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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

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It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

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stillness-in-green · 3 years ago

Text

Why Deku's ultimatum to Overhaul is bad and he should feel bad

This is a bit outside my normal character wheelhouse, but I really need to get a rant about it off my chest, so here goes:

The Deku and Overhaul scene in Chapter 316 is terrible. It is fucking terrible.

I took a whirl around Overhaul's tag up through when the leaks first started dropping, but didn't immediately see anyone talking about why it's so fucking terrible, only concerns about letting Overhaul see Eri (understandable, but baseless, I think), some empathy towards Overhaul's current state (totally warranted!), some snark about Deku being So Done with Overhaul (haha because who cares about Deku's stated goal of trying to understand villains, right?), and, worst of all, some cooing about how Deku was being so compassionate and noble by offering Overhaul that olive branch.

Deku was not being compassionate and noble there. Deku was being arrogant, small-minded, and so shockingly cruel that it leaves me speechless that anyone could think his stunted and hard-hearted "offer" reflects well on him.

Deku's entire motivation in this arc has been wrestling with the realization that he might have been able to avoid some of the desperate battles of his past if he'd understood more about the villains he fought. He thought of three very specific people--Stain, Muscular, and Overhaul--as he reflected, "Maybe it wouldn't have had to go that way if I'd understood them better." He then thought of Gentle Criminal and La Brava, people who he’d come to some understanding of, who he’d been able to soften the conclusion of his battle with by going along with Gentle's fiction downplaying what had happened between them. The whole line of thought was intended to contextualize his newfound desire to save Shigaraki.

It soon became apparent that Stain, Muscular and Overhaul were, in fact, encounters that he would be revisiting, as a chance to see how he'd grown since he faced them, and as a dry-run on reaching out to villains that would give him a chance to practice ways he might reach out to Shigaraki when the time comes.

Well, based on his performance so far, the idea that Deku might be able to reach Shigaraki is laughable.

Firstly, his tentative questions to Muscular were ill-timed, all wrong for the middle of a battle. Muscular laughed him off, and I don’t think there’s any version of that scenario in which he would have done otherwise. Muscular was a huge threat, gleefully violent, disinterested in conversation about his history. Obviously, right in the middle of a fight was no kind of time to try to figure out what made the man tick! But Deku didn’t get the luxury of choosing the circumstances of that encounter, so yes, that battle probably was unavoidable, certainly if Deku wanted to stop him from doing further damage. But the idea that because Deku couldn't reach him right then and there, it's impossible for Deku--or, indeed, for anyone--to reach him at all is fallacious. Not every person has to be able to like or understand every other person. If Deku couldn't reach Muscular, so what? That doesn't mean it's impossible that someone might. And that means an obligation to treat Muscular like a human being, to afford him human rights, to not stop trying to find a way to rehabilitate him, even as you safeguard other people against him.

Deku's battle with Muscular being unavoidable was not some great triumph, for all that the narrative used it as an opportunity to let him show off how far he’d come in mastering One For All. In the way that matters, the way that Deku himself is currently trying to better, he hasn't advanced at all. Imasuji Goto represented his first test in the lead-up to saving Shigaraki, and Deku failed it.

His next trial was Overhaul.* Here, again, was someone who Deku was explicitly trying to understand. So what was the one thing that was most key to understanding Overhaul's current motivation? What was the one thing that Overhaul was ranting about out loud, incessantly? And what did Deku conspicuously fail to ask about? Overhaul's relationship with Pops.

This was so easy. So obvious. And Deku didn’t even try. All he could think about in the moment he was faced with that broken man was the little girl that man hurt--all thoughts of trying to understand where the man himself was coming from went right out the window, flown away in an instant. Instead of asking about why Overhaul feels the way he does, he demanded that Overhaul feel the way Deku wanted. He was essentially holding the only person Overhaul cared about hostage for the remorse he wanted Overhaul to feel.

I'm not going to try to armchair diagnose Overhaul with mental conditions. I don't have the educational background, and I'm positive Horikoshi doesn't. But it seems pretty clear that asking Overhaul to feel guilt about Eri was asking for something that he might not be capable of feeling, at least not without years of therapy that he was plainly not getting in Tartarus. And if Overhaul is not capable of feeling that guilt, then what does denying Overhaul his meeting actually solve? Who does it help? It doesn’t help Eri. Doesn’t help the old man. It certainly doesn’t help Overhaul himself. The only person who gets any satisfaction out of demanding remorse from Overhaul is Deku. And even Deku didn’t look like he found it very satisfying!

Another failure. A meaninglessly cruel, petty failure. A failure that served only to hurt a man who was already a live wire of agony, to sentence an old man to a coma he might never wake from without Overhaul's expertise, and to deprive Eri of the only actual family she had left.

And look, Pops might very well not be the ideal guardian for Eri, and I'm not saying he should get to "keep" her just because of the blood connection, but it's not like he cheerfully handed her over to Overhaul and walked out the door! He turned to Overhaul because he trusted Overhaul, because he wanted someone to help Eri and thought that maybe Overhaul could. And when Overhaul's thoughts about Eri took a very dark turn, Pops first denied his request about using her to further his research and then, when Overhaul kept pushing it, chose Eri over the kid he personally took in from the streets by telling Overhaul that he needed to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he couldn't muster any more respect for human life than that.

But, you know, Eri is so cute with Aizawa and stuff. And Pops was a criminal. Probably. Maybe? I mean, he was yakuza, anyway, so he obviously must have been a criminal even if the police never actually arrested him. Apparently, this means it's okay to just leave him in a coma forever! Even though Overhaul absolutely has enough medical expertise that letting him talk to a neurologist about what he did to Pops might enable them to figure out how to wake Pops up even without Overhaul being able to use his quirk to undo the damage. Hell, Overhaul is also the person alive who has the best handle on how Eri's quirk works. He might even know what her accumulation condition is. Maybe a better thing to ransom his access to Pops with would be Overhaul telling Aizawa everything he knows about Eri's quirk so Aizawa can use the knowledge to help her get a better handle on it.

But no. Obviously undoing some small part of the concrete harm Overhaul did was less important than how Deku felt about that harm.

And there's more! Oh, is there ever. I called Deku arrogant before; let me circle back to that.

Deku said that if Chisaki would feel the way Deku wanted him to feel, then Deku would uphold the promise to let Overhaul see Pops. But where in hell did Deku get off making that claim? Deku is a student. He's not a pro. He has no authority, medical, legal, carceral or otherwise. He has no say in where Overhaul goes or who he's allowed to see.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What kind of strings did Deku think he could pull that he could just casually make that claim without so much as going into a huddle with Hawks and Endeavor about it first? How inflated has this kid's sense of importance gotten that he made Overhaul that promise without even stopping to think about whether it was something he was in any position to ensure? It was such a bullshit ultimatum, not only because of how needlessly obstructive it was, but because it was so formless.

"If only you would feel a wish to apologize to Eri…" Okay, so what if Overhaul goes back to prison and, three days later, calls out to say, "Okay, I thought about it and I really feel like I want to apologize, now can I see Pops already?" Who gets to make that judgment call? Deku? Is he going to drop his faux-vigilante act and come visit Overhaul in prison just so he can squint at the man really hard to see if he's lying? Is Deku going to delegate the call to someone else? All Might? Hawks? A prison warden? A psychologist? Who? Who gets to be the one to say, "Okay, I think his remorse is genuine."

Then, once that call has been made, how many people have to arrange for Overhaul to be escorted out of prison and to whatever hospital Pops is in? Will Deku get to oversee that visit? Does he think he can overturn a warden declaring, "The scum doesn't deserve a visit, and the old man probably doesn't either," or a doctor protesting, "I'm not letting that man anywhere near my patient!"

The hell of it is, I think Deku could do all of that. He's got a close personal connection to All Might, who was basically a demi-god to this society for decades; he has the ear of the current top three heroes. Everyone is apparently convinced that the power to save this society rests solely in Deku's hands; I'm sure he could ask for anything he wanted. But the fact that that is the case suggests that this society is not even slightly turning away from its dependence on heroes dictating its morality. A hero having the sole right to dictate, out of hand, based on his personal feelings, the fate of people designated "villains" while the rest of society turns away is exactly what Shigaraki is angry about.

The only thing worse than Deku perpetuating the worst problems of hero society in an arc that's supposed to be about him finding a better way is that he didn’t even stop to think about it. It never even occurred to him that that was what he was doing. He thought that what he was asking of Chisaki was just and fair, and thus, he didn’t need to ask for any second opinions or permissions; he didn’t need to think about what would actually be feasible, about what was best for the people involved. He'd made his judgment call about a villain, and that's all there was to it. The villain could fall in line or--nothing. There isn't actually another choice. Hero's way or nothing

I hate it. I hate it. I don't care about whether Overhaul "deserves" to suffer; heroes making the cold decision that they will make him suffer is antithetical to everything a carceral system intended to rehabilitate prisoners stands for. And yes, Japan does at least claim on paper that the goal of incarceration in state hands is rehabilitation.

Restorative justice is superior to retributive justice. It's better for society and it's better for individuals. It is kinder, it is more compassionate. Retributive justice poisons people. It perpetuates suffering for no reason but moral grandstanding. Individuals are allowed to forgive or not forgive anyone they want, but a society should conduct itself with an eye to the long-term welfare of all of its people. That means that even the worst kinds of criminals still have human rights. It means not inflicting pain that serves no purpose.

I've gotten off-track here. Yes, I think that if Overhaul could feel regret about Eri, that would obviously be a positive development for his character. It'd hurt like hell, but it would be a hurt that indicated he was becoming a better person, a person who wanted to do more good, less ill, with his life and efforts. But you can't mandate that someone become a better person. No ultimatum handed down from on high is going to change Overhaul's heart. Telling someone, "I'll help you, but only if you only feel the way I want you to feel. Otherwise, you can just stay there and suffer," is not reaching out to help people who are suffering in the dark, which is, again, what Deku claimed he wanted to do, what he begged for Nagant's help in doing, the way he insisted to the vestiges that OFA should be used.

Deku writing people off because they don't conform to his expectations, because they can't be "good" the way he wants them to be, nor even "bad" in ways he can understand, is him failing to live up to his own expressed ideals. "I wish you'd feel bad about hurting people," wasn't enough to reach Muscular or Overhaul, and it damn well shouldn't be enough to reach Shigaraki.

Cruelty does not beget kindness. You cannot treat people with only callousness and severity, then condemn them for not taking the opportunity to grow. You have to give them opportunities to better themselves. For Overhaul, giving him an opportunity would be letting him help the man he wronged and then moving forward from there. Telling him to feel regret about Eri or else? That's doing nothing but sweeping his pain back under the rug.

---

*I have more or less exhausted my outrage over Lady Nagant in chats with friends, so I'll spare the rant on how disjointed, contradictory and ludicrous her turn was; the gist is "very, on all counts."

---

P.S. Anyone who says that Overhaul "has nothing left to live for" is being a level of ableist that defies description. Prosthetics exist. Assistive devices exist. Speech-to-text software exists. Overhaul is intelligent, driven and highly educated. Even if he never got prosthetics at all, there would still be things he could contribute to the world if he were motivated to do so. The better thing to do, though, would be to get the man some damn prosthetics, hook him up with the neurologist consulting on Pops' case, and let the two of them get on with the matter of waking up the old man.

P.P.S. Overhaul spent six months in solitary confinement. The United Nations considers solitary confinement exceeding 15 days to be a form of torture. Solitary confinement creates severe mental health issues and exacerbates existing ones. It frequently leads to a deadening of empathy, something Overhaul has in little enough amounts as it is. It is absurd to ask a man who's just come out of these conditions to "feel sorry for what you did to Eri," especially if you're planning to turn around and send him right back to solitary. Tartarus is inhuman, and the only reason more of the escapees aren't total wrecks like Overhaul is because Horikoshi clearly didn't bother to do the reading on the wide array of problems that those characters should be experiencing physically, mentally and socially.

#bnha #bnha critical #deku critical #bnha overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha muscular #my writing?#stillness has salt #bnha spoilers #one last salty post before I go back to working on things for characters and plots I actually like in this series #taking my life into my hands and posting this in the tags #but seriously #please please let Horikoshi realize #that Deku saying he wants to use OFA to save villains and then doing nothing but using OFA to beat them down again #is not Deku WINNING #it is Deku LOSING #saving someone takes more than rescuing them from a bullet that wasn't going to hit them anyway #if you don't have follow-through then you're just condemning people to fall through the cracks

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

Text

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?�� you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @hurricanerin

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! May I please request something with a reader who's hosea's daughter and she starts a romantic relationship with either Charles or Arthur? (I can't decide I love those both those boys too much)

AN: Hi babe! I chose Arthur for this!

Warnings: implied smut

***

The moon hung high in the night sky and thousands of stars littered the empty space surrounding it. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen.

Cicadas and crickets chirped. Raccoons chattered from high up in treetops. Occasionally there was the sound of a coyote as it strayed too close to camp then scurrying away upon realizing that there were people nearby.

You made your way through camp, finishing your braid over your shoulder.

Everyone was settling down for the night after having a few drinks.

You moved towards the tent you shared with Karen and Sadie when a hand suddenly wrapped around your mouth from behind. An arm latched around your waist. Panic was just about to set in when you heard his voice in your ear.

“Easy there, pumpkin.” Arthur whispered. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

He let you go but held on to your wrist as he tugged you around to the backside of the wagons.

“Arthur Morgan!” You whispered his name loudly, hitting his arm. “Don’t you do that again! I almost had a heart attack!”

“Shh.” He chuckled, holding a finger to his lips. His hands found your hips and he backed you up against the wagon. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. He pinned your hips against the wagon with his own then brought his hands up to cup your face.

“Let’s go for a ride.” Arthur pulled away from you, his hand finding your wrist once more. He started to pull you away from the wagon but you stopped him.

“What has gotten into you tonight, Arthur?” You asked him, a little smile playing on your lips. You enjoyed his playful moods, but they were rare and it wasn’t often that they came about. Usually it only happened when he was drinking.

“I just wanna spend time with you without worryin’ about anyone, pumpkin.” He tugged on your hand.

“And you wanna go for a ride?”

“Yeah.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“How much could you taste?” He countered. You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll only go with you if you let me control the horse.”

“Oh, pumpkin. Come on. I wanna take you somewhere.”

“You can tell me directions.”

“Fine.” He grumbled. “Come on.”

Arthur guided you across camp to his horse. He helped you up onto the saddle and then got up onto the back of the horse himself.

***

Slipping past Bill on guard duty was easy.

The place Arthur took you to was just on the other side of the border of Lemoyne and New Hanover. The spot was along the shore of Flat Iron Lake.

“What’s special about this place?” You looked over your shoulder to Arthur as you brought the horse to a stop in the grass.

“Huh?”

“You said the spot was special. What’s special about it?”

“Well…. it’s away from camp.” He held his hand out for you. You got down from the horse and passed him the reins. He tethered the horse to a tree so it could eat grass while the two of you went closer to the water.

Arthur held his hand out for you again, making a grabbing motion. You furrowed your brows together before putting your hand in his.

He walked alongside you with your fingers laced together.

“I been doin’ a lotta thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh.” You giggled. “Should I be worried?”

“Yeah, probably.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

Arthur was silent for a few moments, so you looked over at him. He was looking out over the lake.

“Arthur, what is it?” You stopped walking and turned to face him.

He shook his head, eyes flickering down to his boots.

“It-It’s nothin’. Just stupid thoughts.”

“It ain’t stupid if it’s got you thinkin’ so hard I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” You reached up to cup his jaw. You brushed your thumb along his cheek. “Come on. It’s just me. You can say whatever it is you’re thinking to me.”

His eyes met yours and he nodded, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“I…. Y/N, I want whatever it is we got…. I want it to be real.”

You furrowed your brows together, tilting your head to the side a little.

“I thought…. Well, I guess I thought it was real.” Your voice was quiet.

“No, not like that.” He shook his head. “I meant that I-I want to be real. To have a real…. a real thing with you.”

A smile spread across your lips as you realized what Arthur was struggling to say.

“A real relationship, Arthur Morgan?”

He nodded his head.

“Now I-I put a lotta thought into it. Even talked it over with Charles. He’s a smart feller.”

“He is. You want this?”

“I want you.” Arthur slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “I ain’t felt that way about somebody in a long time.”

“Only if you’re sure–,”

“I am sure.” He cut you off, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation, holding his gaze. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” He grinned, large hands slipping down to your backside.

***

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon when you and Arthur returned to camp. You parted ways where the horses were hitched, leaving with only murmurs of goodbyes. It was bad enough you’d spent the entire night out. You didn’t need to risk being caught just yet. You’d tell everyone when you were ready. But neither of you saw Hosea Matthews–your father–watching from the opposite side of camp as you slipped into your tent.

Arthur wasn’t very fond of romance from the get-go, and being that you were Hosea’s daughter made him ever more hesitant to start anything with you. However, that changed when he got to know you better.

Being that you didn’t grow up in the Van Der Linde Gang, you didn’t know the outlaw the way everyone else did.

Though Hosea was your father, he didn’t raise you. He and his late wife and your mother, Bessy, had agreed that the life they had wasn’t suitable for a baby. So they gave you to Bessy’s sister and brother-in-law so that you could be raised in a proper setting and have a chance at a good life. Hosea and Bessy made sure to visit you when they could, and even after Bessy passed away Hosea continued to visit you and let you know that he cared about you. He wanted what was best for his only daughter. He didn’t want you to have the same life as him or to be subjected to the horrors he had faced.

But here you were, the newest member of the Van der Linde Gang.

***

You managed to only get a couple hours of sleep before Karen nudged you awake, warning you that Susan would be by to raise hell if you weren’t up soon.

You got dressed and went out to get a cup of coffee. You spotted Hosea sitting at a table reading through a newspaper, so you decided to join him.

“Good morning, Hosea.” You greeted.

“Good morning, dear.” He gave you a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not too bad. I’m getting used to the nighttime noises so I’m not waking up so much. Anything interestin’ in there?”

“Not yet.”

“Mornin’, Hosea.” Arthur crossed through camp, heading for his tent. “Mornin’, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Arthur.”

“Good morning, Arthur.” You smiled just a little before looking down at your coffee.

You wanted to tell Hosea about you and Arthur. Now that things were serious between you two, it felt like you needed to tell him. Before, you were just flirting and messing around. There was no need for anyone to know what was happening because it was just two grown adults keeping each other company. But now…. Now it was different.

You sat with Hosea for a bit, chatting about what was in the newspaper.

Then you noticed a group began to form around the horses that consisted of Javier, Charles, Arthur, Sean, and John.

“What are you staring at, sweetheart?”

You turned your head look at Hosea. You didn’t realize you were staring.

“Nothing, Hosea.”

He looked in the direction you had been staring in.

“Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one of them numbskulls were you gawking at?”

“None of them.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He shook his head, eyes lingering on you. When you made no effort to carry on the conversation, he reached into a pocket on his vest to check the time. “Your mother used to get that same look in her eye when she saw somethin’ in a shop window she wanted.”

Curious, you glanced up from your coffee which you had been staring at rather intently. You weren’t really reading anyways.

“She would?”

“She would.” Hosea nodded, a fond smile coming to his lips as his eyes left you to look out over the lake behind you. “And usually, I’d go back to the shop some time later when she wasn’t with me and steal it for her.”

“How romantic.”

“She thought so.” He chuckled. “She certainly knew how to put up with me and my antics. But she was about as good of a liar as you are, my dear.”

You put the book down on the table.

“I really wish you’d stop reading me like I’m one of your marks.”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart. It’s a bad habit. A very bad, nasty habit.” Hosea turned his head to look at the group of men gathered around the horses. “I don’t think it would be John. He’s far too dim for you. But if we go by brains, I don’t think any of them have a lick of sense. Well, except for Charles.” Hosea paused to gauge your reaction. You kept your lips pressed together in a firm line, adamant on not giving him any reaction. “If it was Bill Williamson, I’d be disappointed in you.”

“Ew, no.”

“Good girl. Javier?”

You didn’t answer.

“Hmm. Arthur perhaps?”

You shifted in your seat and took a small breath. The actions didn’t seem that big, but apparently they meant something to Hosea.

The con-man leaned back in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a little sigh.

“That dimwit, Y/N?”

“He’s not a dimwit, Hosea.”

“I swear, Y/N, I’ve seen fish with more sense than that boy.”

“Hosea.”

“I’m serious. Me and Dutch were real concerned about him. Well, that was until John came along. Made Arthur look a goddamn genius.”

You stood up and picked up your coffee cup.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Hosea put his hand out to stop you. “I know you’re sweet on him. I saw you coming back into camp together this morning.”

Your eyes immediately met his, panic finding its way into your veins. Then you looked over to Arthur. Did your father know what you were doing with Arthur while you were gone?

“I’m a little hurt neither of you told me, but I know why you kept it to yourselves. This camp ain’t the place for romance.”

“Hosea.” You whispered, eyes meeting his once more. “Don’t…. Don’t let Arthur know that you know, okay? I-I think he wanted to tell you himself. We just…. We didn’t want everyone here to know, and he’s…. Arthur’s a funny guy when it comes to being sweet on a lady.”

“Oh, I know. He’s had his heart broke real bad before. Don’t you think about breakin’ it, you hear? You’re my daughter so I’ll be sure to tell him the same, but he’s like a son to me, you know.”

“I know, Hosea. Don’t worry. I have no intentions of hurting him.”

“Good.”

Taglist: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #kacey answers

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tragedy-for-sale · 3 years ago

Text

Wear and Tear: Tech

Hey, TW for this one, since cowboy hat man is probably not gonna give us a scene where Wrecker talks to Tech and Hunter about what he did, like he did with omega, I wrote it instead. :)

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Tech had gotten out of the shower, he always took hot showers, but today he had to take a cold one. He didn't know why, but he had to. Well, that was a lie. Tech refused to acknowledge the reason: The warmth of the shower, which usually brought him comfort, didn't. It felt as a warm hug, wrapping one's self in a blanket with hot chocolate in your hands, it was laying in someone's arms, drifting to sleep. So you see, Tech had to take that cold shower, for the feeling of touch had brought him a great deal of discomfort. 'My brother's hand around my neck, cutting off the blood flow and oxygen to my brain-'

Tech let out a small gasp, trying not to think about it. He had been trying so hard not to think about his brother, with his hand around my neck. But it never left his mind. Tech argued with his mind nonstop, logic against feeling. Logic: Wrecker had no control over himself, it wasn't him. Feeling: Wrecker, he hurt me. He's not supposed to do that! You don't hurt people you love.

He looked into the mirror, hands going to his neck, the bruises were apparent. Tech hadn't even realized he'd bruised, due to his blacks, but then he'd changed into pajamas and when he had joined his family again, Omega cried out. That had scared him, well startled him, really. He then had to explain to Omega how bruises would work, he wouldn't forget what she said after, 'Wrecker had that tight of a grip on you?' Yes, he was trying to hurt me. But Tech didn't actually say anything. He remembered looking to Hunter, his hand going to his own neck before disappearing to the refresher. He didn't remember Wrecker's face, he didn't even look at him.

Tech hadn't know why he'd been surprised, he knew how bruises work, he knew some part of him knew there'd be a reminder. But he figured it would just be Wrecker's face. At least the bruises were temporary, the memory and the feeling would last forever. Tech looked down, he'd been doing surprisingly well, he thought so at least. He didn't blame Wrecker, he wasn't scared of him in the slightest, he loved his brother, even if Wrecker had meant what he'd done, I could never be scared of him. I could never do anything except love him.

So Tech had been doing okay, he was okay..... 'No' He whimpered, voice cracking slightly as his eyes watered. 'No I'm not okay,' He hugged himself, looking into the mirror again. Tech couldn't remember half of it, but something in his mind screamed at him all day, everyday. So maybe, it was then that Tech let himself have this moment. He still had time before his brothers wondered why he was taking so long. 'Because I was crying, because I did not react in the moment, I froze in the moment, but now, now I'm able to move, able to think, and I can't stop feeling.'

For the next five minutes, whatever emotion Tech had kept inside, he let out. Then, in a precise manner, he wiped his eyes, splashed his face, then started to get dressed. He was about to put his shirt back on when he happened to look in the mirror again. Wrecker held me up with one hand and his grip on me-' Tech shook his head before jumping to a knock on the door. "Yes?" He called.

"Hey," Wrecker. "Uh, dinner is gonna be soon, half-pint, if you're gonna eat?" Tech had turned to face the door and almost smiled, 'half-pint' it was his nickname, one he hadn't been called in a long time, mind you. It made Tech smile now, even though he once loathed it. 'Wrecker's trying, trying to make up for something he didn't do.'

"Yes, thank you, I'll be out in a few minutes," He answered. Tech then turned back to the mirror, his smile falling as he was reminded of how hard life was now compared to the days when he was 'half-pint,' Now they're all grown up, and life is harder than they ever imagined. He bit his cheek, a sour look on his face, "Wrecker-" He called out, why he did so was for no logical reason. I need my brother.

Wrecker, who had been lingering by the door hoping Tech would say something more was almost relieved when he did. But the tone of Tech's voice sent all logic out the window, he burst in, "Tech, you okay?"

Wrecker froze as he found Tech sitting on the floor, "Tech!" He tried so hard not to scream, he didn't want to scare him. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," Tech rested his head against the cabinet, "The floor is cool." He explained as he closed his eyes. Wrecker frowned, coming in and sitting next to Tech, but still at a good distance. For a moment, they sat in silence. Wrecker wasn't going to speak while Tech's eyes were closed. He'd spent enough time comforting his brothers in a refresher, he knew the drill.

"Remember that day Hunter and you found me bleeding after those cadets beat me up? In our own home?" Tech looked at his brothers, eyes glazed over with no thought behind them. There was always so much to see in Tech's eyes. But right now, there was nothing. That would haunt Wrecker forever, the light drained from his brothers eyes. I remember when it happened with Crosshair, he never came back-

"I remember." Wrecker nodded solemnly, they came in and Hunter screamed, "Hunter wouldn't stop screaming." He recalled, "He cradled your unconscious body and screamed, he screamed until his physical pain hurt him more than seeing you beaten blue." Wrecker couldn't look Tech in the eyes, "Stars, he wouldn't let you go either, I had to hold him back as 99 took you in his arms. He kicked and screamed and cried a lot that day."

Tech nodded, he never knew, he only knew the after, waking up in the medbay in his brothers' arms and 99's. "He was hurting."

"Yes." He felt betrayed. "... Tech, what's that gotta do with anything?" Wrecker asked. Oh, how soft his voice sounded. How heartbroken he was.

"That's the only experience I can connect this to, brothers beating me up" But they had done it on purpose. Then Tech laughed, making Wrecker jump. "Oh! They bruised my ribs and sprained my wrist," He started to laugh more loudly, "My goggles! They stole my goggles too!!" Tech laughed but there was nothing but pain behind his grin.

"Tech, it wasn't hilarious, they hurt you." Wrecker shook his head, unable to comprehend why Tech was practically cackling. "Tech-"

"They HURT me!" He slapped his knee as he laughed, soon his laughter became a silent, he'd been laughing too long and he couldn't breath. But he kept laughing. Wrecker scrunched his face. That wasn't funny. That was the worst day of their lives and Tech was laughing.

"Tech! Stop laughing!" Wrecker yelled, if Tech didn't know better, he'd saying Wrecker was mad. "Tech!"

His brother turned, slapping Wrecker's chest weakly, he couldn't stop laughing, with tears in his eyes, he took huge gasps for air until his laugh did finally turn to a cry, then a cry to a sob, sob to a wail. He fell into Wrecker's arms, but Wrecker, who'd been so afraid of himself was too scared to hug his brother. Even though Tech's arms were already around him tightly.

"I know it wasn't you-" He gasped out between his sobs, "I know it wasn't you, I know, I know, I know." He hugged Wrecker tightly, burying his face, Wrecker was frozen, unable and unwilling to move. "I know it wasn't you." With a loud gasp for air, Tech pushed Wrecker back and retreated back to his own space, drawing his legs to his chest and staring forward, hugging himself.

"I'm sorry," Wrecker let out a sigh, "I'm sorry, Tech, I tried, I really tried-"

"I said I know it wasn't you." He almost snapped. But his face softened again, "I mean," He then looked to Wrecker, "You always said you'd never hurt us and I know you wouldn't, and who you were in that moment, was definitely not my big brother" Tech sighed, rubbing his eyes, "I couldn't even think, Wrecker." He whispered, "I didn't even try to fight back, all I remember is seeing your face and thinking how much you loved me. So I thought, perhaps, you were hurting me for a reason, that I'd done something."

"Tech..." Wrecker was horrified Tech would ever think such a thought, I'd never hurt you. I love you too much.

"I know" Tech knew what Wrecker was thinking, "I know in my mind it is the farthest from the truth," Tech wiped his eyes again, "But I thought it anyways, I'm sorry." Sorry I ever thought you'd get tired of me.

"You don't need to say sorry, you don't got anythin' to say sorry for." Wrecker shook his head.

"I do though," Tech smiled solemnly, "I thought you were hurting me, it never occurred to me it couldn't have ever been you," Tech paused, looking to his brother, "It never occurred to me to fight back because I thought it was you. So I really should have known better, you would never hurt me,"

"Because I would never hurt you."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

#then maybe they smile at each other and everything is going to be okay #and Tech probably puts his shirt on whoops #Hunter's is coming #clones #clone wars #star wars #tcw #sw #tech #wrecker #the bad batch #tbb

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whump-me-all-night-long · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler!Sapphire AU (not canon)

Welcome to 3k words of this amazing AU idea that may or may not become a multi-parter. No editing, we die like.. idk. Please let me know what y'all think!!

Tagging the usual group (let me know if you only want to be tagging in canon stuff): @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @broadwaybabe18 @whumpinggoodtime @temporary-whump-sideblog @dumb-and-lesbian let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: talk of death (in a pretty disrespectful manner), talk of human trafficking, intimate whumper, hair pulling, noncon touching, some pretty noncon vibes near the end, uhhh Saph/Dustin is a real asshole, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist

---

The sound of a ringing phone woke Dustin. With a groan, he rolled over in bed, blankets tangled around his legs. Blindly groping along his nightstand, he found his phone and answered the call, from an unknown number, blue eyes squinting against the flash of the bright screen.

“Yeah?” he answered, stifling a yawn.

“Is this Mr. Moore?” a timid male voice said.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Dustin sat up, glancing at the clock with a groan. “Yes, this is he,” he responded, voice tight. “Now who the fuck is calling me at four a.m.?”

A throat was cleared on the other end of the line. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m Nicholas Jameston.” There was a pause, as if he expected Dustin to recognize the name. “I’m your uncle’s lawyer.”

Dustin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “My uncle? You mean.. Uncle Spence?”

A curt “Yes, sir.”

“Okayyyy,” he drew out. “Listen, I haven’t talked to him in years. Since I left for college at least. Probably before even high school. You see, my dad and him, they didn’t really get along-” He cut himself off. Why was he telling this man anything? “Anyways, there must be some confusion. I don’t know why he wants his lawyer contacting me all of a sudden.” Shit, he thought. Did I break or steal something last time I was at his place? Is this what this is about?

There was an awkward beat of silence before the lawyer cleared his throat again. “No, sir, there’s no mistake or confusion. You see, you’re Mr. Spencer’s closest remaining blood relative.”

Dustin was really not awake enough for this conversation. “Just say what you need to and be done with it.”

“Your uncle is dead,” the lawyer finally said. “And you’re his sole heir.”

Dustin pulled up in his car, a shiny BMW he’d bought using his dad’s life insurance money a few years ago. He squinted against the darkness of early morning, checking the address again. This place looked less like a family home and more like a fortress. A prison.

He wondered, for the millionth time since getting rudely awoken and told that a man he’d met only a handful of times was a) dead and b) giving him everything, what exactly he was doing here. His dad must be rolling over in his grave. Not that Dustin particularly cared about that.

He knew that the brothers had never gotten along, that his dad, the older brother, had apparently “abandoned” the family business because it was “amoral,” but Dustin had never really been privy to the details. He rolled his eyes just thinking about his dad and his need to be righteous and perfect all the time.

That apparently had gone out the window at some point, but the bastard was too proud to go back to his brother - their parents were already dead by that time - and instead decided to start his own company, selling.. who knew? Certainly not Dustin. No, the young twenty-six-year-old was perfectly content enjoying his bachelor playboy lifestyle, feeding off mommy and daddy’s blood money.

“Mr. Moore?” A man was standing on the doorstep, fidgeting nervously with a thick manila envelope.

Dustin took one look at him and barely withheld a sigh. This man, short, balding, oily, was a lawyer alright. He raised one lazy eyebrow. “Jameson, I presume?” he called back, making his way slowly up the path to the door.

“Uh, it’s Jameston, sir,” the man corrected quickly.

Dustin didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. It’s early and I have a busy day ahead of me. Left a pretty girl waiting for me to call. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Not bothering to wait, Dustin stepped up to the door and opened it, stepping inside a grand foyer. He whistled softly, taking in the shimmering chandelier, the sweeping staircase, with a gold-woven rug running down the middle, and the many large and well-furnished rooms branching off from the entrance.

“Now this is a nice playhouse, huh?” he said, grinned indolently.

He saw Jameston’s jaw tighten fractionally. “Yes, sir,” he responded. “Now, I can give you a complete tour of the house now. However, Mr. Spencer’s real estate agent can do that when she arrives here in-” he glanced at his watch - a fake, Dustin had noticed - “a couple hours or so. Furthermore, there was a, erm, rather sensitive matter that Mr. Spencer tasked me with familiarizing you with personally.” He adjusted his tie slightly, clearly nervous, before motioning Dustin down one of the smaller hallways to the side.

His curiosity piqued, Dustin followed. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me, was the old man into some shady illegal business? Drugs? Girls?”

Jameston shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing. “No sir. Your uncle, he was an.. art collector, of a sort. Well, he created his own art, really. However, it was not necessarily, um, legally acquired.”

Dustin barely held in a laugh at the lawyer’s clear panic. “Of course it wasn’t,” he scoffed. “Do you know how much shady shit has gone on in this family?” He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter this time. “Of course you do, you��re the lawyer.”

Jameston’s face flushed but he remained quiet until he reached an indiscreet door at the end of a short hall. If Dustin didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was a closet or something. Jameston cleared his throat as he opened the door. “Welcome to the Jewelry Box, sir.”

Carnelian sighed, his head falling back against the wall as he stretched his legs out along the small bed. The only sounds in the large room was the occasional movement from one of the others.

“That’s it,” he muttered, standing up and marching over to the glass wall. “Is anyone else wondering where the bastard is?” he called, frowning as he caught the gazes of several of the others.

Emerald just shook his head, silently warning him. Amethyst, however, scoffed, picking at her nails intently. “Why do you care?” she snapped. “It’s not like you’re ever doing anything but yelling and cursing.”

“So?” Carnelian shot back. “Aren’t you at least a little curious as to what’s going on?”

As if to answer his questions, he heard the door hiss open. Turning his gaze towards it, he felt his lips tugging down into a frown.

“Here we go again,” he muttered. “I knew the bastard would be back before long.”

Then he met the gaze of a stranger, arrogant and lazy and startlingly bright blue. Eyebrows flicking up, he blurted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Smirking, the stranger glanced at a smaller man next to him, one Carnelian had glimpsed down here once or twice before, always with the Jeweler. “I think I’d like to ask you the same question.”

The small man cleared his throat and began speaking, quietly enough that Carnelian couldn’t hear. Instead he took in the stranger, as if he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away.

The man was attractive, annoyingly attractive from Carnelian’s perspective. His skin was a bronzed tone, clear and smooth. He was tall, probably taller than Carnelian, with a lean, slightly muscled body. He had on a dark t-shirt that clung to his body and somehow looked expensive, with form-fitting jeans and some Converse high tops on as well. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy, with the top grown out long and falling into his face. Carnelian’s eyes drifted down towards his mouth before he forcefully pulled them back up to his eyes, which were-

Still on him. Carnelian felt himself blush and then scowl as he met the man’s gaze. Already he was getting on his nerves. And where the hell was the Jeweler? Was this stranger some new client of his, looking to buy one of them? At that thought, Carnelian felt a flash of panic through him and glanced over at Emerald, who was looking subtly at him as well, clearly thinking the same thing.

Carnelian tuned back in when the stranger exclaimed, “Are you shitting me right now?” The stranger was now looking at each of them, studying them more intently.

His gaze almost completely skimmed over Diamond and Ruby, both of them still curled up in their beds, watching with wary and confused gazes. He barely even noticed Amber, the new one still drugged to high heaven after mouthing off to the Jeweler yesterday. Carnelian doubted the kid could even remember their own name right now, much less stand up from where they were sprawled in their bed. He took a bit longer looking at Emerald, his defensive stance, wise eyes, then Amethyst, with her crossed arms and haughty expression, before finally settling on Carnelian.

After several long, tense seconds, he looked back at the other man. “So you’re saying,” he drawled slowly, deliberately. “That this, all of this, the house, the business, the.. Jewels-” his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk- “they’re all mine?”

Swallowing, the other man nodded. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m saying.” He drew out a piece of paper and, clearing his throat, began to read. “‘I hereby give the entirety of my properties, including my family home, my businesses, and my Jewelry Box, to my closest remaining blood relative upon my death.’ That would be you, Dustin Moore.”

There was a gasp from one of the other cells, where Diamond had stood up, flying to the window, eyes wide and frantic. “Death? Wait, no, Sir, he- he can’t be-” They dissolved into sobs, sliding to their knees on the floor.

Carnelian glanced around at the rest of the Jewels, the only sound coming from Diamond. The rest of them had frozen as well, not sure how they were meant to respond. Carnelian was reeling, glancing down as he took a shaky breath. On the one hand, he was glad the bastard was dead. On the other, well, the Jeweler had never looked at him the way the stranger, Dustin the other man had said, looked at him. The Jeweler looked at him like some prized object, something to be shown off proudly and then put back into storage. The Jeweler treated him less than human; Dustin’s gaze said he knew precisely how human Carnelian was, he just didn’t care.

Before he knew it, Carnelian was raising his head to glare at the other man, only to find him still looking at him. As Dustin slowly moved forward, he asked, “Did my uncle give these.. Jewels any names? Because I think I’m seeing a theme in them.” He stopped a couple feet away from the glass, his head tilted slightly. “The only one I can’t seem to figure out is this one.”

Carnelian’s lip curled. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he snarled softly, looking him up and down before raising his brows slightly. “Bastard jr,” he added.

Dustin almost seemed caught off guard before letting out a laugh. “I thought you said that he trained them to be all submissive and whatever,” he called over to the other. “Jameston, this one seems to be a bit feral.” He stepped even closer, lifting one hand to touch the glass. Carnelian fell back a couple inches, eyes still narrowed.

Jameston cleared his throat yet again. Carnelian would almost feel bad for the guy, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was complicit in letting him stay kidnapped. “Yes sir, your uncle had his ways of training them. However, he didn’t train them all the same way. He found that one’s fight to be..” He skimmed his notes quickly. “..rather appealing, sir.”

Carnelian made a noise of disgust as Dustin grinned. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Carnelian barely breathed until Dustin stepped away, turning back to Jameston. “Well, I’ve seen them all. Let’s go back upstairs now. I think I saw a nice liquor cabinet that I’d like to raid.”

Once they were both gone from view and the door had hissed shut, Carnelian leaned his head against the cool glass.

“You okay?” Emerald asked.

Carnelian just shook his head, a sudden lump in his throat. “The way he looked at me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Emerald murmured back.

He glanced up to find the older man looking at him with concern and pity.

“Well then,” Amethyst said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen thick and heavy. “That was certainly something.”

Diamond sobbed loudly. “That.. that can’t be true. Can it?” They looked up, searching the others’ faces. Carnelian felt a twinge of pity for them. After over a decade of being trapped down here, they had been reduced to a mere shadow of whoever they might have once been. At whatever they might’ve seen on their faces, Diamond dissolved back into inconsolable sobs.

Resting her head on the wall, Ruby quietly asked, “So what happens now?”

There was a beat of silence before Emerald replied, “Now we wait.”

Back upstairs, Dustin was finally alone after getting rid of that annoying lawyer. He had had to practically shove the man out of the house to get him to leave. Even then, he had only left with promises to call later about the details.

For now, Dustin was sprawled out in a large, overstuffed armchair, a bottle of expensive whisky and a half empty glass next to him. He was already on his second glass, and he had no plans on stopping any time soon.

His mind drifted to the one who had glared and cursed at him. The smaller one, with the hard gaze, numerous freckles, and bright curly hair. The one Jameston had said was named Carnelian. Dustin looked up the stone and smiled at the pictures that were pulled up. Bright, fiery stones, of varying shades, Dustin had to admit, he could see the resemblance.

Pouring himself another glass, he sunk down further into the chair. He supposed he should be more concerned with the fact that there were six human beings locked in some creepy basement that he had apparently just inherited. But, after living the life that he had lived so far, Dustin had to admit that this was far from the craziest thing he had seen. He knew plenty of friends whose families had, well, less than legal people working for them, and now that he thought about it, he swore he could remember some show a few of his friends had gone to where the host had all his pets or whatever they were called designed as gemstones.

He laughed softly, quietly murmuring, “Carnelian, huh?” before draining the glass and pouring one more.

It was hours later when Carnelian awoke in the darkness. The bright lights, luckily, were still on their automated timer, so they had shut out at their usual time. It had been hours since Diamond’s sobs had slowly petered out and since the others’ quiet, stilted conversations had dwindled. Now, everyone was asleep.

Well, everyone except Carnelian. It took him a moment to figure out what had awoken him, a soft tapping on the glass wall of his cell. With a soft groan, he rolled over, out of the bed, squinting in the dim light.

In front of him stood the silhouette of a man. A couple seconds later, Carnelian recognized him as Dustin, his new.. owner. He almost snorted at the title. This man wasn’t any older than Carnelian, and he looked and behaved like an entitled, overprivileged frat boy.

Carnelian slowly walked closer. “What the hell do you want?” he whispered, because he didn’t want to accidentally wake the others and unleash the chaos that would bring with it. It took him a moment to realize that Dustin was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Without answering him, Dustin finally figured out how to unlatch it and swung the door open. He looked back up at Carnelian and made a silent motion for him to follow as he padded back towards the door.

Frowning, Carnelian carefully stepped out, towards him and the hallway beyond, where he could see light spilling out from the door. Knowing it probably wasn’t very smart, Carnelian walked into the hallway, squinting slightly at the suddenly bright lights.

Before he knew what was happening, there was a hand fisting in his hair and pushing him up against the wall. Carnelian looked up, eyes wide, to find Dustin standing much too close to him and several inches taller than him.

Feeling his breath stutter and his heart skip a beat, Carnelian breathed out, “What the hell do you want?” He barely dared take his eyes away from Dustin’s.

With the hand not pinning him to the wall, Dustin leaned closer and wrapped a curl around his finger, pulling until Carnelian wince slightly before letting it go, watching it bounce. This close, Carnelian could smell the whisky on his breath.

“Are.. are you drunk?” he asked, swallowing hard when that steely blue gaze met his, hazy yet surprisingly clear.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said, smirking as he pushed closer to Carnelian, who tried to pull away, but one vicious yank on his hair had his eyes watering and stilled the rest of his body. Dustin raised a hand and slowly traced over Carnelian’s cheeks, ending with one finger following the outline of his lips. “You’re Carnelian.”

Carnelian barely resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead held his breath, eyes wide and searching Dustin’s. He didn’t dare to breathe, much less speak, so he didn’t ask why Dustin had said something he already knew the answer to.

It felt as if an eternity had passed before Dustin pulled away, shoving Carnelian roughly back towards the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said glibly, pulling the door shut once Carnelian was through, leaving him back in the darkness.

Immediately, Carnelian went back to the one place he never thought he’d call safe. Once he had pulled the glass door closed, hearing the lock click, he curled up in his bed, as far away from the door as he could get, the thin blanket pulled over him as his heart beat in his throat.

He didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

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jarofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Dirty Business II - Espresso

A/N: We’re back with more!! We had lots of fun writing their dynamic, they’re probably one of our favorites. Never a dull moment with them, so buckle up!

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, cheating, daddy kink

word count: 13k

Harry knew Y/N knew she was wearing down on him. Caroline has come in once more and Y/N has brought him his coffee and scone, it hadn’t been pretty. Y/N, to her credit, just gave a smile and said she knew what he liked and walked away. Caroline didn’t appreciate that and again accused him of doing shit with her. He told her she didn’t have to worry. He did feel a bit of guilt for kissing Y/N, but at the end of the day? It was going to happen and he knew he was going to. It wasn’t an excuse.... except, maybe it was. He thought about that damn kiss over and over again. It was heavenly. He wished for it again, wanted to taste her mouth and even further— but couldn't.

Since then, she has been bothering him to break up with Caroline. Something he was going to do but... maybe after Paris. She was right. He needed someone to take care of Oliver if Niall couldn’t. When he went back to his office, Y/N followed. Standing behind his desk, his arms crossed and he looked at her with a raised brow.

“Is this your doing?”

“What? You think I’d orchestrate this? You flatter me.” Y/N chuckled, walking over to stand in front of his desk. “Believe it or not, it was my father’s idea. Even down to me coming along. I have to give it to him. Said he didn’t trust anyone else with the job.” It was all true. Harry was going to be the next face of the company, he wanted new investors to trust that this company had a long and bright future. Y/N coming along was really for the show aspect, he knew his daughter was beautiful and would help schmooze anyone who wasn’t completely onboard if Harry didn’t already succeed. The two of them would turn up their charm and do the job well. “But yes, make sure you send that information over tonight.... I’ll text you a list of what to pack for the events, I’ll cover the suits and shirts, don’t worry.” Y/N smiled, already excited at seeing him in some nice higher quality pieces. He needed to look the part. Not that he didn’t already, but she wanted to pamper him.

“Jesus... okay. Fine.” He sighed, rubbing between his brows. God damn it. How was he going to survive this type of thing? When she would be in such close quarters that it would be impossible to escape? He was fucked. “Y/N, no funny business. Okay?” He opened his eyes to look at her. She looked like she was scheming. “I mean it, Y/N. Nothing is going to happen. We will be friendly, but nothing like what you’ve got running around in that mind.” He was trying to be serious but, he knew internally this may be his downfall. “Don’t look at me like that. I mean it.” She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t fair that she had such an influence over his body and his heart. It sucked because he had grown to actually like her. When she wasn’t having the bratty rich girl persona on, she was lovely to talk to.

Y/N raised her brows at him, he really thought that his statements were going to work this time. That this time she’d listen and really hold back, keep things professional when she didn’t have to.

“You mean it huh?” She asked and moved from her place to walk so she was standing behind the desk with him. “If that’s what you have to do... what you have to say so that you feel guilt free, then fine.” Y/N spoke, using her hands to smooth over the lapels of his blazer. “Just going to go to Paris, take care of business and have fun. What’s so wrong about that? Loosen up.” She mumbled, leaning forward to press a few kisses down his jaw. When he let out a frustrated groan she pulled away, “You’re only making things harder for yourself by denying me, Harry, you know I’m never going to give up right?” Y/N looked up at him with mischievous eyes. “But you keep telling me what you need to feel better... it’s okay, but you don’t have to make it this hard for yourself.” She just wanted to kiss him again, so she was tired but of course was denied.

He placed his finger on her lips. The kisses on the jaw were enough to fuck with him. He hadn’t fucked Caroline for weeks now, the last time being after he kissed Y/N. He had to think about her to get hard, went especially hard because he was so frustrated and wished he was buried in her instead. Since then, he felt gross and stuck with his hand. It’s been a few weeks now and it was definitely hard. The finger thing backfired though, Y/N’s eyes lighting up and her hand grabbing his wrist, finger being sucked into her mouth. And it was hot. So fucking hot. Feeling her slick tongue run over and the suction of her mouth, he felt stuck.

Y/N smirked for herself, keeping eye contact as her mouth sucked at his finger. He really shouldn’t have done that, but he did. Harry had let her show him just how badly she’d wanted him yet again. She pulled off his finger and licked up the base of it before pulling him back into her mouth for a few more moments. She wanted to drive him crazy. Once he seemed to pull away she pouted, licking over her lips and giving him a small shy smile.

“I want you.” She whispered quietly, “so bad..” The girl was whining, desperate for him but she’d never beg. She wasn’t one to beg, no, he’d have to give in. Y/N wasn’t going to leave until he told her to, which she assumed would be now. She’d just occupy the rest of her time planning their Parisian itinerary, packing, getting ready for their big trip. They had about three days till they left, three days for him to get his shit together and accept that he couldn’t deny her during this trip, absolutely not.

He cleared his throat, pulling his fingers away from her. Why had he let her do that? A bit of misstep. He wasn’t confident in this trip. She scared him. Y/N was dangerous for him and yet, he continued to allow her to get her way.

“Christ.... just— go make some reservations to whatever you want to do in Paris. I’ve never been there, so I don’t mind doing whatever.” He muttered, walking towards the window to look out over the city. He knew in his deep gut that Y/N was wearing him down thin. She worked so hard and even told him she wasn’t giving up. So why did he want to fight so hard again? Oh right. His job. If she was this determined to get him... what would she do if he pissed her off? He was nervous over that and while he knew internally she wouldn’t ruin his life like that, the possibility still lingered.

“Have a good night, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hummed, making her way out of his office and back to grab her things in her father’s before heading out for the day. She would get cozy at home, book everything she needed to before their trip and relax with a bottle of wine. She was very excited.

The next three days, Y/N has spent booking things. Their itinerary was set, booked in tables for restaurants, booked private tours for all the major attractions, and made some time in the schedule for them to explore all her favorite little corners of the city. Even the night life. She was so excited, mostly because she was going to spend time with Harry, but also that she would be alone in one of her favorite cities with Harry. She spent the last day getting her hair, nails, facial, and waxing done. Regular maintenance before any trip. She wanted to feel perfect to her standard. Y/N had sent over someone to tailor the suits she’d ordered for him in the office during the week, which were then delivered to his house with matching shirts and ties. Everything was packed and ready to go, the only thing left was to get on the plane.

It was a private plane. Y/N’s father owned a few but this one was apparently one of the best. He had arrived before Y/N, kind of shell shocked at just how his life was turning out. Never had he thought he’d be on a private plane to Paris.

Harry decided that since it was a business trip that he should wear one of the suits Y/N picked out for him. He had taken off the jacket and hung up before he opened up his laptop. There was still work he wanted to do and he knew that Y/N would be distracting him. When she did arrive, he wasn’t surprised to see her looking as gorgeous as ever. She always did. He wanted to see her with no makeup though. Hair normal. No fancy outfits. Just... relaxed. That would be rather nice. She made a beeline for him, giving an actually rather nice hug.

“Good evening.” He said, a bit surprised at her behavior. He thought perhaps she would sit in the chair across from him, but she lifted his laptop and let herself into the seat next to him.

There was no shame anymore. None. She was doing what her father said and taking what she wanted.

“Good evening.” Y/N smiled happily at him, “Are you excited?” She asked having her entire rich girl persona leave her in these moments. She didn’t have to act for anyone here, didn’t have to impress anyone here, that’s the only reason she even put on the act anyway. To impress people. Here, it was just her and Harry on a plane to France. Y/N had known the crew for years and she had befriended them all. Maybe Harry would be surprised, seeing her treat them as if they were friends rather than employees. Now that she had gotten time alone with him, she felt free to do and say as she pleased. Their only requirement on this trip was to go to these events and meetings but other than that? Absolutely nothing. Y/N would be getting to spend way more time with him that she’d had in the three weeks that she’s known him and that made her very excited. She could show him that she could be fun, that she was actually very laid back and affectionate. She was hoping he’d really get to know her. She buckled up in her seat, looking over at him to see him working on his laptop. Y/N would let him do his work, knowing at some point he’d get bored and have to talk to her. She was doing the same on her phone, sending emails and texts to whoever she needed.

He was pleasantly surprised. Normally when they were out in public, she had a certain tone to her voice. She had this... rich and squeaky voice, but alone, and apparently here, she was normal and sweet. It was odd to be around her like this, but it was nice. Again, it made it harder for him to keep her away. His heart turned to mush with her sweet behavior. She was relaxed and he could tell she liked being next to him. He knew that he had been a bit harsher with her lately but the girl didn’t give it a rest. He could feel her eyes on him after he heard her lock her phone. It lasted 5 minutes before he sighed, looking at her.

“Have I got something’ on my face?” He asked. It was more a tease because she had been staring for a bit and didn’t have any shame in being caught. Y/N smiled at his comment, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Mm, now you do.” She hummed, letting her hand move to gently rub off the lip stick she’d transferred on to his face. She was so fond of him, couldn’t stop herself from staring and talking to him. He just proved to be the most attractive man she’s ever met and she stood by that. From his voice, to the way he walked, to his stare. He was powerful and smart and everyone in the room knew it when he walked in. He is and will be extremely successful in the business and Y/N knew that all too well. She wanted him for herself because he deserved a wife like her, who was going to devote her time to worshiping him. Not some girl who would rely on him financially. She looked over at one of the flight attendants as she told Harry to put his laptop away for take off, offering the two something to drink at their request.

“Wine?” Y/N raised her brow at him, “I stopped by the bakery on the way here too, got your favorite.”

His face softened. She always went out of her way to give him things. She learned things and didn’t forget. Y/N was sweet and he was so conflicted because it was so hard to keep his resolve when she showed how genuinely sweet the girl could be.

“Wow... thanks. I’m good on the wine but, you didn’t have to.” She really didn’t have to but the fact she did made him happy. It meant a lot to him. He squeezed her hand as a thanks. Y/N seemed to appreciate that. “How did you even remember what my favorite things are? I didn’t even mention half of them more than once or even at all and you just get them for me?” He knew she must have been really observant, or a hacker.

“You’re very welcome.” She hummed, telling the flight attendant to make some coffee instead, looking back at Harry when he squeezed her hand. As a form of comfort, she began rubbing her thumb over his hand while the plane began to take off. “Dunno just... when you like someone, you just remember things.” Y/N shrugged, knowing she’s always been that way. “At least... I make an effort too, I don’t know.” She hoped that he didn’t find it weird, mostly because she herself wanted to be treated that way. She wished someone loved her the way she loved people. Once they were in the air the flight attendant brought their coffees, croissants and scones.

“Help yourselves too! I definitely won’t be able to finish them all.” Y/N smiled back to them, watching as Harry went to reach for one of the scones. She was pleased knowing she’d done a good job.

“That was really kind of you.” He murmured when she sat back down next to him. “I haven’t been in this type of business world too long but I know a lot of people don’t do that stuff so you probably made their whole day.” He was impressed. It just made it more difficult to ignore her charm and allure. It was going to be hard this trip. Half of him was ready to give up now. Let her kiss him and have a romantic time in Paris. Y/N would be a good lover, he thinks. She was thoughtful and sweet and she could fucking kiss. He sat and watched her interact with the staff, her eyes always coming back to him. He was trying to be less obvious that he was looking at her but it was difficult not to. She was airy and bright like this. Much better than how she acted at the office or in the city. Was this the real her?

“I’ve known them a long time, they’re practically family to.” Y/N spoke, looking between him and the staff. Was it shocking to him that she could treat people well? Of course her father was ruthless, but she? She had a heart. It was a huge reason she would never really get into the business. That didn’t mean she could be ruthless because lord knows she could be. She had noticed Harry looking at her, giving him a smile whenever she did catch him. Of course she had been looking at him too, she really liked him. God, did she like him. Y/N has spent hours researching things he talked about, things he liked, just hoping she could get to know a little bit more of his mind. She just wanted him for herself, wanted that devotion.

Y/N did eventually feel herself falling asleep, getting tired while listening to him type away at his computer. She didn’t really say much, simply rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled against him. She’d been dreaming about doing this for weeks now and it was truly meeting up to her every expectation.

Harry told himself it would be a dick to move her. Realistically, he felt good when she decided to nuzzle against him. The fact she felt safe, even when he had been so distant and kind of cold to her, she didn’t stop. He wondered if this is how it would be if they were in a relationship. Would this be the side he sees? Sleepy Y/N with soft lips, resting against his body? The trust she had in him already to keep her safe was so astonishing He stared at her while she slept. When slight turbulence hit, he gently comforted her back to sleep when she whined. He already thought about her all the time. He wanted to know more of her likes but he had tried so hard to block it out. Maybe it would be fun, this trip.

They landed in Paris rather quickly, Y/N being thrilled at that. She thanked the crew for their work and told them to enjoy their week in France, making her way off of the plane down to the car that was there to meet them. Y/N could tell that Harry wasn’t used to this luxurious way of living but she was hoping he’d get more comfortable with it when being around her.

“I think you’re going to love it here.” Y/N smiled, “the hotel is lovely as well. I’m so excited!” She giggled, taking hold of his hand again just because she wanted to be touching him. The drive into the city didn’t take too long, Y/N making herself familiar with the surroundings once again. The Ritz Carleton was marvelous, absolutely stunning. The decor on the inside made it look straight out of a royal palace and it’s why Y/N loved staying there so much. She liked feeling like a princess. Of course, her father had booked them a suite, to bed one bath. The room with the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower and a terrace.

Harry felt like he was In some kind of storybook. There was no way this was real... right? He was in awe. Stepping into the hotel, he also felt severely out of place. Sure, Y/N has bought him designer shit but inside? He still wore primary tee shirts at home.

“Well... shit.” He muttered, the doorman bringing their bags to each room. He told them to give Y/N the master bedroom and he would take the smaller of them both. It wasn’t like it mattered. They were both huge. “This place is like... one of those fake storybook places. I never knew hotels like this existed.” He muttered. On the kitchenette table— was 3 gift baskets, with fruit, one with wine and cheese, and the other with luxury soaps. He was indeed shocked at how much they went out of their way to spoil guests. How much was this place a night?

“Yeah? It’s part of the reason why I love coming here so much... it’s.. magical.” Y/N smiled, quickly going to take his hand and bring him to the terrace so he could see the view. She giggled a bit at his amusement. “That’s how you know you’re in Paris.” She cooed, “I’ll give you a moment... I’m going to go change.” With that, she was off to her bedroom, quickly taking her suitcase and unpacking everything into the closet as she usually did for a trip like this. She pulled out her pajamas, just a T—shirt and some cotton panties, and her toiletries, heading off to the bathroom to get all comfy cozy. Of course, she was a little nervous, seeing as Harry had never seen her not dolled up. She was confident in how she looked, but just a bit more shy about it. After an extensive skin care routine, Y/N had walked back into her room and put her clothes away, grabbed her phone and walked out into the living room area. “You hungry? room service here is delicious... and you didn’t eat lunch so we are pigging out.” She told him and finally looked up from her phone to find where in the room he was.

Harry has changed too, considering It was definitely too tiring to go out. He had put on sweatpants and a tee shirt that said ‘eat your honey’ with a little bee on it. His reading glasses to the side, he sat in the living area. Looking out, you could see lots of things. The buildings, the tower, the fireplace and TV. It was unreal. He had sent photos to his mum and sister as well as niall, which had all three of them freaking out over how incredible it was. He wasn’t expecting Y/N to come out with a fresh face though. He thinks that may be the moment he was fucked. Seeing her natural, bare, dressed down? His heart did a little thing. She was beautiful. Like— really fucking beautiful. Without makeup, without it all, she was stunning even more. He thought she looked good most of the time but now especially, he was in a bit of shock. How? He truly couldn’t get over it.

“Uh... yeah? That's fine with me.” He blinked a few times and waited for her to come over with the menu. She sat close, heat from her body leaking into his as she leaned against him. First sign of weakness was that he didn’t read just— just felt her. He wasn’t sure she had shorts on underneath the large shirt. He didn’t want to know, actually.

Naturally, Y/N blushed when she noticed the look at Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking, surely he wouldn’t say anything if he thought she looked bad. Lord knows her exes had told her man times that she looked ill without makeup on. It was then that she started wearing makeup everyday. She wanted to feel close to Harry, happy that he didn’t shift when she leaned into him this time.

“What are you in the mood for? If you want, we can get two mains to split and a few appetizers?” She explained, knowing this menu by heart. French cooking at it’s finest? She couldn’t wait to dig in. They had decided on what they wanted and Y/N went to order, in French of course. She ordered their dishes and a few bottles of wine, as well as some dessert. Harry would be eating like a king tonight, she would make sure of it. “Alright, should be here in about 25 minutes.” Y/N came to sit next to him, again moving so she was real close. She liked seeing him all dressed down, he looked very comfortable and it made her feel really domestic despite being in a place like this. “How are you feeling?”

He was rather enthused by watching her. She was interesting and he was kind of seeing her in a new light. She was polite to workers and kind to strangers, even with her prissy voice on. It seemed that out of New York, she felt happy. At home more around him than when they were actually at home.

“I’m okay. Probably gonna be a bit jet lagged but I’m excited to be here. S’beautiful.” And so was she. He couldn’t stop thinking and this was bad for him. He needed to relax. Calm himself down. Realize that it’s okay, it’s just Y/N and he shouldn’t... however that part of his brain was being squished little by little. “How about you? You seem excited.” She did. She was happy and he was wondering if part of it had to do with him being there with her. Or if maybe Paris is just her favorite place. He liked it quite a bit already. Y/N moved to push a few hairs away from his eyes, giving him a soft sweet smile.

“Good...” She cooed, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m... I’m really excited.” She didn’t want to be too obvious about it but he had read her quite well. It was clear that she thrived when she was on her own, when the expectations of her family weren’t on her. She was a powerful woman, everyone knew that, but she was sweet. She meant well. “Guess I just.. I like being away from everyone.” Y/N explained, “my parents and all the people I know in New York.” She wasn’t sure if it would make sense to him but she’d try her best to paint the picture for him. “Can be my own person here, don’t have to think about what I’m doing or breathing even... but it’s also nice just being here with you..” Y/N admitted, chuckling at the look on his face. “What? Are you really that surprised?” She really wasn’t sure how he didn’t get it yet. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you for you to believe me.” Y/N let her hand find its place in the curls on the back of his neck. “‘m not going to beg for you Harry, I don’t beg.” She told him, “people only ever get one chance with me... but you just... I actually like you, and you’re the one thing I can’t have.”

“Why?” He had to ask. It didn’t make much sense at all that she was so into him out of all people. Granted, he was flattered. Of course he was. But he just didn’t get it. “Why do you want me so badly? I just don’t understand the interest. You’re of a higher class, you’re beautiful, you’re educated. I went on a scholarship to Oxford, I wear primark— your worlds h&m or whatever, I eat McDonald’s and take away all the time and I live in a small apartment.” He furrowed his brow. “Why am I such a want for you? I don’t understand. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pass any judgement in to you or anything but it’s just... hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re so set on having me when there’s so many other men that could give you a much more comfortable life.”

It broke her heart to hear him talk like that. Not only did he think that she wouldn’t want him because of their different classes, but because he thought he couldn’t offer her the life that she wanted. As if he’d know that a comfortable life came with its own set of struggles, ones that people didn’t see as justifiable. Everyone thinks money can buy happiness.

“Harry, I’d give up my whole life just to be happy and cared about.” She said softly, again seeing the look of confusion on his face. “Look, I get it. I’m this spoiled bratty little girl who has never had to work a day in her life. Yes I have everything I could ever want, could ever need— except for the one thing that money could never buy.” She looked away from him and began toying with the hem of her shirt. Y/N hated showing weakness but if it meant that he could understand where she was coming from she’d do anything. Including showing her hand a bit. “And I see someone like you.. someone who has ambition, who is stable and who shows so much potential both in his career and everywhere else. Someone who’s kind and someone who... who doesn’t particularly care who I am or what I have or what I can offer.... someone who is a genuinely good guy, not some hot shot who thinks because he can buy me an island I now bow down to him.” Y/N finally looked up at him. “Just want to know what it’s like to actually have someone care about you..”

“I’m.... i’m sorry.” He said after a few moments of silence. “That I assumed things of you, of what you want. That wasn’t fair of me.” He did feel guilty. What he saw was a girl who just wanted someone to care about her. Actually. Someone who would give her attention that wasn’t for money. The same way she must have been showing her affection with the gifts and things. He felt badly now for acting annoyed. “I really understand that. I can’t imagine how it is to grow up in that sort of environment. I’m lucky because my family was and is still close but... I do care about you, Y/N. More than I should. I’m sorry that I’ve been so hard on you.” He gently took her small hand and squeezed it. “I loved all your gifts. They aren’t necessary, but you put a lot of thought into them and every one, I’ve used. I have the tee shirt in my bag, that you got me. I don't want you to think that I didn’t like them.” He felt terribly guilty now that he could see some truth. At first he thought maybe she wanted him because he was new and interesting but she hadn’t lost interest.

“It’s okay... I sort of expected it, but I’m glad you let me explain.” Y/N offered a small smile as he squeezed her hand. “Cause I know I can be that girl... and I am to some extent, but at the end of the day that isn’t who I want to be and I want you to know that.” She wouldn’t be that bitchy girl her whole life, especially if she was dating Harry. Sure, she’d be that way around work and around places she knew people would be, but around him? Around his family and friends? She’d be the real her. “You did?” Her eyes lit up at the idea of it. She was really glad he had enjoyed her gifts, the records, the shirts, the candles, all of it. Y/N felt her stomach get all fuzzy, “I’m really glad you like them... I really just got stuff that made me think of you. There’s a bunch of stuff I’d like to get you, those suits being some of them.” She smiled brightly, “you looked really nice today by the way...” Y/N was really just a soft girl. Once she was comfortable and someone they really got to know her, she just wanted to love and be loved. She could go on for hours just listening to him talk about his life and his cat and all that good stuff. She just wanted a friend that was genuine, luckily Harry happened to be extremely attractive as well.

“I figured you’d pick out good ones. You have a good boutique so, I do trust you in fashion.” He smiled lightly. Y/N has gotten a good amount of things for him to wear here and he was just letting her dress him because in all honesty, he didn’t know the best thing to wear with what. Suits were easy but she hadn’t only gotten him suits. Shirts and pants and all that. “It must be hard to get up every day and put on and put together an outfit and match your makeup and all that. M’lucky with a suit. It’s easy to put on, but you manage to always look put together. It must be a bit exhausting.” Not that it wasn’t worth it but he was hoping to see more of the light makeup. None. “I like the no makeup thing. You’ve got long eyelashes though. My sister got extensions on them and she loves them— did you get those?” He was trying to show his interest because he still did feel badly. He had equal interest but had been hiding it every day and Y/N was being honest and open.

“Thank you... but no, it’s actually really fun.” Y/N felt herself smile at the thought of it actually. “The whole process of getting ready, from picking out the outfit to doing the makeup. It’s really fun. When I have nowhere to go on the weekends, I’ll stay in just like this and lounge all day.” She admitted, raising her brow as he went on to tell her about how he liked her with no makeup on. That was something she never thought she’d hear. Here she was sitting there all nervous because she would think he’d think of her differently now that he could see every freckle and dark circle on her face. Her face must have been beet red. “Don’t have to lie...” She chuckled, “But thank you... I didn’t really like the extensions cause I rub my eyes too much when I don’t wear makeup and they’d always fall off.” She explained, “I either like how I look with lots of makeup or with none at all... it's an internal thing.... but I’ve had too many exes tell me they think I look sick without makeup on, so it just always in the back of my head.” Y/N really had been through it in the past. She wasn’t one to wear it on her sleeve but she’d been cheated on and abused and manipulated so many times. It definitely had lasting effects on her. “I really do appreciate your compliments... I do. It’s hard for me to accept them but it means a lot to me.”

“The hell? They’re full of shit. I can admit I’ve seen some people who look like they could use some of that face stuff but you? No way in hell.” He scoffed. Exes. He wondered about those. What type of man did she date before? He was curious to know what happened in those relationships and why she thought he was lying about what he was saying. He wasn’t. “M’not lying. Your exes are pieces of shit if they genuinely told you that, and awful liars. You’re welcome though.” He shrugged. The food got there quickly after he said that, and was wheeled into the table area. He stood up and was astounded at just how much food there was. “This all looks really damn good.” He muttered to her. “Are those macrons?”

----

It was safe to say Y/N had a lot of thinking to do in bed today. She’d opened up a lot more than she had expected to Harry and now he knew a lot, enough to understand her more than he did and now things were noticeably different. Sure, he was still a little hesitant, but he seemed a lot more open to her kind gestures and her remarks, of course her kisses were still denied. Harry really was as calm and charming as she thought he was. He opened up a little bit more about the things they liked and they bonded over music. They both shared a love for Fleetwood Mac, the zombies, and other oldies that she felt many guys liked just to say they liked it. They had a similar sense of humor as well which helped, but of course it sucked because he technically still had a girlfriend. She wasn’t sure if he was going to break up with her or not, but surely their chemistry was undeniable. Y/N wouldn’t rest until he was hers, she didn’t care what he said, she’d have him by the end of this trip if not earlier.

When she woke up in the morning, she went to the bathroom to freshen up, slipping on a robe for warmth and smiling when she noticed Harry sitting outside on the terrace with breakfast. It seemed like something out of a romance movie.

“Bonjour..”

“Bonjour.” He greeted back. He wanted her to walk over and straddle his lap. Give him kisses and open up the robe so he could see underneath and touch and kiss on it. Maybe even slip out of his pants and have her sitting on him, make love to her on the balcony. He snapped out of it as her chair made a noise and she sat down.

“I remembered your eggs Benedict and the mimosa. I also got the stuffed strawberry toast because you like strawberries a lot.” He cleared his throat. He was going to return the thoughtfulness she had shown him. She was so lovely and thought of things that would make him smile and now he was going to do the same and make her feel cared for. Even if it wasn’t necessarily romantically. His little mind dream before had been a clue though. He needed to break up with Caroline for real. He shouldn’t have daydreams of another woman on him, let alone the term making love come to his mind.

Y/N smiled brightly as she took a seat, admiring all the food before her. He really did this for her? Did he really go out of his way to make sure he ordered things she liked because he wanted to make it up to her? Y/N could jump him right now if he’d let her.

“Harry... thank you.” She felt really warm inside. “This is really sweet.” Y/N got all blushy again and went to dig into her meal. “Did you get some sleep?” She hoped that the jet lag wasn’t too bad for him. Y/N was used to traveling so her body clock was all over the place. She slept when she was tired. “We have the day off so... we can get dressed and go out in the city and explore. I can take you to some of my favorite places.”

It was a Sunday morning in Paris, the two could do absolutely anything they’d wanted. She decided they’d go for a walk down Champs Élysées, see the arch de triumph and end the night around the Eiffel Tower. They could take their time getting ready and going out, they didn’t have a schedule today so they were free to do as they pleased.

“Yeah, I did actually. I think the plane tired me out enough.” He had slept a good 4, 5 hours so he felt good enough. He woke up earlier than normal however he didn’t mind. He talked to his mum and ordered them a good breakfast. “We can do that, yeah. I’ve never been so, it’s a bit exciting.” He wasn’t nervous, oddly enough. It would be the both of them alone in a city but he was more excited. Y/N would know the good spots to hang around and that was exciting to him. Especially because she was truly excited to show him around. “Where were you thinking of going?” He questioned. He was hoping for a few shops so he could get his mother and sister something. Gemma had been to Paris once on a school trip but his mother had never. He was the first in his family to make decent money.

“Mm, well, I was thinking we could go walk in the area towards Champs Élysées... do some shopping? Get some food... just some exploring really. I’m saving all the actual touristy bits for later in the week. I’m sure the louvre is packed right now.” Y/N was glad to hear he got some rest, he looked really good. He sounded even better. She liked how deep his voice was usually, but it was particularly deep in the morning. She had no doubt that Harry would fall in love with Paris. All the little shops and boutiques, all the cute places to get coffee and sandwiches. She truly was over the moon about being here with him. Y/N took her time eating her breakfast, going through her emails on her phone for a bit before deciding it was time to get ready. “I’ll meet you in here when I’m ready.” Y/N cooed, “thank you again for ordering for me..” She smiled making her way to the bathroom to get herself all fresh and ready. He said he liked the way she looked with no makeup so she decided to leave her skin dewy and fresh, adding some winged eyeliner and mascara while doing the classic French thing of putting on a red lip.

“Are you ready to go?”

Harry pulled on some silky soft shirt Y/N had gotten him. It was baby blue but he decided to not button it all the way, and a pair of skinny jeans with his worn boots. It was comfortable and he wanted it to be that way. It was warm so he decided to forgo the jacket, instead tucking his wallet and phone into his front pocket. He knew pickpockets were a thing so he wasn’t changing it in the back. The makeup she wore looked very good. Classic. Just... more natural except for the red lip but it brought out how beautiful they were. Soft as fuck, too. He remembered how good they felt. It was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check. “Yes. You look lovely. I like that makeup.” He complimented, making sure he tucked a room key into his wallet as well.

“Thank you. That shirt looks really good on you.” She wasn’t used to all the compliments from him, but god was she thriving off of them. Y/N visibly brightened up at his words and smiled. She was eyeing him up properly. She could eat him up. All she wanted to do was lick right up his chest but that would be a bit much for the hour of the day it was. Maybe later. “We’re actually close by so we don’t have to take a car.” Y/N hummed, clicking the button on the elevator and waiting for it to arrive. She decided against heels today seeing as they’d be walking around and instead went for boots. It made Harry a bit taller instead of eye level with her, making her feel rather feminine.

The two of them looked good together, it was quite obvious by the way that people looked at them as they walked by. It made Y/N feel all giddy inside to think that these people all thought they were together. Of course, that’s all she’d ever wanted. It was beautiful out. Harry couldn’t believe he was actually in Paris, walking around, staying in a 5 star hotel with the prettiest woman he had ever met. It felt unreal. Like it was all coming full circle and he was in awe.

“Wow... it's so gorgeous out here.” He whispered to her as they walked towards wherever she was taking them first. He trusted her to show him a good time. If anything, he knew she would provide good company. “How many times have you been here?” He asked, gently grabbing her hand when she tripped slightly on a cracked brick. “Oop. Gotta watch. You’re a lot shorter without those heels on, but it’s a good thing you aren’t wearing them on the street.” He smiled.

“I reckon I’m better talking in them than I am in normal shoes now.” Y/N chuckled, allowing herself to slot her fingers with his. If he was already holding her hand, she didn’t want to let it go. “I wanna say... in the teens if not twenties now?” She had been to Paris many times. “I do the whole fashion thing and so does my mom so Paris is quite essential.” She loved it. It was a place where she could escape, a place where she could express herself and was always welcomed by people. Y/N led him inside a vintage store her friend owned, knowing Harry loved those types of things this was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Y/N! si agréable de te voir.” Y/N! so nice to see you her friend Jacqueline cooed as she saw her.

“Chéri, c'est bon d'être bacm.” Darling, it’s good to be back. It was then that Jacqueline noticed Harry, smiling at him and at Y/N.

“C'est ton copain? c'est un si bel homme.” Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome She asked, to which Y/N nodded in agreement.

He might as well be her boyfriend, Harry thought with a smirk. Y/N didn’t know he spoke pretty good French. But obviously, he felt... okay. He should call it out and tell her that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but he liked hearing that. The pride on her face when she said it too... it did strike him. She would be that proud to be with him? He walked around and found a few cool vintage tee shirts. Older bands and French tee shirts from the 80’s which he found fascinating. All of it was incredibly cool. An old pair of sunglasses as well, he picked up and fell in love with. They weren’t special, not at all, but something about them felt good.

“Find anything?” She was sorting through the dresses and he could see some things on her arm. It felt oddly normal and domestic, the both of them shopping together. He was trying to relax and let the feeling soak into him that perhaps this was good. Maybe this was just what he needed to experience to see that maybe he could give it a shot. Of course this was Y/N’s ultimate fantasy, shopping in Paris with her hopefully soon to be boyfriend. She loved knowing he was around, that if she turned the corner he would be there and she could go up to him and lean up on him and kiss his shoulder or whatever she wanted. It made her feel all giddy inside. “Hmm?” She turned her head as he came up behind her, Y/N smiled at him and saw he had picked up a few things. “I really like the color of this..” She showed him the set, “I’ll have to do some sowing but... I’ll make it work. And I really like this.” She said, holding up the vintage corset that her friend had held in the back for her knowing she’d like it. “How about you?” Y/N asked, nodding at the things he had seemed to pick up. She thought the shirts were cute, the sunglasses even better. “Love that.” She smiled up at him, liking the dream boat shirt. “You definitely are a dream boat.”

Her compliments meant a lot to him. He knew that she meant them wholeheartedly. It felt good to be on here with her and comparing things they were picking up. Truly, it felt like a whole other level. He liked it a bit too much.

“Thanks.” He laughed, placing the things back on his arm. He was done but he followed behind Y/N as she looked through the final few racks before they made their way to check out. He took out his wallet and paid, letting Y/N go after because she was talking to the owner. He could hear her talking about him again. How he was handsome and where she had found him.

It was nice to have someone be proud of being with him, even if they technically weren’t. He was feeling a bit of guilt for feeling this when he was technically still with Caroline but Y/N was just next level. Different. Something no one else could be. Y/N took Harry’s hand as they left the store, taking his hand comfortably again.

“It’s cute in there, yeah? Got lots of little vintage shops all around here... but if you’re thinking about the nice stuff...” Y/N led him to turn left, the Champs Élysées. “The biggest shopping street in the entire world.” She said with a small smirk. There were hundreds of designers, hundreds of regular stores, brand names, boutiques. You name it. Y/N knew they’d definitely find something here for his sister and mum and Y/N absolutely wanted to help in any way she could. The women in his life deserved to be pampered and spoiled, especially his mother for raising a son like him.

“Hm. I’m not sure I’m at the pay grade to normally shop at any of those.” He admitted. He made good money, yes. But a splurge on clothes every week or spending ten grand on something yet wasn’t something he could fathom. He knew that he was getting a raise soon and potentially another promotion but it was still hard. Living in New York wasn’t cheap and a quarter of his paycheck went to rent, then some to bills and food and the rest he saved. He wanted to buy a home one day. “I’m happy to come in with you though.” He wasn’t against looking. “Maybe get one or two things but I’m not going crazy. I don’t care if you do, though.” He didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t shop. He wanted her to enjoy herself and he hoped that she would get whatever she wanted, if that’s what she chose.

“You are on vacation though, can spoil yourself a little bit.” She hummed, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles as she pulled him into the Gucci store. Lots of things here reminded her of him, particularly the rings. She knew he wore lots of them and well, she felt like he needed a few proper ones. A few hundred dollars for a ring? Wasn’t too bad at all. She could buy him a couple if he wanted, Y/N waited to see where he went first before she made any choices. Maybe he’d go there on his own? She looked around the store but ultimately she did love their jewelry and handbags. So, she decided she really wanted to get this blue velvet and floral embroidered bag, looking at the rings in the case to see if she spotted anything she liked for herself and for Harry.

Harry hummed as he looked around, though he was certainly keeping an eye on Y/N. He felt a protectiveness over her growing. Making sure she was okay, happy where she was. She was glowing now that she seemed to be in her prime. Fashion really was right for her. He approached as she looked at the ring case, looking over her shoulder. A hand was placed on her back as he leaned over.

“Which are we looking at?” He murmured, a bit close to her ear. He wanted to see but also... kind of wanted to see what her reaction would be with him being this close. The rings were cool. Eccentric. He loved them, actually. There was one with a lion holding a gem between its teeth, another just really flashy ruby one he liked so much. He wasn’t sure which one Y/N would like for sure but the pearl looking one and the band with flowers looked like it would be her type. He was happy to feel Y/N melt into his touch, her breath hitching at his hot breath so close to her ear.

“I like a few... that one in particular.” Y/N pointed to the one with the flowers on the band. “Excuse me, could I see this in a size 16? Thank you.” She watched as he went to get it out for her. “And, the lion for him, please.” Y/N didn’t know what size he was in rings but she would surely find out now. “It reminds me of you..” She mumbled, trying on the ring for herself and nodded and decided to get it. There were a few more rings she had asked for him to try on deciding she’d get him the two he liked best. She didn’t care what he said, he was going to get those rings regardless. “What are you thinking?” Y/N cooed, desperately wanting to kiss on him at that moment. She could see he clearly liked the lion and the one with the ruby, “I’ll get them for you.” Y/N didn’t wait for him to answer, she just told the man helping them that she wanted those three rings and the bag. She cupped Harry’s cheeks in her hands, “just let me do this for you? Please?” She whispered, wishing she could kiss his nose but the red lipstick was really holding her back from that.

He felt his breathing catch. He was going to tell her no, that it was fine but she had to go and grab his face with her warm hands and lean up to look up at him. He felt her little thumb rub over his cheekbone and he could have sworn right there that she was a witch. She was enchanting. Tempting. Every nerve in his body felt sensitive just looking at her. His eyes scanned her face, feeling warmth in his tummy going up to his chest. How? She was putting spells on him and he felt the want for her rising as the day went on but she was so sweet. So giving to him.

“Y/N... are you sure?” In other days he might have removed her hands but didn’t. He liked how they felt. She responded well to his crowding of her, and liked to be close to him for sure. He was becomming whipped as fuck.Y/N noticed how he softened right then and there, smiling gently at him.

“Yes. I’m positive. You deserve some more rings on your fingers, to add depth to your handshake.... and other things.” Y/N smirked, already thinking about him spanking her ass with his ring clad hand. She would lose her mind like that. She moved her hands down to his chest and eventually let go, very happy to be treating him to something nice. He certainly deserved it. They were having such a nice day, Y/N had forgotten all about her family back home and all about the fact that he had a girlfriend. The only thing on her mind was him.

This could very well be their future, traveling around together and shopping and exploring. Spending time together with no worries. All he had to do was be hers. The company would be in his hands, it would likely be in his hands even if she wasn’t involved.

Once they’d wrapped up at the Gucci store, Y/N felt like they were on a whole new level. With each passing moment she felt closer to him, each store they stepped in a new level up. By the time they got back to the hotel room, stuffed from dinner, she still didn’t want to leave his side.

It didn’t take much convincing, after they both changed she called him into the living room to drink some wine and snack on the fruit and cheese the hotel had left for them. Harry was feeling like he was going to lose it. He didn’t know how he had been able to stay away but now that he was actually in close quarters with her, experiencing her sweetness and her touches and there were no expectations? He could find himself a bit mad. How was he going to stop? He wasn’t. See— he realized when they’d gotten back that he was being an idiot. Though he was nervous about his job, Y/N wasn’t the type to do that for vengeance. He would never cheat on her. He was so into her. Sexually, personality, emotionally. She had her fist on his heart. She wouldn’t be hurt by him and there was no way to predict the future.

He had changed, coming into the little kitchenette to grab the wine Y/N had poured. However, he could see her from behind, reaching up into an ornate cabinet above the counter and a flash of lace under the big tee shirt seemed to make his brain short circuit. That was it. He had it.

Fuck it all.

He approached from behind, pressing himself against her. His hand grabbed the glass but he didn’t move, taking a deep breath as he grabbed the counter.

“You... know what you’re going to me.” He muttered into her ear. She had gasped when he had come closer but especially now, she seemed spooked at how he had grabbed her. Hands going for her waist.

Y/N has backed off significantly today. She wanted to see how the two of them would work when she wasn’t being super pushy and when he actually let go a little bit and provided that banter. She couldn’t have been happier with the result, she felt a lot closer to Harry, felt like she knew him a lot better and of course he now knew her for who she really was. What she wasn’t expecting was this. She wasn’t sure what she did this time but it clearly seemed to get under his skin.

“Wasn’t...” She breathed out, leaning back into him a little bit and even more when she felt his hands on her waist. She turned her head so they were nearly touching lips and looked up at his eyes to see what was going on. His pupils were dilated behind belief and seeing him like that sent tingles throughout her body. She turned so she was facing him, hand moving up his chest. “What’s gotten you so worked up?” She asked, genuinely curious because lord knows she tried every trick in the book and it never worked before.

“You weren’t flirting. You weren’t touching me and I... fucking missed it.” He kept her backed into the counter so she couldn’t escape— even though he had a feeling she wouldn’t want to. He was going crazy. “I wanted it so fucking bad. I wanted you to kiss on me and touch me and I wanted you to say cute and dirty shit... fuck, it’s so bad because I shouldn’t, but you’re always there in my head and you’re never leaving.” He hissed, feeling himself getting worked up. “Can’t get hard without thinking about you— you know what I had to do, Y/N? I had to imagine you to get off when fucking my girlfriend. The only reason I even tried to fuck was to try and forget you and I couldn’t.” He could see she was shocked by that. “Flounce around in your pretty little outfits and are so sweet to me? Getting me gifts and noticing shit about me and it’s just... amazing. You’re so... amazing and it makes me insane.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “This is what you wanted? Isn’t it? Wanted me to go crazy over you?” He spoke against her skin, biting down a little bit.

Was Y/N dreaming? A few days ago he was doing his hardest to get her to stay away from him, convincing his girlfriend nothing was going on between them, and now here he was pressing her against the counter. Her eyes were blown wide, listening to him intently and watching his stare grow more and more intense. Y/N was already pooling I’m her panties just having him be so dominant, but him saying he couldn’t get hard unless he was thinking about her made her knees buckle. Her poor man, she’d be more than willing to help him. All she wanted was to treat him like a king. Just as she went to speak he started kissing at her neck, her head falling back to give him more space.

“F—fuck, Harry..” She breathed, nails digging into the skin of his arm. “Should have just listened to me then.” Y/N remarked, “you could have had me bent over your desk everyday for weeks... was ready for you and you made me wait— you drove me crazy.”

“Maybe I should have.” He muttered. “I’ve been going out of my mind trying to be a nice guy. Trying to worry about other shit but you’d come flouncing in and lean over the desk with these tits out with a scone in hand.” He groaned. “Two weaknesses already, and you knew it.” He had been fucked after that kiss. Now he had gone and given in and it felt good to be telling her that he was going mad. Mad for her. He needed this. Needed her. “I’ve needed you, Y/N. Been so stubborn in not letting myself have you but you’re so perfect, baby. So, so perfect. I can tell that other men have treated you like shit and I can’t... fathom hurting you.” Another kiss to her neck before he went closer to her jaw. “I should have listened to you but I need to have you. I’ve been insane. I need it so badly.” His hand came up and collared her throat. Harry took a breath before he pulled her hair back from her face. “What can we do, hm? Can I make love to you, precious? Or do you want to fuck?” He didn’t care which one. He just knew he needed to have her. Soft or rough, he was a mess.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, eyes fluttering shut at his words. She was floating, she swore it. She had full on dreams about this, about him caving in and finally giving into her and she was starting to think he’d never come around. A whimper left her as he collared her throat, lips parting to answer him.

“Fuck— please, touch me... all over, want you everywhere, please.” She was begging, something she never did, but she really wanted this. Y/N wanted a passionate fuck, wanted to feel him deep, wanted to know what it was like to be loved up on by him. “Make love to me, Harry, please—“

Things started moving a lot quicker then. The wine was forgotten about, Y/N didn’t even realize Harry had picked her up until suddenly they were moving into his bedroom. Her hand cupped his cheek, leaning in to finally kiss him the way she had been wanting to. He didn’t reject her this time, didn’t shove a finger in her mouth, he let her kiss him like she was searching for her last breath. Harry didn’t know where his mouth started and hers began but he knew he was loving it. She was perfect. Literal perfection for him. She was beautiful and witty, smart and driven, smelled so good and tasted sweet. He was a goner but this especially, solidified it all. His hand grabbed at her shirt to pull it over her head, needy to get to more skin. His mouth immediately began to kiss all over her; laying her down in her bed and pressing her into it as he finally found himself at her tits.

“So beautiful, baby. So perfect.” He nearly moaned as he wrapped his lips around her nipple, suckling a bit to get her worked up. It was satisfying his own needs and wants but Y/N was just as happy to have him doing this. His own shirt was tossed down to the ground and he could feel her clawing after her shoulders but he didn’t care.

“Harry...” She breathed out, a moan following shortly after. It felt amazing. To finally have him like this, it was overwhelming. Y/N’s whole body was reacting to every little touch, cheeks and chest already flushed with arousal. She had imagined this many times, not just having sex with Harry but having sex with a good man. Nothing turned a woman on more than feeling appreciated and properly loved on and that’s exactly what he was doing. She was unwinding with every kiss and suckle, “feels so good...” She whimpered, knowing he hadn’t even done anything yet. “I want you so bad— Harry.” The girl was already a mess, clawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. Once they got going she surely wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d be on his cock like crazy, he’d be begging her to stop, Y/N would worship this man.

“Gonna have me, baby. Don’t worry.” He wasn’t worried. Y/N was going to be writhing one pleasure. He didn’t have much patience for foreplay— that would be later. He had been holding this back for weeks now and needed to be inside of her pussy more than anything. “M’so sorry, baby. I’ll lick you out later I just... need to be inside of you so badly. So bad.” He promised, shoving his pants down off the bed as he settled between her thighs, rubbing the tip through her slit. “Fuck... so messy. Got so wet for me, baby. Can’t believe it.” He was shocked and pleased by it, his cock sliding through the folds easily. She was a mess still, breathing heavily as she whined. He wasn’t going to tease her too much though, because he couldn’t stand it either. His cock slid in and that was when he knew he never wanted another pussy again. Because in his 28 years, he had never felt something as tight, as wet, as hot as her cunt wrapped around him. Slowly sinking in, he let his mouth hover over hers. Both of them were nearly speechless with relief, her hands gripping him tight. When he got a bit deeper, he knew he had to be stretching. “M’sorry baby... know it hurts a little.” He whispered when she whined, squirming a bit. “Almost all the way. Gonna go slow right now. Your pussy’s so small.” He rubbed his nose against hers before kissing her again.

The second she felt his hard cock slide against her she knew she was gone for him. Y/N was a whining mess just from feeling how big he was, she knew she’d feel him for days after. It had been a while since she’s had anyone touch her like this and lord knows he’s the biggest she’d ever had. Y/N couldn’t even bring herself to speak, it was that good. Feeling herself stretch around him, feeling how well he was hitting all the right spots. She felt all floaty all over again.

“O—Okay daddy—“

Everyone knew Y/N had daddy issues, she had mommy issues as well, so a daddy kink was expected. She hadn’t expected to bust it out so quickly with Harry but he felt so warm and nurturing, felt like she could trust him with her body and her heart. He emulated the word fully in her mind. Harry’s body shuddered, both at the name she said and the tightness. He was going to take care of her. He could see she was vulnerable and open with him, trusting him with everything. Her body, her heart, everything. He would take care of it. Of her.

“Gonna break up with her for good.” He whispered into her ear. “Cause I need you. I need you so much, Y/N.” He couldn’t say love yet. This was still growing but he could see it heading that route if they were going to continue. Each thrust was heavenly. Once he had gotten all the way in, he was thrusting deep and slow. Getting to places he was sure no one else had, based off of her gasps and moans and how she would shake when he got particularly deep. “You’re so good. So beautiful, Y/N. Feel so fucking good around me.” He purred, hands holding the pillows above them as he got what he needed. “Been a temptress. Should have taken it when you offered first... but now, M’gonna keep taking it. You want me?”

Y/N has never felt like this before. He really meant it when he said he’d make love to her. He slipped so effortlessly inside of her and told her how beautiful she was, how he was going to break up with his girlfriend, how he needed her. The girl had never felt so appreciated in her life. She was used to rough dirty sex, was used to being called a whore and a slut, the sweetest name she’d been called during sex was baby. This? This felt so real and genuine. He was calling her by her name. Between that and the incredible angles he was hitting? Y/N felt like there was nothing better. Tears began to prick at her eyes, her stomach tightening as her orgasm approached.

“I want you so bad, daddy! I—I need you. Please— don’t ever stop!” Y/N was pleading, moaning loudly at the overwhelming pleasure he was causing her. It was true when they said sex was mostly a psychological thing. It was all about the headspace and how someone made you feel. Anyone could do those actions, but it’s the intent. It’s about the bond.

“Don’t wanna stop, baby. Promise.” He was kissing her cheeks as a few tears slipped down her cheek. It was emotional. For sure they’d been tiptoeing for weeks now— he has anyways, and there was an obvious mutual attraction and he had been so nervous over it. Now that he was getting to have her the way they’ve both needed after, it was a huge relief. “My beautiful girl... feel so good. Never had anything like this before.” He whispered, keeping the pace slower and deep, her legs wrapped around his waist and getting him as deep as possible. It was truly a passionate affair and he knew that he was lucky to have this. To have her. Always her. “Gonna be mine, sweet girl? Be daddy’s girl?” He was speaking deep and low, knowing it was getting to her just as it was getting to him. “Be my baby? I want to keep you.” He promised. “Want you to be mine and this pussy, this mouth, every bit.” He nipped her bottom lip lovingly.

“Yeah, mhm, yeah..” Her moans were extremely erotic. “Yours— I’m yours, daddy, I’m all yours.” Y/N has no problem giving her all to him. She’d spent so long pining over him, getting to know him and flirting with him, hoping that he would see just how good they could be. For weeks she’d just wanted a smile from him, even maybe a hug. This? This was more than she could have asked for. She didn’t expect this when her father told her about this trip. At most she thought they’d be having hot needy primal sex, not deep passionate and emotional sex. It was incredible, definitely something she’d never experienced before. “I’m so close— I’m gonna cum for you, please let me cum for you daddy. Wanna make a mess all over your cock!” Y/N could feel herself getting closer to the edge, every thrust he gave pushing her even closer. Looking into his eyes was even more erotic, his eyes blown. Of course she wanted to keep kissing him but she wanted to be looking at him when she came.

“Yeah.. want you to. M’so close, angel. Gonna cum in you, yeah? Gonna make a mess inside of you and you’re gonna be mine. All mine.” He promised, going a little harder, a little faster. He could see what thrusts and angles drove her crazy. What she liked. Sure, sex was going to be hot and crazy later but Y/N deserves someone to make love to her and make her feel appreciated and cared for. Things Harry felt towards her. “Please cum for me, angel.” He cooed, smoothing hair out of her face as he got closer, his own cock twitching in need.

Y/N kept her eyes on him as she came, her voice getting caught in her throat. She has never felt so good before, the waves of pleasure spread through her and ultimately when it all settled down she wasn’t left feeling drained. Harry has made her feel so incredibly cared for, it felt like he loved her, but she knew that it could only get better.

“Cum for me, daddy... make me feel so good, I wanna feel you fill me.” Y/N was speaking in a soft and gentle tone, combing through his hair and kissing at his jaw and neck as he thrusted into her at that quicker pace. It was perfect, seeing him and hearing him in that blissful state. Y/N would never let this man go. He was absolutely perfect. Her lips found his in a passionate kiss, slow and steady, but deep nonetheless. Y/N felt the urge to say that she loved him but that would be pushing it. She’d simply never felt like that before. Tears still trickled down her cheeks, small sniffles coming from her when she pulled away for air.

Harry came probably harder than he ever had. It just felt so good. So tight. Y/N, her words, her cunt, her mouth. The moment, too. All of it called to a deeper part of him he hadn’t truly experienced before and he loved it. Curses left him after he came, ribbons off cum pumping into her body. His legs shook as he filled her, kissing deeply as he did so. It was the best moment, he thinks. Sex hadn’t ever been this good. He’d had plenty of mundane sex, an orgasm being nice but this was the shit he understood. He got why people loved it.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Why are you crying?” He questioned, not knowing if it was emotions or he had done something. He kept himself calm though, holding her face and wiping away the tears as they came. “Don’t need to cry. Was so good, wasn’t it?”

“Cause I—it felt so good.” Y/N whimpered out, smiling a bit as he went to hold her face. “So, so good.” She nuzzled against his hand, turning her head to press a long slow kiss to the palm of his hand. She sniffled, blinking away her tears so she could look at him. “Happy tears...” She told him, leaning up to press more kisses to his beautiful mouth. “Wanted you for such a long time and—“ Y/N let out a shaky breath, “made me feel so beautiful and loved...” She tested up again but closed her eyes before she could start crying. “Never... never felt like that before, felt so nice.” She told him, feeling herself start to calm down. Y/N was certainly sleeping in his bed tonight and they were going to sleep in tomorrow morning. They had time before his meeting at 5.

“Good.” His body felt fuzzy and warm and light and he was happy. Really happy for the first time in a long time. Y/N had the power and he had waited too long. He should have given in earlier. “That’s how I always want you to feel with me.” He gently shifted so he was on his side, laying next to her so she could curl up against him. “It felt so good to me too. Like... the best ever, if m’being honest.” He helped her dry her cheeks, feeling her lay her face on his chest. “You are so beautiful and so wanted. I know I did a shit job of showing that to you before but I decided that I’m gonna keep it going and make sure you know how much I care.” He took her little hand and held it in his, bringing her knuckles up and kissing each one. “You’re safe with me. M’not gonna hurt you. I’ll take care of you whenever you need me, yeah?” He wanted her to know and be aware she could come to him with anything. Maybe it was quick. It was. But he couldn’t help it.

Being around Harry has proven to bring Y/N comfort. Even resting her head against his chest and listening to his heart beat grounded her far more than she expected, he was becoming her safe space and safe haven. She wouldn’t let anyone ruin that for her.

“You sure about that?” She asked, knowing full well that if he meant whenever he’d really never be alone anymore. It was only the second day of their vacation and they already cracked, the positive was that they had five more days together. She would take advantage of her time for sure. “Meant what I said, I really am all yours.” Her fingers traced over his tattoos. “I want to do all that I can to make you happy and give you the life you deserve... I know you’re worried about getting the job but I’m gonna let you in on a secret. My dad, he wants to retire within the next few years.. he’s looking for someone to inherit the company, it’s going to be you. He was already thinking of you before we met, but now? The job is yours.”

“You think so?” He questioned. His heart filled with hope. He could get Y/N and he could get the fucking company? That was the ultimate dream. Having someone like her at his side would be the most incredible thing. “That would be amazing. Having you... the job.” He whispered. “All I want. And Oliver, too.” He chuckled. “Still have to meet him. He’s going to love you. You’ll be the best of friends.” There was no doubt about that in his mind. “When I wake up, want you right next to me. Yeah? No wandering around.” He didn’t want to wake up and panic. Thinking it was all a dream. “The first time I wake up next to you is going to be amazing.”

“He’s been trying to set me up with one of these interns for years... none of them were nearly as good at their job as you and none of them came close to you looks wise..” She felt a smile coming on her face. “I knew the second I saw you.. you were going to be mine.” It had been a dream come true for her to actually find a decent guy, not even decent but perfect. “Like an angel sent from heaven you were.” The mention of the cat got her all excited. “Oliver!” She giggled, “I can’t wait to meet him... I’m gonna come over when we get back yeah? Want to see your place.” Y/N said with a happy smile, she knew for sure it would be extremely cozy and comfortable, not like her place... her place felt like a damn museum. She nuzzled her face into his neck, wrapping her whole body around his. She would be more than happy to wake up in bed with him next to her. She didn’t want this to ever go away, not anymore. Now that she had him she’d never let him go, she didn’t care who stopped her.

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

[part 3]

A/N: OOOOOOO things are progressing... be ready for this next part hehe - n+d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry writing

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Cookies

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle) Pairing: N/A Warnings: It’s so fluffy! Pure Absolute Christmas Fluff! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: I just wrote multiple pages of Sy being an absolute marshamallow, with his nieces and nephews. It’s as sweet as Maple Syrup! Enjoy.

Henry Cavill Master List

“You're sure that it's okay if the kids come over?” The concern for her brother didn't go unnoticed, the blue eyes they shared were locked on his face as if she didn't believe him, when he had given the green light.

He looked ridiculous in the white and red ugly Christmas sweater. The knit garment depicting Santa on a beach. Leave it to Sy. Aimee had lost it laughing a few weeks ago, when her brother had called to tell her that he'd got ugly Christmas sweaters for his nieces and nephews, too.

A smirk curled his lips under the thick beard that had been growing on his face for the last ten or twelve years. Running a hand over his grown out hair, her little brother laughed. “Yes, Aim. I am sure. I wouldn't have told them to come, if I didn't want them here. Go on, we're fine. I am sure Mike will appreciate the night off.”

Early this morning, Sy had been woke to his phone ringing on the night stand beside his head. Stupidly loud, the phone screamed at him, begging him to answer. After the fourth ring, it was clear that the person on the other end was not giving in. Despite the headache and heartache from hell, he reached over and answered.

On the other end, his youngest niece greeted her hung over Uncle. “Uncle Sy, I want to come stay with you tonight. Mommy said that I can't invite myself over, but I want to see you. Please say yes.”

“Morning Wispy,” Sy muttered sitting up, rubbing his hand over his face. “Uncle Sy is a bit hazy this morning, I'm gonna need ya to repeat that. Slowly.” He shook his head and chuckled at his niece.

Repeating her request, Willow waited for her uncle to give her the all clear. She was his favourite person, after all, he would never tell her no.

“Sure can bub. Let me talk to your ma, please. And Wispy, I love ya bug.”

Taking the phone from her over excited daughter, Aimee greeted her brother. Her first round of questions assaulting the youngest Syverson.

“Four kids, are you really sure?” Aimee raised her brow looking at her brother. “I can't believe we let Willow talk you into this. I had no idea she was calling you until she came in with the phone. Apparently she and Harley had planned this yesterday.”

“Whatever. I'm cool with it. I didn't have much to do anyway. Probably spend another night down at The Hole.” Sy shrugged. His favourite dive bar had become his temporary home, since his girlfriend of five years had decided she wanted more than a cranky Army vet to share her life with.

Willow had heard her parents discussing Sy's break up, when she coerced her cousin Harley into the plan for a weekend with their uncle. Uncle Sy was her favourite person in the whole wide world, they even shared a birthday, and Uncle Sy was the most fun! He would often let Willow paint his nails and decorate his beard. Why wouldn't that silly woman want him? Willow had grumbled about her “Aunty Nina” being a bit meany who probably ate boogers for breakfast.

“If you think you are okay with this, fine.” Aimee laughed peeking around her brother into his house to see her two children, plus niece and nephew running around his kitchen like four wild beasts. “But if you need help...”

“I will call in the Army.” Sy's laugh rumbled. “I'm kidding. If we need you, then we will call.” He leaned in giving her a kiss on the cheek, straightening up he called to the kids. “Come say good bye to your ma and aunt.”

Children thundered to the door, rushing Aimee and Sy. Hugs and “I love yous” exchanged as Aimee gave her brother one last out for the weekend. Raising his hand to wave her off, Sy wore the biggest, goofiest smile. She'd behaved like he had never had all four children on his own before. Hell during his Army days he had been responsible for a lot more bodies than four. All had made it home, too. Most on their own accord, but he wasn't going to relive those memories right now. Those were the sort of things he thought about when he was alone in the dark. This weekend was going to be anything but dark.

With only a short span of time to plan, Sy did his best to get a few activities together for the children of various ages. Ben, 12; Annie, 10; Harley 7; and Willow, 6.

Ben had likely only agreed to his sister's impromptu weekend because it was better than staying home with his parents. Besides, he loved hanging out with his Uncle, even if it meant three other children tagging along.

“Okay, listen up.” Sy clapped his hands together, grabbing attention. He bent to gently scratch behind the ears of his beloved shepherd. “You know where your bedrooms are, go take your stuff up. Then meet me back here for our first item on the list.”

Lagging behind her brother and cousins, Willow bounced over to Sy hugging her arms around him as tightly as she could. “Do I have to share a bed with Annie? She kicks me.”

“She kicks you?” Sy stooped to scoop her up in his arms. Her dark curls tied back in pig tails, gently he tugged at the end of one. “Well then good thing I got them pillows you asked for.”

“The really big ones? With the pink sparkle unicorns.” Willow's eyes went wide as she gasped. Sy nodded and laughed. Vibrating with excitement she hugged her uncle's neck tight kissing his cheek. “I want to make a fort in the bed and then Annie has to stay on her side. But it's okay, because we can still share the blanket and my night light.”

“Is that so? Well, you best go tell her that. The others will be back down before you get up there, hurry up.” Sy let her down. “If you need some help, ask Annie. Okay, Wispy?”

“Okay.” She shouted, little legs carrying her to the stairs. Thumping and running through the house, Sy smiled and went to the kitchen to begin planning phase one of their weekend.

With Christmas right around the corner, he had broke down and dug out a few early Christmas Eve gifts. Since it was Syverson tradition to spend Christmas Eve with his momma and daddy, decorating and what not, he was in charge of supplying the kids with gingerbread houses and cookies to decorate. Momma would forgive him, if he told her that the houses were done early this year. If she was adamant about it, he could buy a few more for Christmas.

Pulling out the kits, Sy laughed when Ben trudged into the kitchen. Clearly the kids had gotten the message when they found sweaters laid out on the beds. In a blue and green sweater with penguins at a disco on the front, the twelve year old rolled his eyes before laughing.

“It suits ya.” Sy laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love us or secretly hate us.” Ben laughed along with his uncle. Laughing harder when Harley strode in wearing his green and red sweater, two reindeer on the front throwing snowballs.

“I think you secretly love it.” Sy nudged Harley with his elbow. “Should have gone bigger, huh?”

Harley nodded, the arms of his sweater a little too short. “Do I have to wear it long?”

“Nah,” Shaking his head, Sy pointed to the gingerbread house kits. “Long enough to get a photo for Nana and your momma.”

Giggling, Annie and Willow rushed into the kitchen. Purple and pink ugly sweaters worn with pride. Annie stood straight to show her uncle how well the new shirt fit. Purple decorated with dancing snowmen in a ballerina scene, a nod to Annie's love for dancing. And of course Willow, in her pink sweater with cats in Santa hats with red and green mittens.

“I love it, uncle Sy!” Willow exclaimed jumping up and down. “We look very pretty.”

“We look something.” Her big brother snickered.

“Are those gingerbread houses?” Annie eyed the items on the counter suspiciously. Sy nodded and grinned. “Nana is going to be mad at youuuuuu.” She sang out.

“Well this year, Nana is fine with us decorating early. We can get more for Christmas Eve.”

“We better!” Harley exclaimed wide eyed. “Santa will be upset. He always gets a gingerbread house and he eats it all!”

The tradition of leaving a whole house for Santa had began when Sy was a little boy. Perhaps even before, Aimee and Will had left houses surely before he was born. Over the years Santa had devoured a lot of houses at the Syverson's. He'd even had a few to eat while Sy was over in the desert, serving his country. His momma, without fail, had managed to get him a kit or two. Sy would set them up and let the other soldiers have their fill before sending photos to the kids back home to tell them Santa had came by.

“You know that Santa isn't...” “Going to be upset, because he will still get Nana's homemade cookies.” Ben cut in glaring at Annie. This was her first year on the “Santa isn't real wagon”, but Ben wasn't going to let her ruin that for Harley and Willow.

Nodding and giving Ben a subtle thumbs up, Sy picked up to defuse the tension. “Right, he's still going to get lots of treats. And I don't know that I'd want a boring store made gingerbread, if I could have my momma's homemade shortbread and peanut butter blossoms.” He clicked his teeth together and made a show of rubbing his hand across his stomach.

“Uncle Sy, do you think Santa ever takes cookies home for the elves and Mrs. Claus?” Harley stared up at his uncle, his face scrunched at the thought.

“Sure does, bud. I bet he takes one cookie from every house home to share.” Sy winked at his youngest nephew.

Pulling out the hard as rock cookie house pieces, Sy instructed Ben to get the candies from the counter that he'd set out for the purpose of making these a grand master piece. Even The Grinch would appreciate the work that went into a Syverson House.

“So, what's everyone been up to? I feel like I've hardly seen y'all lately.”

If he asked the kids to talk about themselves, it meant that Sy would have to talk less. He loved hearing what the kids had to say. They chattered and laughed, Annie and Harley bickered a little over who got to put the door on the first house. A squabble ended when Sy reached in, putting the pretzel door on the house himself.

Lost in their good cheer, Christmas songs, and general chaos of four children with limited rules – for the time being – Sy sighed and began to relax. Something he hadn't done since Nina had decided to pack up her things and leave him nearly two weeks ago.

Whatever. Five years wasted. If she had known that she didn't want to be with him, then why had she stayed? His brother had a few ideas about that, stating that it was the perfect opportunity for any gold digging – Sy wouldn't even repeat the word to himself. Living in a house that was paid off. A car that was hers. Never having to pay bills, it all allowed her to work and save while she decided one day she'd had enough and wanted something better.

Better. More money.

Well, whoever took her next, Sy wished them luck. He hated that he was so broken about this. But he'd loved her. Maybe. He had his doubts these last few nights, as he sat thinking over a pint or eight at the bar.

“Uncle Sy,” Willow's soft voice broke his thoughts. Glancing down at his niece, he smiled. “When we finish, can we make cookies?”

“What if we make some cookies tomorrow, Wispy?” Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Sy bent to scoop her into his arms. “We can make some sugar cookies to decorate. I also thought I could make ya some snow crackles that you love so much.” he nudged cheek her with his nose.

“The gooey chocolate ones?” Her eyes were wide. Sy nodded. “Benny!” She turned, calling excitedly to her brother who was less than four feet away. “Uncle Sy is going to make us those crack cookies!”

“Crackle.” Sy gently corrected her with a deep laugh.

Sy's snow crackles were always a welcomed hit. Family, friends, even the post man loved the damn things. Hell if he'd had those over in the desert to hand out, the war could have been over in an hour. Or so a few of his superiors had always teased him.

“Can we make them with the candy cane?” Harley asked wiggling in his seat.

“Absolutely!” Sy agreed with a wide smile. A touch of peppermint in the cookies were the perfect Christmas treat. Even better when enjoyed with a nice cup of rum and homemade egg nog. Although he would save that for the adult parties.

“I love Christmas!” A giggling Annie exclaimed, not going unnoticed that she and Ben were enjoying the left over icing for the houses. A tube each, the two older kids were trying to be stealthy about their activities. Nice try Sy thought, they knew nothing got by their Uncle.

“My favourite holiday is my birthday.” Willow declared.

“That's not a holiday.” Ben laughed at his sister, shaking his head.

“Yes it is! It's a holiday, because it celebrates me and Uncle Sy. Right, Uncle Sy? It's a holiday?” Willow pouted at her uncle, hoping for some back up. If Uncle Sy said it was, then it was true.

“I think birthdays are kind of like holidays. We just don't get time off work or school.”

“See!” Willow stuck her tongue out at her brother Ignoring his sister, Ben had already moved on to something else.

“Okay you two, enough.” Sy let Willow down. “Let's get this mess cleaned and we can get some plans for dinner going.”

“Can we have ice cream?” Doing her best puppy dog eyes, Annie looked at her uncle.

“After we eat dinner.” Sy smiled kissing the top of her head.

“Candy cane ice cream?” Harley was hopeful. Sy had never met a kid, or anybody, who loved candy canes as much as his nephew.

“I have some candy cane. I also have chocolate and pecan. Something for everyone.”

“And grape nut for you?” Wrinkling her nose, Willow shivered in disgust. Ice cream was one of the only things she didn't agree with her Uncle on.

“Yes, grape nut for me.”

“You're such an old man.” Ben added gently tossing a candy piece at his uncle's head. Nailing Sy in the side of the cheek, Ben laughed and threw up his hands in victory.

“Oh is that how you want this?” Sy picked up a few candies, launching them back at his nephew. Nailing Ben with four our of five, Sy straightened himself up. “Still got it.”

Gingerbread construction cleaned, photos taken, Sy announced that the children were free of their ugly sweaters. Rushing upstairs to change, shouts and laughter filled the house. Sy, comfortable in his sweater, worked out the decision for dinner. Ordering pizza seemed like the clear winner and nobody would complain.

Four pizzas later, enough variety that everybody had something they liked, Sy announced it was time to settle for a bit and watch some movies. Who could resist? Pizza, as promised ice cream, and various snacks that he always had on hand for the kids. It was the perfect way to spend an evening getting over a break up.

Sprawled out around the den, the kids got comfortable. Blankets and cushions all over. Sy resting on the leather sectional, Willow curled up on his lap – of course. A bowl of candy between them and Harley, who laid stretched out. Annie and Ben occupied a bean bag each, blankets pulled up around them while the decided upon “Miracle on 34th Street” played on the screen.

Dozing on and off, Sy didn't know when it had happened, but at some point the movie had come to an end the dvd menu replaying over and over. A soft whine of his beloved shepherd is what roused him this morning. Scratching his nose and sitting up, Sy scrambled to grab Willow before she slid off of his knee. Around him the kids were asleep, the house quiet and his watch informing him it was nearly dawn.

Gently sliding Willow into his spot on the couch, Sy stood and raised his arms, joints popping and his body waking. Tiptoeing out of the den and to the kitchen, Sy opened the back door letting the dog out. Rubbing his eyes, he watched the dog zoom around, before debating coffee or going back to bed. The kids would sleep another hour or two at least, which would be nice to sleep as well. Coffee won, brewing a fresh pot Sy looked around the kitchen.

His house still, the presence of the kids not going unnoticed, it felt nice to have someone else in the house. The bodies moving and bringing merriment. A kick to the gut, really. Nina having told him that part of her leaving was because she wanted children and he didn't. He loved his nieces and nephews, but full time parenting wasn't a project he was cut out for. Sy sniffled, fuck it. Shaking his head, he grumbled under his breath. She and her notions were gone now.

Opening the back door, he let the dog in. Giving a morning scratch and cooing to his faithful friend. Coffee filled the house with a delicious aroma, Sy poured his first cup and sat at the table watching the backyard. Once this coffee was gone he would get to work on his crackle cookies, they would need to freeze before baking. Tiny, nearly silent foot steps caught his attention. Willow hummed softly as she walked, her momma always told her that it wasn't polite to sneak up on people. Especially Uncle Sy. No matter how much he loved her, sneaking up could scare him and Willow didn't want that.

Sy hated the thoughts of his family feeling like they may not be safe in his presence. But he appreciated her attempt to let him know she was awake and moving around.

“Morning Wispy.” Sy's voice was steady and quiet. Willow giggled lightly. She loved that he knew it was her, without having to look. “Come here.” Sy held out an arm. Willow rushed her last few steps. “Have a good sleep?”

“Uh huh,” she rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Morning, Uncle Sy. Did you sleep good?”

“I did,” he nodded taking a sip of his coffee and pushing out his chair. “Have a seat, Miss Henning.”

Climbing into the kitchen chair, Willow sat quietly.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” Willow yawned and nodded. “But no coffee, it's yuck and daddy says I'm too little.”

“Your daddy has the right idea,” Sy smiled fondly, pulling out the cocoa mix and Willow's favourite mug. A big mug with a photo of her and Sy's old dog Aika.

“Uncle Sy, are you happy that I came over and brought my brother, Harley, and Anna?”

“Of course, Wispy.”

“Good, because I think you were sad but I didn't want you to be sad. I told my momma that we would make you happy if we came over. I think I was right.” she beamed through tired eyes.

“Wspy, bug, nothing could ever make me happier than you kids.” Scooping the cocoa into the mug, pouring cold milk until the was half full to save it from getting too hot.

“Not even if you had your own kids? Do you think you'll get married and have kids? Momma said...”

“Wispy,” Sy held up a hand to stop the unintentional prying. It was too early. “I will always love you. You're my best gal, yeah? All you need to know, bug, is that I will love you forever.”

“Do you love me more than Christmas cookies?”

“Well,” pausing for effect, Sy took a beat to pretend he was thinking, “I do love Christmas cookies. But yeah, I suppose I love you more than Christmas cookies, even.”

“Good, because I love you more than Christmas cookies, birthday cake, anddd Nana's biscuits.” the little girl wiggled in her seat, giggling.

“More than Nana's biscuits? Oh boy, that is some loving.” Stirring the hot cocoa, Sy lifted the mug and placed it on the table in front of his niece. A can of whipped cream in hand, he shook it before adding more than required to the top of her mug. Sitting down, he glanced at his coffee and shrugged, the hiss of the can when he added a dollop to his coffee. “Cheers,”

“Cheers!” Willow slid her mug a few centimeters to clink it against Sy's.

#captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson #henry cavill #captain syverson imagine #captain syverson fluff #christmas fic #captain syverson sand castle #henry cavill fluff

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glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

Text

subobi week (day 5) - sub drop

MORNING, ALL! Today brings some Quinlan/Obi-Wan fic! No spicy shenanigans in the fic, though there are mentions of past activities that are not safe for wizards. (It’d get an M on ao3, for sure).

Set while they were both older Padawans, during some down-time at the Temple. Established relationship. Mentions of getting rough in a fully consensual way. Attempts at comfort and awkward conversations galore! The sub-drop is tied to some deeper issues, as well.

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

Quinlan left Obi-Wan’s quarters with a spring in his step and a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he planned to cherish for the rest of the day, at the very least. They never had much time to themselves - not between one mission and the other, or whatever training their Masters managed to cook up - and they’d barely seen each other in months.

It had felt….very nice to get reacquainted. They hadn’t, really, had much time. He’d had to leave almost immediately after, running out the door to make sure he didn’t miss the morning meal, leaving Obi-Wan still looking groggy and dazed; always a good look on him, in all honesty.

Quinlan grinned, to no one, and tugged his robes closer to order as he hurried off. He was, technically, late for breakfast.

His memories kept circling around to the early hours of the morning as he ate and prepared himself for an instruction session with Master Ti. He tried to clear his thoughts - he didn’t particularly want Master Ti catching the images in his head, sense memories of the warmth of Obi-Wan’s skin, the noises he made, the taste of his skin - and managed not to embarrass himself or anyone else in the meditation instruction.

But it felt like trying to dam up a river. The memories were all there, waiting, when he finished. It was just that Obi-Wan had felt so good, amazing, really, and--

Quinlan reached out to nudge him through the Force, without really thinking about it, driven by memory. He stopped short in the middle of the hall when he got nothing back. There was just...blankness, from Obi-Wan.

Shielding.

Which was...unusual. Obi-Wan’s mind was far from an open-book; he had better shielding than most, in Quinlan’s experience. But he didn’t shut himself all off. Not usually. Quinlan had only known him to do it when there was something wrong.

When he was feeling things he thought he ought not burden anyone else with.

Images of Obi-Wan’s blue eyes, looking up at him as Obi-Wan slid his mouth a little further down Quinlan’s cock, fled his mind. He turned on his heel, frowning as he made his way back through the Temple. Master Jinn was still, as far as he knew, in the infirmary, recovering.

Perhaps that explained why no one came to open the door to Obi-Wan’s rooms, when Quinlan arrived. He could tell, at least, that Obi-Wan was inside, even if he was still holding all his thoughts and feelings tightly, every touch from Quinlan’s mind sliding off to the side.

And Quinlan knew that, technically, he ought not to use his abilities to snag a memory from the keypad before the door - Master Jinn’s fingers, keying in a code, dozens or hundreds of times - but he did it, anyway.

He entered the code himself and stepped into the rooms, calling, “Obi-Wan?”

There was silence for a beat, and then Obi-Wan asked, his voice strange, “Quin? What are you doing here?”

Quinlan followed his voice, back into his rooms, where he was… sitting beside the bed, dressed for the day, his hair still a little damp from the fresher, trying to shift into a meditation pose as Quinlan reached the doorway.

Quinlan blinked. Obi-Wan was closed off, still, nothing but empty serenity in the Force, but his eyes were reddened and his face was too pale. He looked so different from when Quinlan had left him, a few hours ago, when he’d been flushed all over and breathing heavily, still.

“What happened?” Quinlan asked, moving forward and crouching in front of him. “Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?” He wondered if there’d been bad news about Master Jinn. Or perhaps--

“Hm?” Obi-Wan said, blinking a few times, clearing his throat. There was tension all in his jaw, the press of his mouth together. “I thought I’d just meditate for a while, and--”

“Hey,” Quinlan interrupted; he’d known Obi-Wan for enough years to know when he was trying to….not so much lie as avoid answering a question. “Did you skip breakfast?” He knew Obi-Wan had to be hungry, he’d been starving after they’d tangled together, making a mess of Obi-Wan’s bed and each other.

“I wasn’t very hungry,” Obi-Wan said, still looking off to the side. “I should make myself something now. I…” He made to stand, and Quinlan reached out to catch his arm, freezing when he felt a tremble in Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, because he was used to Obi-Wan trembling, in some situations. Obi-Wan had trembled, earlier, after Quinlan made him come a third time, when he’d been gasping and panting out nonsense sounds. “Stop, don’t--just, tell me what’s wrong.”

Obi-Wan did something with his shoulders, almost a shrug. “I’m...cold,” he said, which was at least something. “It’s nothing, Quin, I just…” He did the little almost-shrug again.

“If it’s nothing, why are you shielding so much?” Quinlan asked, reaching for the blankets on the bed - Obi-Wan had made it after he left, apparently. He pulled them down without thinking about it, wrapping them around Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he made faint protests. He also, Quinlan noticed, didn’t answer. “Obi-Wan?”

“I needed to,” Obi-Wan said, finally, which was not much of an answer. He was still shivering. Quinlan rubbed hands up and down his arms through the blanket.

“You don’t,” Quinlan told him. “Come on, let them down, just a little.”

Obi-Wan tightened his jaw, blinking rapidly and paling further. He gave a single, sharp shake of his head and curved his shoulders in,

The refusal stung, sudden and deep, tangling with the memories of Obi-Wan being so open, earlier, mind and thoughts all blazing hot, letting Quinlan meld with him on so many levels. He rocked back, hurt, and heard himself ask, “Don’t you trust me?”

That snapped Obi-Wan’s gaze up to his, eyes blue and red rimmed and kriff, had Obi-Wan been crying? Before Quinlan could process it, Obi-Wan cut his gaze to the side again and said, “Of course I do, Quin.”

There was something gutting about getting lied to, right to his face.

Quinlan blinked, wrestling with a sudden wash of hurt and - and anger, a bit, too. He was grateful, all at once, that he’d just come from meditation. It helped him pluck the emotions apart, at least enough to keep them from rising higher. He said, “I--what did I do, then, that you don’t?”

He felt something through Obi-Wan’s careful shielding, but there wasn’t enough there to get a read on it. Obi-Wan smoothed out his expression and said, “I do trust you.” He reached a hand from the blankets and, after a beat of hesitation, took Quinlan’s hand, threading their fingers together. He felt cold, unnaturally chilled.

Quinlan looked at their fingers, the way they folded together so naturally, and said, “Talk to me then. Let me see what’s wrong.”

He felt Obi-Wan hesitate. He braced for another refusal, for Obi-Wan to dig in and go on pretending he was fine. And then Obi-Wan took a little breath and it hitched, wet, before he said, surprisingly even, “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“That’s alright,” Quinlan told him, because at least it was progress in the right direction. “We’ll figure it out.” He hesitated and then added, “It would be easier if I could sense you, Obi. At all.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. He said, still looking over towards the wall. “It’s not good.”

“I don’t mind,” Quinlan said, entertaining unpleasant memories about a time Obi-Wan had gotten hurt badly during a sparring session, about the way he’d just...put himself away, inside his own head, none of the pain spilling out even as the healers rushed around. “Come on. Let me in.”

Obi-Wan tightened his grip, as though he needed to hold onto something, and Quinlan sucked in a breath when his shields eased, just a little. And there was-- confusion, so much of it; Obi-Wan wasn’t exaggerating, he didn’t know what was wrong with him. But there was - not really pain, but a tangle of - of hurt and sadness and aching doubt and--

“Force,” Quinlan said, sorting out the feelings as best he could, trying to figure out what could have prompted them, memories dragged to the way they’d touched, to some of the sounds that had strangled in Obi-Wan’s throat when Quinlan had put a hand in the middle of his shoulders and worked him open, and-- “Did I hurt you? Earlier? Is that it?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, at once. He said, tense and controlled, still, “No. No, I mean--” His cheeks flushed, all at once, with blotchy red. “Not in a - a way I didn’t like.”

And Obi-Wan had never made any effort to hide the fact that he liked things a little rough. It had hardly been a surprise. They’d grown up beside each other. Finding out Obi-Wan liked to be shoved around and held tight and - and sometimes hurt, a little; sometimes a lot, or at least it seemed so to Quinlan - had felt almost obvious, when they’d started going to bed together.

Quinlan had spanked him, earlier, held him down and left him red and sore before they moved together, the last time. But it wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and at the time Obi-Wan’s emotions had all been pleasure and sweet relief.

Which didn’t, at all, explain what was going on with Obi-Wan at the moment. He didn’t feel pleasantly hazy - radiating enjoyment into the Force so thickly that Quinlan always felt it, that was sometimes sweet enough that he worried he’d come without ever having his own cock touched - at all.

“Alright,” Quinlan finally managed to say. He had to trust that Obi-Wan was being honest about that, and, anyway, he’d definitely felt like he was enjoying it at the time. Obi-Wan had also, he noted, relaxed a little with the easing of his shields. Quinlan wrapped him a little more in the blankets and sank to sit beside him. It was a relief when Obi-Wan leaned into his side, a moment later. “So - so was there something else? Anything else?”

Obi-Wan sighed, shields tightening for just a moment, before easing again with what seemed to be conscious effort. He said, quietly, “I don’t know. I just.” He shrugged, head heavy against Quinlan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. About when I don’t do things right.”

Quinlan blinked, wondering if they’d jumped conversational tracks without warning. Obi-Wan did that, sometimes, just expecting everyone else to keep up. He opened his mouth, and Obi-Wan continued, quiet, “When you said…” He stopped, cleared his throat. “I was thinking about it, after you left.”

Quinlan had no idea what he’d said that would cause such an effect. He said all kinds of things when they were together, and--

He froze, staring forward, a memory of skin on skin, of Obi-Wan spread beneath him, and he didn’t remember exactly what he’d said but-- “Obi-Wan,” he said, curling an arm around him, pulling him closer, “You do everything perfect when we’re together.”

Obi-Wan tensed. “You said I - I was too desperate,” he said, clipped. “Sl--easy. You said I needed--”

Quinlan felt his cheeks burning. “No,” he said, cutting Obi-Wan off, cursing himself for an idiot. He knew plenty of other things about Obi-Wan. How he took things to heart, even stupid, ridiculous things. “I was just--kriff, Obi-Wan, I don’t know what to say, when we’re--when I spank you, I just--that’s how they talk in holos, I don’t--I love how eager you are. It’s amazing to me, how much you like it.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a beat and then asked, “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, and thinned his own shields, trying to push across a shadow of how he felt, the way watching Obi-Wan fall apart got him hard and desperate.

Obi-Wan sucked in a little breath. “You’re not disappointed?”

Quinlan bit his tongue and pressed a kiss to the side of Obi-Wan’s head. “No,” he said, and Obi-Wan curled a little closer to him, stretching an arm across his chest, shields easing a little more, still feeling so cold, so tangled up.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Obi-Wan murmured, “We’re going to miss Master Yoda’s symposium.”

“There’ll be another,” Quinlan told him, and adjusted the blankets, thinking about getting them both some tea, in a few minutes, making Obi-Wan eat something, and then, maybe, if he could muster the courage for it, discussing the things they did in bed, a little bit further, making sure they were on the same page. Making sure they wouldn’t leave each other feeling this way, again, if possible. “Just relax, for a minute.”

#subobi week #my writing #quinobi #not safe for wizards #spicy #skipped aftercare #talking about feelings #comfort #past spicy mentioned

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years ago

Text

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

18 notes · View notes

marvelfansince08love · 4 years ago

Text

“If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work” - Cordelia Goode x Reader

Word Count: 2724

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt 30 - “If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work”

A/N: @regal-roni I hope you enjoy this love! Also, I’m apologising in advance because uhhh- hehe I may have made this angsty as fuck. Thanks @imnotasuperhero for giving me your angst approval and I’m sorry I made your heart squeeze.

Warning: Hold onto your hearts people, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!

Tags; @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @muted-stoneheart @saucy-sapphic @coconutlipss @witchxaf

Also enjoy this foxxay gif that I do not own!

Prompt 30

You met Cordelia at your coffee shop one late evening just before close. A figure dressed in black with the most blinding smile and bouncy golden locks rushing towards you.

“Oh no! Are you closed?” She had asked, slightly out of breath. You could see the tiredness in her chocolate browns and the brush of a darker shade under her eyes indicating the lack of sleep. If you weren’t paying such close attention you probably wouldn’t have noticed due to her beautiful pearly whites; as she throws you another smile.

“I’m afraid we are.” You confirm with some sympathy. This woman clearly needed a coffee or two. The now small frown and grimace on the strangers face makes you backtrack hating to see such an expression on a beautiful woman. She smiles her thanks and begins to turn away but before she can leave your brain caught up with itself.

“But the pot is still brewing inside, if you would like a cup. On the house.” You rush out, not wanting this mysterious woman to leave. She turns back around and sighs in relief and whispers “Thank you, I’d love that.” before following you into the shop. One cup turned into three and before you knew it the night had gotten darker and the usual busy streets of New Orleans had grown quieter. .

“Oh god, I’ve kept you from finishing. I’m so sorry please let me at least pay for the last cup.” She insisted, digging into her purse. You place a hand gently on top of hers pausing her search.

“It’s okay, I much preferred the company over sleep anyway.” You reassure, with a teasing smirk. She bites her bottom lip softly as she eyed your hand.

“Okay, well at least let me pay for dinner. Tomorrow night?” She offers, copying your smirk.

“Oh so forward, Ms.Goode. I could be in a very committed relationship for all you know.” You joke, watching her laugh loudly her hand landing on top of your own across the table.

“Darling, if you were in a committed relationship. This spark between us wouldn’t be glowing as bright as it is in this very moment,” She states, confidently. Her fingers brushing lightly across your own making you blush at her statement, knowing how true it is.

“So tomorrow night?”

That was over a year ago and things had been getting better and better with each passing date and heated kiss. You had discovered during that first meeting that Cordelia runs the academy for gifted young witches across town as headmistress which you still tease her to this day for.

“Oh do you have an office, headmistress. I’ve always wanted to have sex on a desk.” You’d teased her a few months back making her laugh and shake her head at your vulgar comment but you saw the lustful glint in her eyes.

The dates had turned from dinner to late evening drinks to sleepovers at your apartment downtown whenever Cordelia could get away from the school for the night. However, whenever you mentioned staying over at the house while you lay next to each other in your large bed, Cordelia was quick to reject the idea and would change the subject. You knew about the school and its purpose, everyone did since Delia aired it all on television but you masked your hurt and put it down to having so many girls running around the school and with her being headmistress it didn’t give the right impression to have a woman sneaking out in the early hours.

Some of the older girls knew about your relationship with their friend/supreme and would come by the shop most days for their daily coffee run, apparently teaching young witches everyday requires a lot of caffeine and they got to meet you, which in their opinion was bonus as it was nice to get to know the woman who’d been keeping their friend/supreme in a daydream with a secret smile on her face most days around the academy.

“She just has this light glow around her whenever we mention you… it’s pretty gay if you ask me but whatever, you’re kinda cool so I guess it’s cute.” Madison had commented one day in the shop, fighting back a genuine smile.

Over the last few weeks though, you started to feel that Cordelia had been avoiding you in some way. Your usual meet up twice a week at the coffee shop seemed to stop, the reasons valid as she did run a school after all but when the texts stopped or where the bear minimum and the other cup across from you grew colder after every passing minute you realised her not turning up wasn’t just because of her duty as headmistresses, she was avoiding you. That’s when you decided to show up at the academy, determined to speak to her in person and not through rushed phone calls. You approach the black gates cautiously, the aura around the building so strong you feel an overwhelming sense of power before even stepping foot onto the grounds.

‘Maybe this was a bad idea.’ You doubt to yourself as the gates begin to open in front of you.

You approach cautiously to the front door and knock, hoping that Cordelia answers. The door creaks open revealing one of the familiar faces that you’re used to seeing at the shop. Zoe stands by the door looking a little sheepish.

“Oh, hi Y/N. Does Cordelia know you are here?” She asks, her eyes darting around looking at anything but you. You frown at her sheepish behaviour. Usually, Zoe is the first one to approach you at the shop with a welcoming smile.

“Uh, hey Zoe! No, but I was hoping to speak with her, if she’s here?” You inform, trying to look over her slender shoulders into the hallway. Zoe begins to speak but the familiar voice of your lover beats her to it.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Delia asks, as Zoe slips away back into the house.

You take in her tired figure, her eyes no longer holding that sparkling glint. She tries to hide the wince as she leans heavily against the doorframe making you frown with worry.

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, I just needed to see you. I’ve been worried about you and clearly I was right to be,” You murmur, eyeing her slouched posture as she keeps a protective hand across her waist. She smiles reassuringly at you, trying to ease your worry but you know her too well now to be so ignorant to her quiet suffering.

“Delia, what’s wrong?” You question, leaving no room for protest. She shakes her head softly, again dismissing your concern.

“It’s nothing, darling. I haven’t been feeling well, is all. I’m sorry to have worried you.” She brushes off, reaching her other hand out to brush against your cheek. Her teary eyes dart across your face, as if taking in every detail lingering to memorise every freckle, every lash.You lean into her touch, craving the contact from her. Your eyes lock with her honey browns, searching for answers to her behaviour but she remains silent for a moment her lips twitching into a small smile before leaning in closer.

“How about a coffee?” She questions, removing her hand from your cheek and quickly wiping her own. “ I’m sure we have lots to discuss.” She states, stepping back into the house allowing you access. You step into the school and gape at the tall white walls full of aged paintings and grand staircase, wringing your fingers suddenly feeling inferior by the powerhouse that your lover runs.

A soft hand wraps gently around your own stopping your nervous habits before pulling you further through the oddly quiet house. Her hand is tight around yours, as if needing it to anchor herself, but you decide not to ask about her health again knowing you won’t get the answer you are after, the truth.

“Where are all the girls today?” Cordelia smiles gently and side glances at your awe expression as you take in more of the mystery house.

“A school trip with Myrtle and Queenie and some of the other girls like to use their free time shopping in the town centre. If you ask me, they just like to get out without me hovering over them.” She jokes, squeezing your hand to regain your attention from an old black and white photo showing a group of young witches.

“Those girls adore you Delia, I’m sure it’s just teenage girls wanting some freedom on the weekend like every other teenager.” You comfort, smiling knowingly at her mother hen instincts and how protective she can be over her own. She bumps her shoulder lightly against yours for teasing her a little before pushing open a large door.

“Is this your office?” You murmur, looking around the large room with glass panelled windows behind a wooden desk. You raise your eyebrow at the desk eyeing Delia, who stands by a drinks cabinet, pouring the brown liquid into two whiskey glasses. She smirks at your subtle nod at the desk joke you made a few months back as you walk over to her, taking the offered glass before sitting on the long white plush sofa gestured to your right. Delia sits elegantly in the oval chair across from you, confusing you at her attempt to keep some distance. Her eyes follow your movements as you take your first sip of the brown liquid.

“I want to apologise again for not messaging you, Y/N. I was being a coward by avoiding you and thinking it would work. I didn’t take into account your feelings and that was wrong of me.” She apologises, before taking a quick sip of her drink for dutch courage. You place yours onto the glass table that fills the gap between the two of you.

“Cordelia, I’m not a child. If you wanted to stop this, you could have just said so instead of stringing me along. I really like you Delia, like a fucking lot actually. I thought we were going somewhere with this,” you confess, your voice quiet and full of doubt. Thoughts spiral in your mind, doubt creeping in as you come to the conclusion that Delia may not reciprocate those feelings.

“I… Y/N, I like you a lot too. But I... I don’t think this is going to work. We are two very different people and not to mention your human.” She pauses as she processes her next words, her eyes full of sadness. “ I don’t think you realise just how fragile that makes you and I can’t always be around to protect you Y/N. So, I think we should end this before we get in too deep. I’m sorry darling.” Her chin trembles as she fights back her tears, her regal posture slouches as she leaves her chair and moves to crotch in front of you as you continue to stare at the white wall trying to collect your thoughts as tears fall freely. Her forehead rests softly against your knees as you blindly place your hands on top of her blonde locks.

“You knew this from the beginning… Why did you bother pursuing me? Did you think it would be funny, see if you could get the boring ol’ human girl to fall in love with you?” You say, suddenly feeling angry by her words. She lifts her head back shocked by your accusation and stands abruptly making you copy her position, leaving you both standing off to one another.

“You know that’s not true, Y/N. Don’t be so childish, I’m just trying to be realistic here. We tried and it didn’t work, why is this so hard for you to understand?” She spats, her hands gesturing wildly. “You know, you are just proving my point Y/N. You are so ignorant to everything around you, I’m the fucking supreme that comes with a lot of enemies and I can’t be concerned about you while also trying to protect the coven. I’m sorry you can’t seem to take this break up in a mature way.” She huffs.

“Why are you being like this?” You whisper, hands sagged to your side, defeated.

“I’m being a realist, Y/N. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Her words are harsh, as she holds your gaze, no longer showing those sweet signs of affection. You hold her gaze a little longer hoping to see her falter and retract her hurtful words but nothing else is said, which leaves you with your answer. You laugh humorlessly before heading for the office door, your hand wraps around the door handle before pausing.

“If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work.” You inform, loud enough for her to hear.

“Y/N, I’m not..ugh.” The painful groan that fills the room makes you turn quickly towards the source of the sound as you watch in terror Cordelia hunching over in pain, holding her stomach area tightly.

“Delia!” You launch forward ready to help her settle onto the long sofa you were previously sat on.

“Hey hey, you're okay. That’s it breath for me Delia, that’s my girl.” You comfort, whispering softly while brushing wild strands of blonde hair from her now pale face. Her eyes glossy as she watches you move to fill a glass of water for her. You gently tip the water into her mouth while she holds onto your wrist delicately whispering her gratitude, you stay crouched in front of her keeping a close eye on her as you take away the now empty glass.

“What’s going on Delia, I want the truth this time.” You enforce, brows furrowed in worry. She drops your gaze as she plays with the rings on your fingers, collecting her thoughts.

“When a new supreme raises the other must fall.” Her words full of strength and sorrow as free falling tears spill onto her pale cheeks.

“I.. I don’t understand. You’ve only been supreme for what five years, you must have gotten it wrong... No, no this isn’t happening. We gotta talk to Myrtle, she’ll know different. You can’t die Lia you… you-” The soft hand placed on your cheeks stops your rambling, knowing eyes fall onto your own broken ones as silent tears fall between you both.

“But we haven’t had enough time together,” you whisper weakly, leaning into her touch. The feeling of her skin against your own giving you the only comfort that’s available while Delia regains her strength from her dizzy spell. She smiles tearfully, brushing her thumb over the escaped tears.

“Then let’s make the most of it, I don’t want to spend my last how many months on earth avoiding you and regretting it.” Her eyes full of thought as she processes her next thought. “Let’s go somewhere, anywhere. I’m just so tired of all these negative thoughts and feelings, I want to fill these months with good, happy memories, with you and my girls, but I understand if you want to let this go now to avoid the hurt later on...” She murmurs leaning her head into the cushion, her face turned towards your own, suddenly vulnerable. The sudden urge to protect her and give her everything she wants overwhelms your instincts, making you launch forward to capture her wet lips with your own in a silent promise.

“I am going to make you the happiest woman, Cordelia Goode. I’m not going anywhere, you have me for as long as you are breathing and walking on this earth.” You vow against her salted lips.

There are still so many things left unsaid but in this moment you are willing to savour your time with this woman and be with her, to remember every twitch of her nose, every sparkle in those brown eyes and most importantly, giving her every reason to smile that breathtaking smile until she can no longer bear it. Because Cordelia Goode deserves all the happiness in the word and if the world can no longer keep her in it, you will be damn sure to give her everything in it and more for as long as you walk on it with her.

I’m sorry🙃x

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia foxx x reader #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #ahs apocalypse #my work

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lozzypoz321 · 4 years ago

Text

Word count: 2.6k

A/N by @morizoras-cave: this was even more fun than the last fic, loz is so so funny and so so talented and i just feel so comfortable writing with her :) also so many… bad things… happened while we wrote this. I mean it was chaotic.. I hope you enjoy its LONG

A/N by lozzypoz321: this was so much fun to write and I loved it!! Honestly you do not want to know what happened behind the scenes because that was a m e s s. Vic is such and amazing writer and deserves so much love! Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: bad language!

Sleepover (Collab)

“Kid, open the door!” your head snapped to the door of your hotel room. You recognised Sebastian’s voice coming from outside. “Open up!”

“I’m coming” you yelled, padding over to the door and opening up. Sebastian and Anthony stood out there. They looked oddly child-like as they stood there with their sleeping bags and dressed in pjs. You snorted. “Well, hello to you too!”

“Don’t laugh, N/n, this is serious.” Anthony said as you walked out, you also dressed in your marvel pjs and with a sleeping bag in hand. Although, you thought, it was hard to take him seriously when he was dressed in Winnie The Pooh slippers.

“Whatever you say, man.”

The entirety of the marvel cast had planned a sleepover on set. It was very secret, apparently. You didn’t know the full story, but they had seemingly asked the directors if they could have an onset sleepover and they’d refused, so someone had to steal a key. It was a whole process, but nonetheless you found yourself on the way to set at around 10:30.

“Is anyone bringing snacks?” you asked. You, Seb and Anthony were walking down the street. You could see the set already. “Damn, I hope so” Anthony mumbled and you all continued walking.

When you got there Elizabeth was standing outside, holding the door open with what you assumed was the stolen key. She ushered you inside. “You’re late and for some reason I’m not surprised.”

Inside all the others were already waiting, the entirety of the cast. Notably, you could see that Robert, Scarlett and Mark had created a pillow fort, and were hiding out in the coziness with a bag of popcorn.

“Welcome, late-comers!” Robert greeted you dramatically, standing up in his Iron Man onesie. “You’ve missed the pizzas. You know, because you’re late!”

“It’s fine, we already ate. Which is why we’re late,” Sebastian pointed nodded to Anthony. You nodded along.

Everyone sat down on a large stretch of couches, blankets and pillows, where Elizabeth had placed a projector pointed to an empty wall of the set. You sat down with Tom (Hiddleston), Sebastian and Mark. It was a rather weird thing to see so many grown men and women (that you had previously had respect for) in their most colourful pjs, but you supposed it was on you to expect any differently from this cast of people.

Chris (Evans) had picked a movie and, unsurprisingly, he picked Iron Man 1. Robert protested for about two seconds, before he let everyone shower him in compliments because that movie was so damn good. “Okay okay, I guess we can watch it if we really have to”

Scarlett lightly laughed and pressed a button on the projector to start the movie after placing the disk inside that Chris (Evans) had brought from his collection at his house. “Where’s the snacks?” You heard Chris (Hemsworth) loudly whisper to Scarlett who sat next to him.

“Ooh do we have popcorn?” You quietly asked Sebastian who nodded and reached across Anthony who was laid next to him to retrieve the salted popcorn that Mark had gotten just for you as he was in charge of the snack committee. Chris (Evans) silently got up, after making sure nobody noticed him (except from you), and crawled across the room in his rapunzel pjs on his hands and knees to reach Robert who was now on the verge of unconsciousness with dribble falling from the side of his mouth. Trying to be discreet, he raised his hands scarily behind him, gaining everybody’s attention in the room except Robert, and suddenly pounced on him in a playful manner.

The man leapt up without warning with wide eyes the size of dinner plates and held his hands up as if he was doing karate in a mode of self defence. Everybody in the room burst out laughing at his reaction, Chris (Evans) reaching for his left pec as he leant back on his knees in a full on belly laugh. “You looked like you were a 6 year old girl” Scarlett laughed out and shook her head towards the man, who was now grumbling as he sat back down on his spot with an abundance of blankets by his side.

“All the snacks are gone” Anthony exclaimed to the cast, making Tom (Hiddleston) look up from the screen and ponder “well we could do something that doesn’t require food” he suggested, making everyone look at him to continue.

“I mean, we could play hide and seek?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed excitedly, one of your first inputs of the night “I’d love to play hide and seek! My dad used to do it with me all the time!”

Your happy demeanour made them all smile as you began explaining how he would hide next to you while your brother tried to find both of you. “Well it’s settled then, we’re playing hide and seek!” Chris (Hemsworth) announced in his Australian accent, before you could be told twice, you jumped up and grabbed Sebastian's hand before racing out of the room, not even giving anybody a second glance.

“Woah, where are we going?” Sebastian chuckled, following your rapid footsteps. “Don’t worry about this, Seb, I’ve the perfect hiding spot!” It was a little bit embarrassing to admit, but every time you entered a new place, you thought about the best hiding spots (in case of an unwarranted game of hide and seek).

You pulled Sebastian into the costume room and shuffled awkwardly into the back. There, you found your masterful hiding place. It was a vent, but not a small one. It was big. Sebastian looked at you in surprise. “Not bad, Y/n.”

You popped the cover right off, catching Sebastian off guard. “I unscrewed it back in February,” you explained and jumped inside. Sebastian seemed to want to question you further, but instead just shrugged to himself and followed you inside, closing the vent cover behind him.

“This really is the perfect place,” he mumbled, voice echoing slightly in the vents. It was pretty cold, but stable. “And hey, didn’t you say that your dad used to hide with you?” He asked while looking around the airy place. “Oh, um, yeah” you said sheepishly, just now remembering the moment in the other room.

“Um- I-I mean, not that you’re my- Like, my dad-” you stammered, blushing at the awkward moment, “Like- My dad is my dad- You’re just- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to make this awkward, I just-”

“Shut up!” Sebastian hissed suddenly. You looked at him, taken aback. He was staring out the vent covers, and then looked back at you with a grin. He pointed to it silently. Your brows furrowed, and you looked out. You saw Chris in the room, hand holding a flashlight while aiming it around the room, trying to find a sign of anybody. You held your breath.

“I know you’re in here! I can smell your fear!” he yelled trying to act scary. Meanwhile, he just looked kind of goofy in his Disney princess pjs. You saw Sebastian beside you, trying not to laugh. His face was contorted into a forced frown, but a smile still crept up the corners of his mouth. Seeing his face, you started feeling the urge to laugh too.

You both laughed silently, trying so hard to not give away your position to Chris. You were failing miserably.

“I will find you!” Chris said again, and this time Sebastian let out a laugh, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. His eyes widened and so did yours. Chris stopped moving, snapping his head around furiously. “Who was that? Where are you?”

You saw the moment Sebastian decided to give up on hiding, as he just suddenly started laughing like a maniac. You did too, both of you clutching your stomachs. Chris scoffed and tore the vent cover off, revealing the two of you laughing uncontrollably.

“Come on, guys, it wasn’t that funny!” Chris sighed, but he was wrong, it was definitely that funny. You guys went back to the movie room. Robert, Tom, Scarlett and Anthony had all already been found.

“Welcome to the losers!” Tom grumbled. You both sat down with him and chatted while waiting for the others to turn up. The next was Mark, who had been hiding under a table, and then Elizabeth who wasn’t even trying, but was somehow second last anyway.

Then came the waiting game. Hemsworth, the biggest of you all, the goofiest, and seemingly the easiest to spot, was still at large. Chris was hopelessly searching, but came back every ten minutes with a more and more depressed look on his attractive face.

“I can’t find him!” he admitted finally. There was a collective sigh, and then everyone started searching together, simultaneously calling out “Chris! The aussie one!” Eventually you did find him, crammed behind a couch uncomfortably.

When you finally did, Anthony (as well as several others) seemed to have only grown hungrier, and the need for snacks was larger than ever. “I swear to god if we don’t find food right now I may just quit the job” Anthony swore and huffed as he crossed both his arms over his chest. “That seems a bit dramatic but okay” Scarlett laughed as the ten of you rounded a corner in the building to only come face to face with an abundance of vending machines that everyone used at break and you all had seemingly forgotten about. “Woah” Tom said, impressed at the arrangement.

“Food galore” Elizabeth expressed and was the first one to walk towards, closer to the arrangement, leaving the rest of you by the wall with your jaws dropped. “If I’m sick, don’t blame it on me” you quietly expressed, making Mark laugh from his spot next to you.

Trying not to seem too excited, Anthony ran forward, eyes following each and every item of edible food and drink. “I think you better hurry up” Tom commented from his spot the furthest from you, noticing the way Anthony and Chris were now eyeing your favourite type of chips.

“Umm yeah, that sounds like a good idea”

You, Robert and Sebastian immediately went over to the vending machine that was holding doritos, lays, and other classic chips. “Um, about earlier,” you mumbled to the Romanian man as Robert began to shake the machine with force, hoping something would fall down “I didn’t mean it like that” your cheeks flooded with embarrassment as the memory came flashing back to you.

But before you could start apologising even more, he stopped you and sent a reassuring smile your way “don’t worry about it Y/N, I know what you meant.” He gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before going back to watching Robert yelling at the Doritos to “fall out, you big pussy!”

Before Chris (Evans) and Tom could come over to your side of the room to be responsible adults and make a rational decision, Chris (Hemsworth) had already come bounding over to you and kicked the glass where the chips were held behind. He put full force behind the kick, so it shattered and fell loudly with a crash to the ground.

“Erm. Good idea?”

For no reason at all the situation was just funny to you, so while everyone in the room was stood still shocked (apart from Hemsworth who rocked back and forth on his feet sheepishly) you began to laugh(bitch). “What’s funny? You could literally cut your feet if you move!” Tom exclaimed with wide eyes, “you can’t get hurt we need to return you to your mom the same as we got you!”

Without warning Chris (Evans) ran over to you, making sure to carefully avoid the glass panes. “I’m not getting sued for this shit” he muttered as he picked you up and brought you over to a corner, which was a safe distance away from the wreckage.

“Alright, this has gotten out of hand,” Mark ran a hand through his hair, as he surveyed the broken glass on the floor in distress. Elizabeth nodded. You made eye contact with Scarlett and Anthony, who very clearly didn’t share the same concern that Mark and Elizabeth did. You all giggled quietly.

“But uh, let’s take advantage of the situation, eh?” Chris (Hemsworth) pulled a couple bags of doritos out of the broken vending machine, “Free doritos?” He shook the bags playfully. There was a moment where people seemed to question whether they prioritized their dignity of the free doritos, and it’s fair to say that a large number of them chose the doritos.

You all went back to the movie room, collapsing on your mattresses and blankets, with your snacks. But before any of you could begin to focus on the movie once again, a sudden gasp broke out from across the room. “He has the last bag of Doritos!”

“No I don’t” Hemsworth was quick to deny Elizabeth’s claim but everyone could see the full bag that he had attempted to stuff under his blanket. All of a sudden, Scarlett leapt out of her sleeping bag, trying to reach the chips before he did, but unfortunately all the gym workouts he had been going to (or yoga lessons you weren’t really sure) were paying off, as he held the woman at bay so he could grab the snack and hold it far out of her reach.

“Give it” she grunted and tried to reach past his grip and take the chips for herself, but before she had a chance, Chris (Evans) jumped up from his spot over by Tom and snatched the bag from him, holding a victorious grin on his face. Chris (Hemsworth) pouted angrily at his costar, not bothering to fight back as he knew it would be a losing battle (he was captain America for Christ’s sake). But you had a trick up your sleeve, you wanted those chips and you were going to get them whether it was the last thing you did.

Picking up the pillow beside you, you held it up as a shield as ran forward as fast as you could, taking in the confused expression Chris held in his face before you smashed into his stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs but unfortunately, not his.

He chuckled deeply as you smashed back into the wooden floors groaning as the pain surged through you. “I don’t think that worked as well as you thought it would” Mark commented from his comfortable spot on his mattress.

“No, it really didn’t”

The movie ended, and slowly but surely people started going to bed. There were yawns and stretches around you all bundled together on the floor. You too found yourself growing tired, stuffing yourself into your sleeping bag and getting comfortable.

“Goodnight!” you murmured and those who were awake mumbled it back drowsily. You distinctly heard Sebastian mutter back to you from his sleeping bag “shut up, I’m tired”. You chuckled for the last time that night, as soon sleep overcame you.

Then, at the the crack of dawn, a scream came from the nearest entrance: “WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK-”

And that was the inspiring story of how body searches became a daily routine on set, so the Russos could make sure no one had gotten their grubby hands on an extra key.

@rooskaya-yelena @deephideoutmilkshake @kidney9-9 @marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger @herecomesthewriterwitch @every-marveler-ever

#sebastian stan x child!reader #chris evans x child!reader #RDJ x child!reader #chris hemsworth x child!reader #elizibeth olsen x child!reader #tom hiddleston x child!reader #mark ruffalo x child!reader #scarlett johanson x child!reader #anthony mackie x child!reader #marvel cast x child!reader #mcu cast x child!reader #marvel cast #mcu cast

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

Text

Protect & Serve V (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, NON-CON, mentions of violence and murder and assault

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

When you woke up, you felt like you’d slept for days. Knowing Steve, and having no clue as to what he injected you with, that might be true. You had dry mouth, that much you could tell, and your head still felt like it weighed a ton. Peeling your eyes open was rather difficult, but when you did, you realized that you were in a different room from the one before.

You pushed yourself up to lean on your forearms, looking around and listening. The house was quiet, a far cry from the last time you were here. You guessed that all of Steve’s guests were gone, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. You didn’t know why you thought their presence would protect you when it wouldn’t. They had literally helped Steve recapture you after also watching your unconscious form be carried into his house to begin with. Maybe it was better that they were gone…

Now you could start formulating another escape without them around to catch you.

A stabbing pain struck you behind your eyes, and you squinted, bringing your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You cursed Steve to hell and back. Why had he given you the option of walking back with him when he was going to do what he wanted anyway? Did he get some sick pleasure out of it all?

Speaking of pleasure, you noted the soreness in between your thighs and wondered if Steve had done a lot more to you while you were out. He’d said that it wasn’t his style, but he couldn’t be trusted. You pressed your thighs together and winced, sitting up. Just as you considered what to do next, the bedroom door opened.

You sharply inhaled as Steve filled the doorway, heart rate picking up at the sight of him. Was it crazy that you were more terrified of him than you had been of your ex-husband? At least with Killian, you had grown to know what to expect. Steve had shattered every one of your expectations.

“You’re awake,” he said, stepping further into the room.

You didn’t know what to do, so you just stared at him as he approached. For your own sake, you needed to keep your eyes on him at all times. Escape was your top priority, and you had to think smart about it. He gripped your chin, turning your head to the side to gaze at your eyes, and hummed, clearly satisfied.

“You’ve been asleep for almost an entire day,” he informed you, grabbing your arm.

He helped you out of bed, and you let him. Your body was still fighting off whatever he gave you, and you stumbled. Steve was more than happy to catch you though, arm thrown around you, hand digging into your shoulder as he leaned you into his side.

He was patient as he helped you out of the room and down the stairs. The smell of food hit you, and you sniffed, stomach grumbling. Steve heard it and chuckled.

“I made breakfast,” he said, leading you into the kitchen.

A modest dining table was on the far side, and your eyes fell to the food laid upon it. You couldn’t trust him, having no idea as to what he wanted from you, so there was no telling what was in the food. However, you couldn’t afford to not eat. Steve turned his back after helping you sit down, and you glanced through the living room to look at the lake on the other side of the window. Getting across that lake was your best chance…

Too busy staring, you didn’t notice him approach until your hands were being handcuffed to the arms of the chair. You gasped, and he did the same with your ankles. Forgetting about your injury, you jerked your legs, only to cry out at the pain that traveled through your ankle. Steve hummed at that, sitting next to you.

“You gave Bucky and Sam hell. Thor too,” he added.

You watched as he picked up some scrambled eggs on a fork before bringing it to your lips. Realizing that you didn’t have much of a choice, you reluctantly parted them. The food tasted good enough, and he fed you again.

You licked your lips.

“You sound surprised,” you whispered, eyes meeting his.

A faint smirk was on his lips, and he chuckled.

“Not surprised…impressed. I like a fighter,” he said, reaching out to grab his glass of water.

He never broke his gaze from over the rim of the glass, and you blinked.

“…but I could tell that from the first moment I met you. So reluctant to accept a ride from a nice small-town cop-.”

“There isn’t anything nice about you,” you sneered.

Steve chuckled, nodding fondly.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” he agreed. “Nevertheless, the average person doesn’t pick up on that. Of course…you would…”

You glanced away as he fed you again.

“…tell me about him,” he eventually said.

You looked back to him with a frown. You knew who he was talking about, and your heart clenched. He pressed his elbows into the wood of the table, hands clasped together as he eyed you.

“Your ex-husband,” he elaborated.

You heaved a deep sigh, frustration coloring your tone.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know,” was his simple response.

You swallowed, a shiver climbing up your spine as you thought about the other blond man in your life.

“What…what do you want to know?” you wondered with a shrug.

He reached out to brush a finger down the side of your face, running it over your bottom lip.

“Tell me why you stayed,” he quietly demanded.

Figuring there was no harm in humoring him, you answered.

“I…was afraid. I had nowhere to go and…part of me…felt like I was being punished. Like I deserved it…”

“For what?”

“For leaving my family and friends behind,” you murmured. “For ignoring them for years…”

Steve nodded at that, pulling his hand away.

“I am sorry about your family. I meant that when I told you that. They were good people,” he replied.

You blinked. Of course, he had known them. How could he not? It didn’t sit right with you that someone like him had interacted with your family…especially while you weren’t around. You wondered how he behaved towards them, if he ever made any of them feel as uncomfortable as he did with you.

“The funerals were lovely. Was he the reason you didn’t go?”

You suddenly found it hard to swallow, and tears kissed your eyes as he brought that up. He reached out to brush a rogue one away, and you jerked away from him. Missing the funerals of your family was definitely your biggest regret. Every time you thought about it, your hate for Killian grew.

You didn’t have to answer because Steve already knew.

“Bucky told me that you thought he was the one at your house every night. He said that you had feared he would find you,” he said, making you frown at the mention of the brunette.

You looked down when his hand found yours, brushing circles into the skin with his thumb.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

You clenched your jaw, biting back what you wanted to say, and seeing the look on your face made Steve laugh. You looked up at him, gaze cold.

“I know what you must be thinking…that I won’t get away with this…”

He took another bite, leaning back in his chair as he eyed you smugly.

“…but I will. Hell, I’ve gotten away with worse,” he chuckled.

Your brow twitched, and you narrowed your eyes at him, recalling something that Wanda had said.

“Peggy?”

You watched the way his face fell, and you continued.

“Wanda said she’d just…left right after the breakup. I never thought that seemed her style…”

Your tone was accusatory, and apparently with good reason. Steve slowly exhaled, straightening up as he rubbed his hand over his chin, elbow pressed into the table as his eyes gazed at something you couldn’t see.

“Peggy…was an accident,” he admitted, and genuine remorse registered on his features.

Remorseful or not, your eyes still widened as he confirmed what you had initially suspected but brushed off, convinced that your paranoia was getting the best of you. Now, you knew the truth. You weren’t just sitting with a kidnapper, but you were sitting with a murderer too.

“You see, I started having my fun before I came here. I’d help out unsuspecting girls in need. Sometimes they were homeless…sometimes they just needed a ride home…to the store…”

Horror filled you as he spoke, and you started to realize that you weren’t dealing with an amateur.

“They’d get in, and I’d offer them a bottle of water I kept inside.”

Of course, they would. Steve Rogers looked like the poster boy for good Samaritans everywhere. Those soft blue eyes could convince anyone. Said eyes met yours, serious.

“They’d always accept. Either out of genuine thirst or just to avoid being rude, I don’t know. I didn’t care. They’d be knocked out within minutes…”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“…when I was done, I’d park at wherever they had wanted me to take them to. They’d eventually arouse, and I’d convince them that they had nodded off. None of them ever suspected, and if they did, what could they say?”

He rose an eyebrow.

“The friendly neighborhood cop, Officer Rogers, drugged and raped me?”

He scoffed, and you blinked away tears.

“…and Peggy?” you forced out.

Steve sighed.

“I got tired of the coldness and casualness of it all,” he said with a shrug. “I realized that I wasn’t getting any younger, and Peggy… She was so sweet.”

He sadly shook his head.

“Like every other woman in this town, she was itching at the chance to have me. But unlike the rest, she wasn’t bold about it. She was coy, and I liked that. It wasn’t long before I had her in the palm of my hands,” he chuckled at that. “Literally.”

Disgust churned in your stomach.

“She was everything I thought she’d be. Except…she wasn’t.”

When he looked at you again, his eyes were hard, face taut with tension as he recalled whatever memory you hadn’t been privy to.

“Peggy had plans,” he dragged out, voice low as he took another sip. “She wanted to achieve all of these great things…see the world…leave me.”

He huffed.

“We fought. Things got…physical, and the next thing I know, my hands are around her neck.”

You swallowed, tears spilling over now.

“Jesus,” he quietly scoffed. “I didn’t even realize until I let her go and she just…dropped.”

More tears fell, and he finally took notice. He reached over to wipe them, and you flinched.

“That’s right,” he hummed. “You grew up with her.”

He moved to feed you some more, but you shook your head, appetite lost. He let the fork drop before leaning back in his seat. He turned to look though the living room, eyes roaming over the lake through the window.

“She’s in that lake, you know. I think about her every time I look out onto it,” he quietly said, more to himself than you.

You sniffed, throat tight and chest burning. Fear gripped you, and you wondered if that was going to be your fate. Steve suddenly moved his chair closer to you, and you cried harder. He shushed you, reaching for you to wipe your face with his thumbs.

“That won’t be you. I promise,” he said as if reading your mind, hands resting on the sides of your face.

You shook your head.

“Why me?” you quietly asked him, no longer able to keep it in.

You had to know.

“I could see how broken you were,” he hummed, eyes roaming over your face. “…and I thought that I could fix you. That maybe we could fix each other, hmm? I give you the safety and security and love you’ve been craving for years, and you give me what I want.”

You frantically blinked, eyes searching his face.

“I could see that you wanted me too. Deep down, anyway. After all, I was a good guy. I’m sure Wanda told you something like that, didn’t she? That I would be good for you…and you had thought about it, considered it. I could see it in your eyes that night,” he continued. “Wondering what it would be like to be with a genuinely good guy…”

“I wasn’t ready,” you mumbled.

He took a deep breath.

“I know, but unfortunately for you… I don’t have much patience. At least not when it comes to something I know I want.”

“What…what do you want from me?” you finally wondered.

He let out a breath, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip as he stood, towering over you.

“I want you to look at me with complete adoration as I come inside of you. I want to come inside of you every night, calling you wife while I fill you with my children. I want to make love to you when you’re glowing and round with my child, but…right now…”

He reached for your plate again, bringing some more eggs to your lips.

“I want you to finish your food.”

Too stunned by his admission, you allowed him to feed you, fear gripping your heart at what would happen if you didn’t escape.

When you weren’t locked away in the room, and when you weren’t handcuffed at the table, Steve pretty much allowed you free reign. He was at your side at all times, of course, closely hovering. You figured it was best to seem cooperative. Of course, you didn’t think Steve was gullible enough to believe that you had accepted your situation. You both knew that you were just biding your time. It was only a matter of thinking of a way to escape before he thought of a way to stop you before you even tried.

You feared what he would do to keep you here…feared what he would do if he caught you trying to leave. You thought of Peggy, of how she had simply brought up the idea of leaving and had died for it. Steve’s desires weighed on your mind, and you knew that you only had so much time before he started to go through with them.

That second morning, you had woken up to the feel of a hard chest pressed against your back, a thick arm curling over your waist. It had taken you a moment to understand that the second room you had woken up in was his room. You had jerked in his grip, attempting to get away from him, but your movements had aroused him…in more ways than one.

His hold tightened, pulling you closer, and he groaned as sleep began to leave him. You could feel him poking against you, hard and hot, and you had panicked. You fought to get away from him, and he swiftly pushed you to lie on your back, settling in between your legs. Your hands, having attempted to push him away, were pinned between your bodies as he kissed you.

You gasped against his mouth, and his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth. His arms were pressed down on either side of you, caging you in, and you felt like you were suffocating. Steve paid no mind to your aversion, moaning against your trembling lips. One of his hands reached down to wrap around your wrists, dragging them above you until they were pinned just below the headboard.

His other hand slid down your side, kneading your skin as it descended. He ground himself against you, his hardened member poking at you through his shorts. You only had on a nightgown that he’d left outside of the shower the night before. You had briefly wondered if it belonged to Peggy. This very thing was a pressing concern of yours when you noticed the absence of underwear.

His free hand moved to make a home in between your legs, fingers brushing against and poking at you. You bit his tongue, hard, and you tasted blood. He ripped his face away from you with a hiss, and your satisfaction was short lived when he shoved two fingers inside of you to the hilt.

Your chest arched, a choked sound escaping your lips as he roughly fingered you. You turned your head away when he leaned back down, and his lips met your cheek.

“Do that again,” he whispered, lips moving against your skin. “…and I’ll make you pay for it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his fingers glide within you more easily now. He hummed, mouth trailing down to your neck, sucking on the skin. You squirmed beneath him, trying to fight off the pleasure that was being forced on you. Your legs kicked around him, and he widened his, pushing his knees underneath your thighs to restrict your movement.

You pushed your wrists against his hands as he added a third finger, stretching you out. A moan threatened to bubble out of your throat, but you swallowed it down, whimpering instead. Steve wasn’t pleased with that. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, thumb coming up to brush against your swollen bud, and you whimpered again.

His hands tightened around your wrists as he sped up, almost painfully so, and he grinded against you. His lips attached themselves to your neck, pulling the skin in between his teeth, laving his tongue over you. He curled his fingers, and a broken moan finally slipped from your lips. He did it again and was met with the same result.

You turned your face as much into the pillow as you possible could, but Steve’s lips sought out your own, covering them in another kiss. He swallowed your moans, groaning into your mouth as your hips bucked against his hand. The hand that was holding your wrists down moved to intertwine with one of yours. You quickly pushed your free hand against his stomach, and when that didn’t work, you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

Your efforts were useless, Steve effortlessly working his fingers into you again and again.

“Stop,” you finally begged against his lips.

“Come for me, and I will,” he roughly replied.

He flicked his thumb over your bundle of nerves again, and you fell apart beneath him. He pulled back ever so slightly, your moans permeating through the air as he looked down at you. A few of his blond strands tickled your own forehead, and his nose kept brushing against yours as he worked you through your climax.

He looked down, eyes focused on the way you clenched around his fingers, hand a mess. Your chest heaved, breath shaky as he tightened his hold on your hand. You’d just woken up, but you felt tired all over again. He finally pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and humming.

“Good girl,” he murmured as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

He rolled off of you, and you caught sight of the large tent in his shorts. You looked away, hurriedly pulling your nightgown back down, disgust coursing through you. You didn’t move as he strode into the bathroom and turned the shower on. You only did so when low moans reached you minutes later, and you moved to exit the room, but it was locked. You noticed what looked like a key pad on the wall next to the light switch. You hadn’t noticed it the day before.

Realizing that you’d have to sit here and listen to him get himself off, you sat back down, covering your ears. You were still in that position when he finally exited, a towel loosely hanging on his lips. You watched as he walked into the closet and came back out with clothes that were clearly meant for you. Again, you wondered if these belonged to Peggy. He ushered you into the bathroom before you could give it any more thought.

Your time in the bathroom was quick. Your quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing useful for you. No type of medication or sedatives or anything. You would have loved nothing more to spend all day in the bathroom, but you didn’t want to give Steve the opportunity to check on you and see you naked. The clothes fit perfectly, and it was then that you decided they weren’t Peggy’s.

The idea that Steve found clothes that were perfectly in your size made your stomach churn.

He was waiting for you when you got out, and he reached for you as soon as you were near. One hand went to the back of your neck, holding you beside him while the other went to what you thought was the keypad. You watched in awe as he pressed his thumb against it, and the pad flashed green just before he reached to open the door.

“Buck and Sam are coming by later,” he told as he guided you down the stairs. “I don’t think I need to remind you not to do anything stupid, do I?”

You shook your head.

“Anyway, just in case…”

He stopped before the door of the basement. Apprehension filled you as he opened it and guided you in, his chest brushing your back as you walked. You walked down some stairs, stopping at another door. This one was sturdier and had a bar that fell across it. You watched as Steve lifted the bar and pushed you in.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet before straightening yourself. You could feel Steve behind you as you looked around, and your heart dropped. It was a room, furnished with a single bed, a toilet, and a sink. You swallowed in fear, taking a step back, recoiling when you bumped into him.

Steve wrapped his arm around you, lips at your ear.

“I don’t want to have to put you in here, but I will if you force me to. Is that understood?”

You gave him a shaky nod. His hand closed around your throat, and you gasped, reaching up to grab his arm as he lifted you, your toes grazing the floor.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispered.

“I understand,” you shakily replied, and satisfied, he let you go.

He spun you around, one hand on your jaw as he tilted your head, lips brushing your cheek and then your ear.

“Be good for me…and I’ll be good to you,” he quietly told you.

He didn’t wait for a response before guiding you up the stairs. You reached the hallway again just as a knock sounded on the front door. He pulled you along, keeping you at his side as he went to answer it.

Sam and Bucky had grins on their faces and greetings on their lips when Steve opened the door. However, Bucky’s face fell when his eyes met yours. You took in the red marks on the side of his face, and you couldn’t keep the smug expression off of yours even if you tried. He let them in, hand sliding around your waist as he closed the door.

You flinched, and he tightened his arm around you. Bucky looked over his shoulder at you, lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“Like the new look?” he wondered, gesturing to his face.

You simply looked at him, and both Sam and Steve chuckled.

“Maybe if you weren’t slacking…” Sam’s words trailed off as they entered the kitchen, but Steve pushed you towards the living room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead before pushing you down onto the couch. You swallowed, watching as he joined Sam and Bucky in the kitchen. Sam’s eyes were on you, and he turned to Steve.

“She’s quiet,” you heard him say.

“No. She’s not quiet,” Steve replied, calculating eyes meeting yours before he ran them over you.

He smirked.

“She’s smart,” he argued.

He looked away, and so did you, eyes looking through the backdoor to roam over the lake. If only you could get to the lake. When the time was right…

Sam and Bucky didn’t stay for long. Steve had waved them goodbye with one arm securely around your waist. You watched them get back into the car, the police cruiser, and your stomach churned, still in disbelief that the supposed good guys were nothing but scum.

You wanted to know how they could be okay with what Steve was doing. You wanted to know how they justified it, and unable to keep it in, you asked him. He didn’t respond right away, instead heaving a sigh as he pressed one hand into the wall beside your head, caging you in.

“After Peggy, I went back to my…casual encounters…”

You frowned at how he worded it, and he chuckled at that.

“…not often like I did before, but just enough to satisfy me… They caught me one day…”

He smiled as if he were thinking back on a fond memory, and you were almost sorry you’d asked.

“They wanted in on it too.”

Your eyes widened as they met his gaze, and your lips parted as you registered what he was saying. He reached up to brush his thumb over your trembling lips, his own parting.

“Eventually Thor got roped in too. His brother Loki prefers to sit out on the festivities, but he doesn’t mind. I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to them,” he added. “Loki is a lawyer, and Thor is a cop in the next county over. They come over from time to time. Usually for a game.”

Now you were positive that you were going to be sick, and Steve continued.

“Thor wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous about it when he’s here…and the boss caught on one day. We’re the best cops in town though. We keep these people safe and crime is practically nonexistent, so… So long as we’re discreet, he looks the other way,” he told you.

You turned away from him, tears in your eyes. He pressed his lips to your cheek, inhaling.

“Do you see, now? You have no one to run to. No one will help you,” he whispered darkly, hand landing on your shoulder, digging in, the other trailing to cup your ass. “We run this town…”

He pressed a leg in between yours, and you pushed against him, but he was faster. He grabbed your wrists, slamming them against the wall as he forced his mouth on yours. You kicked at his legs, but it was hard to do when one of his separated yours.

He pulled you away from the wall, lips never parting from yours as he turned and forced you back. You stumbled and tripped over your feet, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. When that didn’t work, you brought your knee up, and Steve pulled back with a grunt.

Slipping out of his arms, you ran towards the backdoor, but his hands in your hair stopped you. You screamed as your scalp protested his tight hold, and he yanked you back into his chest, one hand closing around your throat. His chest heaved against your back, harsh breaths in your ear.

“Remember what I said,” he whispered, deep voice threatening. “Be good for me…and I’ll be good to you…”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until he walked you forward towards the couch. Your face crumbled as he pushed you down, one hand sliding up the thin dress he’d given you to wear. His hand grazed your bare slit, and you cried harder.

As awful as Killian had been, he’d never forced himself on you. It was crazy to think that in all the years you’d experienced violence at his hand, none of it had ever been sexual. That was a line that he had never crossed.

Steve flipped you, and you immediately fought against him as he ripped at your dress. He caught your wrists, holding them away as he dipped down to wrap his lips around one breast, bud hardened from the cool air in the house. He moved his head to give the other the same attention, and you cried out, pushing against him.

He suddenly jerked your wrist, and you cried out, pain traveling down your arm. He looked up at you, eyes cold as both desire and anger warred within them.

“I will break both of them,” he harshly said, making you freeze.

You couldn’t swim across the lake with a broken wrist, let alone two. He let you go, hands hovering over your own for a while to make sure you would behave. Pleased, he swiftly undressed, and you looked away from him, eyes on the ceiling. He tsk’d, reaching for your chin to turn your head.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered.

Too afraid to defy him, you watched as he grabbed your ankles, spreading and lifting your legs as he moved closer. He was hard and throbbing, bigger than Killian was, and you shook beneath him. There was no warning, no teasing… Steve slid into you with one thrust.

Having been wholly unprepared, you yelped in pain, head falling back on the arm of the couch. He rested your legs on his shoulders, leaning over you as he forced your knees to your shoulders. All of your movement was restricted, and the only thing you could do was press your hands into his waist. A few tears escaped your eyes, and Steve kissed them away.

His breath was shaky, blond hair hanging into his forehead as he savored the feel of you wrapped around him. He rested his forearms on the arm of the couch, caging you in, and you felt incredibly hot being surrounded by him. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth before moving them down to your jaw, nipping at the skin there.

He slowly pulled his hips back until nothing but the tip of him remained inside of you. He was slow to thrust too, and you squirmed, nails digging into his waist. The position you were in didn’t allow for you to do anything other than lay there and take it. Steve gradually began to pick up his pace, and the couch trembled from the force of his thrusts.

You wanted to close your eyes so badly, but you were afraid of what he’d do if you did. His lips never stayed in one place, kissing every part of your face that they could. Occasionally, his hand would brush over your cheek or shoulder. Sometimes he’d reach down and flick his fingers over you. Unable to do anything, you had no choice but to accept the pleasure he was forcing on you.

His skin slapped against yours in the quiet house, and you whimpered as he rested his forehead against yours, blue eyes boring into your own. As quiet as you tried to be, he could see the pleasure on your face, and the corner of his lips curved upwards. He kissed you, slow and soft, and you hated it. His lips didn’t part from yours as his thrusts grew erratic and choppy.

Too many things were happening at once, it was too intense for you, and you turned your head. Steve snarled at that and fisted his hand in your hair, yanking your head towards him again. He kissed you harder this time, slamming into you as he did so. Tears streamed down your face as you felt your stomach tightening, toes curling while you clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he murmured into your mouth. “Come for me…”

You pressed your nails harder into his skin, trying to fight it off, but it was no use. Steve didn’t relent in his movements, and soon, you were coming around him. Your climax struck you like a punch, stomach aching as it tightened, core fluttering around Steve’s unyielding cock. You slapped your hands against him as he fucked you through it, tears in your eyes again.

“Be good for me,” he reminded you, and you shook your head.

You reached in between you to press your hands to his stomach, turning your head away. Steve’s breathing was harsh above you, chest heaving as he thrust into your soaking core.

“Steve,” you begged, pushing against him.

“You’ve got another in you, I know you do.”

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he threw you head first into another, and your mind spun as a choked moan slipped out of your mouth. You couldn’t swallow it down even if you tried, and Steve groaned. One of your hands was on his chest, the other on his shoulder, but he wouldn’t budge. Your legs trembled, and you involuntarily closed them as you tried to stem the oversensitivity, inadvertently locking them around his neck.

“Steve... Steve, please,” you begged, out of breath.

His lips found yours again, and he growled into your mouth.

“One more,” he whispered. “Give me one more.”

You tried to duck your head, but he followed, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Give me one more…”

Stars appeared behind your eyes as you came for a third time, choking his cock. Steve let out a low moan as you gripped him, the sound drawing out into a groan. You could feel the mess you were making, but Steve didn’t mind as he pressed kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your neck…

“Look how good you are for me. Such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, spilling into you.

You shuddered at the feel, and Steve fucked his cum into you, hissing. He sat up to move your legs off of him, and relief filled you as they fell limply around him. He pressed his chest against yours again, hands cupped underneath your thighs as he lazily moved within you.

“See how good I can make you feel…” he said, lips grazing yours. “…when you’re good for me.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @mcudarklibrary @captainchrisstan @nickyl316h @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @readermia @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @stargazingfangirl18 @lou-la-lou @izzfizzh @thatgirly81 @autty0314 @hinata7346 @lokislastlove @honorarytenenbaum @void-hoechlin @autty0314

#dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #cop!au #cop au #cop!steve #dark fic #marvel fanfiction

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