He doesn’t follow through, not yet. He wants to keep watching.
You open your bleary eyes and he loses himself in them.
How did he get so fucking lucky to have someone like you look at him this way? To see him for who he is? Even though you don’t know. You don’t know what he did. If you did, he doubts you’d look at him the way you are now.
He kisses you harshly, pressing his body against yours and, grinding himself into your heat.
It’s his turn to moan your name, his lips unable to leave yours for more than a second.
“You feel so good,” he moans. “I love the way you squeeze me. It’s like you’ll never let go.”
One of your hands buries into his hair while the other reaches blindly for his hand. When you find it, you twine your fingers with his and he presses your joined hands to the bed.
His mouth seeks your throat and moves down until he finds your breasts again. harsh kisses turn to him sucking on the flesh, desperate to leave his mark on you.
He comes not long after, throwing his head back with a guttural moan. You twitch and spasm underneath him, coming again but he’s too lost in his own pleasure to notice until he collapses on top of you and feels the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Colin can’t help but hold you close, even though your bodies are pressing so tight makes it hard to catch his breath.
You stroke his cheek, looking at him with concern. “Tonight really got to you, didn’t it?” you pant.
Colin nods, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’m sorry. So sorry for—”
“Don’t apologize.” You take his face between your hands and force him to look at you. “You have nothing to apologize for. That was actually really hot.”
Colin gives a breathless laugh before pulling you into another kiss. This time he’s gentler, carefully easing out of you so he can slide onto the bed. His movements allow you to finally take a deep breath and you slowly exhale. With shaking hands, Colin rids himself of the condom. He’s not one to be so rough and he’s worried he’s overstepped. But then you curl against his side, your arm thrown over his chest and your face buried in his neck.
“Hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere,” you say through a yawn.
Colin yawns himself, running a hand through his hair before tucking it behind his head. His other arm pulls you in close.
“Why? There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
He can feel your smile against his skin before you place a gentle peck on his throat. “Get some sleep, babe. We can talk more about it tomorrow if you want, okay?”
“I’d like that.”
You fall asleep almost instantly, but Colin stays awake, gently running his hand up and down your arm. Even after fantastic sex and being in your arms, he only feels marginally better. That little anxious voice in his head won’t quiet down and it takes a long time before he’s able to fall asleep.
---
Series Taglist: @lejardinfleur @spidergirlmcu @anonymushhy @samsassinparvismagna @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @xmaximoffic @marshmallow--3 @stellarbound @kais-messiahbaby @margaretboothsear @slightlyvicked @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @liandav @billyhxrgrove @TheOriginalDoll87 @tatesimper @sanni333 @spider-starry
196 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki
All Parts:
Part 10:
“Hey, Bakugou.” You greet easily, waving at him. “Can you believe it?”
��Jesus- what the hell are you on about now?”
“Nothing. Just, this marks the third time I’ve seen you without injury. Good on you buddy, setting a personal record and everything.”
He huffs, pushing off the wall. Bakugou is without his costume, clad in just normal sweats. The sight makes you feel a little bad- it was obviously his day off, but there he was working. Sacrificing his time for you.
“Fuck you.” He grumbles, without any bite. “Seriously. Fuck you.”
“C’mon, grumpy, don’t get so huffy.” You say playfully. “I was mostly joking, but I did mean it. I think I like you a whole lot better when there’s no blood involved.”
He starts to smile, just for a second, before he quickly evens his expression. It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that it was there at all, quickly spinning around and starting off at a brisk pace.
“Woah, slow down, no need to run, speedy. I’ll take it back if you’re so allergic to me being nice.”
Bakugou doesn’t respond, but he does slow down. Just minutely. Hardly even at all if you really think about it, but hey, at least you’re not basically running after him anymore.
“What’s got you so cheery, hah?” He asks after a beat, making an intentional point not to make eye contact. “It’s late- you’re not tired again?”
His tone catches you off-guard, something accusatory underneath that has you scrunching your nose. You’re not exactly sure what he’s getting at, but you can read his prickly tone for what it is- Bakugou is making fun of you.
“No. I’m actually not tired, thank you very much.”
“That’s not what you were saying last night.”
“You know, that sentence from anyone else would offend me- but from you?” You scoff, squinting your eyes at him. “Well, I’m sure it was meant as an insult, not an insinutation; so I’ll refrain from calling you a pig. For now.”
“Call me anything and see where it gets ya, leech.”
“What’re you gonna do? Fight me?”
“Please, it wouldn’t be a fight.” He snorts, kicking at a rock in the road. It flies down the alley, all the way past the streetlamp’s glow. “See? I’d slaughter you.”
“Yes! Probably!" You say in faux exasperation. "But it’s because you have way more practice at slaughtering people! I don’t know why you’re bragging about that- that’s totally not something normal people brag about!”
You throw your hands up, gesturing wildly, and Bakugou just sort of watches you. Doesn’t really react other than to evade one of your errant hands. You just barely miss him, the tips of your fingers clipping the fabric of his sweatshirt.
“What- nothing? You’ve got nothing to say about that? Course you don’t- because you’re proud of slaughtering people. Is that it? Huh?”
“I’m proud of winning.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Close enough.” He shrugs. “'Sides, it’s not my fault I wasn’t listenin’. Ya said so many damn words to me.”
“That’s so rude! You-“
Seeing his smile, you cut yourself off half-way. It should hardly even count as a smile, really, it’s much more of a smirk- something entirely self-indulgent and dripping with arrogance. You’re not sure if you wanna punch him in the mouth or giggle.
“You jerk. You’re messing with me!” On impulse, you knock your shoulders into his. Bakugou doesn’t flinch- nor does he budge whatsoever. “You’re just being mean on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Course.”
“Why? Just, I don’t know, be nice?”
“Fuck that. No thanks.”
“You incredibly rude- you know that?”
“And you’re fuckin’ annoying.” He retorts, knocking his shoulders into yours. Bakugou smirks when you stumble. “See- I’d murder you in a fight.”
“No one was debating that!”
He just bites his lip, throwing his head back. It’s like Bakugou is trying to hide his smile; exposing the strong column of his throat to you, pale skin gone 10 shades of gold under the streetlamp.
It steals the breath from your lungs- how devastatingly beautiful he can be. You have to tear your eyes away.
“Hey, Bakugou, it’s your day off right?”
He eyes you a little strangely. “Yes? Why?”
“Geez- Don’t be so suspicious.” You laugh. “I only asked because I was curious.”
“The hell you have to be curious about?”
“Just what you’d be doing right now otherwise- you know, if you weren’t stuck walking me-“
“‘m not stuck. Wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need to.”
“Yeah, but still.” You take a breath. “What I mean, is that, I’m sorry if this is burdening you. I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to do on your day off.”
He eyes you, sniffing for a moment while he juts his chin out. “Eh- it’s fine. Walking this far outta my way is good excercise anywa-“
“This far? Oh my god- are you serious? Where do you live?”
“Far enough.”
“Bakugou.” You say sternly, staring him down. You’re well aware he’s not a man who’s easily scolded into revealing the truth, but damn if you weren’t going die trying. “Seriously- how far?”
“Fuck’s it matter to you for?”
“Because it just does! Now, c’mon really, I’m gonna feel like, super bad if you say you’ve gotta take a train her-“
“No train, so quit bitching.” He scans the street for a moment, before turning back to look at you. “Not that far. Half an hour, maybe, if I was running.”
“If you were running? What about walkin-“
“Not walking so it doesn’t matter.”
“It does!”
“It fuckin’ doesn’t-“
Then he’s standing ram-rod straight, slapping an open palm over your stomach and pushing you back. You’re flying back into the shadows, back slamming against the brick wall. Gasping, air knocked clean out of your lungs, it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open and watch him leave.
Bakugou hardly even looks back before he’s soaring past the end of the alley, explosions igniting under his palms. There’s no one, all is quiet, silent and tense and then- bam.
A mottled mass of muscles and pulsating flesh barrels through the building beside Bakugou. Debris rains down onto the street, down onto the exact spot you were standing moments ago. The flying detrius knocks Bakugou off course, and the blonde hardly dodges before the creature is slinging fists his way.
“Shouldn’t’a been makin’ such a scene!” Bakugou is all smirks and haughty confidence, seamlessly twisting and dodging the creature’s strikes. “Gave yourself away- I’ve got you now!”
Even breathless and winded, you can’t help but stare. Bakugou truly is something else- a terrifying bullet in the air, bordering on frenetic as he dodges. He’s so fast you’re worried he’ll catch fire. There’s a reckless sort of smile on his face, stretching his lips back around canines you’re sure are sharper than before. He’s throws his left palm out, explosion recoil throwing him just past the creature’s next attack. It’s enough of an opening for Bakugou to surge in, flashbang fingertips making contact with the beast’s abdomen.
“Really, that’s all?” He challenges, grinning like mad when the beast flies back from the impact. “No strategy at all? That’s not gonna fuckin’ work!”
And then he looks back at you, just for a singular moment, while the beast is bent over from his previous blow. The sight nearly knocks the air out of your lungs all over again.
Bakugou is terrifying. Manic and bloodthirsty and feverish almost, chest heaving with every labored breath. There’s something wild in his eyes, coloring his features in blood that hasn’t even been spilled yet. It’s intimidating and scary and overwhelming, but he’s dazzling too. A crazed smile, so blinding and brilliant, that it leaves an after-image long after he’s blasted away again.
Something snaps in you then, and you’re diving behind the nearest dumpster. It’s a little gross and cramped, but you hear plaster cracking around you, and suddenly it’s not so bad anymore. Your eyes are wide, watching the battle- and even when hidden it still feels too close.
Your heart is trapped in your throat, a battering ram even as you try to catch your breath. Everything is loud, and chaotic, and you’ve never been this close to a real battle before. It scares you. You clasp your hands around your ears, trying to block out the gargling and explosions. It’s not enough, your breath still picking up as explosion impact rattles the asphalt beneath your feet.
“You’re done!” You hear him shout, and suddenly the air goes white and hot, and bright.
You screw your eyes shut, and bite back a scream as an explosion rattles every surrounding window. The sound swallows everything, and the light show is even worse. Even through your eyelids it’s blazing. Bright enough to have you diving to the ground and tucking your head between your knees.
Then it’s quiet. Complete silence other than the ringing in your ears. You hear impact, a warbled groan, and then the sound of his voice.
“You fucker.” He roars. “I’m fuckin’ busy, you weak bitch, can’t ya fuckin’ see that?”
Another thud. Another groan.
“All this shit for some cash? Just get a job, you fuckin’ loser. Like the goddamn rest of us.”
You peak your head over the dumpster, and see Bakugou standing tall over the collapsed body. You’re not entirely sure how the villian’s quirk operates, but the mass of flesh is deflating by the second, leaving behind a skinny mess of bones and sinew.
“A front, hah? Pathetic.” Bakugou sneers, grinding his teeth before he snaps. “On your fuckin’ feet weakling- ‘m taking you in.”
Bakugou hauls the skinny man to his feet, trapping rail-thin arms tight to the man’s back. It’s only then that you choose to emerge, staggering slighty on your shaking legs. It’s like you’ve got tremors- your body practically bowled over by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins.
“H-help- I didn’t-“ The skinny man starts, before Bakugou is sending a knee into the base of his spine.
“Don’t speak to her, you shit-stain.” Bakugou curls his lip. “Shut the hell up.”
You’re not really sure what to do then- caught between wanting to high-tail it in the complete opposite direction, and surging towards Bakugou. Because, if you weren’t certain before, you definitely were now; Bakugou knew what he was doing. And if worst ever came to worst, he’d stay true to all his threats. Nobody was getting to you while he was around.
“Follow. C’mon.” Bakugou nods towards the end of the street. “Police station. You know where it is. Let’s get the hell to it already.”
You just start walking- almost on autopilot. There’s a weird fuzz settling in your brain, the adrenaline seeping and leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. It’s disorienting because you weren’t even part of the fight- Bakugou had shoved you back long before you could have ever been in any real danger.
You’re not sure how he knew- how he could have possibly predicted the villain coming through the wall, but even still, you’re gratetful. Because you’re not hurt, only frazzled where you would’ve been massacred without him there.
Bakugou waits for you to pass him by, and only once you’re a good few steps ahead, does he start shoving his prisoner forward. The walk is tense and silent, the only noise being the occasional pained groan from the skinny man. There’s an undeniable air of intimidation coming from Bakugou, rolling off his skin and permeating every spare inch of air. It only adds more stress to an already harrowing situation.
The police station lies just where you remembered it, but you’ve never been this close before. You’d only seen it down the end of the street as you passed by- only through the fuzzy haze of exhaustion after your shift ended. Now there’s nothing hazy about it- just a stark white building and big glass doors. Big glass doors that Bakugou is surging through, prisoner in tow, and ordering you to stay behind.
When he’s through the door, it’s like your heart finally starts to catch up. You can feel it’s thud slow against you ribs, no longer jumping at every slight sound. You eyelids feel heavy, further weighed down by the headache you feel coming on. You lean against the wall of the station, bending slightly at the waist as you ground the heels of your palm against your temple.
“All good?” You hear his voice some time later, Bakugou’s footsteps heavy as he approaches. “You get hurt?”
“No- ‘m fine.” You chew your cheek, straightening as you look up at him. “I think.”
He studies you for a moment, red eyes flitting across your face. Bakugou grimaces. “You’re shaking.”
“Yeah. Was scared.”
“It’s fine now.” He huffs, frustration lacing his features. Bakugou clenches his hand, releases, and repeats twice over before he speaks again. “Got ‘em already, so you can chill the hell out now. Alright?”
“Yeah- yeah sure.”
You try to agree, but your voice doesn’t sound right when it leaves your throat. It’s a little too hoarse, empty of almost all inflection. You’re not particularly pleased with it and Bakugou is even less so.
“You need a few minutes or something?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like even asking the question pains him. “Need to call somebody?”
Bakugou looks incredibly uncomfortable- eyes shifting around wildly and refusing to settle. All of his battlefield-confidence, even that self-assured smirk seems to have disappeared entirely. He huffs a pained breath and leans back against the wall next to you. His shoulders are just barely touching yours, voice pinched and tense when he speaks.
“I know it’s loud- but it’s over now. Now you just go home, and you sleep. Nothing is gonna happen to you.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bakugou tilts his head skyward. He grinds his teeth, once, twice, and smooths out his grimace. “And I’ll fuckin’ be there so don’t go spiraling about it, alright? You’re safe now.”
You nod, rolling your lips together for a moment. He’s not meeting your eyes, not even attempting to, but you can’t help but stare. Can’t help but track all the lines of his face; the way his nose slopes, and the set of his eyebrows. He doesn’t look like before. Not crazed, or manic, or brutal. He’s just Bakugou. Maybe a little grumpy, but mostly just uncomfortable- exactly the way you’ve come to know him.
Something in you settles at bit at that.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go." You kick off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm more than ready to be home."
Bakugou just watches you, and you can see him reach a hand out before immediately dropping it. His lip curls up in disgust- and that just confuses you. You wonder where the Bakugou from a few minutes ago went; the one who seemed so entirely sure of himself.
"Faster." He says, overtaking you in one long stride. "Stallin' around at night is never a good idea."
You suppose he's right, but you never would've believed him before.
Prior to tonight, you had never been a part of a villain attack. You hadn't even seen a villain on anything other than TV re-runs. Your neighborhood was quiet, the streets never holding any danger, even at night. Now, though, every shadow seems suspicious, every sound a precursor for something far worse. Your well aware you just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, but that didn't make the reality any easier to handle. If Bakugou hadn't been there, if he hadn't show up dead on your balcony months ago, then you would've been gravely injured by all that falling debris.
The thought makes you feel weak all over again. Has your fingers curling in your gloves- itchy and uncomfortable and helpless.
You're quiet as you walk, caught up in a million spiraling thoughts. Bakugou doesn't seem keen on conversation either, keeping a few paces ahead and scanning for other danger. Occasionally he'll turn back, check to make sure you're following, and all you can really offer is a nod and a shaky sort of smile. It doesn't satisfy him at all- you can see that every time he sets his jaw.
"Oi- Leech." He snaps in front of your eyes, waving his hand back and forth. "It's- stop lookin' like that already. All freaked the fuck out. You look ridiculous."
His haughty tone as your blood warming, fingers clenching at your sides as you walk. You're not sure what reaction he's after, but all you can really think to do is get angry.
"I am freaked out! You were there! You saw that guy! He was huge!" You snap, squinting your eyes and waving your hands around. "If you weren't- I- what am I supposed to do when that shit happens? Huh? I can't fight, and even if I could I wouldn't, so what am I supposed to-"
"Nothing." He interrupts. "You do nothing, and you hide. Like you did."
"Yes, because you pushed me! If you hadn't I would've been crushed by all that- and how on Earth did you even know he was coming?"
"Vibrations. In the ground." He squints at you, a little confused. "Did you not-"
"No!"
"Damn," He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You really couldn't feel that? Jesus, you really are clueless. No wonder you were so freaked out."
In that moment, you're a little sure you could strangle him. All his skill you'd seen earlier suddenly didn't matter at all, and you were sure you could take him down with nothing but rage alone.
He- vibrations? You didn't feel anything! You felt nothing and even if you had, you would've assumed it was an earthquake. No one except for him and his battle-addled brain would've ever assumed it was a villain of all things!
"Calm down," He seems to be fighting a smile, lip twitching up. "You look fuckin' ridiculous right now. 'm not scared of you, leech."
"You should be! I'm about to strangle you right now-"
"For what?"
"For- for- I don't know! You just make me so angry with your 'Oh, you didn't feel that?' bullshit!" You tilt your voice lower, coating it in gravel to mimic him. "Of course I didn't feel anything! I'm not like you- I don't have freaky super-human instincts and explosions and I can't just go fight somebody!"
True to his word, your outburst doesn't seem to scare him. If anything if seems to pull the smile from him more, lips pulling back into a grin even he has no chance of hiding.
"There she is." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, falling back a little to walk right beside you. "Thought you'd gone into shock or somethin'."
"So you- on purpose?"
"Said that shit about vibrations? Yeah." His smile turns wolfish, all sharp canines and pink gums. "There were no fuckin' vibrations, idiot. I heard the plaster cracking."
In that moment you're the surest you've ever been- you were going to murder Bakugou Katsuki.
"You dick!"
Your hands are out before you can stop them, shoving forcefully at his side. He just looks at you, rolling his eyes, and then decides to let you tip him sideways off the curb. It's the worst kind of victory- a pity one that he let you have.
"Chill out, already." He laughs. "Only said shit so you'd stop bein' all miserable. You should be fuckin' thankin' me."
"I'm not thanking you!"
He steps forward, one long stride eclipsing you entirely. Then he spins, facing you with another crooked grin, and you're digging your heels into the cement to avoid crashing directly into his chest.
"I said-" He starts, hands in his pockets and leaning forward until he's practically towering over you. "You should be thanking me."
His voice is low, sly and challenging as he grins. He looks positively predatory- but attractive too. The worst kind that leaves your heart stuttering in your chest for almost no discernable reason.
"G-get away from me." You fluster, taking a step back. "I'm not thanking you."
He shrugs, falling back to a safe distance. You don't miss it though- the way his grin goes just a little wider, entirely satisfied. He won, and he knows it.
"Suit yourself, then leech." He says, voice light. "If ya wanna mouth off so much, then 'm not fuckin' saving you next time."
He says the words, but you're almost entirely sure he doesn't mean them. Not with the way he is now- beaming and pleased under the moonlight. You wonder if he always gets like this; so happy just after a victory. It's the kind of sight that almost makes the entire ordeal worth it. Almost.
You walk through the doors of your apartment, shuddering a long sigh of relief. The walls feel safe, security and peace etched into familiar walls. Even with Bakugou stomping behind you, the serenity isn't disturbed all that much. He's still in his rare good mood apparently, and he doesn't even grumble whatsoever.
Truth be told, you're still a little shaken, but the interior of your apartment puts you at ease. Even if you don't feel nearly as infallible as before, home is a good feeling- it always is.
"You know- you know that you just got unlucky, right?" Bakugou seems to struggle for a moment, kicking the door shut behind him. "It's- that's- shit like that doesn't usually happen here."
You're not sure where his sentiment is headed, and he must see it on your face. He flares his nostrils, sighing something long-suffering and dramatic.
"I'm sayin'- that wasn't part of anything else. It was just the one idiot, so it's not any more dangerous here than it used to be. 'm sayin' don't waste your time worryin' about that shit."
Something in you warms a bit- just a fraction. You're not sure how he knew, how he always seems to know just what you're thinking, but at this moment you don't care to find out. There are some comforts better left experienced instead of studied- and you figure this might be one of them.
You smile, something soft and fond. "I take it back- I will thank you. So thank you. I'm sure I'd be a lot worse off if you weren't around."
You watch him fluster, watch him itch in his skin and shift his weight around. Eventually he settles on turning his back, moving towards your fridge as he speaks.
"Probably. You froze up completely- woulda been piss poor job performance to let you get killed." He's swinging the fridge door open, and the white light just makes it more apparent- his cheeks are pink. "Got ice packs in here somewhere?"
"I-Ice packs?"
"Yeah. Knuckles are gonna bruise up if I don't ice 'em."
You look a little closer then, at his fingers curled around the handle of your fridge. His knuckles are a little swollen, bruised up and red where the skin had split. It doesn't look too bad, much less serious than any other injury he'd come to you with, but that doesn't change the itching in your own fingers. You want to help him- now more than ever it seems.
"Shit- sorry." You breathe out, nearing a little to get a closer look. "I was so freaked I didn't even think about asking- are you okay? You're okay, right? Nothing else, no bones or blood or-"
"Calm down. 'm fine."
You look at him again, squinting for eyes for a moment. He just rolls his own, extending his arms out and flipping them. He was telling the truth- there's only one other scratch on him, and even that was already scabbed over. The only issue were his knuckles- and that sets you at ease.
"You want me to wrap them for you?" You ask, looking up at him. "Oh wait- actually, you'd probably want to do that yourself, huh? Since you're not on the brink of death this time and actual-"
"You do it."
"Huh?"
"I said- you do it." He won't meet your eyes, turning back to your fridge and opening it up once more. He makes himself right at home, grabbing one of the water bottles off the shelf without asking. "Did it all the other times, so you do it. Don't think you're gonna get away with cuttin' corners on me."
"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, that I know you find it annoying when I'm all fussy so I just-"
"Shut up already. You continuing to run your mouth is the only thing that's annoying me right now."
You're about to retort, something offended and assuredly juvenile, but you decide against it. That night had been filled with far too much conflict for your liking, and you weren't about to incite more of it. If he wanted you to wrap his knuckles, then you'd wrap his knuckles. You figured it's the least you could do for him.
Turning your back on him, you start for the bathroom, and the first aid kit inside. A part of you considers just permanently moving the kit into the kitchen, but that sort of seems like you're just inviting more misfortune. You keep hoping that one day you'll stop having to patch Bakugou up at all, but from the looks of it, that isn't likely. Not even a little bit considering his obvious bloodlust.
"You wanna-" You start, walking back into the kitchen. You're shocked into stillness by the sight of him searching through your cupboards. "Um, what exactly are you doing?"
"Hungry."
"Okay, caveman, I just- you're not seriously trying to cook right now are you?" You near him, hands hovering in the air. You're sure he wouldn't appreciate it, but a large part of you just wants to grab at his shoulders and shove him away from everything. "Stop that- lemme get you fixed up first. Then I can call for something. I'm not gonna let you exert yourself any more than you already have."
Bakugou seems a little perturbed by that, whipping his head around until you can see wild red eyes. You almost sigh; what you wouldn't give for him to just chill out for once.
"I'm not saying you can't cook. You probably could, I don't know." You near a little more, dropping the first aid kit onto the countertop. "I'm saying, you've already done enough today, and you deserve to take it easy. So let me help you by wrapping your hands up. That's all."
Bakugou's in the midst of another internal struggle, before he visibly forgoes it. His shoulder's drop and the tension leaks until he's settling into one of your dining chairs. He sets his hands out on the table, clearing his throat at you until you kick into motion.
At this point, cleaning up his hands is practically a daily chore. You've gone through the motions more than enough times to be adjusted, but even still, his hands still freak you out a little. You'd never seen anyone who radiated so much heat- even just being next to him was like sitting in front of an open flame.
Your fingers are gentle, skidding over his hands with feather-light touches. He seems to slump in his chair, eventually just laying his head on the outstretched arm you weren't actively working on. He watches you closely the entire time though, red eyes burning holes into the side of your head.
"Do it again." He says. "Too loose. Do it again."
You're half-way through wrapping his right hand, only a small amount of bandage left. Not only would you have to do the bandage over entirely, but you'd have to unwrap it completely first.
"You always say that," You mutter, exasperation coloring your voice. "What makes it so much better the second time around, huh? I do it the exact same."
"It's just better. Takes longer."
You're not really sure what he means by that, and Bakugou doesn't look all that thrilled that he said the words at all. He jumps in his chair, cheeks gone pink as he digs his face into the skin of his arm. He's hiding.
It strikes you as even but odd, but you shrug off the strangeness all the same. You're getting far too used to his particular brand of bizarre.
"All better now?" You goad, patting the bandage after you've finished re-wrapping. "Everything feel nice and perfect for Prince Bakugou?"
He lifts his head. "You're not funny."
"You always say that too. But it's okay, I know one day you'll finally come around and appreciate me."
He just laughs under his breath, but he smiles too. Grins something tiny and small that he hides in his shoulder.
You start finishing up his other hand, and Bakugou doesn't say anything otherwise. He just sits, resting his head on his arm, and watching you intently. He's all calm and even breathing, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. You'd thought him adrenaline-crazed earlier, but it seemed he was coming off of that high rapidly. You could feel the exhaustion too- almost lulled by your movements just as much as he was.
You start gathering away all of your materials, and he doesn't even move. Just sits in perfect stillness at your table.
"I- I didn't accidentally touch you right? That's not why you're like that?" You ask, smothering a yawn. "Super exhausted, I mean."
He shakes his head. "Nah. Normal tired. Didn't fuck up this time, leech."
You don't have it in you to respond, hardly even rolling your eyes at his remark. His jabs don't hold much bite anymore- you begin to wonder if he's actually getting nicer or if you're just growing a ridiculous tolerance.
You brush off the thought, pushing away from your table and rising from the chair. "You still hungry?"
"Yeah. Wanna sleep first though so don't worry about it."
"Okay; well, I'm definitely going to so-"
"I said don't." He supplies evenly, finally sitting up in his seat. "It's fine. 'm not fuckin' starvin' or anything."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
His insistence sells you, but you're not sure if it's because you actually believe him or because you just want to. Either way, you figure it doesn't matter much in the end, not to the way your limbs are quickly bowing to exhaustion. You feel the fatigue settling in, and you'd like to blame that for your next actions.
"C'mon then, sleep time, I guess." You say.
Then you cross the kitchen, passing behind him, dropping your hand on his shoulder. You hardly let it sit, just running your thumb over his shirt once, twice, and then continuing on your way.
He takes several seconds to finally follow you into the living room. Enough to have you looking back in confusion, unable to understand why he looked so very stunted where he still sat.
"Jesus, you're annoying." He finally grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.
His steps are loud as he crosses the room, stopping just a few inches in front of you. He grabs at your arm, raising your wrist himself and plucking the glove off in one fluid grab. It if wasn't so sudden an action- so ridiculous and fast and borderline violent, you might have even been flustered.
As it was though, he just grabbed your wrist before you could really register it.
Familiar warmth floods your veins. The same burning, slow heat that makes it;s way through each vein and artery. You think maybe your knuckles ache a little bit too, but it's too hard to tell through your quickly increasing sleep fog.
Bakugou lets you go pretty quick, falling back on your couch in almost the same moment.
"Better?" You ask, mirth warming your words. "Had to do it yourself because I was taking too long?"
"No, 'cause you pissed me off."
"Doing what?"
"You know what you're fuckin' doing."
Then he's grabbing the blanket, settling it over himself gracelessly while he flops over. He's face-first into the cushions now, effectively ending the conversation in much the way he typically does- by refusing to engage entirely.
You just roll your eyes a litItle fondly, still not even beginning to understand.
/-/
ooooo boy i am so sorry y'all for this late uPDATe,,, pls i usually update my fics way faster than this but sometimes life rlly just do be happenin lmaoooooo
n e wayz, ty for reading and supporting my work!! y'all are the absolute best i could ever ask for!!!
#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bakugou bnha#bakugou mha#bakugou x reader#bakugou fanfiction#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x self insert#bakugou x you#bakugou fic#bnha fic#mha fic#bakugou imagine
208 notes
·
View notes
Text
Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 3
Welcome to Part 3! You've made it this far? I'm impressed. Thank you for sticking around. This is quite the long chapter so, I hope you enjoy the juicy action all around.
And this one was quite the doozy to write. It's 3AM now? Hah, I've spent the entire day writing two chapters. But definitely don't expect more at quite this frequency. But I appreciate you all none the less.
-----
Tag Requests: @lostghostgirl94 @neoarchipelago @fillechatoyante @fanfics-ig
Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it's easy to lose people in the mix and I don't want to miss anyone!
-----
For previous chapters go here: Part 1 | Part 2
Word Count: 5.358
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It had been precisely three hours, forty-two minutes since two Avengers and a criminal mastermind had left the safe house you were staying in.
You were currently staring up at the ceiling with mild boredom waiting for the next round of texts to come in. An alert notification rang through the near empty residence, the noise echoed off the walls of the living room intensifying the reverberation of sound.
Rolling over, you flopped onto you stomach from your position on the couch, stretching your arm out to grab the phone off the coffee table.
Carefully, you read the incoming message. 'No recent signs of Karli, but following up on a handprint Bucky found a couple miles from our initial start position. Zemo has a theory it might lead to a section of tunnel that veers off towards the harbor. Will update again in another hour. - S'
Great.
So they'll easily be gone at least another couple hours, leaving you to your own devices. That's dangerous. There's no telling what kind of trouble you could get into without something to do. Your mind was always processing, constantly formulating new plans and calculating risk probabilities. It's why you were so fidgety and animated. You didn't inherently have ADHD, but your brain was so active the symptoms manifested as such. You had a genius level intelligence, you just chose to down-play it most of the time. You craved activities to keep your mind from going into overdrive; it's why you spend most of your mornings running. To drain your body of excess energy and let your brain rest.
You groaned in irritation, tossing the phone back onto the coffee table. Sam could have at least given you a pin point location so you could do some research on the area where the handprint was found.
Maybe you could read for a bit.
You got up and headed to your room at the back of the apartment. Zemo gave you the last room at the end of the hallway, it also happened to be the only room that had a half bath attached to it. Which in retrospect, was quite thoughtful of him.
As you reached your room, a chilly draft fell across your body, causing goosebumps to raise on your fair skin. You noticed you left a window open in the room and moved to close it. Often times, late at night you sat at the window sill and read to pass the time when you couldn't sleep. Sometimes, you'd crack the window open and simply listen to the sounds of the outside; they were just as soothing. There was no denying it was quite lovely where you were staying. Helmut Zemo had impeccable taste.
You grabbed your book and crossed the room, rubbing your arm to help circulate some heat back into your body, but before you got to the door, a patch of blue caught your eye. Zemo's hoodie. It had been left draped haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs in your room. A constant reminder you needed to give it back to the Baron, but you weren't ready to just yet, and funnily enough, he hadn't asked for it.
Shifting from foot to foot, you debated what to do. It was comfortable. Wearing it one last time couldn't hurt, right? There wasn't anyone here to cajole you about it anyways and you could just take it off before the guys got back. Perfectly reasonable. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you snagged the garment off the chair and pulled it on as you walked back out to the main living room, book in hand.
As you rounded the corner and made your way through the kitchen back to the couch, you heard a loud metallic bang against the entry-way door accompanied with the tell tale signs of door knobs turning. Caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, you had leapt off the ground, clutching the book to your chest.
You stared at the door in fear knowing it was way too soon for anyone to have returned yet. And they wouldn't have caused the disruption in the attempts to break in. Pushing down your apprehension, your senses started to return to you, and you realized you need to get to your phone. Now.
Your eyes moved across the apartment and landed on the coffee table a short distance away from you. Bingo. You took a step forward towards the table when the front doors suddenly swung open and a whirl of red, white and blue flew past your face. The projectile, nearly hitting you, caused you to stumble, knocking you backwards onto the floor. You landed clumsily, but thankfully caught yourself before your head smacked against the ground.
You didn't need to look up to know exactly what object flew at your head. The sound alone was unmistakable.
"Apologies for the erratic entrance, I only meant to use it to help open the door - I hadn't planned on Lemar here unlocking the them so easily. When the doors fell open, it kind of just flew right out of my hand."
Annoyance had now replaced your fear.
John Walker.
You had many opinions of the man based off what Sam and Bucky had told you, but you hadn't had the pleasure of actually meeting him. Until now.
This did not help sway your opinion of him in the very least. If anything, it only solidified that the government had made a rash decision. You don't just had over the shield to anyone.
You glared up at the intruders from your position on the floor. This was completely unexpected. How did he even manage to locate this safe house? Something nagged at the back of your mind that Captain Walker might have had help from people with a questionable background. You shoved the thought aside for the time being.
Lemar had gone around to the back of the couch and pulled the shield out of the wall embedded in between the two stained windows. Walker, who stood next to you, was offering his hand to help you up.
You didn't even make an effort to consider his gesture and got up off the floor without his assistance, dusting yourself off in the process.
Walker appeared undeterred by your dismissal of him and instead put on a winning smile and rotated his hand in the attempts of a handshake.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot. John Walker. Captain America," he proudly stated.
"I know who you are Captain Walker, as well as your friend here," you briskly answered, crossing your arms in front of you.
You could see the smile start to drop off his face and his eyes turn a bit darker.
"And I know who you are as well, you're well documented along with the Avengers, but I was trying to be polite," Walker grounded out with forced effort.
You didn't want to start an argument with the newly anointed Captain America, but there was something off about him that just irritated you.
"Polite?" you sarcastically question. "How is barging into someone's residence, polite? Please, do explain," you shifted your weight onto one side, giving him an expectant look.
"I don't have to explain myself to you. In case you've forgotten, I'm Captain America," he took a step towards you, his body language highly suggesting an intimidation tactic.
You held your tongue and took a step back to place more distance between yourself and Walker. You spared a glance at his partner to gauge his reaction, but his expression was guarded, although he was watching with rapt attention.
"What do you want, Walker?" you bit out. You attempted to keep some of the contempt out of your voice, but he had quickly turned your mood sour this afternoon.
"Where's Zemo?" Walker cut straight to the chase this time.
"Not here, obviously," you held your arms out, gesturing around.
"I want to know where Zemo is. He's coming with us," the captain took another step towards you, this time with a more forceful intention.
You furrowed your brow and took another step back. His posturing was starting to make you slightly nervous.
"Even if I did know where he was, I'm not saying either way. Zemo has been surprisingly helpful to us, and we need him to locate Karli along with the rest of the Flag-Smashers, including the missing vials of serum. And he's more likely to continue working with us, than provide you with any information at all. That I can say with absolute certainty," your words sounded confident, but inside you were trembling.
That was apparently the wrong thing to say to Captain America.
His entire demeanor changed. Once where there was some warmth and light-heartedness, there was only a cold emptiness left in his gaze. He reached back to grab the shield from Lemar, and then without any warning shoved you back against the wall to your left.
You heard the distinct sound of your right shoulder pop as is slammed into the wall along with the rest of your body. The rapid movement from Walker and impact from the shield knocked the wind right out of you. The pressure from the amount of force he was exerting pinned you to the wall and caused the shield to be painfully pressed into your side, separating you from Walker. You could feel the rim of the shield digging slightly into your neck, but not enough to cause any real damage.
"John!" you heard Hoskins shout with alarm from behind Walker.
You swallowed thickly; very real fear had settled into your bones. You were capable of defending yourself, but hadn't actually needed to put those skills into any use. Bucky and Sam had taught you some moves and hold to get out of, but it never crossed any of your minds once you'd have to fight Captain America. You tried to shift your head to the side to see how far away your phone was. What possible options you had. Maybe you could appeal to his partner and deescalate the situation before things got too ugly.
"I'm only going to ask this one last time. Where is Zemo?" Walker spit out, putting force against the shield, which in turn, caused you to grimace in pain.
"Hoskins, you really going to allow Captain America to torture an innocent citizen trying to help in a cause we're all aligned in?" you gasped out, trying to swallow as much air as possible through the pain wracking your body.
You refused to let it show. Holding back as much of the discomfort you were in. You didn't want to give Walker the satisfaction.
"John, ease up. She's not a terrorist, and frankly, I agree with her," Hoskins voiced, his footsteps bringing him closer to Walker with the hopes of gaining his attention no doubt.
The pressure from the shield against your form was lifted slightly, though the shield was still closer to your body than you'd like to admit. You closed your eyes to focus on regaining some stability and figure out your next course of action to get yourself out of this mess.
"Stay out of this Lemar," John replied, but his menacing stature had lessened minutely.
You opened your eyes to stare at Walker. He had removed the shield between the two of you and placed it on his back; however he stepped into your personal space instead and placed a hand against your collarbone, essentially rendering you immobile again.
Well, at least now you could breathe.
Walker peered down at you with distain, "You're really not going to give him up are you?"
You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin defiantly at him.
"No," you answered.
The wheels were turning inside Walker's head. You could literally see the fire burning in his eyes, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer out of you. Not willingly.
He dipped his head and released his hold on you, pointing a finger right at your face, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
You saw Lemar walk up and pat Walker's shoulder, "Alright, let's get out of here."
Walker straightened up and stiffly walked away, leaving Hoskins trailing behind. His ego had taken a blow today.
Hoskins gave an apologetic shrug, "He's under a lot of stress."
Before Lemar could fully clear your line of sight, you quietly spoke up, "He doesn't deserve that shield."
Hoskins didn't have a response to that.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
In wake of the aftermath, you had tried to clean up as best possible. You assessed your injuries were non life-threatening, though your right shoulder was most definitely dislocated. The arm was kept close against your body hoping to not jostle it too much. You felt spikes of pain as you cleaned the area where Walker had thrown the shield into the wall, but ignored it so you could get the place back in shape before Sam, Bucky and Zemo returned.
Sam had messaged not too long ago, they were roughly 20 minutes out from the apartment.
Your ribs were throbbing from where the shield had been buried into your side, but you didn't think they had been broken, only bruised. You were going to have to ask one of them pop your shoulder back into place.
You were dreading the conversation, but were determined to remain as calm as possible to help alleviate the immediate reaction they were going to have once you revealed what happened.
The events of the day had finally caught up with you and coupled with the cleaning efforts, your body was signaling it's exhaustion. You were in the kitchen, and honestly didn't think you could make the short trip to one of the sofas; so you carefully sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and waited patiently.
Sure enough, 20 minutes later, the doors to the apartment opened and the guys swiftly came in to greet you.
"Did you even leave the kitchen?" James inquired, coasting around the kitchen to grab a drink.
You smiled tightly and responded in kind, "For a short while, yes. Did you guys find anything worth while?" You quickly wanted to change the subject but knowing you were only delaying the inevitable.
"Yeah, we think we've discovered a possible building Karli is using to hideout in. We had planned on eating something quickly and then leave again to check it out tonight," Sam explained.
As Sam was talking, Bucky had accidently bumped into you, causing you to wince and pull your arm tighter to you. Luckily, he didn't see your face, but Sam did.
"Hey, you okay?" Sam questioned, voice filling with concern.
You blew out a breath bracing yourself for what you were about to say.
"What happened to my wall?" Zemo piped up, giving you a curious glance, he had moved to run his hand along the diagonal cut, inches deep, in the space between the ceiling to floor windows.
Bucky left his glass and walked over to get a better look, as did Sam. Both of them would know precisely what caused a mark like that to become etched into a wall.
Sam and Bucky snapped their heads back to you as soon as they saw the indention, but it was Zemo who spoke first.
"John Walker was here," he stated, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of the couch he was nearby.
"It was an, eventful afternoon here," you tried to put some overly cheerful, comedic tones into your voice, but failed pretty miserably.
"What happened?" Sam immediately asked.
The trio had made their way back to the kitchen to get answers from you.
Zemo came to stand nearby, eyes roaming your body, searching. With his expertise, there was no question that he would quickly figure out you were injured; so you tried to tell your story as concisely as possible.
"Um, so - Walker and Lemar showed up. He asked for Zemo. I told him he wasn't here aaaaand they left. The end," you hurriedly spoke, wanting to get this over with and not draw any more attention to yourself.
But you could see in Helmut's eyes, he knew there was more to your story. His carefully crafted mask was starting to crack as you saw his gaze drift down to you cradling your arm underneath the island away from Bucky and Sam's eyeline.
"You're hurt," Zemo said. His face showed open concern as he walked the remaining distance to you.
With more tenderness than you thought possible coming from him, he slowly and carefully moved your right arm away from your body. He kept his eyes trained on you for any discomfort or signs of pain.
Once your arm had left your lap though, you reached over with your left hand to grip one of his wrists to prevent him from moving your arm any further.
"Don't, please," you pleaded, gritting your teeth and swallowing down the pain threatening to erupt from you. You were panting now, and more clear than ever something had happened to you while they were gone.
Helmut released your arm without hesitation, but did not leave your side. You saw him exchange tense looks between James and Sam. Normally, Bucky would have been focused on keeping Zemo away from you, but with the current circumstances, he was no longer a priority.
"What actually happened?" Bucky softly called out, he and Sam had gotten closer to take a better look at you. Sam brought a chair out to sit next to you and give you a once over, while you explained.
The expressions on their faces were grim as they anxiously awaited your reply.
"It wasn't - it's not quite as bad as it seems," you started, stuttering out the words as Sam brought his hands up to check your head for any injuries first.
"He just barged right in and was insistent on finding Zemo. He was acting so arrogant and pompous, I just refused to give him any information on his whereabouts," you continued on. "He didn't like the fact I wasn't willing to cooperate with "Captain America" and he got a little.....rough with me."
Sam paused his surveying to meet your gaze. You could see the guilt beginning to creep into his eyes. He turned his head to look up at Bucky, who was angrily flexing his vibranium arm in displeasure. Probably only affirming his notion that Sam should have never given up the shield in the first place.
"What did he do?" Bucky's tone brook no argument. He wanted to know the truth.
You scrunched your face in unpleasantness when Sam checked your lower neck and collarbone, he had found the place on your body where the shield and his hand had met you.
"Is this from - ?" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and he looked away in anger. You could tell he just wanted to get up and throw something, and that was commonly uncharacteristic for him.
Zemo had shifted his position to take a peek at what Sam was doing while he checked you out. You saw how his eyes had darkened with quiet rage taking stock of everything. There was an outline of a thin scrap mark against the underside of your neck and jaw, but it was a clear demarcation that would only be caused from the shield itself.
You nodded sadly and focused on answering Bucky's question as you gave Sam the okay to keep going.
"Walker, didn't get what he wanted, so he did the only other thing he knows how to do," you cleared your throat and rubbed your hand against your forehead.
"Use brute force," Zemo darkly said.
"He used the shield to push me up against the wall over there," you pointed over as you continued re-telling what happened. "I was knocked into the wall pretty hard, but Walker lost all focus and nearly suffocated me from the force of the shield against my body. I think he -" you yelped like a wounded animal, not able to finish your story when Sam touched your shoulder.
Bucky's eyes had widen and became deeply concerned over your pained scream.
Your muscled were clenched tight as you tried to ride out the pain, face starting to turn red.
Zemo had placed a light hand on your back, leaning down to comfort you and remind you to breath.
You fumbled with your good arm as you tried taking in deep breaths and motioned to Sam what was wrong with your arm.
Even with your poor mime animation of pretending to have your arm pulled from your socket, James picked up on what you were getting at. He tapped Sam to switch places with him. Your eyes were watering at this point and you blinked back the tears wanting to fall.
"Alright doll, on the count of three, I'm going to raise your arm and put pressure on your shoulder, okay?" Bucky solemnly said.
Sam gave you a smile of assurance while Zemo ended up taking your good hand, letting you know you could use him to brace yourself. He and James shared a silent conversation before nodding at one another. If Sam had a problem with Zemo providing you comfort, he didn't show it. You figured he was letting some of his dormant humanity rise to surface in this moment.
You shook slightly trying to prepare yourself for the next round of pain once your shoulder was fixed, but James didn't give you any time.
"Three," he commanded, snapping your shoulder back into its socket before you had a chance to even reaction.
You let out another cry of pain, holding onto Zemo's hand tightly, but somehow, the fear of the oncoming pain dissipated as you let go of his hand and rubbed your shoulder with minimal soreness.
You cleared your throat and looked at everyone after a few moments of rest. Surprised at how efficiently James had handled your shoulder, but then again, he was the perfect person to do the job.
You scrunched up your nose at James, "What happened to one and two?"
He huffed out a laugh, "It worked didn't it?"
"Thank you. All of you," you gave a lazy smile through the tiredness that filled you up. "I think I'll be okay now - that was the worst of it. Promise. Walker didn't do any further harm to me. I managed to convince Lemar to get Walker to back down," you glossed over the section where Walker threatened you, but you could bring that up later.
None of them were satisfied with your response, but you're guessing they let it slide given the circumstances.
Zemo reached into the freezer to grab an ice pack. He handed it to you to place on your shoulder helping with your recovery. You accepted it from him extremely grateful. You mused your opinion of him was constantly evolving the more time you actually spent with him.
Sam had asked if you were sure there weren't any other areas you wanted to have checked over for injuries.
You assured him, you were alright, just tired and very sore.
Bucky had swiftly gotten up from his chair and made it known he wanted to go after Walker this evening. You knew he wasn't going to let this incident go any time soon. Sam had also been in agreement after fully understanding what transpired, but Zemo was eerily silent.
"You guys should follow your original plan. Don't let Walker distract you. I'm alive and I am going to be okay. Go follow your lead on Karli," you interjected, trying to be the reasonable one. There was no need for them to go off halfcocked while they were still very upset. You were too, if you were being honest with yourself, but your focus was on your friends first and foremost.
"Well, we're not leaving you here alone. I can stay behind and let Zemo and Sam check things out," James said.
"Actually, it makes the most sense if I stay behind," Zemo chimed in.
"Why is that?" Sam countered warily.
"The particular location you are going to, I have....a history there. It would be wise for me to not be seen in that part of town as to not raise any alarm bells," he reasoned with them.
"And why should we trust you with her?" Bucky asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.
"Because I have no motive to do any harm to her nor shall I allow any further injury come to her. On this James, I give you my word," Helmut replied, the seriousness of his tone was not lost on anyone in the room.
"Okay," Sam relented, moving about the kitchen to pack some food for their evening night out.
"Just like that, huh?" James said with disbelief.
"Yeah, just like that," Sam parroted back.
Bucky wasn't happy about the situation, but there was an urgency to find Karli, so he caved.
James leaned over on the counter to make sure you were 100% okay being left along with Zemo, reminding you at any time you can call and they'd rush back instantly for whatever reason.
You stood up slowly, balancing the ice pack on your shoulder and shuffled over a few steps towards him, "Thank you. Now, go."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
You waved to to your friends a second round of goodbyes for the day. You sagged against the counter, temporarily forgetting about Zemo for the moment. You really needed to lie down.
As if he read your thoughts, you suddenly felt his presence as an arm wrapped around your waist, resting firmly against your hip.
"Here, let me help you get someplace more comfortable than this," Zemo asserted, taking his free hand and dropping the ice pack from your shoulder onto the counter. He then grabbed your left hand, raising your arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support you. So now most of your weight is on your left side, allowing your right to have most of the pressure released from your injuries.
You were so close to him you could smell his expensive cologne and aftershave. It was intoxicating and caused your head to swim a little. You stumbled slightly, but Zemo kept you steady as you both made your way to your room.
In your exhausted state, you managed to sneak in a few glances to Zemo, who was concentrating on the task at hand, not wanting to cause any jarring movements. He deserved more credit than you had been giving him; he truly did seem to care in his own warped way.
Once you had gotten to your room, he guided you to the bed to lie down. Not once had you complained. A true testament of just how tired you were. You couldn't even muster a snarky reply at his disheveled state of being, from practically dragging you down the hallway.
You snuggled into the hoodie you were wearing and tried to lie in a position that wouldn't cause too much discomfort for your shoulder and ribs.
Zemo had stepped into the closet and when he returned he came back with a couple extra pillows. He propped them against your injured side to prevent you from rolling over during the night.
If nothing else, Zemo was incredibly thorough when he focused on something. And right now, that focus was you. It was unnerving, but also thrilling at the same time. Maybe you did have a head injury, because all you could do was smirk at how utterly adorable he was tending to you. It made you curious as to whether this was what Zemo was like before. For the first time, you really wanted to know more about him.
You saw how he was confident in everything he does, and this situation was no different apparently. He had been muttering to himself as he adjusted bedding and made sure there was nothing in the room that you could trip over if you had to get up. He was taking in all the possibilities, like you did.
He had been actively avoiding looking at you though since Bucky and Sam left. You weren't entirely sure why, as he's had zero problems watching you over the past several days. You have a feeling it's because you're one of a few people who have seen beneath the surface of Helmut Zemo, and he's reacting the only way he knows how to at this moment.
Distraction.
You were too sleepy to ponder this any further and turned your head to the side to see what Zemo was fiddling with now.
He had finished up the last of his tasks and looked around the room satisfied with his work. Only then did he turn to look at you.
If it had been anyone else, you would swear that Zemo almost seemed nervous. He was, at many times in your experience, hard to read; so all of these new expressions are a different side for you to see.
Zemo tentatively sat on the edge of the bed next to you.
"Do you need anything?" he genuinely inquired.
You shook your head, indicating you didn't.
All of a sudden he laughed. It ended nearly as quickly as it had began. You raised an eyebrow him in reply, but he simply tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie you were still wearing.
Too tired to be embarrassed about it, you simply mumbled, "Shut up. I still plan on giving it back, although, given it's track record, you should quite possibly get rid of it. After what happened today, I think it might be bad luck."
You saw Zemo dip his head and chuckle at your reply. He look much more carefree when he laughed. You'd have to add him to your daily list. Make Zemo laugh.
His expression sobered rather quickly though and became pensive after that, staring out the window briefly before resting his gaze back on you.
"You keep it. It looks better on you."
Not knowing what to say, caught up in the storm in his eyes, you give a small smile. You can feel your cheeks turning red under the intensity of his stare.
Zemo stood up, getting ready to leave when you stopped him by latching onto his wrist.
"Wait," you murmured.
The swift action caused him to furrow his brow in confusion.
You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from him, only that you didn't want him to go.
"Stay."
You could tell you startled him with your request. Your eyes grew larger realizing the potential double meaning.
"Just until I fall asleep?" you clarified, a yawn escaped as you covered your mouth.
Zemo visibly relaxed and had you relinquish your hold on his arm so he could pull up a chair to your bed. He turned his head around the room in search of something. He went to the nightstand and picked up your book.
Amusement flitted across the features of his face as he read the cover. Zemo sat down on the chair and propped his feet up on the side of the bed.
You shut your eyes and tried to block out the soreness covering your body. Tomorrow would be worse. The next day always is. You had begun to doze off, when ever so quietly, you heard Zemo's voice fill the room.
He was reading to you. Lulling you into a peaceful sleep and letting you know he was still present. Wanting you to know, in his own way, he was upholding his promise to Bucky and Sam. That you were safe with him. That you could trust him just as you had, when you asked him to stay in the first place.
With those final thoughts, you drifted off, listening to the subdued sound of his voice.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
#helmut zemo#helmut zemo x reader#tfatws#bucky barnes#sam wilson#my writing#team zemo#baron zemo#the falcon and the winter soldier#mcu imagine
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Date with the President’s Daughter
Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer POV)
Summary: Spencer has a date with the President’s daughter, who he’s been dating for a while in partial secret. He hasn’t seen her in person for a while so he’s had to settle for another form of communication.
A/N: Ok just to get this out of the way— this is not a politically charged fic, I don’t express my own political beliefs in this fic nor do I express my opinion on the beliefs of others. The president in this fic is entirely made up and I just thought it would be cool to release it on Inauguration Day like the nerd I am. I do not want a political debate in the comments, this blog is not meant for that. This fic is for fun and to make people a little happier in these trying times. Please respect my wishes. This was a really fun way to write a twist on Spencer dating someone famous and- I wonder if anyone can spot the West Wing reference I used 🤔Thanks to @spencers-dria again for always helping me out with my fics 🥰This is also apart of my unlinked fic series called Spencer Reid & Letters! Requests are open and thank you for reading!
Warning: Vague political talk, References to keeping their relationship secret earlier, Avoiding the paparazzi- that should be it.
Main Masterlist Spencer Reid & Letters Word count: 1.6k
She didn’t have to put her short little letter to me on the back of a postcard, but she always did it this way. I remember when she first told me why she did it. We were sitting cuddled up on my couch at the early start of our relationship. I had asked her why she always insisted she send her letters on the back of a tiny card, she would’ve had so much more room if she got out a piece of paper.
She said she got into the habit of sending them to her father whenever he was away on business. Her handwriting had been horrible as a child according to her and her father had suggested she try to fit all of her thoughts onto a postcard. So, now she sent all of her letters neatly handwritten with the smallest of letters, so small you could almost barely read them, on the back of a postcard.
The postcard I had gotten late today, delivered by one of the last people on duty this late at night, was a picturesque view of the White House. The grass bright green and the outside covered in pure crisp white, a statuesque image of American democracy. Now, she didn’t send this to me because she wanted to express her political views and patriotism in a postcard, it just so happened to be where her father lived.
The fact that she was the President’s daughter used to intimidate me a lot when I first met her. I hadn’t immediately connected the dots in my head that she was the first daughter when we first met, though I could tell I had seen her somewhere before. Though, my first assumption was that maybe she had been a regular at my favorite coffee shop, not the daughter to the President of the United States. Literally my biggest boss.
First time I met him was also my first time in the east wing; she had some help from her secret service detail to sneak me in through the back. I only ever nervously stutter when I’m in intimidating or stressful situations and I’m pretty sure I barely got a sentence out the first ten minutes after I had met him. Luckily, he did seem to like me, though I’m not really sure why. Y/N told me once it was because he found my intelligence extraordinary and my constant willingness to share facts endearing. I always blush when I remember that, she was always so sweet to me and the fact that her family loved me as well caused my heart to swell exponentially. I stared at the captured view for a few seconds longer before the dots had fully connected in my head, I may have an eidetic memory, but sometimes it took me a minute to get her subtle hints. She didn’t actually live at the White House, she had her own house in D.C. But, this postcard meant one thing. She’s home.
Each postcard she sent me had a picture of wherever she was while she was traveling the world, it was a small gesture that made me feel closer to her, I always tried to imagine I was there with her at every location she sent. She had been out of the country for at least a month on business and even before that we hadn’t seen each other for a while, I had been stuck on a long case that kept me away from her for half a month.
A month and a half, that’s how long it's been since I’ve had her in my arms. I turned over the card expecting to see it filled with more words than most people would think could fit on the back of a postcard to let me know when I could see her, but this was not the case. Instead, the back of the card contained less words than normal. Only the words- meet me at 10pm at our usual spot.
My body moved faster than my brain, getting up to pack up all my things to rush to our usual spot. My watch sat over my cardigan sleeve on my wrist and it blinked up at me letting me know I only had 30 minutes till I had to get to the other side of town.I still had some paperwork left, but enough that I could push it off till the next day. Once I had gotten all my stuff together I scurried over to leave through the glass doors.
“Are you heading home, Spence?” A voice from inside the bullpen called out startling me out of my thoughts, I had thought everyone had left for the night. I turned around to look at the owner of the voice, JJ, who had come back from the break room to finish her large stack of paperwork that still remained.
“Actually no- I have a date.” A small shy smile made its way onto my face, I still felt very shy when I talked about my relationship with the team. When I had first told them after around 8 months into our relationship, they had thought I was pulling their legs. Once they did realize that I was in fact, not bullshitting them as Morgan had suspected, the questions had immediately come down on me. The ogling at my relationship never really ceased in the months after it had come out to the team, and the rest of the world. We mostly still tried to keep it under wraps, but the fact that the press now knew about me after some photos got leaked from a date only made the team ogle even more.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to who you go on dates with, it’s like something out of a movie.” JJ joked, then yawning again and leaning her face into her palms. “Well- I still have a lot of paperwork to do, you go enjoy your night, Spencer. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”
My mind had already begun to shift away from JJ as soon as she brought her up, I was practically vibrating in anticipation, I couldn’t wait to see her.
—-
The rare book store on the east side of Quantico had been my favorite for years, ever since I had moved out here from Vegas actually. So much so that the owners, an older couple named Margaret and Dan, both knew me by name and knew almost exactly what books I wanted every time. The both of them had immediately jumped at the chance when I had hesitantly asked them to let the both of us meet up here, I had been desperately trying to find a place outside of my apartment where we could meet up.
When I entered the shop through the back it was already deserted just for us, she must have contacted Maggie and Dan to ask them if we could have the store for the night. The store was packed full of the rare books the owners had both acquired over the years, ranging from old tales and poems written by Edgar Allan Poe, the dark brother’s Grimm tales, to almost any old book that you could think of. It was almost to the point where I thought maybe Maggie and Dan should upgrade to a bigger shop.
“Long time no see.” A voice piped up from the mostly dark corner where she sat in a dark green armchair only partially illuminated by a standing lamp. Broad grins broke out on both of our faces before we both ran to each other, engulfing ourselves into an overwhelming bear hug.
“I missed you so much you don't even know.” Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes, though I wasn’t afraid to admit that us being apart for so long made me tear up.
“I've got a pretty good idea, I missed you so much as well.” She sniffed and then sighed into the crook of my neck. I moved my hand up to cradle her head to try and bring her as close as possible to me, even though there was already not even an inch of space between the two of us.
A nagging thought was dancing around in my brain, the card was so short and abrupt. It wasn’t like her to not be long winded whenever she wrote to me, she even had a tendency to be worse than I was sometimes.
“Why was the card so short? You feeling ok?”
“I just couldn’t wait to see you… It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...” Her tone of voice made me sad, it had been so lonely for me as well when we were apart. “I never want to be away from you for that long ever again.”
“Move in with me.” The words blurted out of my mouth before I could really think about my words. I didn’t care whether it would be feasible or not, I just knew I never wanted us to be apart for so long ever again.
“Well-“ I cringed a little at her words sensing a rejection, I worried that I had just screwed it all up by asking. However, again she surprised me, “We might need to get a new place to settle my father’s worries about security.”
I breathed out a breathy laugh of relief at her words, enveloping her into a bruising kiss, my worry and anxiety immediately melting away. I couldn’t wait for the next chapter of my life with the President’s daughter.
—-
Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):
All works: @shotarosleftpinky
Spencer Reid/CM:
@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss
Spencer Reid & Letters Series:
@sierraraeck @90spumkin @whoreforthebau
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid & letters series#spencer reid & letters#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubler x reader#series#criminal minds series
310 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader
“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.”
She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.”
PART ONE HERE
A/N: It came out fast!!! I had lowk already started it, so that’s why this update came so quickly. Please don’t expect them all to come this fast LMAO. I usually write slow as fuck. Anyway, I really hope you guys like this part so I can maybe just maybe turn this into a mini series. Please lmk if you guys like :)
CONTENT WARNINGS: KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF SEX (lmk if i missed any please)
I paced the bullpen as the team spoke to Penelope. The shock of her pregnancy was starting to wear off, and now I could think more clearly. How could she? What was she thinking?
Recently, I’d found myself thinking about it more, a baby her and a mini-me. A family of my own, with the love of my life. It was exciting and like a lovesick fool it made my stomach fuzzy. But she wasn’t ready and I couldn’t do that to her. So how could she do it to herself? She hadn’t finished school, hadn’t started her career. She could barely take care of herself! I wasn’t mad, absolutely not. Just disappointed at her self-sabotage and the fact she’d made the decision completely without me. I couldn’t think about it for long though, because I was swiftly reminded by my surroundings that right now, there was a chance I’d lose her, our child and any children we wanted to have in the future. That was the priority.
“Garcia, check her credit card records, we need to see where she last was.” Hotch said.
“Uhm, okay,” Penelope took a deep breath while clicking away, “Let’s see. Her last purchase was last night, 6:49 at a CVS Pharmacy, oh--”
“What Garcia?” Hotch asked.
“She was um, picking up her monthly case of birth control.”
JJ broke the silence, “Spence…” she started towards me.
I breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank god.”
“Thank god?” Morgan questioned.
“She’s 23.” I wiped my face, “Whole life ahead of her.” The team understood what I was trying to say. Rossi’s hand fell on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“So why would she tell Brook she was?” Garcia asked.
“I uh, I..I don’t know.” I spat out. I really had no idea.
“Think Reid.” Rossi told me. “You guys ever talk about kids or pregnancy?”
“She might be trying to send us a message,” Emily added.
I thought back to the last time we discussed starting a family.
--FLASHBACK--
We were surrounded by timeless pieces of art and history, and yet the true masterpiece was still her. She was always beautiful to me, a perfect being, truly. But today, something about the way she looked today specifically, made her look like the kind of beauty you see in a painting. Had she been a painting, her creator must have been skilled. Each stroke of his brush creating every divine curve of her face and body to produce a work of magnificent art, one that I so proudly hung on the walls of my heart.
I remember exactly what she wore, and how it felt to take it all off. The painter had an eye for color. Her denim skirt, the length or lack thereof making me embarrassingly wary, was blue like the Mediterranean Sea, complementing the pigment of the skin of her legs. A white button down made of silk, not worn properly, of course. Too many buttons were left open at the top, as to draw attention to the gold adorned on her chest, but in the spell of temptation she procured to cast upon me, my eyes wandered to admire territories of her body they shouldn’t have. Not in public, at least. The buttons at the bottom were left untouched as well, revealing the soft skin of her stomach. She looked like an angel, but of course, went out of her way to instead be my temptress.
My affinity for her beauty aside, the wide eyes in delight at the museum artifacts and careful attention to my commentary were what made our excursion wonderful. The feeling of her smaller hand in mine, and the giggles and the teasing “You’re way too nerdy to be so stupid hot Dr. Reid.” made it absolutely perfect.
In exchange for her listening so attentively to my historical facts and stories, I took her for ice cream. She insisted we ate it on the greens of Lincoln Park. Who was I to deny her that? What came next--I expected. She’d devoured it. Made a mess of strawberry ice cream on her white shirt.
“It was the wind!” She insisted as the first of many drips of ice cream fell down her chin.
“No it was not!” I argued back while wiping it, “You just never learned how to eat ice cream properly.” I gently removed the cone from her hands and into mine, taking an overzealous bite. “This, lovey, is how you eat ice cream.”
“Give it back, you...you dickass!” She snorted. We laughed like two lovesick teenagers.
“Dickass?” I asked, eyes watery from laughter.
“Yeah dickass, give me back my damn ice cream.” I took another bite, “Stop! You’re eating it all!” She pouted. Pouts were unfortunately my weakness and I handed it back to her. However, in her rush, the pink scoop had fallen directly on her blouse.
“Way to prove my point,” I started to take off my cardigan, “You want dickass’s sweater?”
She wanted to be mad but couldn’t contain the wince of a smile. “Please.”
We carefully removed her shirt from under while simultaneously putting the cardigan in its place.
“Spence don’t let me flash! There’s kids and judgmental old ladies here!”
I laughed and shushed her, “I know, I know.” I moved all the fabrics quickly and it was done. Her sticky pink shirt was replaced with my soft sweater. “There.”
“My hero,” She kissed me, “Truly.”
She leaned back on our picnic blanket on her shoulders as we observed our fellow park goers. “So many kids.”
I nodded my head in agreement. “Yeah…”
“We should bring our kids here one day.” she said, instantly breaking my haze from the crowd so I could only see her.
I smiled again at the thought, “Yeah, and tell them how their mom is the world's clumsiest ice cream eater.”
She looked at me with disdain before shoving her shoulder into mine. “Shut up.”
“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.”
She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.”
I toppled her so we were laying down, facing each other. She kissed me hard, and my hands went to the sides of her face, only pulling back to say “I can’t wait for it, you know. My two little girls.”
She smiled, “But I’ll always be your favorite right?” she asked sarcastically.
I laughed, “Oh of course. Always.”
“I’ll have a big ol’ belly, you know.” I nodded, “You’d still be perfect.”
“We’d have to go to the mall, buy me a shitload of new clothes. Do ya know how dirty malls are Spence?” I winced at the thought of thousands of strangers bacteria on every surface and she laughed, “Got ya.” I shook my head, “Nope! I uh, I’ll just bring hand sanitizers and uh, to the Maternity section we’ll go.”
“Non-stop Panda express eating.” I nodded again, “I’ll be non-stop Panda Express buying, then.” She smiled so hard her nose scrunched.
“I love you Spencer.”
“I love you too. I am so in love with you.”
--FLASHBACK ENDS--
“Yeah but it was trivial.” I said.
“Maybe not,” Hotch argued, “Was anything mentioned specifically?”
“A name she liked?” Prentiss added, “Maybe a craving she thought she might have? Anything at all?”
I nodded, “Not a food, but a fast food place. Panda Express.” I doubted that would be helpful.
“It’s a stretch but, Garcia, check for any dilapidated buildings within 10 miles of a Panda Express.”
“Yes sir,” She typed away and then said, “No, guys. I’m sorry. All of our Panda Express’s are in pristine malls or new developments.”
“Mall!” I shouted, “She said we’d have to go to the mall! She knows I hate the mall.”
Morgan pointed at us, “The tiles in that room look like they could be from some 80’s Bloomingdales.”
“Garcia-” I said.
“Already on it.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The pregnancy ruse was either going to get me killed, or save my life. It was a moment of panic and I just wanted to throw her off. I know it did, but in what direction?
She was still crying, her demeanor with me was still laced with bitter animosity, but she was calmer now.
“How long have you known?” Brook asked, the contents of her flask now empty and her words slurred.
“I found out yesterday.” I lied through my teeth.
She shrugged her shoulders, “Had you guys talked about it?”
“Vaguely.” I admitted.
“What’d Spencer want? Boy or girl?” I debated on whether or not to say, and she caught on. “Don’t fucking lie.” She stated harshly.
“Girl.” I breathed out. “He wants a girl.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I don’t care.” I said. That was true.
“How come?”
“I just want to start a family with him. Don’t really care about the gender…” That was true as well.
“Oh.” she nodded her head, “Why’d he want a girl?” It was strange, her genuine curiosity. It freaked me out, but my alternative was being stabbed. I chose to just answer her questions, regardless of how much I really did not want to.
“He liked the idea of a little girl who looked like me.”
She winced, eyes tearing up further. “Right.” I was beginning to realize her feelings were very real.
“You really like him, don’t you?” I asked. I knew I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it. My head was still looking for an answer as to how she could be driven to do something like this.
She clasped her hands together, her anger returning. “Don’t fucking start. You know nothing of what I feel for Spencer.” She came up closer and tugged at my hair, “Fucking nothing.”
“Okay,” I grimaced at the pain from the force at which she pulled my hair, “I-I’m sorry.”
She let go, “You should be. You really, really fucking should be.” She sat back down, pensive for a while. I wish I knew what she was thinking about.
My heart had not stopped it’s fast pace ridden with anxiety since I gained full awareness of my situation, but now, it felt like it was going to burst through my chest. Was she planning on just killing me now?
My anticipation ceased when she got up and brought back the camera with her again. “Hello BAU. There has been a change in plans. Your beloved,” The words reeked of sarcasm, “Y/N here, will be returned eventually. . She’s gonna be fine. However, it is now in everybody best interest if this video feed was cut out. Sorry.” She said before mouthing, “No I’m not.” She shut the camera off.
She turned to me, “I hate you. Fucking despise you.” Figures.
“But I would never hurt Spencer. Or his child. Even if it is being carried by a whore like you.”
She began to pace once more, “You’re obviously a mistake on his part. You clearly tricked him with sex and...no just sex I think. You're not really smart enough to be capable of anything else. Regardless, he’s probably already thinking about abortions or adoption. There’s no way in hell a man like him could ever want to start a family with a girl like you.” She shook her head, “Absolutely not.”
I could only nod my head at her delusions. This woman was so far up her ass.
She pinched my cheeks together with her cold hands, “You tried to trap him. How’d that go for you?”
I was silent.
“I asked you a fucking question!” She held my face impossibly tighter.
“Poorly.” I got out, “Poorly.”
“In 9 months, I’ll help you deliver your baby. And then, you can go.” Brook backed away and let go of her tight grip on my face. “I’m keeping the kid. Raising it.” She smiled, “I’ll be the mother Spencer’s child will deserve. And then-” A giggle creepily reminiscent of a schoolgirl’s left her throat, “He’ll love me!”
Brooks intention had twisted from wanting to murder and torture me as revenge for “taking” Spencer, to a now twisted maternal desire for his (hypothetical) child. But if Spencer and his team couldn’t find me before the time I was supposed to be showing, I was fucked. Utterly fucked.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @britishspidey
(Let me know to be added)
#spencer reid fanfiction#Spencerreid#drspencerreid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x you#spencerreid x reader smut#spencer reid x reader sm#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Criminal Minds Reid#reid criminal minds#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminalminds#Criminal Minds#reid x you#reader x spencer reid
224 notes
·
View notes
Note
TESS! Hope you are well!!!! Prompts prompts prompts! If you’re not already inundated with requests, allow me to add my own greedy submission to the pile: “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?” for Qui-Gon and Obi if you feel up to it! 🤟🏼❤️
WELL HELLO FRIEND!! I absolutely feel up to it. I'm just, you know, bad at time management, so I apologise for the delay. Please accept my many, most sincerest thanks for sending the prooompt in the form of this....thing. What I wrote. SOME BABY-WAN WHUMP, AND DAD-CARE!
You're absolutely wonderful! THANK YOU!
On The Clock
The sun never sets on Coravian Bast. It says so on all their coins, and all their dataries. It is stamped at the summit of every federal building, and pressed into the plastoid casing of every holobook, every datapad, every speeder and tug and ship they manufacture. It is both an astronomical truth, and the rallying cry of a people who, for centuries, have remained proud, and strong, living beneath the ever-burning glory of their sun. But now, that sun is burning out.
It is not by sabotage, or ambition, or folly. It is not brought about by anything more malicious than the passage of time, and it is a tragedy which has been predicted now for many years. And for many years, the government of Coravian has been planning. With the aid of the Republic and the support of several high ranking senators, Coravian has made arrangements for the mass migration of their population to new homes on new worlds. The sun will set on Coravian Bast, but never on her people.
Yet some do not go willingly. Some resist the edicts, and declare they will not leave. Some declare that they do not mean to let anyone else go either, and for this reason, the Jedi Council has seen fit to assign a Master-Padawan pair capable of overseeing the evacuations. Up to now, the population has been peaceful. The protestors have been loud, but cautious. They do not expect anything of note to happen. Master Jinn gives his padawan a sardonic grin and suggests that perhaps someone will give an impassioned speech.
“Coravinians are known for their philosophical debates,” he says. “Nearly every city has an ampitherium. It’s like a park filled with tall platforms wide enough only to stand on, but tall enough to see over the head of a grown wookiee.”
“What do they do on them?” Obi-Wan asks, in awe.
“They talk,” his master says. “Sometimes for hours.”
“About what?”
“Oh, this and that,” he says. “The longest recorded was a discourse on the nature of sentience in ancient korarchetropes of the protopaleo era, four thousand four hundred million years ago.”
“Oh,” says Obi-Wan, his brow furrowed in thought. “Did the korarchetropes leave many written records?”
“No, my padawan,” replies Qui-Gon. “They were a primitive, single-celled form of life.”
“Oh.” There is a pause, longer and more uncertain than before. “Will we have to listen to one while we’re there?”
The master smiles. “Not unless you are particularly disobedient.”
“Then I’ll be on my best behaviour,” Obi-Wan swears with a smirk. “I promise.”
It is not a difficult thing for him to be, his master thinks, and indeed he is the very picture of deference and decorum during the two weeks they are there. Every day, he walks at his side, three steps behind and one to the left. He is unobtrusive, and observant. He speaks intelligently when spoken to, and remembers every obscure custom and tradition that their hosts play out in preparation for leaving the planet, and Qui-Gon is proud. His padawan has come such a long way from the desperate little waif he’d found on Bandomeer, and yet not so far as to have lost that youthful naivety, and trust in the world. He will make a fine Knight, if Qui-Gon is careful enough. If he is restrained enough. And cautious. And aware.
And yet, no sooner does he conclude this than all his plans are torn apart, for the next day, as they stand upon the viewing stage to watch another transport of refuges lift off and head for space, there is an attack. The Coravinians do not fight with words this time, but with bombs and grenades. A sonic blast throws him from the platform before he can draw his saber, and in another instant the remains of the stage goes up in flames and it is all he can do to leap free and regain his bearings.
One of the federal aides is dead, lying torn and bloodied a few feet away. Another staggers forward, coughing in the smoke. Obi-Wan. Where is Obi-Wan?
He searches around him, frantic, but there is nothing he can see except fire and ash. In desperation, he turns his focus inward to pluck at the little strand of light between them, hoping that it may ring out clearly even amidst the chaos. It is still new, and still very slight. The thread tremors beneath the weight of his mental touch, singing its note high and sweet and very much alive.
“Obi-Wan!” he cries out, surging forward, following the thread as it draws him along its path until he comes to a heap of steel and stone. He reaches out in the Force, and with his hands, scrabbling at the pile of debris. With a single thought, he moves a heavy cement boulder, and he pushes back twisted steel and rebar.
“Master!” It’s Obi-Wan, and his voice is strong and steady. “Master, under here!”
Qui-Gon can feel his own fear clogging his throat. It tastes like oil and charcoal, and he spits to clear it from his mouth, working as fast as he can to reach his padawan. A few more seconds, and he discovers a pocket of air beneath the scrap. A pale hand, smeared in soot reaches up through a gap, flailing blindly for purchase.
“Padawan!” he cries, and he falls over the rubble to catch that small hand in his own, feeling the soft palms, and smooth skin, as yet unweathered by age or strife. “Obi-Wan, are you alright?” he asks.
“Yes, master,” his padawan replies. “I think - only, I think I hit my head.”
“Are you bleeding?” He does his best to keep his voice steady. To stay calm. To leave the thread taut and unplucked in his mind. He strokes the back of Obi-Wan’s hand in comfort.
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan says. “It’s dark down here. Master -?”
“I’ll get you out,” he says. His grip slackens, and for a moment, Obi-Wan’s tightens in reflex, afraid of letting go, but he quickly masters himself and allows Qui-Gon to slip away.
Relying more on brute strength than the Force, Qui-Gon tears at the rock until it falls away, and he can reach inside the cavern to pull Obi-Wan free. Whether Obi-Wan is lighter than Qui-Gon anticipates, or whether his arms are fuelled with terror and fear, his padawan comes out of the rubble with enough momentum that he is sent staggering into his master’s arms, nearly falling to his knees. But Qui-Gon catches him, sets him aright, and is soon crouched before him, running his hands up and down his arms, over his shoulders and back, and along his scalp searching for injuries.
He finds one just above Obi-Wan’s left ear, hidden in his hairline. But even his thick, tawny tuffets cannot disguise the slick of blood, and his padawan winces as his fingers skim over the open wound.
“Anywhere else?” he demands.
Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No, master,” he says, but his legs buckle, and his fingers clench around Qui-Gon’s forearms as he tries to resist the pull of nausea in his gut.
Qui-Gon frowns. “We need to get you to a medcentre.”
“No, master!” Obi-Wan protests. “The bombers. They’ll get away!”
“Little One, there is no chance they are anywhere close enough to be found. That is the purpose of a bomb. Did you feel anything amiss in the Force before it detonated?”
“No,” he says.
“Then you understand,” he replies. “If they were near, they would have surely stood out in a sea of otherwise placid civilians.”
“But still -”
“No,” the master insists. “You must be tended to first. You will not help me if you collapse while in pursuit of ghosts. Do you understand?”
Obi-Wan says nothing, but he nods, his chin dropping to his chest, and his fingers flexing in the folds of Qui-Gon’s robes.
“Now, stay close, and follow me,” says Qui-Gon. He straightens again, peering through the smoke to find salvation. The wind has picked up. The ringing in his ears has stopped. He can hear the cries of dozens of injured people, but none that are near enough for him to help. Some ways away, he sees the ash of the explosion recede and finds sunny daylight beyond. With one hand to guide his student at the elbow, he makes for that.
Obi-Wan stumbles along, tripping over rock and rubble. With each step, he grows more and more uncoordinated. To Qui-Gon it seems as though he is half carrying him before they’ve gone more than a hundred yards.
“Master,” Obi-Wan mumbles, as his toe catches on a stone and his legs give out. He hardly makes any effort to save himself, but his fall is aborted by Qui-Gon’s hand at his arm. “Master, I don’t feel very well. I’d like to lie down.”
“Not yet, Obi-Wan,” he says, between gritted teeth. In the distance, he can make out a mass of emergency responders, all frantically attempting to organise the pandemonium into something civil and orderly. He drags his padawan on.
“M’sleepy,” Obi-Wan protests. And then, as if to prove his claim, his head drops and the full weight of his body swings into Qui-Gon, hinged at his arm where his master supports him still.
Qui-Gon grabs him around the middle, and attempts to prop him up, giving him a little shake. Obi-Wan’s head rolls on his neck, his eyelids fluttering as he fights for consciousness.
“Stay awake,” Qui-Gon urges. Obi-Wan frowns. “Stay awake. Listen to me. Obi-Wan?”
“I’m listening, master…” he insists, but the words come out slurred, and his eyes close again. He slumps forward until his forehead falls against the pommel of Qui-Gon’s shoulder, and his body falls into his master’s arms.
“And yet you disobey me, anyway,” Qui-Gon huffs. He taps at his cheek, trying to make him laugh, or smirk. Anything. “Obi-Wan?” he prods. “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?”
“Mm,” his padawan says.
“Do you remember what I said? About the korarchetropes? You promised to obey me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, master,” Obi-Wan says. His voice is hardly more than a whisper. “You said they talk for hours. M’listening.”
“Then do as I say,” he stresses. “Stay awake.”
He feels him nod against his chest, but his breathing has slowed, and he doesn’t stir himself to reply. Qui-Gon coughs, and begins to speculate.
There is still smoke. Fires burn nearby, hot and stinging. They are not getting any closer to help, and he can feel blood seeping through his tunics. Though Obi-Wan is no longer as slight as he once was, Qui-Gon doesn’t hesitate to sweep him into an embrace, wrapping one leg around his waist, and throwing the boy’s arms around his neck. Like the child he so recently was, Obi-Wan presses close, his head tucking neatly beneath Qui-Gon’s chin, trusting and unresistant to being carried. He has not yet the dignity of adolescence to embarrass him. Nor the consciousness to suggest it. With his padawan held tight, Qui-Gon walks out of the darkness of destruction, and back into the light.
#my fic#prompt fill#asked and answered#obi-wan kenobi#qui-gon jinn#obi-whump#gigglesandfreckles is the bee's knees#and other 20s superlatives#sw#fic#this fic is everything
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is Your Home Now ~ The Ryders x teen!reader imagine
@atjafshelby requested: “Okay so I was thinking maybe a teenage reader who was like Judd as a child, gets in trouble and needs help and stuff. But maybe she lives on her own so Grace and Judd take her in and try to help her? No rush though, thank you!!❤️”
A/N: I appreciate you sending me a complex ask. I’ll be honest, I had no idea how i was going to write this one when I first saw it. I tweaked it a tiny bit, and instead of being on their own the reader is in a group home. This may be part 1 if anyone is interested in part 2?
TW: foster care, mentions of violence, mentions of therapy.
Your POV:
Sitting in the principal’s office, you began to take in the various lame quotes around the room. “You miss 100% of the chances you don’t take” sure, whatever.
“You have to look through the rain to see the rainbow” this has to be the worst one of all. What rainbow? and why go through hell to be able to see a prism of light in the sky?
The door shuts loudly, pulling you from your thoughts. You roll your eyes when you see your social worker walking in with the principal.
“So, Y/N, you’ve been getting into more fights recently, including earlier today when you struck another student in the face for saying something about your family,” your principal read from the file, then looked up at you, “Anything you’d like to say for yourself?”
”yeah, they deserved it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him again. Everyone here should know by now the topic of your parents is off limits, especially what he said about them.
“Just because someone says something you don’t like doesn’t mean you can assault them.” Your social worker scolded, probably hating her life for having to deal with you.
They went on lecturing you for another 20 minutes, but at that point you zoned out, focusing on the view out the window behind your principal. It was sunny outside, the trees on the outskirts of school grounds blowing slightly with the wind. You could see people walking out there, and instantly wanted to be anywhere but here, supposedly listening to how you’re a screw-up and if you “don’t get your act together” you’ll “never have a future.”
“Y/n, what do you think about the compromise?”
You snapped your head to the principal, trying to figure out what all you missed in the last few minutes so you could figure out to answer appropriately. You studied his face, before deciding agreeing would be the quickest road. How wrong you were, you wouldn’t have the faintest idea until an hour later.
“Sounds good to me, as long as I can go back to class. Ms. Neal is teaching about the wage gap and I want to see conservative boys lose their ever-loving mind.” you smiled, hoping they buy it for now. They both nod their heads, then you stand up to leave.
“I’ll see you after school, Y/N,” your social worker spoke confidently, seemingly proud of herself for her part in the supposed compromise. With that, you left the two adults to work out the details amongst themselves.
Going to Ms. Neal’s class quickly, you started to wonder what you agreed to. It had to be something significant if you weren’t getting in trouble for giving the star of the baseball team a black eye, which he deserved, by the way.
Class went by as a blur, your attention focusing in and out on class, except when it came time to debate your stance on the issue of the class. You loved to argue, especially with privileged, snotty teens who don’t know how well they had it. You were good at it too, you could be a lawyer if you had any shot of a successful life.
Sooner than you’d like, class was over, and you started to get up and leave. You were too occupied with making sure you had everything that you didn’t realize you were making a beeline into your social worker.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“Hey, watch it!” You both say simultaneously, backing up and looking at who ran into you.
“Oh, there you are Y/N! Come on, I’m driving you back to the home to pack up your things” She signaled with her hand to come with her, and you obliged, confused.
“Pack my things? Why?” You asked while walking to your car. You know you’ve been in trouble recently, but being kicked out of the group home seemed a little extreme.
“Did you listen to the compromise at all when were talking about it? Before you agreed to it?” She asked, already knowing the answer.
“Not really, just figured agreeing would get me in the least trouble,” you replied, and you could see her smile a little as she shook her head at you.
“This last fight isn’t going on your permanent record, as long as you get anger management classes, and move out of the group home and into a foster situation with two loving people who know how to handle situations like yours,”
“Crap, I really should listen more.” You sighed and leaned your head on the window. You didn’t see how moving you out of the group home would help at all, it’s more change and more adjustment, and you were tired of both.
“Want to know about the couple?” You social worker asked you, but you barely heard her. You shook your head and put a headphone in, hoping this wasn’t a mistake.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Judd’s POV:
“Are we sure about this, Gracie?” Judd asks, pacing between the living room and the kitchen, pausing every now and then to look at his wife. He stopped, turned to her, and rubbed his face before putting both hands behind his head, cradling it as he thinks about everything that could go wrong with this.
He knew they both wanted kids, and adoption seemed to be their only hope due to ther infertility troubles. But still, he argued to himself, a teenager? With this kid’s anger management issues, stubbornness, and troubled past, this isn’t what he necessarily had in mind.
“Yes, Judd, we’re sure. This kid needs our help, and a stable home to thrive. I understand you’re nervous, I am too, but we’ve been doing our research and interviewing with child protective services for months, and now they’re gracing us with a child that needs us.” Grace had walked over to him at this point, and taken his hands into hers. He looked into those beautiful, rust colored eyes of hers and took a deep breath. He knew she was right, she usually is, but he was still nervous.
He wrapped his arms around her, leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. She looked up at him, grabbed the nape of his neck, and kissed him lovingly. After a few seconds, she broke away, and whispered, “I love you too, handsome.”
Before anything could further along, the doorbell rang. The two looked at each other, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. Grace opened the door, and they both saw the social worker, Malia, with a teenager that looked less than happy to be on their doorstep.
Judd quickly scanned the teen, noticing the frown on their face and the bruised knuckles they were sporting on their right hand. They had a suitcase in the other hand, and looked short in stature. Everyone looks short to Judd, though.
“Hi Malia, Y/N, please come in.” Grace states, welcoming their guest and their now-forster child into their home. Once the social worker guided Y/N in, the pair sat on the couch while Judd and Grace sat on the other, clasping their hands together and looking at the child who’ll be staying with them, being nurtured by them, for next couple years.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your POV:
The house is nice, you thought to yourself as you sit on the couch, waiting for someone to speak to you. You look at them, whose names you aren’t aware of yet, and study their features. The man was tall, and you can tell he’s been working for a while due to his build and the scratches and burns on his hands. The woman is much smaller, and seems softer, but you can tell they love each other just by the way they can’t keep their hands off each other.
“Judd, Grace, this is Y/N. Now, I know the department have given you their file, but do you have any questions about their history, or anything I can answer?” Malia asked, putting her hands in her lap. At least you know their names now, you thought to yourself.
“I don’t think so, ma’am. You’re welcome to stay for supper, though. Y?N, is there any allergies or diet restrictions we need to know about?” The woman, Grace, you remind yourself, asks. She smiles at you as she asks, and she has a pretty smile. You start to wonder why they wanted to take in someone like you.
“No ma’am, thank you for asking though. Can one of y’all show me to my room, though? I’d like to unpack and start on homework before supper.” You try to be polite, not knowing who they are once the social worker. Better to be safe than sorry, right?
“Of course, I’ll show you up there, and let you get settled.” Judd offers, standing up to guide you to where you’ll sleep.
You go up the stairs, and are impressed by what you see. This is better than the group home, at the very least. You head down the corridor he’s taking you through, and walk into a moderately sized room that had a full-sized bed, two nightstands, a dresser, closet, desk with a chair, and a door to what you assume is a bathroom.
“Take all the time you need to settle in. This weekend we’ll all go shopping and you can buy decorations for your room. Once supper is ready, we’ll call you downstairs to eat, get to know each other better. Alright?” He asked, looking as if he expected you to answer. You quickly nodded, and got to putting away your things and taking in the space. Maybe you actually belong here.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once supper was ready, you were called down, you stumbled down the kitchen, washed your hands, and then took a seat at the table. Malia had left, hopefully to bother another kid and leave you alone, and you sat there quietly, eating the dinner they prepared.
“So, Y/N, is there any hobbies you enjoy? Anything we can look into getting you, like an easel or a video game?” Grace asks, making conversation.
“Why do you care? It’s not like I’m your kid,” You rolled your eyes, then looked down and played with your food. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached to the idea of having people truly care about you, especially not now.
“Hey, you-” Judd started to raise his voice, but Grace cut him off with holding her index finger up to him, then spoke.
“Y/N, I know this is all too new for you still. You don’t know us, you do not know our intentions, and you’re past makes it especially hard for you to believe anyone would love you and care for you. But, and I mean this, this is your home now, Y/N, and we will not abandon you, no matter the obstacles ahead,” she paused, and looked to her husband. Judd nodded, and took a deep breath.
“Y/N, I was just like you when I was your age. I was going through somethin’, and it left me violent and not knowing who to trust. We want you here so we can help you through the hurt you’ve been through, and make you into the young adult we can already see inside you. We have two rules, don’t disrespect us, and be honest with us. Got it?”
“Got it,” you spoke quietly. The rest of the dinner was quiet, and afterwards you went upstairs to your room, lying on the bed, thinking about how this is going to be good for you. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
#grace ryder x judd ryder#judd ryder#grace ryder#teen!reader#reader insert#writing#9-1-1 lone star#911 lone star#the ryders x teen!reader#grace x judd#apologies if this is god awful
328 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you plz make a one-shot with Midoriya and his crush cuddling him because she is sad and Deku tries to calm her down. She ends up telling her feelings for him and tells him how much she loves him. I thought it would be cute.....
This is super cute! I love it! Thanks for requesting! :) I hope you like it. <3
You sighed as the rain drummed against your dorm window, soft thundering sounds echoing in the distance. School was over for the day, your training was canceled no thanks to the rain (though it more likely had to do with the fact that things were rough lately for everyone including the teachers at UA, so maybe this was their way of giving everyone a small break), and it was a drab Friday night with nothing else to do. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true, seeing as you’d been invited to the impromptu movie/dinner night that your class had thrown together at the last minute. You were sure it would be fun; Mina was probably already setting up her laptop for the movie, you could practically smell the delicious food that Bakugou would be making for dinner, and you imagined your best friends Asui, Iida, Izuku, and Ochaco sharing a huge bowl of popcorn, some drinks, and the large cuddle pile they were probably heaped in already. It wasn’t that you wanted to miss out on all of that...in fact, you wanted so desperately to be down there with everyone else. But...
You couldn’t help yourself as you pulled your knees to your chest, your face pressing into them to hide the hot tears streaming down your face. Sometimes, you just felt sad. You didn’t really have a reason for it- nothing had happened out of the ordinary, had it? You wracked your brain for any and every reason you could find, but honestly...there were none. This happened occasionally. You never told anyone, but sometimes the world just felt like it was caving in, and for no good reason either. You didn’t understand it, but you weren’t particularly concerned about it since it didn’t happen often and it usually didn’t last very long (a day at the most). However, it could get in the way of seeing your friends and family, just as it was now. There was no way you were going to go see them all looking like a complete train wreck with your red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You’d been crying since the moment you got back to your dorm, and it showed.
Your phone pulled you from your thoughts as it made a dinging noise, the familiar text tone you picked out for your best friend Izuku sounding throughout your room. You ignored it at first, tears starting to come faster as your sobbed harder and took shaky breaths. You missed your friends. As selfish as it was, you wished they were here with you and not watching a movie with the rest of the class in the common area. Your phone dinged again for a second time, and then a third and a fourth, maybe even more. Eventually you silenced it after hearing it so much, then finally wiped at your eyes before letting out a small whine and picking it up in your hands. If Izuku was texting you this much then you should answer him, even if it was about wanting you to come down and watch the movie with them. Otherwise, he would probably come up and get you himself, and then you would have a hell of a time trying to explain what was wrong and why you were crying your tired eyes out. It would be hard to convince him you were okay after that, and you didn’t want to bother him or anyone else for that matter with this.
Izuku Are you coming down to watch the movie? 5:37pm
Izuku Y/N? 5:50pm
Izuku Are you okay? Please text me back so I know you’re alright. Everyone’s worried about you. 5:52pm
Izuku I’m worried about you... 5:52pm
Izuku If you don’t text back in the next 5 minutes I’m coming up to check on you. 5:55pm
You glanced at the clock in the upper lefthand corner of your phone.
5:59pm
Shit!
You typed out a hastily made response, your thumb hovering over the send button for a moment as you debated whether it was even worth it to do so. What was the point? Nothing was going to change how you were feeling, and the text you had come up with sounded nothing like you. In your saddened state you had typed out a mess of jumbled words, misspelled and haphazardly thrown together; he would know something was wrong from the text anyway. You deemed it better to just ignore the whole thing and go back to wallowing in sadness for the night. So, you lay your head down on your pillow, threw the blanket over yourself, and turned towards the window to stare out of it while you cried silently, your gaze focused on nothing in particular.
Not even a minute later you heard a soft knock at your door. It’s probably Midoriya, you thought, ignoring the growing headache the knocking was causing. If he would just leave you alone to suffer in peace, then you would be fine. It would pass, and you would go back to normal the next day, and no one would ever have to know about this. Another knock resounded, this time louder, and you groaned quietly so he wouldn’t hear you on the other side of the door.
“Y/N...? Are you awake? Please, let me in.” His voice carried in from the hallway, and even though it was muffled by the wall, there was evident concern and fret in it.
Despite the boy’s efforts to get you to let him in your room, you ignored him and continued crying to yourself. You willed him to go away and stay at the same time; you wanted to be left alone, but you didn’t. Wanted him to be there for you and talk to you about it, but you wanted him to leave. Wanted to have support, but didn’t want to ask for it yourself. Feelings were a double edged sword.
Your phone lit up next to you, illuminating the dark room with a brightness that made you screw your eyes shut for a second. It was another message from Izuku.
Izuku I know you’re in there, and I know you’re reading my messages. What’s wrong? 6:01pm
Izuku was no idiot, and he knew you were ignoring him. At this rate he was likely to barge into your room, and you didn’t want that. You just had to convince him to leave, then. But how? Your voice was hoarse from crying all night, and you weren’t sure that you could give a proper “I’m fine” if you tried, anyway. You’d probably end up botching it and crying again halfway through. If you couldn’t verbally tell him you were okay, then what...?
You unlocked your phone with a shaky hand and opened your messages before deleting what you had previously typed, then slowly typed out a short message before finally hitting send.
Y/N Im fine jst tired slepying sorry 6:02pm
Luckily for you, Izuku knew better. You two had been best friends for a long time now, and he knew you like the back of his scarred hands. He knew what could bring a smile to your face, how you liked your tea, what subjects you struggled and excelled in, and which of your friends you were closest to (he especially liked to pride himself in knowing he was number one on that list). Fortunately for you both, the list of things he knew and understood about you included the little mannerisms that you had when something was bothering you.
So when he finally received a response from you with no punctuation and grammar mistakes, he knew something was wrong. That, coupled with how you had been ignoring his texts earlier and then how you suddenly sent back a response in such little time told him that you weren’t okay. It seemed like such a small thing to pick at...such a small thing to overlook. But Izuku had long since learned that sometimes the little things in life could make a world of difference to someone else. Those little things he learned about you were the most important things he knew, because in times like these, they helped him determine what to do for you. He wasted no time in trying your doorknob, and upon finding it unlocked, he let himself in to your darkened room with the excuse that something just didn’t feel right about your situation.
The door shut behind him as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t just let myself in, but you-” He stopped mid sentence as he heard a sniffle, and then a muffled sob coming from the misshapen lump under your covers. “Y-Y/N?” It only took him half a second to figure out that the noise he was hearing was you crying, and by then he was already rushing over to see if you were okay. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? Did I do something? I’m sorry I barged in like that! I was just worried-”
“No, no, no,” you shook your head and denied his apology with more tears, your hand coming up to wipe at your face. “You...you didn’t do anything, so- so please don’t apologize-!” you choked out. “I didn’t want you to see me like this...”
In an effort to hide your ashamed face, you pulled your covers over your chin and buried your face in your pillow so he couldn’t see the damage done by hours worth of crying. The darkness of the room helped a little, shadows dancing on your bed as the stormy weather raged on outside. However, Izuku wordlessly sat next to you on your bed and reached over to your night stand to tug at the cord to your lamp, and suddenly light was illuminating your bed and your figure...including your face. Izuku let out a small gasp at the proper sight of you, concern for you winding his stomach into knots.
“Y/N...” he sighed softly. “Why didn’t you say anything? Have you been crying this whole time?”
You said nothing, only giving a slight nod of your head at his words with your eyes screwed shut, fresh tears welling up. Izuku held back a sniffle himself (always the sympathetic crier) before unexpectedly pulling back your covers and sliding under them next to you. The next thing you knew, he was spooning you from behind with an arm draped over your side, his thumb rubbing soothingly against you while you cried it all out. Any apologies attempted on your behalf after that were hushed quickly by your best friend, and you found yourself quieting down, albeit slowly. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, cuddling in your bed for comfort. The movie you were supposed to be watching with everyone else was long since forgotten about, and you were starting to regret not eating dinner- your stomach was protesting in growls and rumbles at the worst times, but you stayed where you were, afraid to disturb your cuddle buddy if you moved at all. And when your cries turned to small sniffles and your breathing evened out a bit, Izuku finally broke the comfortable silence between you both.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
You pondered the question for a moment before responding. “What’s there to talk about, really?” It wasn’t like you had a legitimate explanation for him; you were sad without a reason. It happened sometimes. There wasn’t much you could do about it.
But Izuku, interpreting your statement in a different way, immediately pulled you closer and nuzzled his face to the back of your neck in reassurance. “You can’t bottle everything up like that. Something is clearly wrong with my best friend, and I’d like to know what so I can help. Please just let me in.”
“Oh, no, that’s not- I didn’t mean...” You tried to explain the best you could. “I appreciate you trying to help, Izuku. I really do. Sometimes I just...get sad. That’s all there is to it. I know it’s stupid, but there’s just no reason behind it. I just...feel sad. Maybe there’s something wrong with me...”
“It’s not stupid,” he rebuked firmly. “It’s more common than you’d think for people to be sad without a reason. We all have days like that, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re any less of a human being because of it, or that there’s something wrong with you.”
“...really?” You rolled over to face him, your eyes meeting his as you looked up at him.
“Of course. But I wish you would have told me sooner so I could have been there to help you through it, Y/N. That’s what I’m here for. You can lean on me for support and ask for help, it’s okay.” He brought a hand to your face and tilted your chin up towards him so he could have all of your focus and attention, and suddenly you were aware of how very close his face was to yours. “I know it might be a lot to ask, but...can you promise me something?”
You stared into his deep emerald eyes, admiring the sincerity and ferocity you saw in them. “Anything,” you murmured. For Izuku, you would give your entire world up and more. Being this close in proximity to him reminded you of your giant crush on the boy; you’d liked him for a long time, ever since you’d met him back in middle school in fact, but you had never mentioned anything to him or asked him out because you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had. There were times where you thought maybe he returned your feelings, but then you would doubt yourself and brush it all off with the excuse that he was like that with everyone; he loved all his friends, was touchy with all of his friends, would go to great lengths to make all of his friends happy. You were nothing special.
“Promise me you’ll tell me when you’re sad next time so I can help you.”
Of course he would ask that of you. And of course you promised you would do so, because this was Izuku- your best friend, current cuddle buddy, and your obvious crush. “I promise.”
“Good.” He patted your cheek playfully and smiled down at you in content. “I heard your stomach grumbling earlier, by the way. You never came down for dinner, did you?”
“No,” you answered simply. You had been too upset to even stop in the common area to greet anyone or say anything before you had headed up to your dorm for the night.
“Then let’s go get you something to eat; I’m pretty sure Kacchan saved you some of what he made for dinner.”
He moved to get up from your bed. You weren’t sure what compelled you to do so, but you were filled with brazenness all of the sudden, unafraid of the consequences of your actions if even just for a small moment. You grabbed Izuku’s arm before he could leave, pulling him back a bit and earning his undivided attention.
“Actually...there’s something I want to tell you first.”
“What is it?”
He looked at you curiously as you bit your bottom lip and thought about how you were going to say this. It was usually best to be direct, right? Well, that’s what you were going to go with then. And if things didn’t work out...you didn’t really want to think about getting rejected. There was a lot you were putting on the line by doing this...your friendship included. You were tired of holding yourself back though, tired of keeping your feelings inside for so long. Maybe it was the cuddling, maybe it was how close your faces had been to each other, or maybe it was the soothing sounds of the rain pouring down from the heavens. Whatever it was, something had made you feel closer to him, and you wanted that all the time. You wanted a warm fuzzy relationship with him full of affection and love and care.
“Izuku. I love you.” Awkward silence filled the room, and before you could be rejected, you started to explain yourself, as if that would help your situation. “I’ve always really liked you, and you’ve always been there for me, and you’re so kind and caring and amazing! But I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think you liked me back, and I was afraid to ruin our friendship. And now I’m afraid I have...agh, what did I do? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, but I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and-”
You were interrupted with a kiss as Izuku quickly pressed his soft lips to yours, and just like that, he was pulling away as fast as he had swooped in.
“S-Sorry! I should have asked fir- Mmph!”
If he thought he could get away with kissing you and not being kissed in return, then he was sorely mistaken. No way in hell were you letting him go now that you knew he returned your feelings.
“I don’t mind at all.” You smiled at him as you pulled away, and he gave you a lopsided grin in return.
“You know I love you too, right?”
“I do now.”
“Don’t you forget it! Now come on,” he said, tugging you up and out of bed gently. “Let’s go fix you some dinner.”
#deku x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#midoriya izuku x reader#izuku midoriya#izuku#midoriya#midoriya izuku#deku#bnha deku#bnha x reader#bnha#mha#mha x reader#request#justananotherdekusimp#answered#sweater writes#midoriya x y/n#bnha reader insert#deku x y/n#izuku x y/n
588 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only You ~ Rowaelin
A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!
@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival
Chapter Fifteen ~ Bridges
Chapter Fourteen ~ Chapter Sixteen
The air was cold and the snow whipped around Aelin’s face as she made her way through the forest to the gate that lead to the city. She had debated using her old shortcut across the river, but it had felt too much like old habits.
Rowan walked by her side, his body a solid presence beside her. He had not said a word since they had left, she had figured it was nothing to do with her but more to do with seeing Sam — who had not made a good first impression on the fae male.
Their footsteps crunched in the snow and Aelin was thankful for her flame in times like these. Rowan seemed unfazed by the cold wind that blew around them— she supposed with his ice magic he was used to it.
The gate had been left open, the wind banging it against the post. Rowan held it open for her and she slipped through. Rowan was a couple of steps behind her but she could feel his gaze on her. She twirled round and stopped.
“You don’t have to do this. I can go alone.”
He shook his head. “You’re not going alone.” He stepped around her and continued towards Orynth.
Aelin jogged to catch up with him, pushing her hair from her face. “Nothing will happen. He’s not going to do anything. I can also protect myself.”
“I’m not worried about that. I know you can protect yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then why are you coming? Sam is going to think—“ She paused.
“What?” Rowan stopped in his tracks.
“You’re jealous.” Aelin made her way to stand in front of him. “You don’t want me to be alone with Sam.”
“Can I not just accompany my mate somewhere without being questioned?”
Aelin laughed. “Of course. But you don’t have to lie to me, I actually find it sweet.”
He glared at her. “It’s not sweet and I’m not here because I’m jealous.”
Aelin began walking ahead. “Whatever you say, Rowan.”
He growled and grasped her arm to spin her around. “I’m not jealous. I just can’t stand the thought of you alone with him after how he made you feel and what he said.”
Aelin tried not to smile at his protectiveness.
“I don’t know why you look so happy about this.”
She nudged his side. “Because I kind of like protective Rowan, it’s a new side to you.” Aelin wrapped her arm through his own. “But you don’t have to feel worried about Sam, he’s harmless. Our romantic ship has sailed and what he said to me… it was probably warranted — considering everything.”
He let out a hmph but held her closer. “I still don’t like how he spoke to you. And I know nothing romantic is going on, but if it was me going to see someone I had been intimate with, would you be totally okay with it?”
Aelin didn’t have a response to that. He was right. She hated the thought of Rowan being with anyone else, or even being in the same room as a woman he had bedded before.
“We’ve only been mated for a few weeks Aelin, the first years can be volatile for a male. So you have to be patient with me.”
Aelin didn’t respond. Houses and small shops started to line the streets as they made their way further into Orynth. The snow was heavier than before, the flakes settling on the cobbled path, the sky dark with clouds.
“Maybe you should wait outside whilst I go in.”
They had stopped outside of the library, the familiar oak door, the sign above, it felt odd to be here during the day— Aelin had been so used to sneaking here in the dead of night, praying that no one would spot her as she crept through the streets of Orynth. Aelin tried not to dwell on the wave of sorrow that went through her. She hadn’t realised she missed it as much as she did. Sam knew her as well as anyone, and she hadn’t realised she missed talking and laughing with him. She lost a friend in the process and it tore at her. She stared at the door a moment longer before turning herself to Rowan.
“I won’t be long.” She raised herself onto her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on Rowan’s mouth. “I love you.”
Rowan’s lips lingered on hers a moment longer before he pulled away.
It was still early in the day and she knew the library would be quiet for a while longer. She hesitated slightly before stepping inside and she sighed at the familiar scent of old books, she took a moment to take it in. It was still one her favourite smells, it felt like a warm embrace.
She couldn’t see anyone inside, the towering bookshelves obscured most of the space; the dark wooden shelves reaching almost to the ceiling, ladders lining those same shelves. It felt like years since she had been here, but it had been less than two months, the thought was jarring— it had been so little time since she had been here… and yet how fast things had changed.
She heard the shuffling of feet somewhere further into the library and her heart began beating faster, her palms becoming sweaty as she anticipated the meeting.
She hadn’t forgotten the last time they had spoken. The way he had looked at her, grovelling on the floor, Aelin begging him not to walk away, the look of utter disgust in his eyes. His parting words to her still stung, and yet there was a sense of anticipation in seeing him again. She took in a long breath and continued forward, stopping when Sam’s figure emerged from an aisle, his face obscured in the shadows. He didn’t see her straight away, his hands full of books as he scanned a different shelf.
She hesitated momentarily.
“Hey, Sam.”
He stilled, his head turning to observe her. His hair was messy and she could see small clumps of dust from where he’d been digging through piles of old books. She stepped closer to him, giving him a small smile as she did.
“Do you have time to talk?” She brushed her hand down the spine of a book as she spoke.
Sam paused before placing the books on the trolley that had been sat to the side of him.
“It won’t take long, but it’s important.”
He looked out behind her, his eyes narrowing at what he saw outside. She turned to look as well. Rowan stood with his arms crossed against the pillar, his eyes locked on Sam.
Sam cleared his throat once. “Have you come to finish what Aedion started?”
Aelin felt her shoulders drop. “Of course not. I actually need your help.”
He turned to walk away, Aelin trailing behind him.
“I’m busy.”
She scoffed. “You look it.”
“I’m sorry if I don’t feel inclined to come to your rescue Aelin. Everything considered, I think I’m being polite.”
Aelin caught his wrist before he walked away again. “Please Sam. Just five minutes.”
He brought his other hand to where she held his wrist and pried her hand off, shoving it away. “I said no. Please just go.”
“Sam…”
“I said get out.” His voice rose as he spoke. His hand shaking slightly as he pointed to the door. “I don’t want to ever see you again, do you understand? Get out of my Gods-damned store and don’t ever think of coming here again.”
The sound of the shop bell rang out in the quiet and heavy footsteps followed.
“You dare speak to her like that?” Aelin didn’t have time to stop Rowan as he stormed toward Sam. “I’ve told you once before and I will say it again. Watch how you speak to your future queen.”
“Rowan.” Aelin hissed.
“So you came to rub it in my face?” Sam scoffed. “I never took you as the type to do such a thing. But I guess there were a lot of things I was wrong about with you.”
Rowan let out a growl. “You are out of line.”
Aelin tried to shove Rowan away, but he stayed firmly where he was. His eyes never leaving Sam’s.
“Sam listen to me. It’s Lysandra.” Sam briefly looked to her, his brows rising slightly. “She’s the one that needs your help. But she couldn’t be here to ask herself.”
Sam backed off slightly, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. “Send your guard dog home and I’ll consider listening to what you have to say.”
Aelin glanced at Rowan, giving a brief nod of her head. She wasn’t in danger, and having Rowan here was making everyone more tense than necessary.
“I won’t be far.”
Sam gave a sarcastic smile. “I’m sure you won’t.”
Aelin gave Rowan another weary look, trying to hasten his exit. When the door slammed closed she let out a breath. She could see Sam assessing the situation once more, he watched intently as Rowan walked down the street and then disappearing into the alley.
“Can we sit?” Aelin asked hopefully.
“No. You can talk to me here.”
Aelin let out a huff and found a stool to perch on anyway whilst Sam stood leaning against a wall, his arms crossed and looking anywhere but at her. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him— it was not why she had come.
“Why does Lysandra need help?”
Aelin hesitated slightly before coming out with it. “She’s pregnant. And she doesn’t want anyone in the palace knowing about it, and there’s nowhere else she can go where it can be kept a secret.”
“And why would it be any better here? Surely the same problems arise no matter where she goes.” He shifted his arms to his side and stood up straighter. “Can’t she just marry whoever the father is?”
Aelin shrugged. “Maybe. But you know Lysandra, she doesn’t want to burden anyone and I don’t think she feels like she is good enough for them.”
Sam gave her a curious look. “Who’s the father, Aelin?”
“I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you. But Aedion is the father.”
Sam let out a short laugh. “Not a surprise at all.” He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, stretching out his legs. “I don’t see why they couldn’t just get married. Lysandra is basically your sister, everyone loves her.”
“Not everyone loves her. There are a lot of people who would be opposed to the marriage— especially now…” She trailed off, not sure how to continue.
“You can say it.”
She thought for a moment. “Especially now that I can be of no use to marry for an alliance. A lot of the lords are hoping Aedion will marry a foreign princess and make alliances instead. Convincing them to give Aedion and Lysandra their blessing will be hard.”
“I still fail to see where I come into this.”
“Lysandra just wants somewhere to lay low for a while. But we need her to be within reach of healers and we need to be able to see her without suspicion… and you were the best idea we came up with. Or actually, the best idea Rowan came up with.”
Sam shook his head. “He probably just wants to keep a closer eye on me. Make sure I don’t start moving in on you.”
Aelin couldn’t help the redness in her cheeks. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re too good of a man to try and steal someone away.”
“Or not enough of a man to keep them in the first place.”
Aelin was silent for a moment. “You know that’s not true.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have you anymore, so I’d say it is.”
“You were the last person I wanted to hurt.” Her voice somber.
He shrugged. “I think we both knew things were coming to an end anyway. I couldn’t be what you needed. I was making you give up too much to be with me, and it was unfair to do that.”
Aelin slid off the stool and onto the floor next to him. “You have no idea how much I wanted the life you told me about. To travel the world and have a family, live on a little farm with our animals, living completely free. I wanted it all.” She played with the hem of her sleeves. “I had so many arguments with my parents about not wanting to be the heir, begging them to give it to Aedion or to Elide. I was so in love with you, Sam, and it pains me that I couldn’t give you the life you wanted either.” She glanced to the side, Sam was already staring back at her. His eyes turning watery. “I wanted to tell you about Rowan. I had planned a whole speech and was going to explain everything to you.”
He wiped at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be so cruel that night. I was angry because I’d foolishly thought I could come to you and convince you that we were it, that it didn’t matter about ranks or thrones or any of that— I was going to try and sweep you off your feet and hope you would change your mind.” Sam closed his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face. “I think we were doomed from the start, weren’t we?”
She gave him a half smile. “Maybe,” she leant forward. “But if I could go back… I would never change any of it. You made me very happy Sam, and I will be grateful that I was able to be loved by you.”
Sam looked at her then, studying her face for a moment. “It was an honour to be loved by you, too. It really was.” He smiled at her, a smile she hadn’t seen in a long time. “He better treat you right. Or I’ll have no choice but to beat him.”
Aelin laughed, a deep hearty laugh. “He’s certainly no match for you Sam.”
Sam laughed too and the two of them laughed together, just like they had before. And when they managed their composure, their laughs giving way to silence, Sam stood and offered his hand to Aelin; she took it gladly, savouring the touch, remembering the feel of his hand in hers.
“Lysandra can stay here for as long as she likes. You and Aedion are welcome to visit whenever you want. But maybe you can leave Rowan behind… I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet.”
Aelin nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Sam.” She didn’t give him time to stop her as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Nuzzling her head into his neck like she used to, breathing in his scent. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”
Sam wrapped his arms around her, squeezing gently. “I would do anything for you, Aelin.”
She pulled away. “I know. And if there’s ever anything you need…”
Sam smiled in reply. “I guess you better get going,” he nodded in the vague direction of Rowan. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Aelin snorted. “I’m sure he’ll survive.”
“Should I expect Lys this evening?”
“She’ll be here before dinner I imagine. I’ll stop by tomorrow and let you know the details of what will happen.” She paused before the door. “You just have to say the word and we’ll figure something else out. I know this is a huge imposition on you.”
Sam just shook his head. “It’s fine. It’ll be nice to have some company around here for once.”
Aelin pulled the door open and the cold winter air wrapped itself around her. The snow was falling faster and the streets were covered in a thick blanket of white now. “I’ll see you soon.” She lifted a hand in farewell and stepped into the frigid winter air.
She paused a moment, composing herself before finding Rowan. She was relieved that Sam was okay. That he wasn’t angry at her, and that they were able to be civil. Perhaps in time they’d find their way back to friends— but she wouldn’t push it.
She found Rowan waiting in an alley a couple of streets down from the library. She had followed his scent, finding him leaning against a brick wall, inspecting a dagger she had not realised he had been carrying.
“I hope you put that away when people come past.”
He twirled the dagger between his fingers before slipping it into the inside of his jacket. “I know how to behave in front of people, Aelin.” He pushed off the wall and ran his gaze over her. “You’re okay?”
Aelin rolled her eyes. “I told you he wouldn’t hurt me.” She still slipped her hand into his own and pulled them toward the street. “Everything is fine. Lysandra can stay there as long as she likes. I’ll inform my healer that she’ll be needing to make a trip into the city every couple of weeks, and come up with something to tell Orlon and the other court members.”
Rowan looked skeptical. “This plan works fine until she actually has the child. How do you explain then?”
“By the time she has the baby we will have thought of something. Perhaps they’ll get married and then it won’t be a problem.”
“I thought you said the lords would never approve a marriage between them?”
“I can be quite persuasive.”
Rowan didn’t say anything as they walked through the streets of Orynth. Aelin stopped at one shop to pick up Lysandra’s favourite chocolates and snuck some for herself into the purchase.
The streets were quiet as they meandered through. The snow enough to keep people away and inside their homes, huddling by the fires, if the smoke from the chimneys was anything to go by.
Just as they were reaching the edge of the city, Rowan let go of her hand and exclaimed there was something he had to do, telling her to go ahead and he would see her at the palace. Aelin had narrowed her eyes at him and reluctantly agreed. Giving him a chaste kiss before returning.
Even with her flame she was thankful for the warmth of the palace. The hallways were cast in a soft orange glow, the curtains drawn to reduce the cold that seeped in through the windows. The halls were unusually empty, much like the streets of Orynth, but she supposed on a day like today guests would be huddled in their rooms or in the many drawing rooms that dotted the palace.
She shook off her damp cloak as she entered Lysandra’s rooms; hanging it by the fire in the hopes it would dry. The room was vastly different to her own, the colours more subdued, the windows smaller, hidden behind shorter cream curtains. Touches of Lysandra were thrown in here and there — a blanket that her mother had made when she was a baby was thrown across the end of the bed, a rug of dark red lay across almost the entire floor and the trinkets she had collected from various cities, lined along the mantel.
“Did it go okay?” Sat on the two chairs near the flames were Aedion and Lysandra. Her cousin was holding Lysandra’s hands in his own, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.
Aelin took a seat on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “Everything is good. He was happy to have you stay as long as you pleased.”
They both let out a sigh of relief at the news. “Thank you.” Aedion was helping Lysandra to her feet. “We’ll head there now. I’ll try to be back for supper.”
Aelin stood with them, her eyes going to Lysandra who’s face was pale, a thin sheen of sweat lining her forehead.
“Lys? Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Probably just morning sickness.” She turned to Aedion who had a bag in one and her cloak in the other. “Can you give us a moment?”
“I’ll be outside.”
Lysandra moved to the edge of the bed, placing herself down. Aelin wordlessly joined her, the two of them sitting and watching as the snow floated down outside.
“You don’t have to go Lys. We can figure it all out here… You won’t show for a while yet.”
Lysandra just shook her head. “It’s easier if I’m not here. I don’t want people talking, and I don’t want to have to deal with the looks of pity I’ll get.”
Aelin scoffed. “If anyone did that, they’d have me to contend with.”
Lysandra managed a small smile.
“Sam will take good care of you. He was happy for the company.”
“Thank you for going. I know how things were left…”
“It’s all good now Lys. We talked a little and I think we have accepted how things are.”
Lysandra fiddled with her sleeves, the silence stretching a little too long before she began to speak. “I know you must think I’m being difficult or crazy for not just marrying Aedion and that I’m making a fuss about not wanting people to find out,” she took a breath. “But I see the way people look at me. The way they whisper as I walk past. It doesn’t matter that I’m friends with you or if Aedion and I are together, they’ll still only look at me as the orphaned servant girl who got lucky.”
“Lys—“
“I could marry a king and they would still look at me like I am nothing. All I can think of is if it’s like this now, then what will they say when I start showing? When I have the baby? Not only that, but the Lords of Terrasen would never agree to let me marry Aedion anyway— so it’s never been about whether I want to or not. I know I am not good enough for him, and it’s easier if I just go somewhere else for a while and make this whole thing easier.”
“Do you think Aedion gives a shit what everyone else says? Do you think I give a shit what they say?” When Lysandra didn’t respond, Aelin continued. “You worry about what people will think, how Terrasen will be if you married him but I can promise you, it will survive. Do you think Orlon would’ve married Darrow if he knew that it would ruin Terrasen?”
“That’s different.”
“Maybe so. But you have to know that you have people on your side. If you change your mind about this all, we’ll do our best to support you.”
“Thank you.” Lysandra paused a moment. “You can tell Orlon. He has always been kind to me, and I trust that he’ll do what’s best for everyone.”
“Everything will work out, just wait and see.”
Aelin embraced Lysandra, lingering a few moments longer before exiting the room with her. Snuffing out the flames with her magic as they closed the door.
Aedion was waiting on a bench just down the hall and as they approached he wrapped the cloak around Lysandra. He turned to Aelin, nodding once in acknowledgment for what Aelin had done. That conversation would come later. But for now, Aelin watched as they walked away, eventually disappearing.
#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#rowan x aelin#aelin x rowan#aelin ashryver#aelin and rowan#aelin galathynius#aelin ashryver galathynius#sarah j maas#sjm#sjmaas#heir of fire#queen of shadows#empire of storms#kingdom of ash#tower of dawn#throne of glass fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#lysaedion#Lysandra#aedion ashryver#lysandra x aedion#only you#only you fanfic
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Somewhere In Time: Eight
“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”
-Henry David Thoreau
Previous Chapters HERE
***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***
1:38pm, January 6th, 1925
Roni finds herself much more confident as she wanders the streets today. She’s got the wad of Harry’s cash in her pocket that he’d left on the dining room table for her-- along with a note that told her to spend it on something delicious for dinner. She isn’t exactly sure where the supermarket is, but somehow she doesn’t have any sort of problem asking for directions now.
The tension between her and Harry had subsided by the morning. Something about the rest of the night following their confessions of how they felt for one another felt too intimate-- too fragile to be spoiled with any other words. And that had been fine by Roni; she had already been feeling vulnerable and was worried that even the smallest thing would send her rocketing into the moon with embarrassment. Harry had seemed to be on the same page as her, and the only communication between the two for the next few minutes had been soft kisses-- expressing everything they’d wanted to say without words.
They’d fallen asleep holding one another, and Harry had woken Roni with a soft kiss this morning before slipping off to work. The dynamic between them feels different now in the best kind of way, but somehow Roni can’t seem to shake the vulnerability she feels.
The afternoon air feels colder than usual, and looking back Roni realizes she should have snagged one of Harry’s coats from his bedroom closet before she’d left. She settles instead for wrapping her soft coverup a bit tighter around her shoulders and shoving her icy hands into the pockets, putting a bit more pep into her step as she walks against the wind.
The supermarket isn’t very difficult to find, and Roni is delighted in herself after only having to ask one woman for directions. The building is much bigger than she’d anticipated and she feels only slightly overwhelmed upon entering. She picks up a small basket and scans the aisles for a place to start.
Harry had only requested “something delicious” for dinner, but he hadn’t specified what he enjoyed-- which, up until now, Roni hadn’t seen as a problem. Admittedly, she hadn’t given much thought to the situation, and now that she’s faced with seemingly endless aisles, she’s hit with the realization that she can’t just microwave something and call it a day.
She doesn’t have too much trouble getting a few things into her basket, and she begins to form a general idea of something delicious she can make for the two of them to share. She wants to make sure the evening is romantic, so she splurges a bit and buys a few new candles to light and place in the middle of their table.
It’s when Roni finds herself debating between two different brands of milk that she suddenly gets the unshakeable feeling of being watched.
She grows instantly nervous, praying to God that it isn’t Howard again (or someone else who’s decided to be equally creepy). She halts her movements, hoping that the feeling will pass. When it doesn’t, however, she turns slowly on her heel to find where the feeling is coming from.
Roni is instantly relieved when she’s greeted by a small girl-- seemingly no older than about six. The little girl looks nervously up at Roni, as if she wants to say something but is too afraid, and Roni smiles warmly at her.
“Hi there,” she greets in the voice reserved mostly for children.
The little girl takes her bottom lip between her teeth as if contemplating if she fully wants to commit to talking to this stranger. Roni offers her a gentle smile, trying to express to her that she isn’t going to hurt her, and the little girl softens a bit. She points shyly at Roni’s hand.
“I like your ring, ma’am,” she says quietly.
“My ring?” Roni glances down at her mood ring, and tries to hide the sudden jolt of panic down her spine when she realizes that mood rings haven’t yet been invented. She smiles sweetly back at the child and decides that the best course of action would be to explain it to her. “Thank you!! It’s called a mood ring.”
“A mood ring?” The child speaks at a more normal volume now, and she takes a hesitant but curious step in Roni’s direction. “What’s that?”
“Well,” Roni says slowly. “You put it on, and it changes colors according to what you’re feeling.”
The little girl’s eyes stayed glued to the jewel on Roni’s finger, and she lets out a soft but astonished little gasp. “Really?”
“M-hm! Would you like to try it?”
Now the child’s eyes shoot up to meet Roni’s, and her smile deepens. “May I, please?”
“Of course!” Roni twists the ring off of her finger and hands it to the child, placing it in the center of her palm. “It might be a little bit big for you, love. Close your hand around it,” she closes her own hand and the child follows, “and now hold it to your chest. Like this.” Roni demonstrates her words and the little girl mirrors her eagerly. “There you go!” Roni beams. “Now we just wait for a couple of seconds.”
“How do you know what the colors mean?”
“I used to have a guide,” Roni explains. “But then I memorized it and I didn’t need it anymore.”
“Wow,” the little girl breathes, looking down at her tiny first as if it contains all the secrets of the universe. “Is this magic?”
Roni chuckles softly under her breath. Because sure, it’s just a cheap stone that changes colors due to some type of reaction to temperatures or something of the sort. (She’s never actually looked into it really.) But she remembers being this little girl’s age. She remembers the magic she thought was inside of the mood ring every time her mother wore it; the magic she believed her mother possessed. She remembers how absolutely mind blowing this concept was to her, and thinks how incredible it must be to a child in 1925.
So she nods. “It is,” she says quietly. “But it only works if you believe in it with all of your heart.”
The little girl wastes no time in squeezing her eyes shut tight and Roni works to suppress the giggle threatening to bubble out as she watches her. She takes this time to really look at the child, trying to identify the strange but familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. There’s something about this little girl, maybe she’s famous or she’s a child in one of the yellowing photographs on the book shop wall. She’s got dirty blonde hair and a tiny nose, and Roni is almost certain she’s seen this child before, but she cannot put her finger on where.
Roni is completely lost in her thoughts when the little girl peeks one brown eye open and looks back at her. “Is it done yet?”
Roni laughs, taking the child’s fist in her hand and tapping her fingers to signal her to open them up. “I think you should be all set, let’s see what you got!”
Both the child and Roni peek at the stone in the little girl’s hand, trying to decipher if the color they see is purple or pink. “I think it’s pink!” The little girl says excitedly. “What does that mean?”
“Pink means you’re happy!” Roni beams. “Are you happy?”
When the child nods, her blond curls bounce. “M-hm! I want one of those rings for myself so I can show Linda at school! Wouldn’t she be surprised?”
For a split second Roni considers offering the ring to the child. As quickly as the thought comes, however, it is replaced with a mental slap to the face. On what planet would she feel comfortable enough to give her mother’s ring to a stranger? And anyway, if she were to give it to her, what would happen to her timeline? Mood rings aren’t invented yet and won't be invented for another fifty years or so. So Roni laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably, and nods. “Oh I’m sure she would be, love! But you might have to wait until you’re a bit older.”
The little girl frowns. “Why?”
And truthfully, Roni doesn’t have an answer. Not any answer that would make any type of logical sense, anway.
“Well, it’s--”
“There you are!” The sound of heels quickly approaching saves Roni from her current predicament, and Roni rises to her feet when she hears them.
A well dressed woman comes scurrying down the long aisle, dressed in a coat and heels and also looking strangely familiar. She doesn’t even seem to notice Roni at all, her eyes are glued to the little girl and she seems both relieved and annoyed.
“How many times have I told you not to wander away from me?” she says as she approaches. She takes the little girl’s hand in her own. “You scared me half to death!”
The child nods up at Roni. “But this nice lady was--”
The woman sighs, obviously frustrated, and cuts her off. “You can’t go around talking to strangers like that. I’m sure this nice lady is very busy, so you apologize for bothering her right now.”
“Oh it’s no problem!” Roni speaks up. “Honestly. We had a lovely conversation.”
The little girl beams. “M-hm! And she showed me her magic ring!” She holds the ring up to her mother and Roni holds her breath, praying that this woman thinks nothing of the ring that has yet to be invented.
Luckily, the woman seems quite disinterested. “Judy, darling, you give this nice lady her ring back at once.”
Roni’s blood instantly runs cold at the woman’s words.
Surely it can’t be…
The little girl, Judy, sighs defeatedly. She doesn’t look up at Roni again, but she holds the ring out for Roni to take. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
Roni moves as if in slow motion, taking her ring back and placing it numbly back on her finger. She swallows thickly, looking from the little girl to her mother. The girl’s mother makes eye contact with Roni for the first time in this entire interaction, and suddenly a strange look crosses her face as well.
Roni recalls a story that her grandmother had told her when she’d first started showing interest in time travel.
“To answer your first question,” she says, “I don’t know what I believe.” She gives Roni’s hand a squeeze before adding pointedly, “But, I know I met someone when I was a little girl. She was… this beautiful woman with the kindest heart. And she had a mood ring, similar to the one your mother wore. Those hadn’t been invented yet, which hadn’t occurred to me until I was several years older. And she seemed…” Judy trails off again, smiling to herself. “Otherworldly. I don’t know how to explain what I saw in her. I don’t think I ever will.”
“Was it mom?” Roni’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and Judy shakes her head.
“It definitely wasn’t your mother. I don’t know who she was. Just a stranger, I think. But I could just tell that she knew something I didn’t. I’ve always wondered what happened to her. Where she came from. Where she went.”
The way Judy’s mother looks at Roni is all the confirmation Roni needs.
She’s meeting her grandmother and her great grandmother, and they have no idea.
“I’m--” the mother stammers, “I’m so sorry, darling, what is your name? You look awfully familiar.”
Roni clears her throat, trying to cover how nervous she is. “Veronica,” she says. “Veronica…. Styles.”
It’s the first name she can think of, and she fears (most likely irrationally) that if she reveals her true last name, something in her timeline will shift. So she sticks to her guns, hoping that she doesn’t seem suspicious.
The older woman blinks a few times, obviously trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. There’s a long pause that feels like hours, and Roni’s face grows uncomfortably hot. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until the woman speaks.
“Forgive me for staring,” she says, “it’s just that…” She trails off, shaking her head.
Roni blinks, forcing a stiff smile. She wants to say something-- literally anything at all, but nothing is coming out. The woman laughs in spite of herself.
“It can’t be,” she says, as if to herself.
Roni can’t help herself. “What can’t be?”
“Oh, I apologize. It’s just that… well, you look an awful lot like my sister Hazel.”
In spite of the tension, Roni can’t help but to laugh softly in disbelief. Her entire life, her grandma Judy had told her that she looked like “Aunt Hazel.” Hazel had died a few years before Roni was born, but even from the pictures Roni was shown, she knew the resemblance was uncanny. Which is why this is all the proof she needs.
“Oh really?” Roni smiles, trying to keep the conversation light and casual. “Oh how very interesting. Did you know that it was proven that there are roughly seven people in the entire world who look exactly like you?”
The woman blinks back at Roni, then laughs hesitantly. “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.”
“Oh.” There’s a brief pause, and then Roni laughs awkwardly. “Well in any case, maybe I’m miss Hazel’s doppelganger!”
“Yes,” the woman says, still eyeing Roni with a nervous smile, as if completely unsure about her still. “Well in any case, I’m so sorry that my Judy bothered you.”
“It was no trouble,” Roni says. She turns down to Judy. “It was very lovely chatting with you Judy!”
Judy smiles shyly up at Roni, and her mother nudges her. “What do you say, dear?”
“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” Judy mumbles.
The older woman finishes up the conversation and guides Judy away from Roni, not without glancing back over her shoulder a few times back at this bizarre girl with the bizarre ring who looks bizarrely like her sister.
Roni has to resist the urge to glance back as well, trying desperately not to make the situation any weirder than it is. She can feel herself growing dizzy, and the moment that Judy and her mother are out of her sight, Roni grasps onto the shelf to balance herself.
This situation may just take the cake as far as surreal experiences over the past few days goes. Roni had pictured this very story in her head many times, wondering what the “beautiful woman” her grandmother had described looked like. The thought, however, was never actively at the front of her brain-- rather, it was tucked away in the corners of her mind. And now to find out that it was, in fact, her this entire time, she feels faint. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head as she tries to process what just occurred.
Roni is brought from her thoughts when she hears somebody clear their throat. She looks up to see a stern looking woman glancing expectantly at her, and realizes at the same time that she is blocking the canned soup.
Roni straightens up immediately, straightening out her dress. “My apologies,” she mutters, scooping up her basket and making her way hurriedly out of the aisle.
----
It takes Roni about twenty more minutes to finish up her shopping, and as she heads out into the cold day she dreads the walk home; even though it isn’t far at all, she has tons of bags that are already leaving marks on her arm. She takes a deep breath and blows it out in a puff of air that is visible in front of her before beginning her journey.
“Roni!”
Roni freezes in her tracks just as quickly as she began when she hears her name being called from behind her, and she prays that it isn’t another member of her family. She turns slowly as she hears footsteps approaching her, and is relieved to find Daisy Hartford scurrying towards her.
Daisy seems out of breath when she reaches Roni “Hello, dear! So nice to see you!”
She envelops Roni in a hug, and kisses her cheek, taking Roni by surprise. Roni smiles warmly, strangely comforted by Daisy’s presence. “Daisy! How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine, just fine!” Daisy speaks quickly and excitedly. “Larry has taken over the shop today, so I was finally able to get out and complete some errands. You know your Harry is such a quick learner, we basically cut his training short! And he’s in good hands with my Larry. I stopped in for a bit this morning and the two were chatting like old pals! Isn’t that funny? Harry and Larry?”
Roni giggles, her head practically whirling from how quickly Daisy is speaking and her heart full because of course Daisy and her husband have fallen under Harry’s spell. She nods. “Harry is quite the hard worker,” she agrees. “I’m awfully proud of him.”
“As you should be, honey! And Larry and I just adore him. We’ve been talking about having you both over for dinner sometime soon, in fact!”
Daisy’s words are a bitter reminder of how short Roni’s time here remains, and she has to swallow down the lump that begins to rise in her throat. She laughs, brushing it off. “Yes,” she says, “That would be lovely.” Immediately an idea pops into her head that helps her both change the subject and calm some of her anxieties.
“Hey, speaking of dinner…”
“Yes, dear?”
Roni doesn’t know why this makes her so nervous to ask, but she knows she’ll be glad she did. “Well, I’m fixing a chicken for dinner this evening, and--”
“Ooh!” Daisy squeals, clapping her hands together. “I love a good chicken dinner!”
Roni smiles. “So do I! But the trouble is, I’m not a very good cook.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but for the life of her Roni cannot seem to figure out a better way to explain to Daisy that she doesn’t know how on earth to work many of the gadgets in these old fashioned kitchens. She continues her speech. “I’m not terrible, it’s just that… well, cooking these rather large meals for two has proved more difficult than I’d imagined.”
Daisy giggles. “I know what you mean. Before I married Larry, I had no earthly idea how to cook. I had to buy dozens of cookbooks, and even then I would still ruin the meals sometimes! It just takes a bit of practice, my love. I’ll let you borrow some books if you’d like!”
Roni shakes her head. “No, no. You keep your books. I was just wondering if maybe you’d have any advice for me? I never really get to do this sort of thing for Harry, so I’m trying to surprise him and make it special, you know?”
Daisy squeals again. “Well darling, why didn’t you say so? I just love surprises. Of course I’d be willing to help you!
Roni lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Daisy. You’re an angel.”
“Oh it’s nothing, honey! Why don’t you come with me to my place? I’ll write down one of my favorite recipes.”
“That would be lovely! I want to impress him, you know?”
Daisy nods enthusiastically. “I know!” she giggles. “What are you going to wear?”
Blood rushes to Roni’s cheeks at Daisy’s words. She only has two dresses, both of which Harry not only has seen her in but bought for her, and she suddenly feels self conscious. “I… I was just thinking of wearing this.”
Daisy gasps dramatically, as if Roni has just told her something completely awful. “Oh, honey, no! I mean, not that you don’t look beautiful of course, but this sounds like a special occasion. Haven’t you got anything more… I don’t know, vibrant?”
Roni knows that Daisy means no harm, but she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt. Still, she giggles. “I’m afraid not,” she says. “When I moved in with Harry I…” she trails off, trying to come up with the perfect way to describe this. “I had to leave a lot of my clothes at home. So, this is really all I’ve got.”
“Oh you poor dear.” Daisy frowns, but it is quickly replaced by her bright smile before Roni can even take offense. “Say, I’ve got an idea! We seem to be about the same size, and have I got the perfect dress for you! The color will go so beautifully with your complexion. I bought it for one of my first dates with Larry but I haven’t worn it since. Oh honey, you’ll look like an angel in it! It was made for you, I’m sure. Say yes?”
Roni smiles at Daisy’s generosity, but she does feel bad. “Oh, I don’t want to put you out--”
“It’s no trouble!” Daisy reaches for Roni’s hand, tugging a bit. “Oh, you’ll look divine. Like a dream! And I can do your hair for you if you’d like! Harry will die when he sees you. Simply die!”
Roni giggles to herself. Truth be told, she does want to get all dressed up for Harry. She knows he would be so surprised and pleased to see her dressed head to toe in an authentic dress that isn’t one that he bought for her. Plus, her inner child is begging her to play dress up, just to see what she’s going to look like in the end. It sounds fun, and Daisy seems far too enthusiastic for Roni to turn her down.
So she nods. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t, doll! But we’d better hurry, Harry gets off at 7!”
----
It doesn’t take long to get to Daisy’s house, and the interior of the small bungalow looks exactly how Roni would picture Daisy’s home to look. It’s well decorated, with everything in its place-- and it smells floral. The window sills are littered with plants, and the shelves with books. One book lays open in the middle of the coffee table, which Daisy apologizes for. “I always tell Larry to clean up after himself but… well, you know men.”
Daisy tells Roni to make herself at home while she puts her groceries away, and Roni marvels at the tiny kitchen. She observes all the plates and dishes that would be considered antique in her day, and the cookbooks with recipes that she can hardly even read. She stops when she notices the camera from the book shop sitting on a ledge, with a few black and white photographs scattered around it. Beside the mess, a large black pen sits— which Roni figures Daisy was using to date the photos.
Some of the photographs are of Daisy and Larry, smiling together and doing various things around the house. Some are pictures of patrons at the book shop. And then, a picture that makes Roni’s heart instantly skip a beat.
There’s the picture of Harry, standing in his little cap beside the pile of books, taken yesterday at the shop. The picture that Roni had looked at countless times in the future. Now her favorite picture to ever exist.
She squints to see the date that Daisy had written on the bottom, and it makes her giggle.
“You got it wrong,” Roni says.
“Hm?” Daisy turns, only halfway listening as she busies herself with the groceries.
“The date. On this picture of Harry. You wrote 1924. It’s 1925.”
“Oh!” Daisy smacks her forehead, wincing at herself. “Silly me. I keep doing that! Can’t seem to remember that it’s the new year!” She drops the loaf of bread she’s currently holding onto the counter and makes her way over to Roni. “I’ll scratch it out and correct it now.”
“Wait!” Roni doesn’t mean to speak with such a sense of urgency, but when she does it takes both her and Daisy by surprise. Roni scrambles to think of an explanation— a way to put into words the fact that she’s always seen this photograph dated 1924, even in 1999. If something as simple as that changes now, she’s afraid of the domino effect that could potentially change other things as well.
So Roni laughs, almost uncomfortably, trying to brush off her sense of urgency. “I just… feel like that would ruin the whole… aesthetic?... of the picture. You know?”
Daisy’s face scrunches up. “The what?”
Roni tries again. ‘Well I mean, it’s just such a cute picture. I think if you were to scratch out the date and rewrite it, it’ll make it look… well, sloppy. Do you know what I mean? I say just leave it. No ones going to really notice. If anything it just makes it look like Harry’s worked for you longer, you know? Which isn’t a bad thing. I feel like that’s actually a great thing. For you and the company.”
She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but god she’s so nervous the more she thinks about this. As little of a deal as it may seem, she really doesn’t feel like messing with the fabric of her future like this. If the photograph is dated 1924 in 1999, then that must mean it was never corrected. And that means--
Daisy giggles, taking Roni from her thoughts. “My goodness,” she says. “You’ve got it so bad for this boy, haven’t you?”
This takes Roni by surprise, but it’s a welcome change of subject. “Is it that obvious?” She shrugs.
“Oh, darling. I see the way you look at him. And look at you now! You see one picture of him and you’ve gone all silly!”
Roni isn’t sure if she should take offense or not, and Daisy laughs again. “It’s a good thing! Means you’re with the right man. I get the same way around my honey.”
The heat radiating off of Roni’s cheeks is almost uncomfortable, and she giggles awkwardly. Because Daisy does have a point. Daisy beams. “See? Look at you, just the mention of his name and you get as giggly as a school girl. It’s adorable.”
“Yeah,” Roni says. “I guess so.”
“But you are right, I suppose.” Daisy nods her head. “It would look sort of sloppy wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” Roni says, and Daisy nods again.
“Right. Well, then, I suppose I’ll just have to leave it then, won’t I? Sort of like a fun little secret for just us! Although it isn’t a very funny secret.”
“No,” Roni agrees, “it’s not. But it’s like a hidden easter egg that only we know about!”
Daisy claps her hands together. “Oh, Roni, I just love the way you think!”
Roni laughs, taking Daisy’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. As Daisy lets her residual giggles die down, she speaks. “Now, don’t you think we ought to get started? Not that we have a lot of work to do, what with your natural beauty and all. But there is so much to teach you, in such little time!”
“Yes, I reckon we’d better get on with it.”
Daisy needs no other encouragement, she’s already squealing and dragging Roni back into the kitchen, rambling on and on a mile a minute about everything they’re going to be doing. “First we’ll get the recipe squared away. Then I can do your hair, while you copy down the recipe with a pen. Then we’ll dress you. Oh I just can’t wait to see what you’ll look like! And then--”
Half of Roni wonders what exactly she’s gotten herself into with this plan. But Daisy seems so excited, and she knows that Harry will be, too. So she allows herself to relax into the moment, still relieved that the fate of the universe (and the inaccurate date on the photograph) is safe for one more day.
---
It’s about 7:30pm when Roni finally hears Harry’s keys in the door, and the nervous feeling in the pit of Roni’s belly only intensifies. After leaving Daisy’s, she’d spent the better half of her day cooking, setting up the apartment, and overthinking everything. Daisy had given her all the tools she needed for success tonight, but something in her is causing her anxiety to completely spike. The long candles on the table flicker vigorously, and the soft music of the victrola in the corner of the room echoes softly. In the five seconds that it takes Harry to get his door unlocked, Roni’s thoughts run a mile a minute.
What if Harry thinks her outfit looks silly? What if the meal tastes like garbage? What if the house doesn’t smell good enough? What if--
Roni doesn’t have time to continue worrying when she sees the door open, and when Harry walks in, her heart rate increases.
He looks cold, his nose red and shiny and his curls extra curly under his little cap. He doesn’t seem to notice anything different at first, and he seems a bit winded as he locks the door behind him. He begins removing his coat, turning on his heels and then stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Roni.
Roni smiles nervously back at him, looking like an absolute vision. She’s in a pink silk dress that fits her perfectly, hugging her every curve in the exact right places. The fabric shimmers in the dim light of the apartment, and the soft frills along the trim of the skirt make Harry’s heart skip a beat. While Roni had hand copied Daisy’s favorite chicken recipe, Daisy had insisted on styling Roni’s hair (which Roni had happily agreed to), and now it looks so perfectly gelled and in place. In perfect 1920s fashion, it’s wavy at the top and curled at the bottom-- just ghosting against the top of her bare shoulders (both of which are just begging to be kissed). Harry can tell she’s nervous and feels a bit out of place, but that makes her look all the more adorably beautiful, and he practically runs to her the moment he gets his coat off.
Harry goes to hurriedly drape his coat on the coat rack, but he misses and it falls to the floor with a thud. Roni giggles, and in a blink Harry has closed the space between them, kissing her smile and pulling her in by her hips.
Roni’s bubbly giggles die down as she kisses him back, but neither of them can contain their smiles. Harry pulls away but doesn’t once remove his hands from her waist. “Veronica,” he breathes. “Bunny, what is this?”
“Do you like it?” Roni steps back, taking the skirt of her dress in her hands and giving it a little swish. “Do I look alright?”
“Baby,” Harry breathes, eyeing her up and down and taking his time with it. “You’re a vision.”
Roni’s cheeks grow hot, and she giggles nervously. “Never had my hair done this way before,” she admits. “I thought it might look silly, but I actually kind of like it.”
“It suits you,” Harry says, nodding. He’s beaming at her like she hung the moon, and it makes her giggle.
After a long beat of silence, Roni squirms under Harry’s gaze. “Why are you staring at me?” she pouts.
“Is that not what you want?” he replies, matter-of-factly. His dimple pops, looking extra kissable, and Roni wants nothing more than to reach up and poke at it.
“Well--”
Harry steps forward, raising his hand to lightly trail his fingertips along the skin of her exposed arm. He scratches lightly at the strap of the dress against her shoulder, smiling when he notices the goosebumps prickling her skin. “Can’t believe you did all this for me.” He leans forward, ghosting his lips along her neck. “Why?”
“I just… wanted to do something special,” Roni says quietly, fidgeting softly with her ring and barely glancing up at Harry beneath her lashes. “I don’t want to focus on like, the bad stuff. I want to be happy right now while I’ve still got you. Is that okay?”
Harry doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry so he settles on gripping Roni’s hips and pulling her impossibly closer for a long kiss. She’s so lovely, and she looks and smells like an absolute dream. When he pulls away, Harry buries his nose in the crook of her neck just to get a whiff of what smells so deliciously like Roni and some expensive perfume he’s never learned the name of.
“That sounds lovely, honey.”
She smiles at nothing in particular. “Yeah?”
When he pulls away, he’s got a soft-eyed expression mixed with an overwhelmed smile on his face. “Yeah.”
Roni frowns. “Now don’t go all misty on me. I’m serious. The whole point of this was to not do that! To just pretend for like, one night that everything is okay.”
Harry chuckles, slipping a hand around Roni’s waist and pulling her closer again. He presses a velvety kiss to the wrinkles on her forehead, and smiles when he feels them soften. “I haven’t gone misty,” he says. “Just… just lucky. That’s all.”
Roni sighs, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her skin. Something about all of this feels so strangely right; the clothes that she never thought would look good on her, the way her hair is done up with multiple pins practically stabbing her scalp, the gentle music from this era playing softly through the apartment. She refuses to think about what’s coming in the next few days, and fully immerses herself in the daydream that she is, in fact, Harry’s wife.
She clears her throat, busying herself instead with the food in the kitchen. “I made us some chicken for tonight with some roasted vegetables! Although now that I think about it, I suppose I should’ve asked if you even liked chicken. Which, if you don’t, that’s completely fine. We can have something else. But the veggies should be good!”
Harry laughs. “Slow down, my sweet girl. Why are you so nervous?” He takes a step towards her. “It’s just me.”
“I know,” she says softly. “I just… want this to be perfect, you know?”
“Well,” he says, “if it’s even half as good as it smells, then I’d say it’s more than perfect.” He grins. “Even if it’s not. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Roni smiles, obviously proud of herself. “And!” she says, turning to flip the stove off. “Daisy taught me how to work the victrola. It’s not as hard as it looks, but it did take me a minute to figure out. It’s kind of intimidating.”
Harry doesn’t respond, he just watches her with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face as she continues to ramble about her day. He really doesn’t know why she seems so anxious about all of this, and he’s hardly listening to her as he admires how beautiful she looks. The mere sight of her-- dressed like this, cooking for him, going out of her way to ensure that this is the perfect evening-- is enough to call tears to his eyes, and he has to refrain from thinking too hard about the situation lest they spill down his cheeks.
With oven mitts that are far too big for her hands, Roni removes the chicken from Harry’s humble stove, and Harry’s mouth waters at the sight of it. “How did you--”
“Daisy,” she answers. “She gave me the recipe.” Roni looks at him with eyes the size of saucers. “I hope it’s good.”
“Please,” Harry says, closing the space between them. “Stop worrying.” He leans in, kissing her nose softly before speaking again, just above a whisper. “I love you.”
His words make Roni’s heart skip a beat. She’d nearly forgotten their love confessions from the previous night, and now hearing Harry say these words to her again makes her just as giddy as before.
“I love you, too,” she says, and Harry hums-- leaning in to kiss at her neck.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, too.” Roni giggles.
“One more time? Didn’t quite catch that.” He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear and she laughs loudly.
“I love you, you lunatic!” She squeals when Harry squeezes at her hips, pinning her to his body. “No!”
Harry laughs, freeing her finally but only enough to take her hand in his. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes in the light. “God,” he says, “this dress makes you look like a princess.”
“You mean I didn’t before?” She teases.
“No, no, you did, but this-- wow.”
It’s all so amusing to Roni. He hadn’t thought much of the skimpy, futuristic dress she’d arrived in. But this dress, one that exposes only her bare shoulders and nothing more, has him utterly gobsmacked, and she’s so endeared by it.
“I made sure to get one that showed a bit of skin.” She pokes at his tummy. “Know you’re into that sort of thing.”
Harry snorts. “Please. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d be into it.”
“Oh yeah?” Roni wiggles her eyebrows. “Kinky thing, aren’t you?”
This time, Harry’s face does twist up in confusion. “Kinky?”
“You’ve never heard that word before?”
“No I have, I just… feel like I haven’t heard it… in the context that you just said it? What does it mean?”
Roni grows a little bit self conscious, but she laughs in spite of herself. “It means like… you’re into some crazy stuff in bed. Like, you’re turned on by something other than just… vanilla stuff? I guess?” Harry stares blankly back at her, and her cheeks grow hot. “You knnoooow,” she tries again. “Kinky!”
“Are you kinky?” Harry asks, lips curling up into his signature dimpled smirk.
And shit, this is not the conversation she’d been expecting to have with Harry tonight.
Not that she’s complaining, of course.
“I mean…” She involuntarily swallows the lump in her throat, and it makes an almost choking noise. Harry beams. “Yeah. Kinda. Yeah.”
“Really?” Harry leans casually against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “What sort of things do you enjoy?”
Roni averts her gaze, focusing on the cooling chicken on top of the stove. She has an answer for him, of course, but she’s realizing that it’s much harder to put into words than she’d been anticipating. At home with Oliver, they’d been together for so long that they sort of grew into their kinks together. They learned what the other liked without ever having to really articulate it much. But now, having to explain it, to have to put it into words for Harry while he’s grinning at her-- and looking like that-- makes Roni’s skin itch.
“Veronica.” Harry softens a bit, but his dimple never leaves his cheek. “You don’t have to tell me, bunny.”
And now she frowns. “No, no! I want to. I just… I don’t know, it’s weird. I’ve never had to like, communicate it before.”
“I see.”
Harry doesn’t say anything else, but he watches her with a look that is both simultaneously daunting and comforting. Roni licks her lips and takes a deep breath.
“I’m into like… fairly normal kinky stuff, I guess. Like nothing too wild. But I like being--” her voice goes significantly quieter, “-teased… and… sometimes choked….”
Harry visibly tenses, but he remains as cool as possible-- his smirk only deepening. “Choked, huh? Never thought anyone could enjoy that.”
“It’s pretty common,” Roni explains quickly. “Like, I swear people like it. I’m not weird.”
“Never said you were weird.” Harry’s eyes twinkle, and Roni becomes painfully aware of the heat that is radiating off of her cheeks.
“Um…” she continues again, still hesitant. “So yeah. I like that. And sometimes I like being… uh….” She practically whispers the last word. “Spanked.”
Now, Harry does physically react. He raises his eyebrows, and his bottom lip juts out as if impressed. “Y’like being spanked huh? Never knew anyone who enjoyed that either.”
“I mean, if you think it’s weird--”
“It’s not weird,” Harry insists, shaking his head. “Believe me. It’s probably the least weird thing I could imagine. Will you relax?” He closes the space between them once again, taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles up to his lipps. “It’s probably one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard in my life, if I’m honest. And I don’t even understand why.”
Roni chuckles. “That’s kind of the point, I think. No one really gets why. But it’s like, taboo, you know? And that’s the fun of it.”
“Mm.” Harry grins. “Anything else I should know about?”
Roni’s stomach twists at his words. “Um…” She gulps. “I mean…” Her voice is so quiet that Harry has to lean in closer to hear her. “I like being tied up.”
“Tied up? Like… restrained while you’re being fucked?”
Roni turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “I mean when you say it out loud it sounds kinda funky but--”
“No no!” Harry assures her. “My god, bunny, no. Are you joking? M’getting hard just thinking about seeing you all tied up for me.”
“A boner before dinner?” Roni teases, trying to lighten the situation to cover up her obvious nerves. “After I worked so hard?”
“That might be part of it actually,” Harry chuckles. “A delicious meal made by a delicious girl who likes to be… what was the word? Kinky?”
Roni giggles. “Kinky. Yeah.”
Harry grins. “Yeah. Fucking love it.”
There’s a charged silence that lingers between the two of them, and Roni grows increasingly anxious (in the best sort of way). She clears her throat. “Anyway! Dinner is going to get cold, so we should probably--”
Harry cuts her off with a heated kiss directly to her still open mouth. He’s smiling, and it makes Roni giggle, especially when he reaches up to cup her cheek. When he pulls away, it's with a strained effort, and it makes him smile even more to realize Roni doesn’t want the kiss to end either.
“It smells delicious, bunny.”
“I hope it is.”
“It will be.” Harry grins. “Shall I set the table?”
Roni beams. “I already did, my love. All you have to do is get comfortable and come join me.”
“Get comfortable?” Harry smirks. “Y’mean I can come back naked?”
Roni squirms as she lets out a scoff to cover her embarrassment. “What-EVER. No! That’s not what I meant. Go put on some comfy clothes.”
“Well, you don’t look very comfy.”
“I am!”
“Are you? Sure you wouldn’t be comfier naked?”
“Harry.”
Harry giggles like a little boy and dodges the towel that Roni snaps at his behind. “Alright alright. I’ll be right back.”
“You better be, little shit.”
Harry scurries out of the room while Roni rolls her eyes and turns to the chicken on the stove. She works her hardest to prepare it, trying not to allow her thoughts to linger on the way he looked in his work clothes-- his cute little cap hanging sideways on his head, parallel with the smirk on his cheeks.
Roni serves up their plates, lighting a few more candles around the room and setting everything on the table perfectly. She tries to contain her joy when Harry re-enters the room. He licks his lips the moment he sees his plate on the table, and he beams at her. “Looks delicious, Veronica. You and the meal.”
Roni smiles as she sets her drink down beside her own plate. “Yeah?”
Harry grins, pulling her seat out. “Yeah.”
Roni giggles, wasting no time in settling herself into the seat. “You’re so cute, Harry. Fuck.”
This makes Harry snort as he helps Roni push her seat into the table. “That’s all you, princess.”
Roni grows visibly embarrassed, which only causes Harry’s smirk to deepen and his dimple to pop even harder. “Like that, don’t you? ‘Princess.’”
“It’s just cute, is all. Never been called that before.”
“Well,” Harry says, taking his own seat, “It suits you.”
Roni squirms in her seat, and Harry jokingly fluffs out his napkin. He juts out his bottom lip in a smug grin, tucking the napkin into his shirt collar and causing Roni to laugh.
“So formal,” she comments.
“Seems fitting. Would you like me to tuck yours in for you as well?”
The connotations behind his words do not go unnoticed by Roni, and he beams, causing her to roll her eyes.
“Anyway,” she says, embarrassment prickling her ears, “Bon appetit.”
Harry moans the moment he shovels the first fork-full of chicken into his mouth, despite Roni’s warnings that it’s going to be hot and he needs to blow on it. He’s making obscene noises as he chews, and whether it’s for dramatic affect or not, Roni isn’t sure. In any case, though, it does wonders for her ego the way he’s rolling his eyes and licking his lips.
“Veronica.” Harry speaks before swallowing. “Baby. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Roni grins, realizing that she still hasn’t even taken a bite because she’s been too busy blowing on the chicken and eyeing Harry anxiously. “Yeah?”
Harry swallows. “My god,” he says, not a trace of over exaggeration on his pretty face. “I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a meal this delicious.”
“I’m so glad!” It touches Roni’s heart and also kind of makes her sad. This meal really isn’t anything out of the ordinary, and she realizes that he’s so happy because she made it. He’s lived alone for years, and she knows he’s hardly (if at all) been loved like this. He’s only had to take care of himself, and she wonders if he’s ever had someone in his life to care for him like this.
“I mean it,” Harry says. “I could cry. Never tasted anything this good in my life.’
Now Roni giggles. “It’s just chicken, my love.”
“No, you must’ve put something special in it. Extra love or something, I don’t know. I don’t know what you did, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Roni’s curiosity gets the best of her. “Harry?”
“Mm?” He hums around another mouthful.
“Have you never had… a woman in your life?”
Harry snorts at her question, but he slows his chewing for a brief moment, considering her words. He doesn’t seem to take offense, which is a relief. He thinks about his answer as he chews, waiting to speak once he’s swallowed. “I have. Sort of.”
“Yeah?”
“Had a girlfriend a few years back. She was older. We didn’t date for very long. She would’ve never done anything like what you’ve done for me tonight.”
Roni grins. “What, make you dinner?”
“Well, that, but also…” Harry gestures vaguely towards Roni. “This. What you’ve done with your hair. And the dress. You’re so thoughtful. She never was.”
Roni reaches forward, placing her hand lightly on Harry’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright!” Any trace of sadness on Harry’s face is immediately wiped clean and replaced with a smile. “Worked out anyway. She cheated on me. Twice. So. Obviously she wasn’t very happy either.” He chuckles, preparing his next bite already.
Roni only frowns. “That’s awful, Harry.”
“Was pretty awful, yeah. But I’m glad now. Taught me a lot, you know?” He smiles at her. “Just glad I have you now.”
“Yeah,” Roni says quietly. “Me too.”
The rest of the dinner is just as lovely as the start, and Roni does have to admit that she did a pretty damn good job with the food. Harry talks about his day at work while continuously complimenting Roni’s cooking, and he also listens-- completely intrigued-- when she mentions the little girl at the grocery store.
“No kidding,” Harry says. “You really think it was your grandma?”
Roni nods. “I do. I know it was her, because I grew up hearing the story of the lady in the grocery store.”
Harry grins. “Sick!”
His words make Roni giggle. “You’re starting to sound like me.”
Harry’s cheeks go the lightest shade of crimson at her words, but he takes it in stride. “Can’t help it,” he admits. Your futuristic verbiage inspires me.”
After dinner, Harry refuses to allow Roni to touch a single dish. He washes them in the kitchen sink, jokingly shoving Roni out of the way every time she tries to help.
“You worked so hard on dinner,” he insists. “If you so much as look at these dishes one more time, I’ll—“
“You’ll what?” Roni challenges, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You won’t do anything. You looooove me too much.”
Her teases are childish but they make both of them giggle. Harry doesn’t say anything, instead just dipping his hand into the soapy water and flicking some suds onto her. Roni shrieks, and Harry grins. “I do love you,” he says, before she can get a word in. “Too much.”
Roni busies herself with picking another record to play while Harry finishes up the dishes, and she tries to keep her questions to a minimum. She’d had no issues with this earlier, why is she struggling with it now?
Although, to be fair, it had been fresh in her mind earlier. Now all of her thoughts are clouded with Harry and how absolutely delicious he looks right now.
Harry, of course, sees her struggling. But he knows how stubborn she is, and he knows that if she wanted help she would ask for it. So he just chuckles quietly to himself as she tries to figure it out, and he grins when he hears her let out a triumphant “A-HA!”
After a few more seconds, the song whirs to life. Harry recognizes it almost instantly, and he lets out a cackle. “Veronica--”
Roni is swaying her hips, bopping around the living room while I’m Just Wild About Harry fills the silence. Harry watches her dance with an amused expression, and she laughs, singing along to a few of the words. “It’s a good song, huh?” she asks. “Never heard it until today. Daisy showed me. She actually lent it to me so I could do this. Neat, huh? How like, accurate to our situation it is and stuff.”
Harry shuts off the water in the sink, drying his hands before making his way slowly into the living room. He takes Roni’s wiggling hips in his hands, and laughs when she doesn’t stop dancing. “This is my song to you,” she states. “I’m just wild about you, lover boy.”
Harry giggles, swaying a bit with her as well. “Well,” he says, “The feeling is mutual.”
Roni continues to bop around the living room, with Harry only half heartedly dancing with her. He watches her intently the entire time, and his stare makes her almost nervous. She tries to stay as playful as possible, but the way he’s smirking at her makes her giggly and excited. Finally, she groans. “Whaaaaaat?”
Harry throws back his head and laughs, taking her hips in his hands once again. “Just love you,” he admits, kissing her forehead. “Can’t believe how lucky I am.”
“You’re staring at me like a weirdo,” Roni points out, and the smile on her face lets him know that she isn’t upset about it in the least.
“Can’t help it,” he says. “Have you seen yourself?”
“You’re one to talk!” Roni hip checks him and he snorts. “Anyway, you’re being very rude not participating in this dance with me.”
“I’m dancing!” Harry insists.
“Yeah, but not enough! You know, if there was a song that was like I’m Just Wild About Roni or something, I’d be shaking my little ass all over this house.”
Harry chokes on a laugh, and Roni immediately kisses against his open mouth. “Come onnnn,” she giggles, “You’ve gotta get into it!”
Harry watches her, an amused smirk on his face, and she turns it into a game. She wiggles her hips tauntingly, moving closer to him and then backing away when he reaches for her. It makes him chuckle, but he holds on to his facade as long as possible. “If you keep moving like that, I’ll cum untouched,” he teases.
“What, like this?” Roni wiggles ungracefully, and Harry laughs. He can’t stop himself from launching forward now. He takes her hips in his hands, squeezing and yanking her towards him-- causing her to squeal.
“Harry!” she giggles, stumbling into his arms. “Fuck!”
He laughs heartily as he steadies her, wrapping his arms around her and successfully trapping her against his body. She squirms in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but he holds her steadfast, kissing her temple a few times until both of their giggles settle down.
When the aftershocks of Roni’s giggles have subsided into soft hums of contentment, she lifts her head to smile at Harry. The way he’s looking down at her causes him to get the most adorable double chin, and she noses at it softly. He squeezes her tighter, pulling her in to button their lips together.
The kiss grows more intense with each second that passes, and Harry’s thoughts begin to run wild. With a gentle touch, he trails his fingertips slowly up Roni’s back, testing the waters by gripping the back of her neck firmly. He feels her stiffen only slightly, her breath hitching softly in her throat before she relaxes into his grasp. She lets out a barely-there groan when he squeezes, and he knows he’s got her.
“Can I tell you something?” Harry breathes, using his other hand to squeeze teasingly at her ass.
“Hm?”
“I couldn’t want you any more than I do tonight.”
He can feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks, but he doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s gripping her neck tighter, gently guiding her backwards a bit. They stumble awkwardly through the living room together, never once breaking the kiss.
Roni giggles, and even Harry can’t help but to smile, when their teeth knock together-- making a noise that echoes somewhat uncomfortably. It’s then that Harry notices the song has come to an end, and he gets an idea.
He pulls away slowly, heart melting when he sees Roni lean in for another kiss before realizing he’s stopped. She looks up at him with doe eyes, and he almost forgets what he was even going to say.
“Got an idea,” he says. “Going to set the mood.”
“The mood is already set, baby,” Roni insists, but Harry is already moving. He’s hurrying over to his records, thumbing through them haphazardly until he lets out a quiet-- but triumphant-- “Ah! There it is.”
Roni, growing impatient and almost uncomfortably wet, tries to catch a glimpse of the music he holds in his hands, but it’s no use. So she lets out an indignant huff that causes Harry to smirk.
“Patience, pretty baby,” he coos. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”
Something about the tone with which he presents these words to her causes Roni to shiver, and she doesn’t even mean to moan the way she does-- light and airy and almost pornographic sounding (but in a sweet way). The moan doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, because of course it doesn’t, and he chuckles to himself just out of her earshot.
“Can’t make love to my girl without a good song playing.”
“Can’t you, though?” Roni teases, and Harry shoots her a cheeky glance over his shoulder before busying to work switching out the records.
“Well, I mean, I could,” he says, “but what’s the fun in that? Besides…” He drops the needle in place, turning around with a smirk as the slow, sexy song begins. “...Gonna need something to drown out her screams from how good m’making her feel.”
Roni giggles nervously— not because what he said was funny, but because she knows he’s right, and the anticipation mixed with the thick tension charging the air is making her tummy twist.
Harry turns slowly on his heel, a mischievous grin on his face as if he’s about to pounce on her. Roni takes a cautious step backwards and Harry confirms her suspicions, bounding for her and immediately devouring her in kisses.
It starts out playful, but the kisses soon grow hungrier and hungrier— and then suddenly they’re groping at one another like two horny teenagers left unsupervised for the first time. Roni haphazardly tugs at the buttons of Harry’s shirt while he uses his hands to guide them both awkwardly towards the sofa without opening his eyes or removing his lips from hers.
There is a gentle bump when the back of Roni’s legs hit the sofa, and Harry gently turns them both around. He plops ungracefully onto the couch, large ringed fingers on either side of Roni’s hips as he tugs her onto his lap. She complies with little persuasion needed, straddling his waist and cupping the back of his neck with her hands. Her thumbs brush against the untamable curls at the base, and he shivers ever so softly when she purposely scratches. All the while their lips never separate, and as Harry licks his way into her mouth, Roni leans impossibly closer to him.
His fingers squeeze the fleshier part of her hips before ducking lower to the curve of her ass, cupping it gently beneath his palms. He pulls away only slightly when he speaks. “Jesus, Veronica.”
“Is this okay?” Roni bumps her nose playfully against Harry’s and he chuckles.
“‘Course it is. Just never seen anyone so perfect. Think you were made for me.”
“Think so, too,” Roni mumbles against the base of his throat, dragging her lips up the sensitive skin and nibbling gently at his ear.
Harry hums low in his throat, squeezing Roni’s ass through the thick fabric of her skirt. “This fucking dress,” he mumbles, and Roni can hear feel the vibration of his voice as she kisses against his neck.
It makes Roni smile to herself at how easy it is to turn him on-- especially wearing something as simple as this. This dress, of course, is incredibly beautiful but in her time it would be considered far too modest and less than sexy. Harry, however, is transfixed on the sight before him, and he seems completely head over heels in love with Roni as he trails his fingertips along the frills on the skirt.
Roni allows Harry a few moments of wonder before she gets right back to work, leaning in and sucking the spot below his ear. “You’re one to talk,” she mumbles, trailing her lips up to the shell of his ear. She takes his earlobe between her teeth and nibbles gently, and Harry involuntarily squeezes at her hips, causing her to roll them against him.
Harry tilts his head, taking Roni’s bottom lip between his own and sucking. Just as his tongue begins to gently trace its way into her mouth, his big hands slide up her back tenderly-- causing her to shiver. She gulps, opening her mouth further and allowing him to lick his way in, greeting his tongue with a graceful swirl of her own. He hums again, and she can feel a faint whisper of a grin tugging on his mouth.
As Roni rolls her center along his ever growing bulge, he chuckles almost darkly against her lips. “Christ,” he mutters, “What are you doing to me?”
“Feel good?” she asks, lips ghosting his.
“Going to make me finish before I’m ready,” he admits. “You’re a devil.”
Roni hums. “Kiss me again.”
Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, and he leans in to button their lips together once more. He allows his hands to gather up all the ruffles along the trim of her skirt, bunching them up in one hand so he can lift it effortlessly. Roni’s’ backside feels instantly colder, and she glances down to the spot where her core meets his. He gulps, realizing that she’s wearing stockings and no underwear, and Roni instantly grows embarrassed.
“Gonna make a mess on your pants if we keep going like this,” she admits breathlessly.
“S’okay,” Harry says, eyes glued to her pussy. “It’s fuckin’ sexy.”
With his words, Roni gives another harsh roll of her hips, and Harry’s head falls back onto the couch. He closes his eyes for a split second, trying to make a mental image of the sight of her juices slick against his trousers, and then licks his lips before speaking.
“Wanna--” he gulps, “--wanna try something. Can we?”
“Anything,” Roni whispers.
Harry doesn’t speak again, launching right into whatever it is he wants to try. He takes Roni’s hips in his hands again and shifts her, ever so slightly, until she’s straddling only one of his knees. She takes care not to accidentally knee him in the balls, which proves hard with his ever growing bulge getting bigger and bigger. She already feels soaked, and she grows embarrassed at the slightly sticky stain already forming on his trousers.
“Harry, what--”
“I want to watch you,” he breathes, looking up at her from under his lashes. “Want to watch you try and get yourself off on my thigh.”
Roni lets out a breath. “I don’t want to make a mess.”
“But I want you to.” His stare is so intense, she has to avert her eyes, and he leans forward to gently bump her nose with his own. “Please,” he says. “Just try for me.”
Roni eyes him hesitantly, before positioning herself better and beginning the rocking of her hips. Her breath comes out shaky, and it’s Harry who lets out a low groan. His eyes flicker continuously between her face and her pussy, and the mere sight of him makes her all the more wet.
“Feel good, princess?”
Roni shivers at her new nickname. On any other occasion, she feels she would’ve found it cringey, but now, coming from his lips, it makes her fucking melt. Roni nods, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and focusing as much as she can on getting the friction she’s craving. It does feel good, but truth be told it’s nowhere near enough, and she doesn’t think she’s actually going to be able to get herself off by this alone.
“I--” she breathes, already feeling winded, “I need more.”
Harry raises his knee slightly, and Roni rolls her hips a bit harsher, inhaling sharply at the slight increase of friction.
“Like that?” Harry asks quietly.
Roni nods. “M-hm. Just like that.”
“You’re a vision, Veronica,” Harry breathes. “Look at you.”
She gives an extra hard rock of her hips. It still feels good, but all she wants right now is him. She reaches forward to take one of his hands from her hip and gently guides it down to her clit.
Harry grins. “Needy,” he tuts.
“Please,” she whimpers. “Feels good but… it’s not enough.”
There is something different in Harry’s eyes tonight, and it excites Roni more than she’s willing to admit. He gently rolls his fingers along her clit, and she arches her back. She gulps.
“Why don’t we see how far we can take this,” Harry says slowly, “Until you can’t possibly take it anymore.”
Roni whines when Harry pulls his fingers away, laying her head down to bury her face in his neck. “You tease.”
She can hear him chuckle softly, reaching to grip her hips and guide her along his thigh. “And you thought I was bad the other night.”
“Gonna ruin your pants.”
“Don’t care about my trousers,” Harry states. “Already said that. Want you all over them.”
Roni wiggles a bit uncomfortably, searching for that friction against her clit again. She bites lightly at the spot on Harry’s neck that she knows makes him whimper, and she tries to refrain from leaving a mark.
“Can’t believe how wet you are,” Harry breathes. “Can feel you through the fabric.”
“Harry--”
“Keep going,” he says. “Please, honey.”
It almost seems that Harry is getting more pleasure from this than Roni herself is, and she bites at the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. She knows this is driving him crazy, and she realizes that, despite all the sex they’ve been having the past few days, this might just be the kinkiest he’s ever gotten with her, which somehow turns her on even more.
Roni throws her head back, giving a particularly hard roll of her hips and letting a long moan drip from her lips when she hits her clit from a good angle. “God, baby,” she whines.
Harry licks his lips and squeezes her that much tighter. “Tell me, princess.”
“Please…” She’s wiggling ungracefully now, trying so hard to get some friction. She reaches once again for his hand, completely unashamed of how desperate she must be coming across. But Harry gives the back of her hand a little slap before pulling it away.
He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh,” he says. “What did I just say?”
It makes Roni shiver, the tone he’s using and the darkness in his eyes. Obviously he’d been paying attention to what she said she liked earlier because he’s brought out the big guns now. It fuels Roni even harder-- lights a fire under her ass that makes her want to disobey him more just so he can put her in her place.
“Please,” she whines. “It’s not enough.”
She goes to reach for his hand a third time, and this time he’s quicker than her. He takes her wrist in his hand-- wrapping his fingers fully around the width of it, and bends her arm at the elbow so that he’s got it pinned behind her back. He does the same with her opposite hand before she even has time to process it, and effortlessly holds them both in one of his large fists.
Harry tuts at her, shaking his head. “Why is my girl suddenly being so bad?” he asks. “Hm? Not doing what she’s told. Surely she’s not asking for a spanking… is she?”
Roni groans, her hips growing tired from the constant movement, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Harry… please baby--”
He gives her wrists a tug, securing her even tighter. He bumps her nose with his own, teasing her. Roni chases his lips with her own, begging for a kiss, but he keeps his face just out of reach. He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver down Roni’s spine, but then he speaks so tenderly it melts her heart.
“Is this still okay, honey?”
“Of course it is,” Roni whispers. “Wish I could touch you, but--”
“But you like being restrained, don’t you princess?”
He speaks so formally, which somehow adds to the eroticism of the moment. Roni has never experienced anything like this. She moans, uninhibited. “I do, Harry. I really do.”
“Of course you do,” he chuckles darkly. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”
He is looking at her intensely but there’s a hint of curiosity behind his eyes that makes this all the better. He’s testing the waters, and it’s working for Roni in a way that nothing has ever worked before. “I’m your good girl,” she pants. “Please touch me.”
“Ohh,” Harry tuts. “Now, bunny, you can take a little more teasing can’t you?”
“I can’t,” Roni whines.
“You can,” Harry says, bumping her nose with his own. “Know you can.”
Roni lets out a cry that makes even her feel pitiful. She’s never like this-- truly-- but Harry makes her feel something unlike anything she’s ever experienced. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she whimpers in frustration, her hips growing tired from their movement. She struggles against Harry’s fists, but he’s got a firm hold on her, and he grins sadistically.
“Getting tired?”
“I’m close,” she pants, “But it isn’t enough. Harry-- please--”
“Hm.” Harry narrows his eyes, blinking slowly at her as he watches her struggle. “You have been good, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Roni cries.
“Wasn’t actually asking you, sweetheart.” Without warning, Harry uses his free hand to smack lightly at the side of Roni’s bum, causing her to gasp. There isn’t enough force to actually hurt her, and the layers of her skirt sort of soften the blow, but it leaves behind a little sting that causes an involuntary moan to escape Roni’s lips.
Harry looks up at her from under his lashes, a devilish smirk on his face but a hint of innocence in his eyes. “Was that okay?”
Roni nods, gulping harder than she intends. “Yes,” she moans, “it was perfect. Do it again.”
Harry smiles, his dominant side vanishing for just a moment as he leans in to press a kiss to Roni’s lips. “I like this kinky side of you.” He denies her request, kissing the corner of her lips as she squirms against his lap. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
Roni can’t help the moan that bubbles up from her throat when he reaches down to rub at the spot he’s just slapped. How could someone be so sexy, yet so incredibly sweet at the same time? Her clit is practically throbbing, and the spot on Harry’s trousers that is consistently being rubbed by her core grows hotter and wetter by the second. She’s relieved when Harry lets go of her wrists-- using one hand to take her hip and the other to rub against her clit.
The whimper that leaves her lips is filthy and pathetic, and Harry uses the hand that rests on her hip to guide her movements while he rubs against her clit. He watches her face intently, with his lips parted ever so slightly. His cock is plumping up nicely in his trousers, and Roni squirms a bit more in an attempt to place some friction on it for him. She fights to keep her eyes open as Harry rubs circles on her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head when he gives a particularly fast rub.
His own breathing picks up intensity, and he subconsciously licks his lips as he watches her. Roni starts babbling, voice on the verge of tears as she grinds against Harry’s fingers, and he silences her with another harsh slap to her bottom. She yelps, and he moans low in his throat.
“Go on, princess,” he says, voice thick and dark. “Use my thigh. Use my fingers. Cum all over me, baby, know you can.”
It’s only a few more seconds before Roni’s thighs are quivering, and she has to hold onto Harry’s shoulders to keep her balance while her orgasm washes over her. Her head lulls dully to the side, and her vision goes white hot. She doesn’t even try to quiet her moans, she lets them pour out long and full while she grinds her pussy against Harry, riding out a most delicious orgasm.
And not once does Harry remove his eyes from her face.
When the orgasm has finished, she collapses, spent, onto Harry’s shoulders. He removes his fingers from her clit (not ignoring the way she twitches as he moves) and notices his hand is sort of cramping. Using his free hand, he scratches tenderly at her back, giving her a few moments to catch her breath. He trails his hand down gently to the spot on her ass that he’s smacked, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, soothing over the stinging as best he can.
They both seem to realize that the song has long since ended, but neither seems to care. After a few more moments, Roni hardly makes any effort to move. But Harry can tell she’s still needy for him by the way she begins suckling at his neck. He allows her to trail a few wet kisses along his skin there, before leaning back gently. “Veronica? Hey, baby, can you sit up for me please?”
Roni lifts her head slowly, and the dazed out, blissful look in her eyes is almost too much for Harry to handle. He smiles, kissing at her eyelids and loving the way her lashes flutter closed. When he pulls back, he scans her face again. “All this from one orgasm?”
Roni nods sleepily. “Want more,” she says. “Please.”
“Ohhh,” Harry says with a grin. “My needy girl. Look so pretty right now, you know that?”
“Felt good,” Roni mumbles, already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She stops when she looks down at his trousers, frowning when she sees just how soaked she’s gotten them.
“What?” As soon as Harry’s asked, his eyes are looking at the same thing hers are, only he’s grinning and she’s not.
“Messy,” Roni observes quietly.
“Mm.” Harry hums low in his throat. “But I asked you to, didn’t I? Told you I wanted it.”
“Yeah but--”
“And it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”
“Oh my god, yes,” Roni says, a shiver running down her spine as if the mere thought of it is causing aftershocks. “I don’t understand.”
Harry reaches up, trailing his fingertips delicately along her shoulders, tickling at her back lightly, and scratching tenderly at the back of her neck. “What? What don’t you understand?”
“How every time is just… so fucking good. I don’t know how you do that. It’s never been so intense, or.. Or…” She runs out of words, lost in thought and melting at the way he’s touching her skin.
Harry smiles patiently. “Or what, baby? Say it.”
“Just…” Roni shakes her head, still at a loss for words, and she giggles at herself. “I don’t know, Harry. You’re just so good. I love it. I love you. That was incredible. I mean, seriously, that was so intense yet so simple. It literally was--”
“Foreplay,” Harry says, cutting her off. His fingers wrap gently around her throat, giving it a slight squeeze that makes her jaw drop. “That was just foreplay, baby.”
In an instant he’s moving, never once removing his hand from her throat. He’s squirming to get his pants undone with one hand, but given the somewhat awkward position he’s in, he can’t. Roni wastes no time, reaching down to do the job herself, and Harry beams. “That’s right,” Harry says, his voice low in the back of his throat. “Get me undone, will you?.”
Roni fumbles with the zipper and the button, but she seems in a daze with the way Harry’s hand feels around her neck. He’s almost worried that he’s doing too much, maybe squeezing a bit too hard or whatever, when he hears it.
“Harder,” she whispers. “Harry… Can you choke me harder? Please?”
Harry can’t even attempt to hide his surprise. “H-harder?” he stutters.
“Please,” she whines. They seem to remember at the same time that her hands are on the buttons of his pants, and she hurries to finish the job she started.
As soon as his pants are unfastened he removes his hand from her neck and scrambles, somewhat awkwardly, to get them off. Roni has to shuffle off of him briefly as he kicks the pants off, and before she can even do anything, Harry is yanking her by her hips back on top of him. She shrieks as she falls onto him, minding his now bare cock tickling between her legs, and she reaches behind her to undo the buttons of her dress.
“Now me,” she breathes. “Let’s get this off so I can—“
Harry reaches up, taking her hand in his. “No,” he says quietly. “Leave it. Wanna fuck you in it.”
Roni shivers, licking at her lips before gulping and smiling faintly. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Harry nods, lowering her hands. “May I?”
The fact that he’s even asking melts Roni’s heart, and all she can manage is a soft nod. Then Harry’s off, gripping her hips and shuffling both of them so that she’s hovering over him.
They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, brushing their noses together before Roni shifts slightly, sinking down onto him.
He instantly lets out a moan as she sinks lower, and her breath hitches as she tries to adjust to the size of him. She grips his shoulders, and Harry doesn’t dare move-- giving her a moment to get used to the feeling. She licks her lips, and Harry bumps her nose with his own, coaxing her as gently as he can.
“Doin’ so good,” he says softly. “Feel good?”
“Mhm.” Roni sighs, “Feels so good.”
“Can you move, bunny? Need a minute?”
“It’s good,” Roni breathes, kissing at his jaw. “I’m good. Fuck.”
She starts rocking her hips gently, which takes Harry by surprise. He inhales sharply through his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he whines, practically choking on his own pleasure. “Keep going.”
Roni rolls her hips again, shuddering when she manages to sink just a fraction of a bit deeper on him. She glances down at where their bodies are connected-- although it’s mostly covered by the thick fabric of her skirt.
Harry seems to read her mind, because he removes a hand from her hip and presses it gently to her lower abdomen. “Feel me here?” he asks. “In your tummy?”
Roni nods, obviously overly-sensitive, as tears brim her eyes. “Feels so fucking good,” she whimpers.
Harry is almost shocked at how filthy they’re being. Sure they’ve talked dirty before, many times, but tonight feels different. Especially now that Harry knows what Roni is really into.
Which reminds him…
Harry reaches up under Roni’s thick skirt, gripping at the skin of her ass and digging his nails in, only slightly-- before giving her bare skin a nice smack.
Roni gasps, clearly taken aback, and Harry grins against her mouth. “Y’like that?”
He isn’t only asking because it’s part of talking dirty-- he’s also asking because he’s genuinely curious that he’s doing alright. Although, if the moans dripping from Roni’s pretty lips are any sort of indication as to how she’s feeling right now, Harry assumes he’s doing a pretty decent job.
Roni nods, head lulling back as she rides him. “Fuck—fuck!”
Harry rubs over the spot he’s just smacked before striking another blow. Roni hisses through her teeth, whimpering a soft, “oh god, Harry” through choking moans.
Harry gulps, clearly losing his composure but trying with all his might to keep up the dominance act. “Love the way you squeeze me when I do that,” he groans. “Could get used to that.”
Roni lets out a pitiful grunt, dropping her head to rest her forehead against Harry’s shoulder. “Please,” she cries. “Feels so good.”
Harry grips onto her hips so tightly it makes her yelp, and he’s certain there’s going to be bruises left behind tomorrow. He guides her hips gently as she rides him, and he trembles with each roll of her hips.
Roni tilts her head to sponge wet, lazy kisses along his neck and the underside of his ear, and the sound of her labored breathing turns Harry on more than he’s ever thought possible. She takes his earlobe lightly between her teeth, and he can’t help the little moan that escapes between his grunts as he relishes in the feeling of both pleasure and pain.
It’s what Roni says next that practically tips him over the edge.
“Harry?”
“Mm?” Harry closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her walls clenched tightly around him.
“Choke me.”
It takes Harry a moment to blink back the fog in his eyes and actually comprehend what she’s asking, but once he’s processed it it’s a request he is all too happy to comply with. He trails his hand up her arm before clasping his fingers on either side of her neck. The way her breath hitches in her throat at his actions is enough to make him want to scream.
“Of course, baby.”.
As smoothly as he can manage, he gently guides her off of him by her hips, lazily kissing against her mouth as he lays her down on her back. His prick immediately misses her warmth as they awkwardly get situated on the couch.
Harry reaches down to take her legs in his hands, draping them over his own shoulders and leaving her entirely exposed up to him. He licks his lips when he sees exactly how wet she is, and she squirms a bit— realizing what a vulnerable position she’s in. Harry smiles reassuringly down at her, muttering a quick “fuck, you’re beautiful,” and delighting when she visibly relaxes.
Roni wiggles a bit more, using her elbows to position herself correctly against the throw pillow on his couch, and Harry holds his throbbing cock in his hand, ready to reinsert it as soon as possible. As soon as he thinks she’s ready, he positions himself as best as he can, but Roni holds up a hand to stop him.
“Wait, careful!”
Harry raises a confused eyebrow at her, and she gestures down to the skirt of her dress that’s now pooling, unladylike, around her hips. “It was your idea to keep this on,” she points out. “But it’s not my dress. So don’t get it dirty.”
Harry chuckles. “I’ll try,” he says, feeling a bit of the intensity between them melt (in the softest way). “No promises though.” He moves to insert himself between her thighs again, but she stops him again.
“You break it, you buy it.”
Harry grins, amused, down at her. “What?”
Roni, realizing Harry has probably never heard that phrase before in his life, giggles and shakes her head. “Nevermind. Just fuck me. But like, you know, carefully.”
Harry’s grin turns into a deep smirk that makes Roni’s thighs twitch. “Like I said,” he says, teasing at her entrance with his tip, “no promises.”
He enters her quickly, causing them both to gasp at how sensitive they’re feeling— especially with this new position leaving her far more open to him than before. The sound of her gasp, however, reminds Harry that he’s got a job to do. So he reaches down, wrapping his large hand gently around Roni’s throat, and squeezing the sides.
It’s uncharted territory for him, of course, but the look in Roni’s eyes is enough to make him realize that maybe he has a thing for choking as well. Her hair is disheveled and her mascara is a bit smudged around her eyes, although that seems to be the least of her worries. She doesn’t look scared; if anything her face looks almost challenging. She blinks up at him and mutters a single word.
“Harder.”
A curl falls into Harry’s face and he stares dumbly back down at her, processing her request. “Harder, baby?”
Roni reaches up, grasping at his wrist and squeezing. “Harder.”
Harry gulps, tightening his grip around her throat. He is careful not to fully block her airway of course, focusing the pressure instead on the sides of her neck. She shivers letting out a garbled moan.
“Fuck,” she rasps. “That’s it. Fuck me, please.”
And who is Harry to deny her?
He keeps his grip on her neck tight, leaning forward into her so his torso is almost against hers, and she squirms from her spot beneath him. Harry can feel her heels kicking into his shoulder blades but the dull ache they leave behind feels good and only fuels him to move faster.
“Fuck,” he breathes, “fucking hell.”
He allows his weary head to drop, burying his face in her neck and suckling at the spot beneath her ear. His grip loosens, but he has to grab onto the throw pillow beneath her head with his other hand for support.
“Gonna cum,” he groans. “Veronica, I’m--”
“Cum for me,” Roni chokes out in a whining little cry. “C’mon baby.”
Harry lets out a grunt far louder than intended, and he knows he’s only got a few seconds left. He slows his thrusts, despite everything in him screaming at him to speed it up. “Where do you want me?” He pants out.
Roni opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out flatly and blinking innocently up at him. The sight beneath him is so fucking filthy that the act of pulling out of her is almost enough to finish him off.
She twitches at the feeling of his absence before he scrambles to get himself positioned just right— lowering her legs and straddling her awkwardly while she sits up, and positioning his hand at the base of his cock.
It only takes a few pumps before he’s coming, thick hot ropes right into her tongue. He tries to aim as best as he can, but a few drops inevitably land on her cheeks and in her hair. She waits patiently for him to finish, moaning filthily at the taste. Harry’s nearly blinded by his own pleasure when he feels Roni wiggle beneath him, and he remembers she has yet to have an orgasm of her own.
Harry removes his hand from her throat as his orgasm comes to a stop, pausing briefly to catch his breath before reaching down to rub at her clit. She jolts at the contact, then immediately lets her head drop back.
“You going to cum for me now, honey? Hm?”
Roni wiggles her hips against the vibrations of his fingers, paying no mind to the way she knocks the throw pillows off of the couch. “Feels good,” she gasps, “feels so good.”
Harry thinks maybe he should choke her again, and he moves to do so. However, no sooner is his hand raised than Roni is coming, hard and quick and loud. Her toes curl and her back arches, and she lets out a wet moan that has Harry’s own tummy clenching. Her thighs quiver deliciously, and Harry notes the beautiful little goosebumps that prickle at her skin.
Desperately, Roni reaches for his free hand, clumsily interlacing her fingers with his. Harry takes her hand willingly, giving it a strong squeeze to hold her steady. Her orgasm is powerful, washing over her like a violent storm, and Harry gives her hand another squeeze in order to ground her.
Harry knows she’s finished when she collapses against the cushions, and he allows his fingertips to linger against her clit a few moments longer-- if only for purely selfish reasons. He wants to make her moan like that again. He wants her to feel good.
Harry doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his chest starts aching, and he allows himself a few gulping breaths-- hardly daring to move until Roni has come back down to earth. He watches her intently, giving her as much time as she needs to recover (and delighting in the way her thighs quiver with aftershocks). After a few moments of heavy breathing, Roni opens her eyes and gives Harry the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen.
“Hi,” she rasps out.
Harry chuckles, giving her hand another steady squeeze. “Hi-ya, Princess.”
Roni swallows, cheeks growing hot, and Harry can tell that she’s a little embarrassed suddenly. He smiles, pulling the skirt of the dress down to cover her exposed bits and perhaps make her feel slightly less vulnerable.
“I do like that, you know,” she says softly. “‘Princess,’ I mean.”
Harry nods. “Yeah? Well I’ll have to keep that in mind then, won’t I?”
His words are a gentle blow to the stomach as Roni remembers once again that her time left here with him is short. Harry seems to remember this at the same time, because he lets out a soft, nasally sigh and allows his eyes to close for just a moment.
“Anyway,” he says, his cock flopping triumphantly against his thigh and making Roni giggle. “We should get cleaned up. Think the tub is callin’ our names, don’t you?”
Roni smiles, sitting up a bit. “A bath sounds heavenly,” she sighs. “Thank you.”
Harry nods, moving like he’s going to get off of her but stopping himself. He wants to savor this moment-- really take it all in. Remember the way she looks beneath him, fucked out and messy but as pretty as ever. Hair perfectly styled to fit the times but lovingly tousled by the intense lovemaking they’ve just shared. Roni squirms a bit under his gaze, then laughs softly.
“What?”
“Can I say something without you getting annoyed?”
Roni’s smile drops, and she narrows her eyes. “Uh… probably not,” she teases.
Harry laughs. “Just… gonna miss you. That’s all.”
Roni frowns, sitting up on her elbows. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that tonight.”
“We weren’t,” Harry says. “We aren’t. I just… you know, I had to say it.”
“Did you have to, though?” There's a hint of playfulness in Roni’s toni, and it makes Harry laugh again.
“Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he says. “That’s all.”
“Well for the record,” Roni sighs, “I’m really going to miss you too. But we’re not talking about that.”
“No, we’re not.”
There’s a moment of charged silence, in which the two lovers smile playfully at one another-- their eyes doing all of their communicating for them. Roni tucks her lip between her teeth mischievously, as if there’s something more she wants to say, and Harry simply cannot take it anymore. He’s so overwhelmed by how much he loves her, and so giddy at how easy it is to be comfortable and silly around her. (And the fact that he’s going to miss her so much only pushes him to want to do everything he can for her.)
In one swift movement, he’s up, picking her up by the hips and clumsily yanking her up off the sofa. She squeals, stumbling as she’s swept off her feet and into his arms. “Harry!”
It’s almost silly how awkwardly he stands, his prick hanging limp and proud while he holds her. She squirms in his arms when he begins walking, trying her best to get comfortable— which proves to be very hard with the heavy skirt weighing her down.
“What are you doing?!” She giggles.
“Carrying the princess to her royal bath, of course.”
Roni rolls her eyes. “Oh my god. You’re so embarrassing.”
In retaliation, Harry moves like he’s going to drop her, causing her to screech and hold on to him tighter. “Harry!”
“Careful,” Harry giggles, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot. “Or I’ll drop ya!”
Contrary to his words, Harry sets Roni gently down on the counter, pressing a soft kiss to her nose before moving to turn on the faucet.
“Now then,” he asks. “We haven’t got many options as far as soap goes. What would you like?”
“What are my options?” Roni swings her legs daintily.
“Lavender,” Harry says, matter-of-factly.
Roni waits for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, she snorts. “Hmm… not sure I like that. Got any vanilla?”
Harry grins right back at her, testing the water from the faucet with his fingertips. “Lavender it is.”
They spend the rest of their night like this, laughing together while sharing lazy, wet kisses and washing one another. Roni comments on a particularly nice bruise she’s left on Harry’s shoulder and Harry admires how red Roni’s behind is.
“Got you pretty good then, didn’t I?”
After the bath they take turns rubbing lotion into one another’s skin— which of course leads to another session of lovemaking, much gentler and softer than before. It doesn’t take Harry long to fall asleep on Roni’s chest, breathing in sync with her and relishing in the way that she scratches gently at his scalp.
Roni takes a long whiff in through her nose for what feels like the fiftieth time this evening— taking in the delicious scent of the beautiful sleeping boy on her chest and trying to ignore the thought that keeps lingering in her mind.
She loves him. And she is really, really going to miss him.
#Harry Styles#Harry#One Direction#Harry Styles fanfiction#Harry fanfiction#One Direction fanfiction#fanfiction#Harry Styles AU#Harry AU#One Direction AU#AU#Harry Styles fluff#Harry fluff#One Direction fluff#fluff#Harry Styles smut#Harry smut#One Direction smut#smut
137 notes
·
View notes