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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years ago

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Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It��s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess,

SFW Tag list:

@peggycarter-steverogers, @natalia-quinzel,

(I didn’t know if you guys wanted to be tagged in this, but...)

#original work #original fanfiction #rosie beltzer x reader #rosie betzler x reader #rosie betzler imagine #rosie betzler #jojo rabbit imagine #jojo rabbit

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laurensprentiss · 3 years ago

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 17:

Warnings: None, really. Mentions of painkillers, more fluff. Emily Easter egg. HUGE plot twist at the end... this is the beginning of the end for these two. Sorry!

———

Virginian weather is notoriously unpredictable.

It’s why you get stuck in a downpour by the time you get back to your apartment. Hotch opens the car door for you and as you attempt to run inside, he pulls you in close by your arms, huddling close to you as the rain hits your skin.

You shriek over the sound of the thunder. “What are you doing?! It’s pouring down, let’s go!” You tell him, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Do you remember the day we moved you back into your apartment?” He asks over the sound of rain. You pull away, attempting to go inside but he holds you close. “Do you remember?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It was raining like this on that day, too. Do you remember?”

You laugh. “Yes! Can we go inside now?”

His eyes soften. “I remember looking down at you from that window,” he points upstairs. “And thinking you were so beautiful. I knew even then that you were going to be a massive part of my life.”

You blink at him through the rain, heart warming at his sincere words.

He wipes the water from your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss, and as soon as his lips touch yours, you forget all about the way your clothes stick to your skin and how uncomfortably cold you are. He ignites more than enough warmth within you. His kisses are slow, deliberate, and you can’t help but reach for his shoulders to keep you steady.

His forehead touches yours when he breaks the kiss.

“What was that for?” You ask.

Because I love you.

He shrugs. “What? I can’t kiss my girl?”

Your breath hitches.

His girl?

The tone in his voice makes your heart flutter. Makes it easy to see yourself falling even deeper for him, to see something worth having with him. You know in your soul that this moment, here and now, is one you’ll carry for the rest of your life.

———

He promises he’ll call you from work as he leaves, finding it impossible to tear himself away from you.

His forehead rests against yours and he holds you flush to him, arms around your waist when he mumbles, “I wish I didn’t have to work. But Barnes says he needs to discuss something with me.”

He’s still reeling from his earlier realisation, the prospect of telling you just how much he feels for you is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measures.

Because maybe, just maybe, you feel the same.

You interrupt his thoughts. “It’s okay, really! I have to go see Em anyway, she got discharged today so I thought I’d bring her some lunch.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure.” You reply.

He hums, snaking his arms around your waist. “Tomorrow night,” He begins, kissing your neck. “I am going to take you on a real date.”

“Oh yeah?” You reply, wrapping your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“Mhm. 8pm.” He continues, travelling up towards your earlobe. “Flowers, nice restaurant, dinner, drinks. The works.”

“And why would you do that?” You chuckle.

Because he’s fast coming to realize that he can’t not tell you how he feels anymore.

He allows himself the grace of knowing that maybe you’ll need more time to reciprocate the extent of his feelings, but he’s okay with that. As long as he gets to say the words that have been heavy on his chest for a long time.

“Because you deserve nothing but the best. This feels special.” It feels like the beginning of the rest of his life, he thinks. “I wanna do this right.”

Your heart flutters. “Then let’s do this right.” You reply with a small smile.

You tilt his head to capture his lips between yours, his lips soft and warm, the two of you seemingly falling into a quick rhythm. His hands travel down your back to grab a handful of your ass as he deepens the kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth.

You already know where this is going with the telltale pool of warmth in your belly. He swallows your whimpers as you push him off you gently, the both of you panting a little for breath.

He chuckles breathlessly against your lips, eyes still closed. “I’m gonna go before-”

“-Yeah.”

The door is almost closed behind him before he pulls you back to him, planting another tender kiss against your lips before taking off.

You’re left bewildered, the ghost touch of his lips on yours still lingering. You giggle to yourself, hating the noise you just made but you can’t even find it in you to care.

You pack up lunch into a Tupperware, stop off at a french bakery to pick up some fresh bread and Emily’s favourite macarons before making the drive to Ambassador Prentiss’ estate.

You enter through the North entrance, bidding a quick hello to Tom, the on duty guard. You knock on Emily’s door, entering anyway when there’s no reply. There’s wincing coming from her bathroom so you drop the bags on the ottoman beside her bed and rush in to where she’s trying to adjust her sling.

“Here, let me help.” You pull the strap taught against her.

She sighs in relief. “Thanks. I just couldn’t reach it.”

“How do you feel?” You ask, leading her to sit on her bed. Her bruises are still angry and blue, but the split lip seems to be healing and her eye’s opening a little better now.

“Been better. The painkillers are wearing off though, stuff’s good.” She laments.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” You mutter, handing her a sandwich and some soup once she’s situated. Her face lights up when she sees the macarons you put on her vanity. “You take your other meds?”

“No.”

You look around her bedroom for the bottles when she motions over to her nightstand. “How about you? How do you feel?” She asks, taking the pills and some water from you.

“Still sore, I guess.” You take a seat opposite her on her bed, crossing your legs on her comforter. “These bruises aren’t going away though.” You peer at yourself through the mirror, tracing the handprints on your neck.

She watches you expectantly.

“...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

She takes a bite of her sandwich with her good hand, and mumbles through her food, “I’m sorry, I guess I just don’t know why you’re traipsing through here acting like you didn't just sleep with your bodyguard.”

You flinch. “Lower your voice! If your mother hears, I swear to God…”

“She’s in the South wing - in her office. Spill.”

“Spill what? Where do I start?”

“Oh shut up, I can tell you’re dying to tell me! How did it happen?”

You concede and shuffle in closer, “Well. He dropped me off home and I guess we were both just waiting for the other to say something - but neither of us did.”

“So how did you end up-”

“Don’t interrupt.” She holds her hands up defensively. “He hugged me goodbye and left but I caught him as he was leaving in the hallway. I told him I didn’t want him to leave.”

She clutches her chest. “Then what?”

“I don’t know... next thing I know he’s kissing me and… well, you know the rest.” You tell her coyly.

She narrows her eyes. “How was he?”

“Honestly?” She nods excitedly. “Amazing.” You breathe. “Literally the best I’ve ever had, you don’t understand Em, his hands?”

Her eyes widen in glee. “Stop it!”

You continue talking while you eat lunch together, realising it’s the first time you’ve talked without a looming threat since she returned from Rome. You feel the lightest you’ve felt in a long time, hopeful even.

Your mind wanders to Hotch.

Being in his arms feels safe, it always has. From the day you met, he’s been by your side, been the person who had your back through the worst year of your life.

And now you had him.

You actually had him.

Emily notices the faraway, blissful look on your face. Thinks she hasn’t ever seen you like this. You were kidnapped almost a week ago and she almost died but you still look the happiest she’s seen you in years.

Her room telephone rings then, and when she sees the number, she rolls her eyes. “Yes Mother?” She asks bluntly. “No, Mother, I haven’t. We’re having lunch... Yes she’s here.” Your ears perk up. “... No, I haven’t asked her yet… Yes! Okay fine, I will. Goodbye.”

Your ears perk up, “What do you need to ask me?”

She sighs. “Well… Mother has an assignment in Rome. She’s flying out tomorrow morning - and I’m going with her.”

Your heart sinks. “Do you have to go? It’s so nice having you back, I thought maybe you’d stick around for a while.”

“I don’t have to go. But I want to.” She winces as she climbs on top of her bed again. “Since the accident, she’s been a lot less ‘Ambassador Prentiss’ and a lot more ‘Mom.’ I think she may want to make up for the last time and maybe it’ll be different now.”

“Hey.” You grab her hand to stop her picking her cuticles raw. “What happened in Rome? I was busy with school and everything but I remember things were never really the same after that.”

She sighs. “Another day. I promise. But I think I’d like to recuperate there, maybe travel for a couple of months before I figure out my next steps.” You see the hope in her eyes. “Mother and I would love it if you joined us - that’s what I needed to ask.”

“Wow.” You breathe. “That’s a lot to take in. I’m happy for you and your mom, I mean I’m sorry it took a near-death accident, but I’m happy for you.” She scoffs as you squeeze her hand. “And I’d love to come with you, I really would. I loved Italy as a child but - I think I have some things to work out here.”

She grins. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like a date tomorrow night.”

“That’s amazing, love. I’m happy for you, you know? You deserve this.” She cradles your face. “But if you do change your mind, we’re flying out of this airfield at 9am.” She scribbles some details on a notepad and tucks the paper into your pocket. “Just in case.”

———

“Hey, sweetheart, sorry I didn’t call. Can you meet me at my place in an hour? I have some great news.” You peer at your phone, the screen obscured by the fast emerging sunlight after the earlier thunderstorm.

You place a hand over the screen to block some light out when a hand taps you on the shoulder.

It’s base instinct at this point, a year-long stalker will do that to you, but you gasp and drop your phone behind you. Before you’ve had a chance to retrieve it, a woman outstretches her hand with your phone in it.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” the blonde explains defensively. You get a better look at her. She looks wide-eyed and a little skittish, but she seems nice enough.

“That’s alright - thanks.” You reply, taking your phone from her. “Do I know you?”

She wrings her hands nervously. “No, I don’t think so. But I know you, I saw you on the news and in the papers. I was wondering if we could talk.”

You pull your bag further up your shoulders. “What are you? A reporter or something?”

“No! No, no. I’m actually - you know Aaron right?”

You frown. “Yeah?”

She stumbles over her words like she’s unsure of what to say. She takes a moment and you can see the gears turning in her head as she formulates the words in her head.

“I’m Haley.”

———

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch smut #hotch fluff #cm fanfic #cm fic #cm fic rec #criminal minds

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iron--spider · 4 years ago

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I woke up at 3am yesterday to watch The Devil All the Time and I’ve been thinking about it since. I’m gonna put my thoughts and feelings and a review of sorts behind the cut, because I am gonna talk about it freely, so there will be spoilers! So don’t click if you don’t wanna see. I’ll also be discussing the content of the film and I know that might bother people, so that stuff is in here, too! And it’ll be really long because you know I can’t shut up.

So, I loved it. I loved it loved it loved it. I read the book a long time ago when I first found out Tom was gonna be in it, and the only problem I had with the book was that the POVs would change in the middle of a paragraph lmao, but other than that I thought it was pretty perfect. I knew the movie was gonna be pretty brutal, because the book is brutal, so I was prepared.

-BUT I think the critics HIGHLY HIGHLY exaggerated how bad the content was. Like, seriously, they acted as if this was gonna be a Saw movie. I was preparing for blatant, horrific gore, but it didn’t live up to their dramatics at all. There’s blood and nasty situations, but every single episode of Game of Thrones is worse than this movie, as are most episodes of any crime drama on a paid network. I actually thought they were super, super tactful of all their horrific shit. The dog death was off screen and the shot of the body (described by the critics as literally traumatic) was so quick (enough to shut your eyes) and in the dark. I also argue that particular moment is extremely important for Arvin’s journey, because it’s the moment he truly turns on his father and turns on religion entirely, and he carries it with him his whole life (it’s what he flashes back to when he says “I know what my daddy did” because it’s the marker of all Willard’s mistakes) and it winds up being one of the last things he does before he leaves everything behind. Burying Jack’s bones. So, like, I despise dog death or any animal death in my entertainment, but it’s important here and handled well. And all the worst death scenes are either extremely fast (Helen’s and Gary Matthew’s) or shown in negative (all the photos). I think Bodecker’s headshot with Bobo is probably the worst and is also pretty quick. I don’t know if this means I’m a jaded bitch, but God the way they were all whining and crying, I thought it’d be a million times worse. It could have been, with the book’s descriptions, so it was actually pretty tame. Lenora’s death affected me the most and they cut away from that, too. I guess it’ll still bother some people, but there are many, many mainstream things that are far more violent and gory than this was.

-I thought it was a beautiful movie. I never mind films that are slightly slower but I love ones that use their time to lay things out and really show us what’s going on, build the ambiance and the relationships. I loved the narration (which I was worried about), and it really made me feel like we were visiting a moment in time that was important. Like something that was written and should be learned about. Rumors in a town you’re passing through. The ghosts of past trauma and transgressions looming over everyone that’s left.

-I liked the changes they made with Roy and Theodore because I thought that storyline kinda meandered in the book and I’m glad that Roy was actually gone the whole time and not just neglecting to come back to Lenora.

-The only real complaints I can make, I’ll get out of the way here: I wanted a little bit more time with Carl and Sandy. Carl was really creepy, but he could have been much creepier. In the book he was the one looking at the pictures constantly, Not Sandy, and that really showed that he was the one with the sickness, the one pushing them forward and orchestrating it all. I thought they did well with showing how Sandy deteriorated in her efforts with him through the years, but I would have liked to see a bit more of their personal lives together and her fear of him and her genuine feelings about what they’re doing, because the book goes into that a lot more. I also wasn’t a fan of Lee finding the picture early and knowing some about what they were doing, because I liked how it was a surprise to him in the book and yet he still did all he could to cover it up. And lastly, in the book there’s a scene with Arvin after he kills Sandy and Carl where he’s in a motel and he takes like 18 showers because he can’t get the grime of what he’s done off of him, and he looks at the picture and has a nightmare about killing Sandy, and I really would have loved if they’d kept it in. It would have been another ‘acting’ moment for Tom, and it would have been nice for us to see his direct trauma and reaction to everything that’s piling on top of him.

-BUT that’s it. I loved pretty much every single other thing and decision that they made. The cinematography was TOP NOTCH. You could tell they filmed on 35mm film, you could see the grain, and it really, really added to it. Antonio Campos is a very skilled director and I trusted him at the helm of this story. Everything looked so authentic, all the sets and the costumes. The soundtrack and score were AMAZING and enhanced the film. Technically it was just perfect in every regard to me.

-Acting! Acting! God this was like...a massive testament to the casting department and the talent of these people. Everyone was on their A game. Bill Skarsgård has been on my radar since Castle Rock (which I recommend to everybody, both seasons) and he was so natural and great in this role. Haley Bennet was absolutely adorable as Charlotte, I loved her cute face and her sweet relationship with little Arvin. Riley Keough was so great as Sandy with the limited amount of time she had, and Jason Clarke is one of my favorites but he was unrecognizable in this as creepy ass Carl. Harry Melling was a far cry from Dudley Dursley and he did a great job with his screen time, too. Same with Mia Wasikowska, who didn’t have much to do (same as poor Helen in the book) but she was able to garner our sympathy anyway. Seb Stan was slimy and gross but he pulled it off so well. Eliza Scanlen has been one of my favorites since Sharp Objects (another one that’s brutal as hell but I recommend it, she’s so scary) and she was so, so great here. Robert Pattinson was ALRIGHT, everybody talks him up over this but he felt a little hammy to me and a little too over the top, but there’s no denying his talent.

-Now, the reason we’re all here. Tom. My God. As soon as it was over I just didn’t know what the hell to do, I didn’t even know how to....go on, lmfao. We all know he’s talented, that’s why we’re here, that’s why we love him, but his performance in this is just BEYOND all that. Beyond comprehension. The man is only 24 years old and he’s out here outacting people who have been in the industry for longer than he’s been alive. He is SHOCKINGLY good. I knew he’d be perfect for Arvin as soon as I read the book, but he just completely embodied this role in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. He doesn’t show up in the movie until about 45 minutes in (which doesn’t hurt it because of the strength of the leadup, Bill’s performance and the performance of little Arvin’s actor) but God, as soon as he’s there the whole thing comes to life in a way that it hadn’t before. Tom is literally just a shining light, and he draws your eye in every single scene he’s in, and when he’s not there you’re wondering when he’s gonna come back. Arvin, to me, is a very complex character—he has been inherently changed by how his father twisted religion in his childhood, how deeply he betrayed him by his behavior, but he still has a kind heart and a protective streak and the need to be strong despite the pain nearly breaking him apart from moment to moment. Tom is just outrageously good at portraying all Arvin’s little nuances, how he clenches his jaw, how his voice breaks when he’s afraid or trying to convince someone of something or get his point across, how his hands tremble after he’s done something he wishes he didn’t have to do, how his whole body wilts when he realizes he’s emulating his father. And his eyes. Tom can do so, so much with his eyes that it’s unbelievable. He tells you so much with just a simple look, a glance, a wince, a long blink. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s just an absolute revelation in this, he cements his place in Hollywood with a firm hand and a tender look, and I will not be forgetting what he did here anytime soon. There’s a reason that everyone called him out for being so stunning in this. He is magnificent. He has a gift.

-I wanna say, in particular, how much I love Arvin’s relationship with Lenora. Their lives were both marked by such tragedy and pain and Arvin just took up the torch of protecting her from the moment he said hello as a child. He wants so badly to be tough, and he IS, but there’s just miles and miles of love in this boy’s heart, and it manifests itself for his family—for his uncle, for his grandma, but for Lenora in particular. I loved how he just showed up when she was being harassed and just ran in there without thinking, and it’s purely devastating that he was out taking care of her bullies while a worse predator was cornering her. The scene where she was sick wasn’t in the book but it was a beautiful addition. Tom sometimes wears this very open, unguarded, honest expression, and this is the only scene in which he shows it, and it really expresses the love between them and how much she means to him. Arvin didn’t find Lenora’s body in the book, but it was the right change for them to make. Tom was devastating here, and that pain and that moment truly fuel every second of his journey through the rest of the film. “My Lenora”. The saddest siblings. Both Eliza and Tom did so beautifully with this relationship and I hope they work together again.

-Favorite acting moments for Tom: when he’s in the car in the rain after beating up the bullies, when he’s in the church crowd and realizes Preston is insulting his Grandma (the way his face changes oh my GOD), when he finds Lenora, when the cop comes to tell him Lenora was pregnant (this is just....so damn good), when he was telling his uncle to look after his Grandma, THE ENTIRE CHURCH CONFRONTATION (the way he trembles when he’s trying to get his attention, how he speaks the whole time, how he slowly gathers his strength), when he thinks Sandy has shot him, the moment where he’s over Lee’s body and just....pleading with his eyes for him to listen and realize what he’s done. And the last scene, in the car, all the emphasis on his face....once again, he can do so, so much with a look, with his eyes. Someone called out the beautiful last shot in the film, and of course, it’s Arvin’s sleeping face. And it was so beautiful (and devastating, to think of him enlisting. Tom draws so much sympathy that you just want Arvin to have a normal life so badly. He deserves it, he does, but will he get it?)

-Last thing I’ll say, I really loved how, despite turning his back on religion, that God seems to be protecting Arvin the whole time. He’s terribly afraid confronting the preacher and that could have easily gone badly, especially when he tosses the book, but Arvin was somehow able to get a shot off and get the upper hand. And with Carl and Sandy, he senses something is off immediately once they pull off the road, and he would have absolutely been killed had Carl not switched out Sandy’s bullets for blanks. And in the confrontation with Lee, he once again shoots at the same time as him, shoots without looking, and manages to come out unscathed and on top. A few spoiler reviews pointed out that the last person that picks Arvin up is supposed to be a Jesus-like figure, almost like he’s finally been saved. It hurts that everyone around him that he loved is almost forsaken by God, but he himself is protected. It’s such a complicated commentary on religion throughout the entire piece, but it’s so interesting and engrossing.

So I’d recommend this movie to anyone that loves movies, loves Tom, can deal with a gritty story that takes its time laying out all the chess pieces. It is definitely heavy subject matter but it doesn’t go overboard with the horror as it easily could have. Yes, there are triggers to look for, but the critics hugely over exaggerated how awful it was. I can probably go get time stamps for certain things if people wanna ask me after reading this, but if you can get through a Tarantino film or any HBO drama, you can do this. And Tom’s performance is one for the ages and not one that deserves to be passed over or downplayed. It is beautiful and heart-wrenching—a magnificent turn that displays his monumental ability to reach out and guide you into any world he decides to make his own.

I loved The Devil All the Time.

#tom holland #arvin russell #the devil all the time #text post #LONG #I’M SORRY

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

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Kinktober #3: Hallucinate: Mirio Togata

In which you and Mirio assume (incorrectly) that you’re way too wholesome for the campus bar.

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) nightclubs, aged up characters, mentions of drinking, mentions of breakups, tipsy dry humping, strong language.

Notes: Title inspired by this song. Feel free to rock out. Today’s prompt is “Thigh Riding”! As always, all characters depicted in this story are adults and, in this case, of the legal drinking age.

Additionally, if you liked this story, feel free to tell me what you think! I’m new to writing on Tumblr, so I’m open to all forms of commentary, suggestions, and feedback.

Ride on- and happy Kinktober!

Kinktober Masterlist

(edit: guess who’s an IDIOT and didn’t paste the whole story in? Updated....)

“I’m going to throw up.”

Those words ring alarm bells in your head that they might not have on a weeknight. Your best friend is one too many shots deep and the lights at this club flash so brightly, they’d nauseate anyone unfortunate enough to stare too long.

But you see the firmness of sobriety in her expression as you check her over. In fact, her gaze is turned entirely elsewhere. And then you realize what she’s spotted.

“Don’t look now,” she hisses, grabbing your shoulder before you can spin around. You haven’t been drinking quite so heavily as she has, but you’re far from subtlety. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You don’t need to look to see who it is. The only reason you’re here anyway is because she’s determined to “win” her breakup.

Whatever that means.

If it were up to you, you’d be spending your Saturday curled up back at the apartment, taking advantage of a night with the place to yourself by spending the whole thing with…

“Mirio,” you sigh, spotting his blonde head bobbing above the crowd as he sidles his way back toward the two of you. He agreed, the absolute angel, to come out with you tonight. And he’s been taking good care of you. Just like always.

He appears in full, popping out from behind a couple dancing as closely as you wish you were. You know this kind of place isn’t normally your thing, but he’s wearing this burgundy button-down and you think maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were here just the two of you.

He spots you and grins, and suddenly he’s your sweetheart again and you bet he’d catch you if you swooned right into his arms.

“Let’s see… ah, gin and tonic,” he mumbles, passing you the highball. Drinking these will always make you think of him now. On your first date you let him try your gin and tonic and he hated it so much he nearly choked. He’ll never understand your love of the obscenely strange-tasting drink.

But he buys them for you anyway.

“And vodka cranberry, hold the vodka,” he chuckles, passing a red-tinted glass full of ice over to your friend. She takes it, but she’s pouting.

“I said hold the cranberry,” she insists.

“Yeah… The bartender wasn’t so sure that was a good idea,” Mirio replies, and you can tell by the look in his eye that the bartender had nothing to do with it. You move close and grab his hand behind your backs, squeezing.

Smart move, you wish you could tell him. Unfortunately, you’re still not sober enough for subtlety and your friend rolls her eyes, pretending to gag into her cranberry juice.

“That’s it,” she quips. “I can’t take you two tonight. Don’t wait up, I’m not coming home if it’s gonna be alone.”

You call to her, but she’s cut through the crowd before you can even reach out. Like iron gates the crowd closes in around you, and the best you can do is turn back to your boyfriend. Luckily, he looks just as sheepish as you do.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you plead, throwing an arm around his neck. You know for a fact that your friend thinks the world of Mirio. But she was with her ex for a long time. And a breakup that nasty had turned her harsh and bitter. Maybe she wasn’t coping as well as she might have. You were ready to ride it out.

You just hoped Mirio wasn’t letting it get him down.

“My phone’s on,” you murmur in his ear, a silent promise that if she needs you you’ll be there, but there’s no reason to go after her tonight. She came here with one mission- and nothing is going to put that on hold. If you know your best friend, you can guess that much.

His hand slides into the small of your back out of sheer habit, but it sends a little shower of sparks up your spine. You haven’t forgotten how good he looks tonight, nor how good he smells now that you’re pulled so close.

“Wanna dance?” You push your lips against the tender spot between his jaw and his ear and he chuckles all deep and loving, the sound vibrating against your palm as you brace it against his solid chest.

“Might as well,” he rumbles and you shiver all over again. His hand slides from your back to your hip, the other one tracing up and down your side as you start to move your hips.

Suddenly he’s gone from golden retriever Mirio to incurable flirt Mirio, shooting you a smirk so devilish you know you’re going to hell. He grabs your hand and spins you, pulling your back flush against his front.

“Have I told you what that dress is doing to me?” He purrs, making you keen. You’re not even shy about it as you start to slowly rock back and forth, matching the thrumming bass around you. You love dancing close to him like this and based on the way his hands roam across your front, he does, too.

“Bad,” you scold playfully. The dark satin of your tight dress is starting to ride up your thighs, helped along by the path of his fingers as he traces his palm from your thigh to your ribcage.

“I mean it,” he groans, shifting a little behind you. He pushes one thigh forward, sliding his knee ever so slightly between yours. You can feel where this is going, but you’re of no mind to stop it. It wouldn’t be the first time you got a little frisky in public. And you’re far from alone, underneath the low-slung ceiling of this shitty college town club.

“You got any idea how pretty you are?” He presses.

“You do your best to remind me,” you mumble back. You can’t take facing away from him any longer and spin in his arms. You twine your fingers in his hair and pull him down to you. Hard. He lets out a low grunt as you kiss him harshly and his hands slide immediately to the curve of your ass.

Stinker.

It feels like you’re in a new relationship with him all over again, making out in the middle of the dance floor like this. You’re both tipsy- you can taste the whiskey ginger on his tongue- but you’re in love and you don’t give a damn who sees.

“Mirio,” you gasp, gripping tighter at his hair as his mouth escapes yours to trail down your jaw.

“So sweet for me, princess,” he mumbles.

“Baby,” you whimper, tighter this time. The ache between your legs refuses to be ignored, burning urgently with every breath he puffs along your skin.

He grabs you by the upper arm, taking you a few paces forward. You lose your sense of direction for a moment, but when you come back to yourself, you’re against the rough cement wall of the place. The cool grooves dig into your skin, but Mirio’s kissing you again before you have time to care.

This time it’s carnal- a bruising press of lips as his tongue licks forward like he could swallow you whole. One hand plants itself on the wall beside your head, the other holding your shoulders against the wall. You lean into it as best you can.

You love this.

He’s never been shy about loving on you in public, but you can tell that it’s the whiskey driving him this far forward. You’re too desperate and horny to care, though, and you twine your fingers in his golden hair one more time, combing your fingers lovingly through the gelled strands.

He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before that denim-clad thigh is pushing forward again, shoving itself between yours and pushing your dress even higher around your hips. You’re not sure who’s looking but you know it’s got to be somebody.

“Lemme take you home,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Can’t,” you choke, “c-can’t wait that long.”

You tilt your hips down against his thigh, firm and strong. He can bear your weight easily on it, but you keep your toes on the floor even as you start to rock yourself against his jeans. There’s something about the angle he’s holding you and the fabric between your bodies and the desperation of your arousal that’s catching you just right. And the familiar sensation hits you- you might actually cum if you keep this up.

He seems to catch on at the same time, pulling his face back a fraction of an inch with an expression of thrilled shock settling into it. He barely hesitates an instant before he’s on board, though, pushing his knee higher and ducking his head into your neck.

He attacks the skin there, licking, sucking and nibbling away at the spot where he knows you’re sensitive. That sends fresh shivers through your body that rattle down your spine and land with a splash in the pit of your stomach, shooting more pleasure between your legs where you’re unapologetically grinding your clit against his thigh.

Whatever insignificant scrap of underwear you picked out tonight isn’t doing much to keep you covered and you’re sure you’ll be mortified when you inevitably leave a spot on his jeans but you’re both too wrapped up in each other to care much now.

“Miri-“ you start to groan. That all-too-familiar wave of pleasure has started to build, and you’re chasing it like your life depends on it. You grab for his shirt, forcing him against you with a jerk.

“Are you gonna cum for me right here, princess?”

That’s a blow you’re not ready to withstand. Instead of answering him, your peak hits you hard and fast. You seize in his arms, your fists crushing the fabric of his shirt as you whine into his ear and come, high and shallow against his thigh.

You come back to yourself slowly, sagging against the wall as he peppers kisses along your collarbone. He carefully lets you down- one foot at a time, holding you by the hips to make sure your legs don’t give out.

“Y’okay?”

You tilt your chin up to look at him, breathless and flushed. On some level, you can’t believe that just happened. But one look at the glint in his eyes and you’re not so shocked anymore. Your man has a dirty side, and you’re the only one who gets to see it.

“I just came on your jeans,” you pant, making him chuckle.

“So that wasn’t a fever dream?” He’s teasing you, nuzzling the tender spot on your neck where you know he’s left a mark. You might have cared, if you weren’t in so deep with him already. Hook, line and sinker. You don’t care who sees.

Probably a good mental state to occupy, when half the club just saw you dry-humping each other against the wall.

“Can we go home yet?” You mumble. You’re hazy and pliable now, sleepy and weighty and ready for bed. Or, at the very least, to be alone with your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” he replies, taking a softer, tender tone with you. You reach up and touch his cheek, stroking your fingertips lovingly along the angle of his jaw. You really do love him. More than you ought to, at this point in your relationship.

But he smiles down at you, and you see the same feeling reflected in his gaze. He bends his head and captures your lips- soft, almost chaste, if you weren’t still basking in the afterglow- then nuzzles his nose against yours.

“Yeah, I think we can.”

#my hero academia #mirio x reader #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #mirio togata #kinktober 2020 #mirio togata x reader #lemillion #mirio fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mirio x you #gnomewrites

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hwauas · 4 years ago

Text

🕊️: "dangerous drive"

kim hongjoong (김홍중) - 2,166 words.

the past few hours had been more animated than your entire life. and your whole life got impacted for ever.

who could have predicted this? who could have known that being here, at this moment, would change your life?

your arms were tightly holding this man, the one driving the motorcycle at high speed. your hair were flying behind you because of the speed. neither him nor you had time to put a shelter on. you had to go away. for a reason absolutely unknown to you.

the truth is that you were scared of high speeds. not all type of high speeds of course — even though you weren't really comfortable in a train, it was not a problem. no. the problem was car or motorcycle going too fast on roads. this was the real problem. this was what you were scared of. and even though you were holding tightly the man driving the motorcycle, you still were scared.

“shit, they won't leave us alone!”

you heard him screaming in anger as he sped up the pace. you tightened your hold around his waist. you didn't care if you were restraining him to breath. you needed something to hold tightly.

“there's only one way... hold on me tightly dear.~”

you cursed multiple times in your head. your eyes were already closed: you didn't want to see the whole world passing by you at a crazy speed. but you closed them harder. you were even frowning. the only things which were proving the high speed were your hair flying and the growling motor.

the man suddenly turned to leave the highway. he was slaloming between the few cars on the road. still at a high speed. you could have had a panick attack, but something was holding you back.

as if your subconscious wanted you to keep a control on yourself. or maybe... because your body loved the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through your veins? or the feeling of powerlessness you were experiencing?

you felt the motorcycle shaking a little bit more than before. and you could hear an another type of noise coming from the ground, under the wheels. quickly, the speed slowed down. and you eventually managed to open your eyes.

you were in a desolate place. the road was in fact a little path surrounded by trees here and there, and grass. a small hill was hiding you both from the main road. you heard the police cars and the sirens coming closer, and then going further to finally disappear.

this man outwitted them.

you let go of the man, and got off the motorcycle. you pushed your hair back and started to walk around to calm down.

“you're crazy! you're fucking crazy!”

you shout to him. a mix of anger and fear was growing up inside of you.

“i'm happy to meet you too.”

the man said in a sarcastic tone. he even rolled his eyes and looked away.

“what? are you kidding me? you little piece of- calm down, y/n, calm down...”

you tried to count in your head to try and call down. this man was literally playing with your nerves.

“you scared me! you took me and you forced me to sit on your motorcycle! and then, you drove like a crazy to escape the cops! i don't even know why they were following you! i literally faced one of my biggest fear while you were driving! or should i say while you were challenging your motorcycle's motor? and-”

“actually both.”

the man replied with the same sarcastic tone.

but this time, a smirk you didn't like at all was spreading over his lips. you felt like he was testing you and your patience.

“DON'T CUT ME OFF!”

you screamed in anger and came closer to him.

“and now, i'm in the ass end of nowhere because of your stupidity! and the only thing you're telling me is that you're happy to meet me?”

“damn, you're pretty savage.”

he pushed his hair back, and turned over to face you.

“i guess you would have preferred to stay there, where you could have been killed?”

you stayed quiet in front of him and his answer. you couldn't do anything. he was right.

“huh? tell me, i'm listening? or maybe the little savage girl/boy is speechless now? did she/he lose her/his tongue?”

“i'm sorry. i didn't think about that.”

you looked down to your feet, feeling a little bit sorry and awkward.

“good. i prefer that. because i don't really want innocent people to die in the middle of a gunfire.”

he sat again on his motorcycle, ready to ride away from here.

“now come and sit or i leave without you.”

you looked up to him. you were playing with your fingers, trying to control your nervousness.

“about this gunfire... why did it happen? why were you involved in this gunfire?”

“damn, we met each other not even thirty minutes ago. is it usual for you to be this.. intrusive in other's lives?”

he was looking deep into your eyes with a deadly gaze.

“for you information, mister blonde guy. i was in the middle of this gunfire too. even though i didn't choose it. so i have to know something about it!”

you tried to build you more impressive in front of him to try and have informations. but it failed.

“come. and. sit.”

to push you to come, he spinned the handle to speed up. the motor growled.

“come on an y/n. or i leave without you. last warning.”

you sprinted to sit behind him again. you didn't want to take the risk to be here, alone, without him.

“this gunfire... it's because they trapped me. these bastards.”

he waited for you to be a little more comfortable and ready, and then started to drive away.

“who?”

once again, even though he weren't driving that fast, you were holding on him tightly.

“S-SK. the mafia band. i'm sure they warned the cops i'll be here. when i saw them, i escaped. one of S-SK started the gunfire. cops heard it, and of course, they shoot back. happy to know that?”

you were daydreaming, thinking about what he just told you. you have been involved into a mafia thing. and you couldn't think properly.

you always hated this. but in an another hand, even though you've been involved in this, you've been saved by someone linked to mafia things. you were almost rethinking your opinion on this.

“y/n! you don't listen when we're talking to you?”

he even beeped to catch your attention.

“sorry! i was daydreaming.”

“no shit, Sherlock.”

the man drove into the highway again, going back to the city.

“i was asking for you address? to drive you back home?”

you nodded, and gave him your address and some indications about the surroundings to be more precise.

“thank you.. hum..?”

“Hongjoong. you're welcome.”

the ride was quiet. none of you talked. but the atmosphere was less tensed now he was less angry. you were less scared for your life to hold this tightly on him. and even his muscles felt less contracted than they were before.

when you reached the town again, Hongjoong turned and turned again in the streets, until your district. but then, you both heard voices screaming 'they're here!' and deep inside you, you knew they were talking about you.

Hongjoong sped up to try and tricked them. when you both were far enough from them, he quickly stopped the motorcycle and urged you to get off.

“come here!”

he took your hand and ran with you through the dark streets — the street lights were bright enough just to see few meters away, that's all. there was more shadow between each street lamps' light halo than light.

Hongjoong brought you into a dark alley. to be sure you would both fit in the darkness of the alley, and the shadow, he pushed you against a wall, and didn't hesitate to come against you. he was blocking you with his whole body. his arms on each side of your head. and his whole body against yours.

you felt like you were burning inside of you. even though you didn't paid too much intention of his face, you couldn't deny the fact he was charismatic. and he was now against you. was it even real? was it even the truth?

you were looking right in front of you. your eyes were wide open. you noticed his body's proportions. his large shoulders but his marked and thin waist to contrast. his developped chest: his pectorals' lines perfectly visible through his shirt, his collarbones visible through the collar. not to mention his Adam's apple on his throat.

you were in awe. and this moment could have last for hours, you wouldn't have complain. but Hongjoong went away when the footsteps were not hearable anymore.

“they're not here anymore. let's go to your place, quickly.”

he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the alley. you barely had time to realise what happenned, and to process where you were now. you've been just too unsettled.

you followed him. you had no other choices anyways since he was still holding your wrist. but why was he still holding your wrist? you had no idea. but you were enjoying the touch. his hold wasn't tight at all, just enough for your wrist to stay in his hand. his warmth was relaxing. and his skin felt soft.

under the armour, there was someone totally different. a tender heart and soul.

once you reached your place, he let go of your wrist, and turned over to face you.

“this is where our paths seperate.”

he put both his hands in his pockets, waiting for you to go back home so he can leave.

“i guess so...”

you looked down to your feet again. you felt nervous. should you ask why he walked you home? what his reaction would be? will it be disappointing for you?

“oh please just tell whatever you want already.”

Hongjoong sighed. he was looking at your petite form in front of him.

“but! i'm nervous! stop!”

“nervous? after you shoot at me? after you called me crazy? after you were about to call me piece of shit? nothing to be nervous of. go ahead.”

“i...”

he was right. after all, it wasn't that horrible. you handled his anger pretty well.

“i wondered why you walked me home? you could have let me come back home alone, and just.. ride your bike again to go wherever you want.”

“hmpf...”

he giggled at your question. it was cute, but you understood he was making fun of you.

“after they saw you? they would have follow you and maybe kill you. i don't wanna be linked to a murder case, if you know what i mean.”

he shrugged and looked away.

“i didn't want anything to happen to you.”

you stayed quiet. you were blushing. first, you were quite sensitive and needed nothing to blush. but with this man, it was worse. anything, absolutely anything, could get you blushing. you were just weak. and it was a fact.

“now go home. and sleep. forget about this.”

Hongjoong mentionned your front door with his chin, and walked away.

without thinking twice, you grabbed his arm. you didn't want him to go away now.

“Hongjoong!”

“hmmm?”

he turned over to look at you. he raised an eyebrow because of the surprise.

“you know the address now... can you.. pick me up.. someday..?”

your face couldn't be more red than now. even a tomato was less red than you. but hopefully, the darkness was hiding your state.

“babygirl/babyboy already like the taste of the danger i see?”

of course he would play with you. it was the perfect opportunity to satisfy his ego.

“shut up and answer.”

you were still looking away. but you were losing hope. didn't he answer because it was a no? and he didn't want to tell you? but you felt like he was the type to say the truth, no matter how hurtful it is. you were just lost and hopeless.

“i'll pick you up tomorrow at night. at 8. be ready. not a single minute more.”

he removed his arm from your hold.

“usually.. i don't like people who shoot at me, call me names, or dare to be, you know... savage. but you. it's different. you're adorable when you're angry.”

he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth.

you were too shy to answer something. and he was already leaving.

you stayed here to look at him until he disappeared in the corner of the street. you entered your own house after, and locked yourself up in it.

resting your back against your door, you sighed with a bright smile. it was a very light sigh. the one you make in happiness.

tomorrow, you'll be seeing Hongjoong. again.

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impala-dreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Two Weeks Notice - Day Six

~With the world practicing self-isolation, Y/N and Dean break all the rules of social distancing and common decency as they explore an empty bunker and use the time alone to their playful advantage…~

Dean x Reader

1,947 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Fluffy, Costumed Smut.

Two Weeks Notice Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ My Original Works on Amazon

Dean lay back in bed, memory foam mattress forming perfectly around his aching hips. He’d never admit it in a thousand years, but Y/N’s Fuck-Fest 2020 was making him a bit sore around the joints. Not that he was complaining. He was enjoying the ever-loving hell out of it, and her. There was something very relaxing about doing whatever you wanted with no fear of someone else- Sam - walking in on you at the wrong moment. Hell, he was even considering not wearing pants for the rest of the week.

That and Y/N seemed so open to play at whatever popped into his head. He was certain the whole vampire thing wouldn’t go down well, but she leapt at the chance and played it out perfectly. They were exploring each other and the bunker and it was magical. He had almost forgotten that the outside world was in chaos and that Chuck was breathing down their necks.

Almost.

Alone for a moment, he fluffed up the pillow behind him and texted his brother.

‘How’s it going up there?’

As always, Sam answered quickly. ‘Fine. A little bored stuck in the house, but we’re getting by. How’s Y/N?’

‘Oh, she’s doin reeeallll good.’

Dean could picture the look of disgust on Sam’s face.

‘Make sure you guys are washing your hands and… disinfecting the sheets.’

Dean laughed at the screen. ‘I don’t think the sheets are the problem…’

‘Gross. Clean up before I get back, please.’

‘You got it. Hey Sammy- Stay safe up there, OK?’

‘Obviously…. You too.’

As much fun as he was having, he did miss Sam, and Jody, and the girls, and Cas.

“Ahem.”

Y/N’s call to attention did just that, shoving away any lamenting thoughts from Dean’s mind and focusing his eyes on the doorway. The door was open and under the frame stood Y/N, wrapped in a familiar tan trench coat, the sash pulled tight around her waist.

Dean’s jaw dropped.

“Hey there, sexy,” she greeted, posing for him, one bare knee popping out from the folds of the coat.

He swallowed hard, trying to wrap his head around the intensely arousing sight before him. “Hey yourself,” he whispered back, tripping over his tongue.

Y/N ran one hand slowly up the door frame, the long sleeve of the coat dropping down to reveal a smooth, naked arm. “Whatcha doin’?”

A bit of drool sloshed from the corner of his mouth and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “Wonderin’ where you got Cas’s coat from.”

Y/N licked her lips and turned slowly so that he would see all her curves and edges. “Stole it from his room. Who knew he had more than one of these things?”

“He’s gone through a few over the years.” There was a lump in Dean’s throat that he was sure was his lust in physical form, and he spoke around it, trying to keep his cool. “None have ever fit him like that though.”

She took a step inside the room, bare feet moving in a perfect dance toward the bed. Her hips swayed, her lips parted. “You like?” Painted fingers ran over the sash and tugged the ends, squeezing her waist even tighter.

Dean lost his breath. “Uh...yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Y/N laughed sweetly. “Knew you would.”

His brow raised as she neared the bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

One knee on the bed, mattress moulding around her. “Nothing, it’s just...sometimes you get a look in your eye when Cas is around.”

Dean startled, pushing himself up against the headboard, crushing the pillows beneath him. “I don’t have a thing for Cas,” he said sternly.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“You kinda did.”

“Whoa!” Y/N threw her hands up and laughed to herself. “All I’m saying is…guys in long coats are hot. And so is Cas. He’s a damned angel for fuck’s sake. Who wouldn’t wanna try it if they could?”

Dean pouted and shrugged, thinking it over. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And anyway, Cas isn’t here right now.” Another knee on the bed and Y/N climbed over him, fitting her thighs tight around his. “And I’m wearing a surprise for you beneath all this tan.”

Dean licked his lips and lifted his knees, forcing Y/N to slide closer to him. “Oh, really?” He chewed his lip and tried to peek between the coat folds. “Whatcha got on under there? That hot pink strappy thing?”

Y/N shook her head, grinning innocently. “Nope.”

“Hmm… the black one piece with the hole in the-”

“Not even close!”

Dean ran his hands down her back, trying to feel for a clue. “OK, I give up. What’s hiding under all that London Fog?” He flicked at the lapel and Y/N swatted his hand away.

“Tisk, tisk. Patience, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, patience and I ain’t exactly ever been on good terms.”

She smiled and opened the knot on the sash, letting the ties fall to her sides. “Then I guess I won’t keep you waiting any longer.”

His eyes dipped to the buttons as she opened each one, taking her sweet time, driving him insane. When the last was popped, Y/N sat back a bit and pulled open the coat, revealing his ultimate favorite costume: nothing.

Dean growled. “This. This is perfect.” He reached forward and cupped her breasts in his hands, loving the heat of her, the softness. Her nipples hardened instantly beneath his wide palms and she leaned forward to kiss his plump lips.

“You like?”

“Baby,” he moaned, his brain already buzzing with hunger. “I love.”

She bit down his words, sucking them from his mouth with her perfect lips; hands massaging his neck and shoulders, digging into him, begging for him.

He moaned into her mouth, still playing with her tits, loving how close she was, how perfect, heavy against him. He felt himself swelling and let his mind drift as Y/N licked into his ear, nipping and sucking wherever the urge brought her. When she ran out of room, she tugged on his shirt and Dean sat up too quickly to remove it and something popped. A lightning bolt of pain flew from his right shoulder all the way down to his ass and beyond, pooling in his foot until everything went numb for a moment.

“Fuck!”

Y/N flew backwards, hoping off of him as his pained curse filled the room. “What happened? Are you OK?”

Dean hissed and clenched his teeth as he shifted on the bed trying to ease the strange pain. “Yeah, just… something pulled funny.”

Her face dropped and Y/N lay a soothing hand over his heart. “Did I break you?”

Despite the discomfort, Dean laughed and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. “No. I’m OK. just like… ouch.” With a sigh, he scooted down the bed and found a pillow to crash into. “Come ‘ere.”

Y/N pouted but laid down with him, stealing half of his pillow instead of using her own. She always liked his better anyway. “I’m sorry. Maybe this week’s been too much.”

“Hey.” Dean’s brow creased as he went on the defense. “This week’s been amazing, you shut your mouth. I’m just…”

“Old?”

He scoffed. “How dare you!”

Y/N cupped his jaw and patted his cheek lovingly. “I don’t care how old you get. You’re perfect. And old’s better than dead anyway.” She winked and he nodded.

“You got that right.”

“So let’s just cuddle.” She turned onto her side, facing away from him, and settled in. “You can cuddle, cantcha?”

Dean smiled and rolled to fit himself behind her, one arm slung over her middle. “Yes, ma’am.”

Y/N sighed and lay her hand on his, keeping him there. “Good.”

He closed his eyes and let the pain subside, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She smelled like apples and wind; like that summer he spent on the farm in upstate New York. Fresh and sunny and real.

She wiggled a bit, getting comfortable, and Dean hummed in interest as her ass rubbed against him; just a thin layer of cotton and that old trench coat lying between them. He pushed his hips forward and let his body do what it wanted.

His lips wanted her throat, so they took it, kissing and suckling at the tender flesh beneath her ear; teeth gently scraping at her shoulder, inducing a shiver that brought her closer still.

His hand wanted her supple flesh, so it rose from her waist to her tits, rolling each nipple between his long, calloused fingers until she moaned and pushed her ass backwards more, arching against him.

His body wanted more, wanted all of her. He left her breasts and slid down her body, carefully pushing her legs apart and pressing against her pussy. Her heat was intoxicating. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and urged him onward; her breath becoming heavy as he dipped inside.

“Want you,” she moaned, twisting her neck to reach his lips.

He kissed her hard. “You have me.”

“You promise?”

Her whisper blew across his lips and Dean nearly died; so taken with every tiny thing about her, he couldn’t think of ever letting her go.

“Promise.”

She turned fully then, knocking his fingers from her thighs, and took his face in her hands, kissing him hard and fully, holding onto every bit of him. When he rolled over her, she paused, pulling back from their kiss to look him in the eye. “Are you sure?”

He grinned and kissed her deeper, pushing her knees apart with his bowed legs. “I’m fine.”

The trenchcoat fell away and Y/N helped him tug the boxers from his hips, gently stripping him with warm fingers and lingering kisses.

"Slow," she whispered, guiding his cock into her. "Go slow. I wanna feel you."

Dean pushed up on his thick arms and let his hips glide back and forth, rocking gently, in and out until he was coated fully in her juices. She felt every inch of him and her body tightened more with each thrust.

“Oh god…” Her eyes were screwed shut and her lips were parted, ripe for the taking. Dean plucked at them with his teeth, sucking her into his mouth as he fell into a steady rhythm, leisurely stoking the fire between them.

When he felt her begin to pulse around his cock, he licked at her lips and set himself perfectly above her. “Y/N, open your eyes.”

She bit her lip as the orgasm loomed, unable to do much more than feel.

“Look at me,” he demanded, soft but firm. Her eyes popped open and an unstoppable smile lifted her lips. “There’s my girl. I wanna see you cum. I wanna watch you.”

Teeth still tucked into her bottom lip, she nodded and her eyes grew wider, an almost manic look taking over as her body let go. She convulsed in his arms, pussy pushing and pulling at his cock, forcing him to join her in mindless bliss for a moment.

Dean’s left elbow crumbled beneath him and he fell down, crushing her into the mattress as he came. He panted against her neck and Y/N wrapped her shaking arms tight around him, hugging him closer.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” she whispered, expecting nothing in return.

He smiled and kissed her shoulder where the trench coat had fallen aside. He could never find the words when he needed them, ever afraid to voice them, but he knew she knew, and that was enough.

2020 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @amanda-teaches @bakutododeku69 @because-imma-lady-assface @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @cheritzie @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansotherotherblog @deansgirl215 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @dontshootmespence @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @hannahindie @herbologystudent252 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus @ladyjenny19 @laxe-from-outer-space @mariekoukie6661 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @msjava1972 @mylovelydame21 @mysticmaxie @pilaxia @sandlee44 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @typicalweirdbookworm

TWN:

@rebelemilu @pastathighs @deans-baby-momma @bobbie3939 @peachyafshawn @spencer-reids-babygirl @akrasiaev @shadowkat-83 @deangirl7695 @foxyjwls007 @bxbyizzy @chenshemesh1 @pandaxo79

#dean x reader #series #smutt #dean winchester x reader

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years ago

Note

Please tell me there’s a part 3 to amnesia ethan? This is too heartbreakingly good -ohdolans

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst, language

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

"I'm not breaking up with you." Ethan states, making Y/N frown. She sits up, abandoning his chest with a puzzled look she simply couldn't hide.

"I'm sorry, were you planning to?!" Her voice is pitchy, enough to show the underlying anxiety he caused with his words and enough to make him chuckle as he props himself up.

"No. That's what I'm saying, I'm not breaking up with you. Ever. Even if this whole thing goes to shit, I'm never going to pull the cord on us. You'll have to do it because I-I can't."

Raising an eyebrow, she gives him a pointed look, "That's not fair. I don't want to break up with you." Using air quotes, she adds, "Ever", in the same tone Ethan used.

"Well, we'll just have to get married then." Ethan shrugs, plopping back down as she playfully rolls her eyes.

"Guess so. Grayson's gonna be living with us longer than the kids." Joking, she lays back down beside Ethan, ignoring the surprised glances he sent her way.

"We're having kids?!"

"Might as well if we get married." Pecking his cheek, she nestles back onto his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart beating. She doesn't miss when his voice sounds in a whisper.

"I'd like that."

Arms folded, she stood outside Ethan's room, unsure what to do. It's been a few days since she saw him last and it ended in tears and heartbreak. How many times can a heart break before it's beyond help?

A part of her knows she shouldn't take it personally, his words are coated in venom because he's fighting his inner demons and she's practically a stranger, but another part of her is just as angry and frustrated as he seems to be.

Memory loss? This is what marks their end? It's horrible to day, but it feels like he died and someone else woke up in his body. Ethan she loved is gone and she still can't seem to let it go; let him go.

Licking her lips, she swallows thickly before walking into the room once again. Grayson suggested so, but she was reluctant. Ethan's unpredictable at best, even with Grayson, but he's downright cruel to Y/N. At least she percieved it that way.

"I'm really not in the mood today." Ethan mutters, his voice low and tone unmistakably disgruntled.

"Wow, this is a new record. One step in and you already want me out." Y/N tried to laugh it off, keeping her tone light.

He turns to her with eyes slightly widened, lips parting as he takes note of her clothes - most notably his Positivity hoodie.

"I didn't know it's you." Ethan admits, licking his lips before turning away and toward the window he's gotten used to staring at. It was the closest connection to the outside world he's had in almost two months.

"I'm sorry I ran out the other day." She speaks up, determined not to let him wreck her mood. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing he said he didn't realize it was here - would he not still say the same if he did?

"I was being a dick. It's understandable." Ethan glances at her, realizing she'd come closer to him than before. He couldn't help but notice the wary look in her eyes, aware he's the reason why.

"You were reacting to a stranger inserting herself in your life. That's understandable too." She sighs, moving to the wall just inches away from the bed. She leans back on it, folding her arms as her eyes fall on the door, lessening her anxiety. Knowing where the exit is somehow made it easier, but also sad. She never had to think about an exit strategy with Ethan before.

"Except you're not a stranger, are you?" Ethan's eyes are fixed on her, taking every little change in her expression to heart. He didn't want to make her cry again. The sight of her tears left him in pain and just because he didn't remember her didn't mean some part of him didn't care for her, deeply.

Her lips part with his question, eyes meeting his so quickly Ethan's heart jumped. She's taken aback, hopeful and he knows he made a mistake again. He should have worded it better instead of giving her hope he remembered something. Truth be told, he had fuzzy memories of a girl's laugh echoing in his head but he didn't know for sure if it's hers. He doesn't seem to be capable of making her laugh.

"You left a bag here last time and I snooped. I saw the scrapbooks." Scratching his eyebrow, Ethan continues, "I recognized my handwriting on some of the pages. It's so fucking weird."

"Which part?" Y/N tries, afraid she's going to say something wrong and he'd stop talking. It's the first time he's the one keeping the conversation flowing.

"All of it. I read these thing and watch our videos and photos and it's so clear I was smitten with you and then I can't fucking remember a thing. It's like I don't even know who I am anymore."

Wetting her lips, Y/N sighs. "But you do. You're still Ethan Dolan. You are a brother, a son, a creative pain in the ass. Your mind is something to admire, your sarcasm something to enjoy, and while you may be confused now, I still see the man I fell in love with. You're kind and funny and so sweet. You make everyone's lives better just by existing."

Holding out his right hand, Ethan's eyes flickered to Y/N's who focused on his hand with wonder. He could tell she was uncertain about what she should do, but she reached for his hand anyway.

Her shaky fingers run across his palm and they're icy cold to touch. Her bracelet passes the tips of his fingers as hers curl around his wrist. It's impossible to ignore the number 8 and E charms on her bracelet. They signified him. To Y/N, Ethan was her lucky charm. He always will be.

"Why does touching you make me feel like everything will be alright yet your presence here makes me wanna scream for you to leave?" Ethan speaks softly, quietly as if she wasn't meant to hear him, but she does. It pains her to hear his conflicting emotions, even more so knowing they're just the tip of a very deep running iceberg.

"What about my presence unnerves you the most?"

Pulling her hand up to his face, Ethan plants a tender kiss on the back of it, bringing goosebumps to her skin.

"The expectations. I'm supposed to be the Ethan you love and I'm scared I'm not him anymore. I'm scared I never will be and that I'll lose whatever this was between us and it clearly meant a lot to me then." Pausing, he traces his thumb along her wrist, wistfully flicking the letter E.

"It's also the pain and love I see on you. It's like I stole something from you I can never give back."

Sniffling, Y/N swallows thickly. Ethan looks up, seeing tears brimming in her eyes. "See? I always make you cry."

Shaking her head, Y/N giggles. "These are happy tears because I see and hear the Ethan you think is lost."

And that's when Ethan drops her hand. The laugh echoing really is hers. The giggle confirms it. "What if I never get my memories back? What if I don't fall in love with you again?"

Closing her eyes, the tears brimming before fall. "I don't know."

Part 4

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fic

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levis-wings · 3 years ago

Text

needed a little break in between reading summer rain and silent storms by @astridthevalkyrie to process the first book's ending. i thought going straight into silent storms would literally break me (like actually murder me lol)

yet, i was rendered pleasantly surprised.

i began reading silent storms during my commute to work. and lemme tell you, i haven't been wanting to go to work for a while now because it's been HECTIC (new ehr system is driving us all NUTS). i was also expecting to hold my tears in public (in fear of the angst of the ending of summer rain to bleed into silent storms' beginning). however, i spent like thirty minutes trying not to squeal with happiness and adoration, instead. it also just so happened that when i reached the first smut scene, i was still on my commute (fairly easy to hide my blush behind a mask though, thank god LOL). and by the time my commute to work finished, i was so energized by what i'd read, that i felt excited?? to walk into work??? like levi and oc's romance??? literally rejuvenated me LOL

the overall feel of silent storms, for me at least, was much lighter, fluffier than what summer rain was. don't get me wrong. it was a still massive fucking idiots to lovers, but the idiocy was adorable and tolerable. (mainly because i got to see what was going on in levi's head, which was an AMAZING touch.) i didn't wanna rip out my heart and cry at any point of the story; instead, i wanted to scream and dance with joy 99.9% of the time. i cannot emphasize HOW WELL the emotions, the feelings, the butterflies are written. i feel like i'm feeling love for the first time reading what the characters are going through and not many pieces of media can actually make me feel something

it's the way in which the thoughts are written so... realistically. you hear the characters' doubts, their wishes, their fears. you see what they hide from the other, what they pick and choose to share. you see what they secretly struggle with and what the other assumes of them. and every single one of their reactions/thoughts feels organic to me. also very true to character

[spoilers]

i think this was in chapter one. but this fucking quote:

"The tea is just as bad as last time, if not worse, but he dutifully drinks it all, as she makes herself at home in his office and starts talking his ear off about the many unhealthy effects of insomnia and why does she care why is she looking at him like that what's the matter with her why doesn't she just shut the fuck up for once why is she so pretty—"

the moment i read the latter part, my heart flew out of my chest. it's fucking adorable the way he can barely have a linear thought because he's so whipped for her. i can't even explain with words how HAPPY i was to see how he had felt through all of this

let's also talk about the fucking character development. oc out there pulling uno reverse cards. i think she's the kind of person who grows and learns from others. she takes each person's word to account AND she is aware of this (also the reason she tries to avoid telling levi about important life choices she knows he'll try to talk her out of). sometimes, her inner demons get the best of her. she's complex. (i had an inkling of this is summer rain but more of her childhood was explained in silent storms and the puzzle pieces just fit.) she likes to think that she lives for herself. degrades herself into thinking she's selfish (though honestly, there's nothing wrong with looking out for yourself). but i think it's natural for her to also look out for the people she cares for. her way of caring is listening. and taking in the information they tell her. it's just the cherry on top of her already lovable character. anyways, after understanding her character better, for a while, i suspected she'd somehow(?) try to join the scouts. i was very surprised (and supportive) of her decision to do so as well!

in summer rain, i thought she wasn't ready to be a scout yet. but clearly, she's had quite a few epiphanies and they'd led her to believe in herself. she's totally ready now

i still can't believe i went in thinking i'd fall for levi more and came out falling for the female lead help??

levi's sweet moments sprinkled throughout?? the fic?? killed me.

" 'I'm glad,' he confesses to her, 'I'm happy you didn't join the Scouts. I ... want you to be safe.' "

there are moments like this where he speaks his truth... but it's so tender, so sweet that it's just almost out of pocket. but at this point, he should just fucking say the opposite of what he wants for oc because she'll do the thing he doesn't want her to do, anyways

and listen when he said:

" 'Your mother didn't do her best,' he says honestly, 'you did.' "

i very much did cry inside. and the fact that this left oc speechless. like same, babe, same. it's these rare moments of sweetness that leave me feeling giddy. i don't expect it at all, so when it just comes out, i get so caught off guard LOL

my favorites scenes HAD to be when they had a full-on verbal fight in front of oc's date LMAO, when levi initiated their second kiss, when petra convinced oc to join the special operations squad, when levi and oc finally fucking decided to make something fucking official and then he proceeds to pull out a list of rules from nowhere. hilarious

their constant bickering and dialogue is just *chef's kiss.* never exactly read a couple with better chemistry. i'm also the type of person to like the chase but loathe the aftermath of a couple finally getting together. but fucking goddammit, with these two, i know it'll never get boring. it's also because they tend to banter a lot and i'm that bitch who ships dramione and zutara so you know i like the drama

ALSO?? ERWIN?? when i was watching aot, my friend told me she thought erwin was a 'bad' character. i asked her why she felt that way. she told me because he had no depth to his character—that he was plain. i disagreed. i think erwin (along with levi and eren) is arguably one of the most complex characters in aot, and this fic just brings it out sooooo well! there's just?? something in me?? that makes me believe erwin is SUS of levi and oc. also the fact that he remains a mystery to oc too. she's always questioning the relationship erwin has with levi and even that in it itself makes the man 10 times more enigmatic. i absolutely love it

and the smut. goodbye. i only expected one scene. i was given like... i can't even count because i can't do math when i'm excited lol. but it was much more than what i expected and i was LIVING for it. something about levi letting go of control????????? please. didn't think subby levi would be my cup of tea but i guess i was proven wrong. i'm not even mad

i forgot to say in my last review. but listen. oc liking milk makes me feel so validated. like i literally do not know a single fucking real-life person who likes drinking plain milk like me. and yes, people have poked fun at my habit. BUT SEEING OC DRINKING HER PLAIN MILK SO UNAPOLOGETICALLY. GODDAMN. plain milk drinkers rise 😩😩

but i also need levi to teach oc how to make good tea tho. like girly, you add hot water and a good amount of tea leaves 🤨 what are you getting wrong?

anyways, i've said way too much again. but i can't help but get excited when i come across such a great work of art. though i admit i'm terrified going into warmth. i don't think i'm ready to see the show's events unfolding... because when petra dies i will fucking cry. it's funny because when i first watched aot, i didn't even know who petra fucking was until AFTER she got squashed... yikes. but the more i learn about her character (in aot and in this particular setting), the more i like her

i always end up having some sort of stupid side character syndrome. in aot, i focused on levi/hange/erwin and sasha/connie/jean. and now even in a whole ass fanfiction ABOUT levi, i'm fantasizing about petra and erwin??? huh???

i hope things go well for levi and oc in the future. i'm not ready to see the shit go down in warmth though 😭

#levi fic rec #fic recs #astridthevalkyrie

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

Text

Just Like a Woman - Part 9

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence, @dancingcoolcat If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: It’s time for some courtroom actions, baby!!

Warning(s): Descriptions of assault

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 here we go!!!

Weeks passed. Nick was pleading self defense and refused to negotiate, so it was going to trial. In front of a jury. Dominique was struggling with having to relive the events of that night over and over again. You, Roger, and Bill were trying to keep her spirits up in the conference room before the trial was set to begin.

“Just one more time, Dom,” Roger told her.

She looked at him with watery eyes. “I’m telling you I can’t do this anymore.”

“We can get him, though, if you just power through,” Bill added. “We’ve got your testimony, photographs of your injuries, and then the witness who found you. Our case is solid. And you’ve said yourself you don’t want this to happen to anyone else.”

“I know, but…” she trailed off.

“What is it, Dom?” you asked gently. “Speak your mind.”

“It’s not helping me recover,” she said quietly. “Maybe that’s selfish, but every time I have to tell another room full of people what happened to me, I feel again all this...shame and guilt. And don’t tell me it’s not my fault, Roger, I know it isn’t, I just…”

He closed his mouth.

“We understand,” you told her. “But we’re all here for you, okay? I know you can do this. But if you’re not feeling up to it anymore, we’ll support that too.”

She paused, looking at the ground. “I’m tired.”

“You can’t give up now,” Roger said. “We’re so close.”

She sighed, refusing to meet his gaze. When she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Dom, we’re going to support you no matter what you decide,” you said. “But Roger is right, it’ll be only one last time. And we can put that man away.”

“You said you want to get him,” Bill said. “So let’s get him.”

She sighed. “I...yes. I still want that.”

He knelt in front of her and took her hand.

“Like Y/N said, we’re with you,” he said. “We’ll all be standing right beside you and in front.”

You and Roger exchanged a surprised look at Bill’s uncharacteristic tenderness.

She smiled at last. “Thank you.”

“Alright, let’s prepare for this trial,” he said, grinning back.

“One thing,” you interjected. “Tim sent over the final copy of the divorce settlement. I got a call from the judge that it needs to be finalized before the trial begins.”

“We can sign it now?” Roger wondered.

“Yeah,” you said. “Remarkably, Tim was comfortable with you both signing with just me and Bill as witnesses.”

You put the papers down on the table. Bill handed Dominique a pen. She signed and slid it over to Roger. He picked up the pen and stared at the papers for a moment. For a feeling second, you feared he would refuse to sign it. If he didn’t, what did that say about where he stood with you? But then, after he glanced at Dom, he swiftly scrawled his signature across the line and dated it.

Just like that, their marriage was over.

“Could we have a moment, please?” Roger asked.

“Sure,” you replied.

You took Bill’s arm and led him out of the conference room. Roger looked at Dominique.

“Just because we’ve signed these papers doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you,” he said. “And how this trial will go.”

“I know, Rog,” she returned. “I still care about you too. And I appreciate your support more than you know.”

“I still love you,” he said. “Just….not…”

“You don’t have to say it,” she told him. “I understand, alright? We’re all friends here. I’m not angry at you - at least, not anymore,” she finished with a chuckle. “I think all this has shown me what really matters.”

A beat passed.

“I love you too, you know,” she said.

He smiled. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me,” she teased.

“I’m not, Dom,” he said. “You’re...impressive. And I’m sorry I couldn’t -”

“Let’s not go there,” she interrupted. “Let’s leave it at loving each other. Alright?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, alright.”

With that, he waved you and Bill back in. You picked up the paper.

“Alright, I’ll give this to Jane to process,” you said. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re perfect,” Dominique said. “But I’m starving. Is it alright if I go get some lunch before we prep for trial?”

“Sure,” Bill said. “I’ll go with you. I know a great Italian place just around the corner from here.”

She smiled and you were certain you saw her blush. “Well, alright, then.”

They left together, Bill placing a gentle hand on the small of Dominique’s back as they walked to the elevator.

“Wow,” Roger joked. “Our marriage isn’t even cold yet, and he’s making a move.”

“I don’t think this is normal Bill, though,” you said. “I think he likes her.”

“Well, if he likes her, I’m alright with it, but if he’s just trying to get a shag in, I’m not,” he said.

“Relax, Roger,” you said. “If that’s what he wanted, he’d be more obvious about it.”

“Well, while they’re gone, you wanna start the trial prep?” he asked.

“We need Dom for that,” you said.

“Well, we can do my part,” he argued.

Your brow furrowed. “Roger, are you under the impression that you’re going to be called as a witness?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he demanded. “She’s my wife, isn’t she?”

“Ex-wife,” you reminded him. “But you’re not a witness to the crime. You’re just a concerned loved one. I’m sorry, but you’re not relevant to the case.”

“Like hell, I’m not,” he protested.

“Roger, think for a moment,” you insisted. “You didn’t see the crime take place, you didn’t come across her body, and you’ve had no interaction with the defendant. What exactly would your testimony do besides look like an emotional manipulation of the jury?”

“Maybe that could help,” he said.

“No, we’re sticking to the facts,” you asserted. “The facts are the strength of this case, and if we stray from that we only give the defense weapons to use against us.”

He huffed irritably and sat down in a chair.

You opened your mouth to scold him for pouting, but at that moment there was a knock on the door. A man stood there - tall and handsome in a Ken doll sort of way, with a swaggering stance that made you already hate him.

“Can I help you?” you asked, sharper than you meant to sound.

“I’m Glen Harrington,” he said. “I’m the new attorney for Nick Sully. I’ve come to speak with Dominique Beyrand.”

“She’s represented by counsel, you can’t speak to her,” you replied.

“You’re sharp,” he said, looking you over. “Love that in a woman.”

Roger jumped up from his chair. “Watch it.”

Glen ignored him.

“Anyway,” Glen continued. “I only wanted to have a chat. We’re not in court -”

“I don’t care if we’re in your fucking hot tub, you can’t speak to her,” you snapped.

“Are you her lawyer?” he wondered. “God, I’d love to see what the two of you would do alone in a room together.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m the second chair,” you said. “She’s with the first chair lawyer now. And she won’t be speaking with you.”

“Well, maybe you and I could have a conversation,” he suggested, winking at you. “Although, usually with me, you’ll just end up saying my name.”

Roger could stand it no longer. He put himself between you and Glen and pushed the latter back a step.

“Watch. It.” Roger warned.

“Who’s this, your boyfriend?” Glen questioned, laughter behind his eyes.

“He is,” you answered. “And I believe he told you to watch it, pig.”

“You can’t win ‘em all,” he sighed, and then stepped further away from Roger. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow...I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you practically spat at him.

“Well, Y/N, I’ll see you in court,” he said.

“Oink,” you retorted.

He smirked, turned on his heel, and left. Roger rounded on you.

“How do you put up with that?” he cried.

You shrugged. “This industry has been a boy’s club as long as I’ve been in it. I’m not afraid of some crass remarks.”

“But that was ridiculous!”

“He’s just trying to intimidate me,” you explained. “I’ll admit, that was a bit more than I’ve seen before, but I can handle myself.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be in that courtroom every day,” he said.

You chuckled. “You were going to do that anyway.”

“True, but now it’s different,” he said. “He came on to you.”

“And I will feel securely protected knowing you’re there,” you joked.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N, I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t like the way he spoke to you.”

You softened, seeing the earnest need in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Roger,” you said. “I really do appreciate you defending me. I guess I make a joke out of it so that it really can’t frighten me.”

He pulled you into his arms. You settled into him. The pressure of everything was hitting you. The trial, this new ass of a lawyer, your concern for Dominique going forward...it felt like too much. But with Roger’s arms around you, it felt lighter. You knew you could walk into that courtroom with confidence.

Bill did the opening statement. Your stomach squirmed with anticipation. There was a lot at stake here and you didn’t want to mess it up. Then, Glen stood up and made his opening statement as well. Bill sat down and gave Dominique’s hand a squeeze. She returned with a grateful smile. When Glen had returned to his seat, the judge, Seymore Walsh, looked at Bill.

“You may begin,” he said.

Bill stood up. “The prosecution would first like to call Ms. Dominique Beyrand to the stand.”

Dominique stood up from her seat at the table. She took a deep breath and then, with her head high and shoulders back, she walked up to the witness stand. She took her oath, and you saw her hand just barely trembling as she did, and then sat down. Bill came out from his place behind the table.

“Ms. Beyrand, take us through what happened the night you went on a date with Mr. Sully here,” he said, indicating Nick.

“Well, Nick and I met at a bar a few days before,” she began. “We flirted and he asked for my number, which I gave him. He called the next day and we arranged to meet that Saturday.”

“What happened when you met up again?” Bill pressed.

“At first, things were great,” she said. “We were chatting, flirting just like before. But it started to get late and I was ready to head home. He offered me a ride. I agreed, thinking it was awfully generous of him. Only...it wasn’t.”

“What happened in the car?” he asked gently.

“He kissed me,” she said. “I didn’t pull away at first because I don’t mind a kiss or two. Only things started to heat up, so I tried to push him away. He said that I wasn’t being fair. He’d bought me drinks and I’d flirted all night, so it wasn’t right for me to turn him down. Then, he grabbed my breast.”

She paused a moment and gathered herself.

“When he did that, I pushed him off,” she said. “So, he slapped me. I slapped him back. He punched me in the eye. We started fighting. He was still grabbing at me and hitting me. He got me by the throat once. I felt like I was going to pass out. But I broke free, and tried to get out of the car. That was when he slammed my head against the door. It’s all sort of fuzzy, but after that, I don’t remember anything.”

“So, let me see if I’m hearing you correctly,” he said. “He asks you on a date, pays for the drinks like a gentleman, he even offers you a ride home - only to sexually assault you in the car?”

“Yes,” Dominique said. “That is my testimony.”

“For clarification, when he attempted his sexual advance, did you use the words ‘no’ or ‘stop’?” Bill asked.

“I did,” she said. “More than once. When he was hitting me, I was begging him to stop.”

“Are you certain he heard you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she went on. “Because he kept telling me to shut up.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, thank you for your testimony, I have no further questions.”

Glen got to his feet. He cleared his throat as he approached Dominique. She looked nervously at him.

“Ms. Beyrand, it is your testimony that you were attracted to my client, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I was attracted to him before he beat me within an inch of my life.”

You stole a look at Roger and beamed. You saw the pride in his face as well.

Glen ignored it. “Is it also your testimony that my client bought your drinks the night you went out?”

“It is,” she replied. “But that does not entitle him to -”

“I’m not saying it does,” he interrupted. “But we all know the implications. Society has taught us that drinks and flirting is usually a lead up to...something more.”

He took that moment to turn and wink at you.

“Objection!” you cried, jumping to your feet.

Judge Walsh looked at you with disbelief. “Ms. Y/L/N, what exactly are you objecting to?”

“He - well - he winked at me and I didn’t like it,” you said, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“The objection is overruled,” he said. “But, Mr. Harrington, do not wink again at opposing counsel. Focus on your witness.”

“Of course, your honor,” Glen said. “Now, Ms. Beyrand, you also testified that you struck my client, yes?”

“Yes,” she said. “Only because he struck me first.”

“When you claim my client was assaulting you, why did you not continue to strike back?”

“I tried,” she said. “But after that punch, I was a bit dazed. Not to mention your client is a professional kickboxer, so he had the upper hand.”

“This is shit,” Roger hissed to you. “He’s just asking her to repeat herself.”

“He wants her to say it differently than before so he can twist it,” you whispered back. “Don’t worry, she’s doing great.”

Fortunately, Glen was unable to get Dominique to change even one part of her testimony. Her wording was clear and consistent, the same as when Bill was questioning her. Finally, Glen gave up, and Dominique was allowed to return to her seat. Roger put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled shakily at him.

Now, it was your turn. You stood up.

“Your honor, the prosecution calls Miss Lucy Thomas to the stand,” you said.

Miss Thomas strutted up to the witness stand, took her oath - though not without rolling her eyes - and then sat down. You approached.

“Miss Thomas, tell us what happened on the night you found Ms. Beyrand,” you told her.

“I was out for my nightly jog through my neighborhood,” she began. “On my usual path, I saw a person lying in the grass. At first I thought it was one of those drunk hobos again, but she was awfully still. I got closer and realized it was a woman.”

“Can you identify that woman?” you requested.

She extended her hand, pointer finger out, toward Dominique.

“That one,” she said, and then promptly returned her hand to her lap. “Although you’d hardly recognize her with her face all bruised and blood everywhere. It was disgusting.”

“What did you think when you saw her condition?” you asked.

“I honestly thought she was dead,” she answered with a shrug. “But then I saw that she was breathing. So I went to the nearest payphone and called the police.”

“What did it appear had happened to her?” you asked.

“Objection!” Glen interrupted. “Your honor, Miss Thomas is not a medical professional, therefore her speculations about what happened to Ms. Beyrand are guesses that should not be admissible as evidence.”

“Sustained,” Judge Walsh said, and then looked at you. “Counsel, keep your questions strictly what the witness can actually attest to.”

“Sure,” you agreed, then returned to Miss Thomas. “Were you able to make contact with Mrs. Beyrand?”

“I tried, but she was out cold,” she said. “Like I said, I thought she was dead. It’s a miracle she’s alive right now.”

“Thank you,” you said. You faced Glen. “Your witness.”

You returned to your seat as Glen got up, buttoning his blazer. He sauntered over to the witness stand. Miss Thomas looked at him like a jungle cat about to pounce.

“Miss Thomas, you say you were out jogging when you found Ms. Beyrand, right?” he began.

She glowered at him.

“Objection!” she cried, and then looked at Judge Walsh. “Your honor, I’m bored. If this lawyer is going to be so unattractive he could at least be interesting.”

Glen blinked and stepped back. “Excuse me?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. The judge just looked at her, stunned.

“Miss Thomas, you are a witness,” he reminded her sharply. “You do not make objections, only attorneys may do that.”

“I’m sorry - unattractive?” Glen interjected.

“Yes,” Miss Thomas snapped. “I’m penile psychic, and you’re not getting laid nearly as much as you’d like people to think. Maybe it’s the odd shape of your nose or that your hands are freakishly small that makes you so repulsive to women. But it could also be that you’re just an asshole.”

You heard Roger snicker behind you and you shushed him as subtly as you could.

“You don’t even know me!” he argued.

“I don’t really have to,” she returned coolly.

He sputtered a moment before the judge intervened.

“Miss Thomas, that’s enough,” he scolded. “Answer his question and from here on, refrain from commenting on his sex appeal.”

“Well, then let me just say that he has a tiny -”

“No!” you and Glen both cried. You with desperation and him with offense.

A pregnant pause hung in the room. Roger was biting down on his lip so hard he almost broke the skin. Dominique tried to give him a harsh look, but a smile was on her lips as well.

Glen cleared his throat. “The question, Miss Thomas, was -”

“I remember what it was,” she cut across him. “The answer is yes. I was jogging. Like I’ve already said.”

“It was autumn and quite late at night,” he said. “Why were you jogging at that time?”

“There’s fewer people out so I feel safer,” she replied. “Plus, I like the cold. It reminds me to be myself.”

“You feel safer jogging alone at night?” he questioned.

“Yes,” she said. “Little did I know there were psychos like your client out there, I’ll have to start carrying pepper spray.”

“Objection!” Glen groaned, looking at the judge.

“Miss Thomas,” Judge Walsh warned. “Please remember your answers should pertain only to the question asked.”

“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes again.

“Now, Miss Thomas, did you see anyone else by the time you came across Mrs. Beyrand?” Glen asked.

“No, she was alone,” she said. “Bleeding from her head and face. Barely alive. She was alone.”

She shot a meaningful look toward the jury. Glen swallowed.

“No further questions,” he said, and returned to his seat.

Judge Walsh released Miss Thomas. After that, Bill called Officer Colmes. He explained the blood on the dress. You examined one of the medics who took Dominique to the hospital, and he affirmed that Dominique appeared to have been beaten by someone. Your final witness was the doctor, who confirmed the source of Dominique’s injuries, and was able to point them out on the photographs taken just after she was brought in. You saw the jury wince at the first picture. The doctor also testified that the blood type found on Dominique’s dress - aside from her own - matched Nick Sully’s. As did the hair. All the evidence was pointing to Nick and you were feeling confident.

Before you would break, the defense would get to call a witness. Glen looked at you with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Your honor, the defense calls Mr. Roger Taylor to the stand.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor imagine #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

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godzillasrighttoe · 4 years ago

Text

I'm Getting Used To You

(Should I call this a oneshot?Fuck, I don't know since I never upload stuff like this and I'm not a writer.)

At the end of the battle with Mechagodzilla, Godzilla and Kong decide to make up for all the pain they caused each other.

It was morning in Hong Kong. About a few minutes ago, Kong had defeated Mechagodzilla to save his rival, Godzilla. Why would he do it though?Aren't they rivals?Maybe it's because Kong is a closeted bisexual and already felt like he liked Godzilla after a couple of days and years of rivalry in their species. He would miss his touch if he was gone. Along with everything about him.

On the other hand with Godzilla, he was hurt and confused. Why did Kong save him?Didn't he beat his ass last night?Then he remembers that he had saved Kong also. Was he catching feels, too?

Suddenly, a song to fit their mood starts playing in their heads. It makes them think about their supposedly love situation going on at the moment.

(Ooh, ooh, ooh!Baby!)

(Mmh, ha ah, ha ah, huh uh.)

Kong, in his mind:"Wasn't like me to fall in love. That's just the way that I was. But now, when I feel..."

Kong thinks about the aircraft battle. Oh, how Godzilla wrapped himself around Kong's waist. How sussy of him. But not really though, since Godzilla is a pansexual.

Kong:"...you holdin' me. Something inside... just tells me..."

Kong thinks about those scratch marks on his chest caused by Godzilla. Oh, if only those were tender rubs. Maybe licks?Now when Kong thinks about that same moment, he did kinda like the way Godzilla jumped on his lap. That jiggle of his thick thighs afterwards... and the way he crawled towards him in a supposedly seductive manner. Kong was so lucky to have saved this guy.

Kong:"You've got into this heart of mine!And I know it's true, cause' darling, I... DARLIN' I'M STARTING TO FIND!"

Kong realizes that him and Godzilla could make up for all of this damage. Only in his mind though, but he doesn't know Godzilla kinda thinks the same thing. But he's still gonna come out and say it in his head though.

Kong:"I'm getting used to you!Ooh!And I'm lovin' every single thing about you!I'm getting used to you!And I could never get used...to living without you!"

(Hah ah, hah ah.)

Meanwhile with Godzilla, he's kinda getting them feels also. Why is he catching it for a monkey though?

Godzilla in his mind:"Didn't think that love could mean that much. But you sure changed my mind..."

Godzilla thinks about that aircraft battle also. Oh, how Kong tried to fight back and even got on his rival's lap in the doing. Godzilla loved the touch of opposable thumbs unlike his which weren't even opposable. Maybe Godzilla should call Kong "Daddy Opposable Thumbs"?

Godzilla:"...with your touch. Never knew that my heart... could need your soul."

Godzilla thinks about that bitch slap he gave Kong. Why would he do it when Kong was scared because he almost DROWNED and trying to defend himself?If only he could give the poor monke a hug because of how bad he felt now...

Godzilla:"Now I know that these arms can't let you go!No, they wouldn't even try. Cause' I'm sure that you're the one that I..."

Godzilla thinks that he and Kong can make up for all the damage they caused each other as well. Because oh, they could do damage... as well as the Hong Kong damage they caused.

Godzilla:"Oh!One that I NEED in my life!I'm getting used to you!Ooh!And I'm loving every single thing about you!I'm getting used to YOU!And I could never get used to living without you!"

(Hah ah, (oh, oh ,oh) hah ah.)

Now that Godzilla's confessed, he's glad he got that out. But he doesn't think Kong would forgive him after he caused him trauma from nearly drowning him and then dislocating his arm. And the other things. So he gets up and prepares to swim off.

But as he's getting up, Kong notices him and gets up to at least tell his crush goodbye. They may never see each other again.

(Mmh, mmh, mmh, mmh!)

(You!)

Kong:"H-hey!Godzilla!Before you go..."

Godzilla decides to show no emotion towards Kong like how it's been since their first battle. Because once again, why would he show kindness after all the pain and trauma he caused him?

Godzilla:"Hm?Oh yes, it's you, the monkey who saved me for I don't know what."

Kong:"Ape."

Godzilla:"Ape, monkey, whatever. I don't care."

Kong:"Anyway, I just wanted to say goodbye."

Godzilla:"Wait, why?After everything I did to you-"

Kong:"Look, I couldn't watch you get beat up the way you did by that robot. That shit looked like it hurt. A lot."

Godzilla couldn't believe it. The monkey is feeling the affection, too!Should he say it?

Godzilla:"But all the pai-"

Kong:"Godzilla, you've got into this heart of mine."

Godzilla looks at the scratch marks on Kong's chest. Guess he has really gotten into his heart. Especially because Kong actually just said what he said.

Kong:"And I know it's true cause' darling, I..."

Godzilla really doesn't wanna get flustered by being called "darling" by Kong. lmao

Kong:"dARLIN I'M STARTIN' TO FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND!YOU'RE THE ONE I NEED IN MY LIFE!"

Kong really just confessed. He fessed the fuck up. In front of his rival who feels the same way as what he just said. He's gonna confess too now!

Godzilla:"Kong, I'm getting used to you. Ooh!And I'm lovin' every single thing about you!"

Godzilla puts his arms around Kong's shoulders. He wants to kiss him so badly now. But does the monkey think wanna do the same?Yes!Yes he does.

Godzilla:"I'm getting used to-"

Godzilla quickly puts his hands onto the sides of Kong's face. Yeah, he's DEFINITELY gonna get that wet kiss now.

Godzilla:"YOU!"

Just as Godzilla gets ready to kiss Kong and pull him closer, he(Kong) decides to make a move as well. He puts his arms around the lizard's waist as he gets ready to kiss him also. They really wanna do this before they go.

Godzilla:"And I could never get used.."

Kong:"To living withoooout youuuuuuuu!"

Godzilla and Kong pull each other closer. Ladies and gentlemen, they're gonna do it!

Godzilla and Kong:"AIN'T NO LIVIN' WITHOUT LOVIN' YOU!"

And bam! Just like that. They give each other a wet kiss. Best of their lives. Fulfillment. There's just something about an American Primate wanting to kiss a Japanese Reptilian that really gets people going, lol.

(OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!Getting used to you!~)

#godzilla #kong #kojira #godzilla x kong #oneshot?#i dunno #lol #anyway uhhhhh #hoped you guys liked this!#oneshot

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number-one-micoverse-fan · 4 years ago

Text

Everybody Knows That Dom Has Depression Except For Dom

It’s what it says on the tin, fellas.

----------

“And I have a couple of pre-made meals for you too!” Miranda heaves a giant refrigerated bag onto the table, beaming at Dom as she rips open the velcro and starts pulling out stacks of tupperware containers.

“Pre-made…?” Dom ventures, watching with growing wonderment as the stack of containers continues to grow. That bag must be bigger on the inside.

“Yeah, meals that are already cooked up and ready to go,” Miranda explains, finally setting the bag aside and walking around to open the fridge. There’s plenty of room inside for the castle of tupperware, “So you can just pull one out, stick it in the microwave, and you’re all set! It’ll be great for those days when you’re too tired or worked too late to make something.”

Dom blinks, considers, makes a soft noise of agreement. He absently hands containers to Miranda as she fills his refrigerator. He’s trying to figure out why someone would spend this much time on him. The only conclusion he manages to come to is that he definitely needs to find a way to pay Miranda back for her generosity.

He doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.

*******

“I—I’m so sorry about this!” Dom is scurrying around the house in the pre-dawn gloom, lit only by the sodium yellow burn of the streetlights through the window and the dim light over the kitchen sink. He’s flustered and tired, his tie undone around his neck, his shirt half tucked in, and his hair a mess.

“It’s fine,” Jake is hovering in the doorway to Dom’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a thermos of of coffee. His expression is sympathetic, if a little strained, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, I know,” Dom says in a stag whisper, struggling to do up his tie and tuck in his shirt at the same time, harried and fretting and continuously glancing towards the stairs to the second floor of the house, “B-but it’s just—it’s so early and—“

“I was already up anyway.”

“—you have Milo—“

“Dan’s still at the house for him.”

“—this meeting was so last minute—“

“Employers can be jerks.”

“—but Cody—“

“Dom.”

“—I didn’t want him to wake up alone—“

“Dom!” Jake snatches at Dominic’s shoulder, stopping the other man in his tracks. Dom’s eyes are wide and worried, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Jake gives his best comforting smile, changing his grip to a gentle pat,

“It’s okay. Honestly. I’m happy to help. You’re a—a friend. And you’d do the same for Milo, yeah?”

Dom swallows, takes a deep breath and smooths the front of his shirt down, “Yeah. Of course. Thanks Jake.”

“Anytime.”

*********

Cody flops onto the couch next to his dad and offers him a bowl of popcorn.

Dom takes it hesitantly, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were going to spend time with Milo…”

“He needs to do homework,” Cody says, settling into his spot. The light from the television reflects off his glasses, “And I wanna hang out with my cool dad!” He beams up at his dad, honest happiness on his face, “What’re we watchin’?”

“O-oh, um…” The hollowed out cavern in Dom’s chest is suddenly flooding with warmth and it makes a wobbly smile spread slowly across his face, “I…I dunno, actually, I just…had the TV on. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Mmmm, not really. Maybe we should channel surf until we find something good!”

“Okay…”

Dom flips through some channels rather absently, asking Cody about his day, about homework, about the MiCo channel. Cody happily rambles at him about everything and Dom listens, questions, smiles until his smile can’t get any bigger. He’s not really paying attention to the television, watching Cody talk and gesture animatedly about his latest attempt at catching proof of ghosts. The teen is lit up, literally and figuratively, glowing in the blue-white of the screen, smile flashing in the shadows, hands directing his words, a conductor of his own story.

“—so the audio should be finished by—ooh! Wait go back! Go back!”

The remote almost falls out of Dom’s hands as he fumbles to change the channel again. The sports cast flickers to something softer; a crowd of people milling about or standing in lines in a large indoor area. There are tables and booths set up in the background, but the foreground is dominated by a table at which sit a middle-aged woman and an older man in a tweed jacket. On the table between them is an intricately designed lamp with a garish shade made of bright glass and brass swirls. The man in the tweed jacket is indicating areas of the lamp with a pen and talking about the authenticity of the item in a low rumble of a voice.

“The…Antique Roadshow?” Dom questions, glancing at Cody.

“Yeah! It’s kind of cool to see what historical stuff shows up and to learn the history of it,” Cody says, “Also, sometimes, me and Milo would play this game where we would guess if something is haunted or not and then try and decide what kinda ghost is doing the haunting. He gets bored of it real quick though.”

“Hm…” Dom looks back at the—frankly hideous—lamp on the screen, “Well, uh, I don’t know a lot about ghosts but…if there was a ghost haunting that thing, it would probably be someone really annoying with no taste.”

Cody laughs, “I think I would feel bad for anyone who was stuck haunting that! It’s ugly!”

Dom finds himself chuckling along with him, “A, uh, I think the word is…ostentatious?”

They both laugh.

They’re still laughing an hour or so later, when the popcorn bowls are empty and it’s gone dark outside. Cody has tucked himself against Dom’s side, Dom’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

The cold, bitter hole that had been chewing him up on the inside is long gone. It’s nothing but tenderness and warmth and little rays of sunshine. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dom knows it will come back. But it’s gone, for now. And he’s warm.

He’s happy.

*********

“Ah! Here! Lemme help with that!” A burly arm sweeps out of nowhere and scoops some of grocery bags from Dom’s struggling grip. Most of the grocery bags, really.

“Thanks…” Dom breathes, sending an uneven smile up at Dan, “Sorry about the trouble…”

“Not trouble at all!” Dan’s own smile is wide and bright and honest, his stride confident and comfortable as he follows Dom to the front door, “I was just coming home and you looked like you needed some help. And it never hurts to help.”

Dom only hums in response, holding open the door to let Dan sidle past and set the groceries down in the kitchen. The house is quiet—Cody’s out, probably getting into trouble with Milo—and Dom feels selfish for enjoying the peace of it. He’s exhausted, drained, his entire body feels heavy and his thoughts are muddy. He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and rubs his eyes. He still has to put away the groceries and make some dinner and he should probably shower and maybe he should fold those clean clothes he hasn’t touched in a week and when’s the last time he vacuumed and—

“Long day?” Dan’s voice cuts through the deluge of thoughts threatening to drown him. Dom sighs into his hands, can only nod in response because even talking feels like it would take too much energy, “Sorry you had a rough day, buddy. But, hey, lookit that! You still went and bought groceries and you’re home now! So you can relax, just a for a bit. Take a breather, Dom, you look like you need it.”

His fingers tangle in his hair as Dom raises his head to explain that while he appreciates Dan’s advice, he really doesn’t have time to sit about and daydream. But he finds himself struck a bit speechless because Dan has put all the groceries away while Dom’s just been sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t shock him that Dan knows where everything goes, just that Dan would even take the time to do it. Dom could have done it, he’d just needed a minute.

Dan’s still smiling as he folds up the paper bags and stows them in the pantry, “Oh yeah, almost forgot—would you and Cody like to join us for dinner tonight?” He straightens up, hands on his hips, a life preserver to a man floundering in a sea of responsibilities and fears, “I’m making lasagna and I always make way too much of it. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together.”

The relief that makes the burdens of the day slough off his shoulders makes Dom feel like he could float away. It buzzes in his chest, louder than the nasty little voice that says he’s lazy or that he’s taking advantage of Dan’s good nature.

“Thanks, I…I’d like that…”

********

Miranda hands him a small stack of thick, hardcover books. They’re a little banged up and well loved, the spines soft and their corner dented, but they’re well cared for all the same. Dom cycles through them—there’s four of them and all of them are about woodworking of various degrees. He glances up at her, half from confusion and half from wondering if she’s trying to say something.

She’s twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, something he recognizes as a bit of a nervous habit, a twinge of uncertainty, “A coworker had a bunch of old books they were getting rid of. Brought in a couple of milk crates worth of them. I know you like working with your hands and—and building stuff, that kind of thing. So I thought I’d…snag them for you.” Her face is a delicate shade of pink and she keeps glancing at him from under her lashes.

Dom looks from her to the books. He opens the top book to a random page, skims a description of re-scaling an existing design to make a miniature version of it. He might have gotten caught up in it completely if he hadn’t been hyper away of Miranda standing in front of him.

He lets the book fall closed and smiles at her. That pleasantly warm feeling is curling in his chest again, pooling wonderfully in his stomach until his cheeks flush,

“These are—they’re awesome. Wonderful, Mira. I love them. Thank you.”

Miranda’s smiles explodes and she throws her arms around him. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and Dom feels soda bubbles burst inside him like fireworks.

*********

Something a little like frustrated panic clutches tightly at Dom’s throat when he hears a knock on the front door.

It still feels like its on the verge of choking him when he opens the door and finds Milo standing there with a folder clutched to his chest.

“Hi, um, I know Cody’s sick but I brought his homework from school so if he feels kinda better sometime he won’t get behind in class.” Milo is unusually subdued, no doubt missing his usual partner in crime and as equally worried about Cody as Dom is.

“Thank you, Milo, that’s very kind of you.” Dom runs a hand through his hair, realizes it’s shaking and quickly takes the offered folder from Milo before the teenager can notice.

Milo rocks back on his heels, glances from Dom to the house behind him and then back to Dom, “Um. Dom—um—Mister Bridges—uh, I know—um. That is, uh…” He fidgets, fumbles, wrinkling his nose as he searches for the right words and Dom is more than prepared to tell him that no, he cannot see Cody, Jake would hang him for it if he did, when Milo blurts out,

“Do you need help with anything?”

“You ca—I…I’m sorry, what?”

Milo’s ears are red, “I, uh, d-do you need any help? With anything?” He’s tugging absently on his hoodie strings, self conscious and still rocking back and forth on his heels, “You’re probably—well I know—um. Shoot. Y-you’re taking care of Cody so I wanted…to ask…if there’s was anything…you needed help with…”

Dom hesitates, wants to tell Milo to just go home because he’s a teenager and he’s been in school all day and he deserves to enjoy his youth. But Milo’s expression is so earnest and he certainly looks like he’s been worrying and fretting all day. Dom wants to think that maybe Jake or Dan put him up to this but Milo’s still got his school bag slung over his shoulder which means he hasn’t even been home himself yet. Dom can’t fight the soft and gentle smile that appears on his face,

“Go ask your dads if they’re okay with it first. Then maybe you can help me tackle these dishes, okay?”

Milo brightens instantly, “Okay!” And he scurries off to burst into the house next door.

To be honest, Dom doesn’t expect him to come back. But he does, full of energy and ready to go. He’s a bit infectious and soon Dom finds himself caught up in the whirlwind that is Milo Junior. Dom spends his time flitting up and down the stairs between Cody’s room and the kitchen and by the time he’s gotten some food in his son and coaxed him to go back to sleep, Milo has washed and put away all the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Shhh! Don’t tell Jake I know how to load a dishwasher!” Milo hisses in a loud whisper as he shoves Dom’s dishwasher closed with a clunk, “I’ve been doing it bad on purpose so he stopped asking me!”

Dom laughs. It feels bright and hot and brilliant inside him, spilling liquid honey up his throat,

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

********

Miranda’s humming something, her fingers carding lazily through Dom’s hair. Her other hand is draped over his chest, their fingers woven together, puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. Dom’s free hand is resting at the base of his throat, his thumb idly rubbing against the edge of the top button on his shirt. He has his head on her lap, his eyes heavy and lidded and unfocused. In this moment, he simply is. He is safe and comfortable and the warm gentleness of the whole thing has him floating on a delicate cloud of candy floss and downy feathers, lethargically sinking into a hot bath of love, attention, and affection.

More out of habit than anything else, Dom glances at the clock on the television stand. It takes his tired brain a moment to process the time, but once it does, he jolts into alertness,

“Dinner! We—we gotta get ready if we’re gonna make it!”

He goes to get up, already dreading the notion of being out in public where people can see him and judge him and make their assumptions, where he has to communicate with those who don’t understand him, where out there will never be as safe as in here. It makes his stomach clench and his appetite sink rapidly into a tar pit of nausea.

“Wait.”

Miranda presses a hand to his shoulder, steers him to lay back down in her lap. Dom holds her wrist, brow furrowed,

“Mira, our dinner…”

“Let’s just…stay in.” She says in a low voice, leaning over him. Her golden hair frames her face in the lamplight, curtaining them both off from the rest of the world, “We can order some pizza or something, I don’t mind. I’d like it to just…be you and me.” She leans closer and the heat rises in Dom’s face, “Just the two of us,” She’s a breath away and Dom can smell peppermint and lilacs and just a hint of that clean, slightly chemical scent that follows a doctor everywhere,

“Together.”

If they kiss, no one would be able to see it past the golden cascades of Miranda’s hair.

Her hand stays in Dom’s and he forgets about how relieved he is that they’re staying home because he’s too busy falling in love with her all over again.

********

Cody sets a glass of water down in front of Dom, smiles when Dom looks up at him with a question on his face.

“I was getting one for myself so I got one for you too,” Cody says with a shrug, “You looked thirsty!”

It’s not until Dom takes a drink that he realizes how parched he is.

It also strikes him that he hasn’t gotten up from the table in several hours. His joints pop and groan in protest when he stands up.

The numbers and words on the bills in front of him were blurring into obscurity anyway. He’s going to check on what Cody’s up to instead.

The bills are long forgotten as he spends the rest of the day watching his son play video games, simply enjoying the enthusiastic company.

********

Dom pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head and gives up starring at the miter saw with a heavy sigh. He’s not going to be getting anything done today.

He wanders to the front of his garage and sinks down onto the pile of lumber by the open door facing the street, peeling his work gloves off his hands and dropping them onto the wood beside him. He feels heavy, like something’s pushing down on him, crushing him slowly into the dirt. All the plans he’d made for the day feel pointless and empty.

He feels pointless and empty.

And stupid.

He’s staring an infinite black hole into the pavement between his peeling sneakers when someone’s approaching footsteps make him raise his head. It feels like lifting a thousand ton weight.

Jake is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slim jeans, his button up open to show a faded band t-shirt underneath. His expression is carefully blank but he’s chewing on his bottom lip in a manner that suggests there’s a thousand thoughts going through his head.

“Hi,” Says Dom and his voice sounds flat and lifeless and it makes his throat close up.

“Hey,” Jake nods, shifts his weight awkwardly, “Mind if I, uh, take a seat?”

Dom pats the lumber next to him and Jake eases down, glancing at the wood as if checking for splinters. His hands leave his pockets and his fingers get tangled in each other, twisting in and out and over as he fidgets. Dom can see the movement out of the corner of his eye but it’s much easier to keep staring at the sun bleached pavement.

“Thought I would have heard your power tools going by now.” Jake says in a somewhat forced conversational manner. Dom shrugs, makes a noncommittal noise. Jake sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again, finally says in a stern voice,

“Dom. You have depression.”

That startles him out of his stupor enough to turn and look at Jake, “What? What, no. I don’t.”

Jake frowns, not in disappointment, in something like solidarity and determination, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I—“

“Dominic, I literally have depression. I know what I’m talking about.” When Dom opens his mouth to protest further, Jake cuts him off,

“You feel tired almost all the time, even when you’ve gotten enough sleep. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all and sometimes that’s all you do. You either eat too much or you don’t eat at all or you eat just enough to keep going, even when you feel nauseous at the idea of food. You get frustrated with yourself because you can’t do what you want, you feel like you never have enough energy, and you blame everything on yourself.” Jake’s talking faster now, words spilling out, a floodgate of awful truths and buried thoughts cascading out in an awful tidal wave that’s black as pitch, “You feel like everything is your fault and nothing will ever be okay ever again and you’re going to be stuck in this hellish tar pit for the rest of your life! Because there isn’t anything better! There’s nothing outside the tar pit and you’d rather let yourself sink to the bottom and drown there than try to struggle anymore because you’re tried and you’re hurt and no one can ever understand how hard it is to live like this! And even though you hate yourself for giving up you just can’t do it anymore!”

The words break off into a ringing silence.

Jake is trembling slightly, shivering in the summer heat, because it feels so damn cold all of a sudden. His eyes are bright and hard but there are tears clinging to the corners and his jaw in clenched and his gaze pins Dom to the spot with accusation and something like desperation. And maybe not a hint of fear. Dom wants to look away, to shake his head, to tell Jake he’s got it wrong. But, god, he can’t.

Not when Jake’s dropped his guard like this.

To his eternal shame, Dom’s eyes get hot and his lower lip trembles. He drops his face into his hands with a muffled curse, trying to push it all back down, trying to bury it all back where it belongs deep inside him where it can’t bother anyone else.

“Dom, please…” Jake’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, grounding, reassuring, “I’ve…I didn’t want to say anything, I really didn’t because—I know it’s such a hard thing—personal. And I wouldn’t have said—I would have left this alone if I thought you were…” He trails off, steels himself, takes a shaky breath,

“Cody came to talk to me.”

Dom looks up at him, can’t decide if he’s horrified or in despair or hurt. Jake looks apologetic, his expression crinkling up and his hands shaking, holding himself steady despite the lingering threads of fear tugging at him to run from the situation.

“Cody?” Dom croaks, hates that he sounds so damaged, hates that it’s another thing to prove Jake right, “Is he—“

“Cody’s fine, this was a while ago.” Jake’s gaze darts away, comes back, drops to his knees, looks up at Dom again, “I just…wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.” A weird, slightly manic and cynical chuckle rattles out of his lungs, “I guess now’s a good a time as any.” Seriousness falls back into place, a door clicking shut but the key still in the lock,

“He approached me because…because he knows you’re hurting. Dom, he came up to me and he was trying hard not to cry and he told me “I think my dad’s sick and he won’t get help”.”

Dom thinks his heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears those words. His shaking hands fist into the front of his paint-stained shirt and he makes a choked off noise that desperately wants to be a sob, but Dom refuses to let it be.

Jake expression is desperate, begging, pleading for Dom to understand, “He knows something’s wrong and he wants to know how to help you. I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, that it’s—it’s such an impossible thing to try and process but, Dom, he’s just a kid and he knows that you’re not doing okay.”

And Dominic Bridges finally breaks.

Right there, on a pile of lumber in his garage, talking to his neighbor, he puts his face in his hands and he cries.

Because he knows Jake is right.

And it kills him.

********

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here for you,” Miranda says quietly, squeezing Dominic’s hand in her own, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

Dom is shaking in his seat, his leg bouncing insistently, cold sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. His mouth is dry and every time he swallows that just seems to make it worse. He feels like his voice is stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he wants so badly to trample it as he runs out the building.

But there’s a fee for canceling appointments after 24 hours and Miranda has taken the time to come with him and she’d be so disappointed and—

—and Dom actually wants to try.

So when the therapist steps into the waiting room and calls his name, he takes a deep breath and stands up. His legs are jelly and he thinks he might pass out and some part of him is screaming that this is a waste of his time and money and he shouldn’t be here. But when he glances over his shoulder at Miranda before he walks through the door, she gives him a huge smile and makes a little heart with her hands.

And Dom thinks that maybe, just this one time, he can try and do something for himself for a change.

#-dabs in clinical depression-#whoa sage wrote something that's not angst and horror! surprise!#dominic #fan fiction

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shouta-aizawow · 4 years ago

Note

1) Hope u are ok, i will let you this one here. Bakugou coming out as asexual-aromanitc, and having to explain to everyone what is it. (And if you want angst, people not believing him, that he's not grown enough to know, all that bullshit) Sorry is a little bit of proyection.

I’m doing well, thank you!!! And dw, I project HARDCORE and I also LOVE aroace Katsuki so it’s all good!! (i’m actually gonna project a bit in this one lol)

OKAY!!!

When the other kids were busy talking about crushes and who they were dating, Katsuki was focused on becoming a hero.

He had no time for romance, especially that sappy type he always sees on tv.

No, Katsuki was gonna become the greatest hero, and he would do that alone.

He never thought much of it. It didn’t seem unusual to him that he never had an interest in anyone else, that he couldn’t join in on conversations where the topic was romantic love or sexual attraction.

In fact, he felt smug when all the other extras were held down by girlfriends and boyfriends and datemates while he was forging on ahead. Seeing the confusion and awe on their faces when he told them that he had never been attracted to anyone was enough to erase the slight embarrassment he felt at not being able to relate to them.

Katsuki was invincible, unaffected by the curse that is romantic and sexual attraction, and he needs to let everybody know it.

(A few years later, at the tender age of 13, Katsuki finds he isn’t a superior being, he’s just aroace...

Well... okay then.)

He is aroace and still unaffected by the curse that is romantic and sexual attraction!

He didn’t really have friends to share his epiphany with, and the extras that followed him around were too dense to know what he was talking about to care. Besides, they’d probably just hear that he wasn’t attracted to girls and throw a fit.

Anyway, it’s not like he really wants to share this. No, this information is for Katsuki and Katsuki only.

But when he gets into UA, starts building a, admittedly reluctant at first, relationship with his classmates, the desire to tell them something he’s kept locked away grows.

It all comes to a head one night at the dorms. It’s a rare night of him hanging out in the common room with most of his other classmates.

Katsuki doesn’t know how the conversation steers this way, but the topic is now crushes. Some people are coming out, some people are just observing. Katsuki is becoming bored, and just as he gets up to leave, he’s noticed and asked, “Who do you have a crush on?”

He’s tempted to ignore the question, but surrounded by this open group of people that showed their support whenever someone revealed themself to be gay or bisexual or pan, he has the urge to let them know this part of him as well.

So he replies. “I don’t have one.”

“So who did you have a crush on?”

“Never had one either, Earjacks.”

Everyone becomes interested now.

Jirou looks skeptical, “It’s not weak to have a crush, yknow. If you don’t wanna tell us, fine, but to lie—”

“I ain’t lying, I’m aroace.”

There’s silent confusion, and Katsuki’s heartbeat thunders in his chest.

Someone asks what that is and, huffing, Katsuki tells them, “It means I don’t experience romantic, aro, or sexual, ace, attraction.”

They ignore his muttered “dumbasses” in favor of questioning him with a “You don’t, or you haven’t?”

“I just said I don’t. What are you on about?”

Kaminari then decides to speak up. “Dude, just give it time! You don’t know who you’re gonna meet that’ll knock you right off those stubborn feet of yours.” And he punctuates it with a wink.

Katsuki is getting annoyed.

“Okay, whatever. If that happens, that happens, but right now, it hasn’t. Therefore, I’m choosing the label aroace.”

Momo, with a finger on her chin and a contemplative expression on her face decides to voice, “But aren’t you acting a little hasty, Bakugou-kun? You shouldn’t use such a definitive label when you’re so young.”

Some people are voicing their agreement, and Katsuki feels like screaming, but he’s too busy being frozen in shock, looking at Momo with with the most incredulous look he could muster.

“What the actual fuck? How is me calling myself aroace any more ‘definitive’ than y’all calling yourself gay?” He can’t help the crack in his voice as he continues, “I’m genuinely confused.”

Before they could reply, Katsuki asks his own question with the most deadpan look he could offer:

“Do you ever wanna date a cat?”

There are exclamations of “No” and looks of bewilderment, but Katsuki continues, crossing his arms.

“Well I don’t think you should act so certain. I mean, maybe you haven’t met the right cat, yet.”

They’re telling him that that’s different, shouldn’t be used as an argument.

But then Kirishima perks up, and Katsuki feels dread consume him.

“Love, or don’t love I guess, who you... don’t... love, bro!”

And Katsuki feels hope bloom in his chest.

Only to have it crushed with his best friend’s next words.

“But we’re just trying to help you! We don’t want you to feel like you’re moving too fa—“

“Not only did I not ask for any help, but how is any of this helping me?!” Katsuki throws his arms in the air. “I came out to you guys, something we’ve been doing all evening, and you have the audacity to tell me I’m wrong?!”

He’s pacing now.

“Why the hell are you acting like I’m signing a death wish with my identity! You guys are the biggest fucking hypocrites, holy hell.”

Katsuki shakes his head and storms off, unwilling to be in that toxic situation any longer.

The next few days are met with guilt-ridden eyes from his classmates and the cold shoulder from him.

They don’t try to approach him, and for that, Katsuki is grateful, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if the people that rejected who he is tried to act like they did nothing wrong.

Yeah, maybe they weren’t being malicious, maybe it was just ignorance, but Katsuki is by no means obligated to forgive nor teach them. Until they pull their heads out of their asses and realize there’s a plus after LGBTQ for a reason, he’s perfectly fine with the distance.

OKAY SO TWO ENDINGS

1) The class that was there does their research and apologizes and are forgiven and whatnot (happy ending)

2) The class doesn’t do their research and just assumes that Katsuki doesn’t want to have sex or kiss anyone. They apologize, but the relationship is still tense with their ignorant comments and jokes. Katsuki is still hurt, especially when they start dating each other or other students, and he’s left to be the only one that values a strong friendship over romance. He feels left behind. (Angsty ending)

OR WAIT!!! ANOTHER ENDING!!!

3) The class doesn’t apologize or do their research, because they think Katsuki was making a big deal out of nothing. After those few weeks of the silent treatment, they try to approach him and act like everything is great.

Katsuki is angry and hurt, but eventually he finds comfort and very close friendships with Todoroki, Tokoyami, Shinsou, and Shoji. Not all of them are aroace, but they’re on the spectrum for one or both (bittersweet ending)

IM DONE!!! This honestly didn’t go the way I was thinking it would go, but I ain’t upset so it’s all good.

So ofc I projected with the being annoyed when people act like my sexuality isn’t a real thing (which is lots of ppl online and the classmates I told when they asked)

Also, that part about telling people that you’ve never had a crush and being smug when they’re like :0? Yeah, I used to do that until I was 13 when my older sib was like “yeah, you’re aroace” and I was like :0 “i saw that term in one fanfiction years back but i genuinely didn’t think abt it when i looked up to see what ‘ace’ meant but it fits perfectly”

So anyway, my sib also told me that what I was is Agender (which I knew abt but thought “that’s not me,,, right?” wrong) and I realized when they asked me if they could tell their friend my gender identity. I was confused like sure?? and then they said i was agender and their friend asked for my pronouns and i said i didn’t care

like,, i thought i was nb, but i wasn’t sure exactly what “type”(?) idk, but after that, i looked at the definition for agender that i didn’t understand before and was like :0 yep that’s me

ANYWAY YOU PROBABLY DIDNT WANT ALL OF THAT PERSONAL MUMBO JUMBO BUT THIS HC RELATES TO ME A LOT SO

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS 💖💗💕💞💝

#wow! asks!#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou #aroace #aromantism #asexual #tw aphobia #but it’s due to ignorance #bakugou headcanons #bnha headcanons

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kissjane · 4 years ago

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JUST A HOOKUP / Short fic

#17 from this prompt list

Which one of you anons wanted David pinning Matteo to the wall?

“I think I’m in love with you.”

It’s been like this forever. They go out together, and after a few beers, David disappears amongst the masses on the dance floor, while Matteo hides away in the darkest corner of the room, trying to watch David without being creepy. It lasts until somebody inevitably approaches David, and David smiles widely at whoever it is, his eyes sparkly. They then dance together for a while – a few minutes, an hour – it doesn’t matter, because Matteo knows the end game. Week after week David leaves the dance floor with somebody pretty and confident and experienced – exactly like Matteo isn’t – and comes back with his hair mussed, his clothes disarranged, his eyes flushed and his lips swollen and red. And then they go home, and David will ask Matteo if he had a good time, and Matteo will say yes, and David will ask him if he will dance with David next week, and Matteo will shrug, and ask David if he had fun, and David will wink. And when they reach the flat share – David always walks Matteo home, never the other way around – they will bump fists and with a cheery wave and a “Good night” David will be off, leaving Matteo to suffer in silence. Matteo will lay awake for hours thinking about what David did this time in the bathroom, or against the wall, or in the broom closet, or wherever he took this week’s hook up.

Matteo is well used to the pattern by now, and he has also learned to ignore Jonas, who will at some point bring him a beer, and lean against the wall next to him, and sigh deeply.

“I know I say this every fucking time, bro, but just tell him already. Or stay home next time. You don’t enjoy parties, and even you are not masochistic enough to torture yourself like this every fucking week.”

Matteo accepts the beer with a small nod, but otherwise ignores Jonas. He delivers some variation to this general spiel every week, anyway. He should know by now Matteo won’t listen.

But apparently, Jonas has had enough of their ritual, because suddenly Abdi and Carlos show up, and the three of them force Matteo to move. They push and pull, and he is no match against the three of them, so he lets them maneuver him to the dancefloor, right next to David. He can absolutely refuse to play along, though, so when they urge him in low voices to dance, he just stands there, not moving, rooted to the ground.

But David has other ideas, it seems.

“Matteo!”, he exclaims giddily. “Finally you have come to dance with me!”

And he grabs Matteo by the waist and pulls him against his body, undulating in cadence with the heavy beat that pulsates through the club.

Matteo knows he needs to get away from this, before his body gets ideas about being this close to David, but David is strong, and he doesn’t let go. All Matteo can do is will himself to remain calm, to not react to the way David is pushing his hips against Matteo’s, or the way he tangles his hand in Matteo’s hair.

He desperately tries to signal Jonas to save him before he embarrasses himself, but the traitor just shrugs, and ignores Matteo’s pleading eyes.

So he keeps reciting irregular Spanish verbs in his head, to keep his attention away from the way David has turned Matteo around in his arms, and is now full-on grinding against Matteo’s ass, his hands low on Matteo’s hipbones. If Jonas thought watching David from the corner was torture, he doesn’t know how to describe this. This is so much worse. The only remotely positive part about this is that nobody else comes up to David, and David doesn’t vanish with a stranger.

Matteo loses track of time, trying not to concentrate on David’s body, his fingers on Matteo’s skin, his breath in his ear as he whispers something Matteo doesn’t quite understand.

“What?”, he stupidly says, turning his head slightly, and then regretting it when he realizes how close David’s face is, how dark his eyes.

David stares for a long heartbeat at Matteo, and then tugs at his hand. His lips form some words, and Matteo thinks David is asking him to come along, so he does. He will do whatever David wants. There’s nothing new there.

And then, before Matteo’s brain has had time to catch up, David has pushed him against the wall, and has pressed his full length against Matteo, and is kissing him with abandon.

Matteo’s rational thoughts short-circuit, and he kisses back, immediately hot and bothered, opening his mouth for David, and spreading his legs when David moves one knee in between them, and pushes against Matteo firmly. Matteo cannot keep himself from reacting any longer, and he feels himself harden. He knows David must be able to feel it, but David doesn’t recoil in disgust, but instead presses even closer, as if he wants to crawl inside Matteo.

Matteo has no idea how long they are kissing, but when David pulls back and groans Matteo’s name, suddenly his brain starts functioning again.

David looks exactly like all those times he came back from some make-out session – and Matteo’s heart breaks. With a surge of strength he didn’t know he possessed, he pushes David away, and when David, surprised by Matteo’s actions, stumbles backwards, Matteo bolts.

He runs as quickly as he can, knowing David is faster, but hoping David will just go back to the dancefloor.

But his hope is proven idle, when he hears David call out his name, and his footsteps approaching.

Panting, breathless, both from the sprint and from the kiss, Matteo stops and waits for David to catch up.

“What was that about?”, David demands, not out of breath at all. “Why did you take off like that?”

Matteo doesn’t know how to feel. He is embarrassed about his reaction to David, and suddenly he feels nothing but anger – at David, for kissing him like that, at Jonas, for putting Matteo in this situation, and mostly at himself, for being in love with his friend, who he knows is out of reach.

So in his anguish, he lashes out.

“Why wouldn’t I? You got your heavy petting for the week. We always leave after you got some, so why would this week be any different?”

And David’s eyes narrow at Matteo’s cynical words, and his face hardens. Slowly, but deliberately, he steps closer towards Matteo, and Matteo helplessly retreats, until he feels a wall in his back, and David closes him in with two arms next to his shoulders.

“Who says I was done with this week’s heavy petting?”, he sneers, emphasizing the words, and he presses his lips to Matteo’s again, hard and bruising. And Matteo, at first, reacts – opens his mouth, pushes his hips towards David, arches his back to rest his head against the wall – but then it all becomes too much and with a sob, he pushes against David’s chest.

“Stop,” he cries, “stop, stop, David, stop, please…”

David, who at first moved his lips towards Matteo’s neck to suck at the tender skin there, suddenly stops, and his whole demeanor changes. His face turns worried, his hands cradle Matteo’s face with care, and his voice is soft when he speaks.

“Sorry… sorry, Matteo… I shouldn’t have… But I just wanted you so badly…”

Matteo is crying now, tears and snot running over his face, and David pulls him into a hug, and at first, Matteo wants to step back, but then he gives in to the familiar comfort, and leans his head on David’s shoulder. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, and when the sobs stop racking through Matteo’s body, David speaks again.

“I am so, so sorry, Matteo… Please, forgive me… I won’t ever try anything like that again. I know it’s no excuse, but I just wanted to kiss you so much, and I thought you were into it too…”

“I was,” Matteo whispers, vulnerable, but deciding he needs to be honest. He might lose his friend, but after what happened just now, he doesn’t know if they can ever be the same unless he finally confesses.

“I was, David, but I – I don’t wanna be one of your dirty hookups…”

David blusters at Matteo’s words, ready to defend himself.

“There is nothing wrong with hooking up with people, Matteo!”, he retorts, sounding upset. “You’re – it’s like you’re implying I’m acting like some sort of monster. It’s not dirty. I don’t take advantage of them, or whatever you might think!”

Matteo shakes his head violently.

“No… No, that’s not it. It’s just that – Well, I don’t know about those others, but I – I don’t want that – I don’t want just some grinding against a wall…”

David immediately sounds remorseful again.

“Yeah, I realize that now. I should have asked permission first, Matteo, I’m sorry. I just… I thought…”

He seems at a loss for words, and Matteo holds on to this strange mix of vulnerability and courage coursing through him.

“I know. And you were right… I mean, I was into it, I guess… I just – I – It would kill me to do this with you now and then watch you do it with somebody else again next week. I hate watching you with other people.”

David remains very still, and Matteo fears he has ruined their friendship.

“Why – why?”, he finally asks, on a trembling breath.

“Because I – I think I am in love with you,” Matteo says, equally unsteady, his voice so low he is not sure David can hear him.

Neither of them moves, or speaks, and it seems like time stopped, until a car honks somewhere in the distance, and they both are shaken out of their turmoil thoughts.

“Do you know why I hook up with somebody else every time we go out?”, David suddenly says, his voice almost loud in the silent night.

Matteo shakes his head, unsure where this is going, wondering if David hasn’t heard his confession, or is just ignoring it.

“Because I didn’t think the person I really want to kiss wanted me.”

Matteo swallows, and tries to say something, but no sound comes out.

“But now… Now I think maybe he does.”

Matteo stares at David, and David stares back.

“Matteo… If I promise it’s not just a hookup, if I promise I will kiss you again next time, and the next, and every day in between… If I promise I will never even look at anybody else… Will you please let me kiss you again?”

Matteo cannot do anything but nod dumbly. But when David smiles, and steps closer, and backs Matteo against the wall for the third time, he feels his heart speed up and he closes his eyes. Maybe – just maybe, this is how it’ll be forever, from now on.

#I write things #Davenzi #all the davenzi shipping anons #50 cliché prompts

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havenoffandoms · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter Than You (Eskel/Lambert, Modern AU)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses prompt list.

Prompt: "A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating."

Pairing: Eskel/Lambert

Content Warning: Modern AU (lawyer Lambert, baker Eskel), implied sexual content at the end of the chapter (nothing graphic)

Read on AO3.

Lambert has had the shittiest day at work.

First, he got stuck in downtown Novigrad traffic even though his traffic app told him that the roads were all clear, which in turn made him late for his 9am meeting. Real professional, great first impression. His client was understanding about the situation, but Lambert hates being late, especially when he’s trying to score new clients for his firm. The meeting went well despite his tardiness, and Lambert is convinced he’ll get the case settled in no time, but his day just kept getting shittier and shittier. He ended up spilling hot coffee on his brand new suit and the only spare he kept at the office was slightly too snug when he put it on. Great, he apparently put on weight, too. That has to be Eskel’s fault, what with all the treats he bakes for Lambert at the weekend.

If the day wasn’t bad enough, Lambert’s car broke down on his way to lunch with an important client. It took the tow-truck a whole hour to get to him, which meant that Lambert had to cancel on his client and lose out on a potential settlement agreement. To add insult to injury, the sandwich Lambert ended up buying from a nearby bakery tasted of ass. Though admittedly Lambert’s taste buds have considerably developed since he started dating Eskel, because the man is a literal genius in the kitchen. Lambert can’t eat generic sandwiches anymore without comparing them to Eskel’s creations.

When the tow-truck finally showed up, Lambert decided to call time of death on this generally miserable day. He called his secretary and told her to clear his diary for the day, which he knew that Essi would pull off. She’s hands down the best secretary in the whole of Novigrad, in Lambert’s eyes anyway, and well worth the considerable salary he pays her each month. After calling Essi, Lambert hailed down a taxi only to find that he left his wallet in his car, which was now being towed away to the nearest garage. Great. Just fantastic.

Fuck this shit, fuck his car, fuck his job, and fuck the entire universe.

Lambert just starts walking without a clear destination in mind. His suit is too tight and uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to care as he tries to work off the anxious energy bubbling in his chest. He wants to scream, or punch something, whatever yields the most satisfaction. Why is the world against him today? What did he do to deserve this? Lambert considers dialling Eskel, but he knows that his boyfriend won’t be able to hear the phone if he’s at work.

Oh, wait a second.

Lambert looks around for the first time since storming off and he quickly realises that he’s not actually too far away from Eskel’s shop. The thought brightens his mood a little - if Lambert’s not able to go home and hide away from the world, at least he can spend the afternoon helping his boyfriend out in the bakery. Or just wait until Eskel has a minute to spare so Lambert can hug out all his frustrations in the backroom… or do other things in Eskel’s office. With a renewed spring in his step, Lambert makes haste towards Eskel’s shop.

It doesn't take long for him to reach Lil Titbits, a quaint-looking shop just off the main street of Novigrad's business centre. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but Lambert knows just how hard Eskel worked to make the inside of his shop as inviting and cosy as humanly possible. As soon as Lambert steps inside the bakery, the heavenly smell of warm baked bread and freshly made coffee invades his nostrils. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend like he’s stepping inside his and Eskel’s home rather than his boyfriend’s shop.

The little bell above the door chimes loudly, announcing his presence. Lambert instantly notices that the place is quiet - which is not unusual for a Wednesday afternoon, when most of Eskel’s customers are still either at work or at school. Lambert notices an elderly couple sitting in the booth by the window, enjoying a generous slice of lemon-meringue pie - oh fuck, Lambert loves Eskel’s lemon-meringue pies - between themselves. Lambert can’t fathom why anyone would share a slice of pie that good, especially since Eskel’s creations are by far the best fucking thing Lambert’s ever tasted. People are weird.

Apart from those two customers, the place is empty. It doesn’t take long for Eskel to appear behind the counter, wearing his favourite apron, the one that reads “They Call Me Darth Baker” written in a white font on the black fabric. Geralt, Eskel’s brother, bought him that apron for Christmas, but Lambert never thought Eskel would actually wear it at work, for every customer to see, but that’s Eskel for you. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about what people think of him. Lambert has always admired that about him.

“Hey babe,” Eskel greets him, his smile bright enough to rival the moon, stars, and the fucking sun. The deep baritone of his boyfriend’s voice washes over Lambert in calming waves. “Bit early for you to be here. Everything alright?”

Lambert’s legs move of their own volition, and before he knows it, he’s behind the counter burying himself in the warmth and safety of Eskel’s arms. “I am now,” he breathes, his tone just on that side of pouty, before rubbing his cheek against Eskel’s nerdy apron. He doesn’t give a shit if the customers at the back of the shop see them, nor does he care if he ends up with flour in his beard. He needs this, needs to feel Eskel close, because today’s been a shitty day and the only person who can make it better is his boyfriend.

“Oh sweetheart, what’s up?” Eskel asks, his voice soft and reassuring like he’s talking to a spooked animal. Lambert only tightens his hold around Eskel, not ready to break the sweetness of the moment by reminiscing about his not-so-good-very-bad day. “Wanna move through to the kitchen?”

That, in fact, sounds like a great fucking idea. Lambert almost whines when Eskel pulls away from him, but the urge quickly fades when Eskel laces their fingers together and drags Lambert through the back by the hand. Once they have regained a semblance of privacy, Lambert lets Eskel pull him into another soul-crushing hug.

“I hate everything. And everyone. Well no, not everyone. I don’t hate you.”

“Mmh, good to know,” Eskel rumbles, sounding amused, “what happened, puppy?”

Lambert buries deeper in Eskel’s embrace as he replies, his words slightly muffled by the fabric of Eskel’s apron.

“Got stuck in traffic this morning, then was late for my meeting, spilt coffee on my suit, my car broke down, I missed lunch with a potential client who’s worth a buttload of money, and I’m getting fat,” Lambert ends, his tone decidedly whiny when he’s reminded of just how snug his emergency suit feels. Damn Eskel and his ridiculously good treats.

“Naw, hell Lamb,” Eskel shifts and grabs something resting on the working surface behind him. When Lambert looks up, he sees Eskel holding what looks to be a lemon and white chocolate muffin inches away from Lambert’s face. “Open up! My baking always cheers you up.”

“Your baking is the reason why I’m getting fat!” Lambert grouses half-heartedly, his tongue poking out from between his lips to lick at the buttercream frosting covering the top of the muffin. “Mmmh, white chocolate! I knew it.”

“Was gonna save it for you to celebrate your new client. Guess it can also be used as a consolatory muffin,” Eskel brings the treat closer to Lambert’s lips and offers a small, encouraging smile, “c’mon, take a bite. I promise you’ll feel better.”

Lambert can’t resist Eskel’s pretty eyes anyway, so he happily lets his boyfriend feed him the muffin. Lambert takes a huge chunk out, the white chocolate and lemon flavours exploding on his tongue pulling an appreciative moan. Lambert’s eyes flutter shut as he savours his morsel, and when he opens them again, he sees Eskel’s smile has widened into a pleased grin.

“Good?” he asks, like there’s any fucking doubt about how good his muffin tastes.

“As always,” Lambert whispers in response, snatching the muffin out of Eskel’s hand and stuffing what’s left of it in his mouth. Eskel levels him with an unimpressed look, clicking his tongue in disapproval at his boyfriend’s actions.

“You’re gonna choke one of these days,” Eskel tells him, trying not to laugh as Lambert tries to chew around the massive bite in his mouth, “look at your lil hamster cheeks. Adorable.”

Lambert glares - the full effect of his scowl is probably lost on Eskel, though, with how Lambert is still struggling to swallow his treat - but the intention is there. Eskel shakes his head fondly before leaning in and catching Lambert’s lips in a chaste kiss which probably tastes sweet and lemony, but Eskel doesn’t seem to mind the taste of his dessert on Lambert’s lips. It takes Lambert a little while to swallow the food in his mouth, but when he does, he puckers his lips in a silent request for more of Eskel’s sweet kisses.

“Yes?” Eskel teases, raising one eyebrow, “can I help you?”

Lambert’s lower lip juts out into a sad pout at those words, an action that pulls a warm chuckle from deep within Eskel’s chest. He takes pity on Lambert and pulls him impossibly closer to his firm body, rubbing his nose against Lambert’s in a tender gesture. Lambert’s hands come to rest on Eskel’s hips, where he squeezes the soft flesh of his boyfriend’s puppy fat. Gods, but he loves absolutely everything about Eskel.

“Can you close the shop early today and take me home?” Lambert asks, voice barely above a whisper, as he stretches up to capture Eskel’s mouth in a demanding kiss that leaves very little as to which kind of activity Lambert has in mind for their evening together. His hand squeezes Eskel’s hip more firmly, pulling a needy whine from his boyfriend in response.

“Minx,” Eskel growls under his breath, punctuating his statement with a final kiss, “I’ll see what I can do.”

As Eskel walks away, Lambert doesn’t miss the way his boyfriend has to readjust his pants which are now tenting at the front. Lambert leans back against the worktop of Eskel’s baking table, and first undoes the buttons of his suit jacket, then the top three buttons of his shirt. He, unlike Eskel, isn’t trying to hide the visible bulge forming in his far too tight pants, dammit.

“You do what you have to do, sweetheart,” Lambert speaks in a sultry tone, the irritation brought on by a rather shitty start to the day long forgotten when he meets Eskel’s lust-blown eyes, “I’ll be right here, looking like a goddamn snack for you the whole time.”

Eskel curses under his breath, pointedly looking away from Lambert.

“Bastard. You just wait until we get home,” Eskel threatens half-heartedly before leaving the kitchen to empty the showcases and store the pastries in the refrigerators on the main shop floor. Lambert feels positively giddy with anticipation at the thought of how him and Eskel will spend the rest of the evening.

Lambert’s day, in spite of everything, doesn’t seem so shitty in the end, not when he’s got Eskel to come home to.

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