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zemodaddy · 4 years ago

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Hey so i finally completed the first chapter of the zemo x reader fanfic. Make sure to read the authors note at the end and i hope you enjoy.!

Synopsis:

Y/n is an ex-avenger who, after the blip was forced to work for the US government. You trained to be an assassin/spy and your gifts of wielding flames made you invaluable. When you were assigned to follow Bucky you find him helping Helmut Zemo escape from his prison cell. What is he up to? Should you stop him?

Warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, fluff and in later chapters extreme acts of hatred towards John Walker :)

Shades of Him

They replaced him. They replaced him with a random guy and stuck Steve’s shield on him. You were staring at the TV in disbelief. You thought of Steve like a brother and he definitely wouldn’t have wanted this.

After the blip you had no job, the avengers pretty much all separated and that left you without anything to do, and that meant no income and no income meant no home or food. You couldn’t exactly find a normal job because most people were afraid of you. A trained assassin and spy who could wield flames wasn’t really considered normal. That left you with no choice but to accept the deal the US government offered you. Do their dirty work and you wont end up homeless.

Your newest mission was to track Bucky to make sure he followed the rules set upon him for his pardon. You are close to him, like you were close to Steve. Hiding the fact that you were following him everywhere he went was kind of hard but you managed. You had to manage.

So finding him and Sam visiting a German prison kind of surprised you. Had this got to do with his therapy? Surely not. They left around an hour later and from then nothing more suspicious happened. A quick google search and a deep dive into some public records showed that a high security prisoner resided at this prison. Not just anyone. Zemo.

Interesting you thought. Later that night you followed Bucky and Sam to an old garage. You waited outside for 5 minutes before entering, trying to keep to the shadows of the room. The two men seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. “You want Zemo to help us?” Sam looks exasperated. Bucky looks a bit apprehensive as he says “Look let me walk you through a hypothetical, can I do that?” He begins to explain an elaborate escape plan for Zemo. Your mind was wizzing with thoughts as you tried to figure out your next move. He really isn’t in the right headspace, same old Bucky, you roll your eyes. “What are you guys doing?” You step out of the darkness. The two seemed to jump out of their skin, clearly not expecting you to be there.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Bucky asks. They both looked so shocked by your sudden appearance that you had to suppress a laugh. “I was following you.” He doesn’t look happy. “YOU WERE FOLLOWING ME?” He raises his voice. You weren’t scared because you knew he loved you really. Keeping the same tone as him you shout back “YES AND YOU’RE HELPING A CRIMINAL” “I SAID HYPOTHETICALLY DIDN’T I”. Sam looks like he could start laughing any moment. You weren’t even sure if you should laugh or arrest them. Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Then please explain to me why I just got a message saying that ZEMO HAS ESCAPED FROM PRISON?” Sam looks mad now. “You’re kidding me Bucky” he says. “Look we don’t have any other leads, we were at a dead end.”

You knew that the two were looking for information on the new super soldiers serum. “He blew up the UN, he killed king T’Chaka!” Before Bucky could reply to Sams argument, the sound of a door shutting sounds through the garage and guess who walks in. Helmut fucking Zemo. Your hand flies immediately to the dagger on the side of your thigh. “Woah woah woah” Sam starts walking towards him as Bucky tries to hold him back. Too bad he didn’t see you slip past them and push Zemo against the wall with said dagger against his throat. “Your going back to prison” you pass him a sickly sweet smile. He looked surprised by you holding him against that wall but didn’t fight back. Not with the blade in your hand starting to heat up against his skin. “y/n let him go” Bucky looks frustrated.

“He can lead us closer to the serum, just let him breath for a second” Zemo did start to look a little breathless. Good, he should be scared of you. Reluctantly you let him go. He starts to talk “if I may”. At the same time the three of you go “NO”. He looked a little displeased by the response but didn’t have any other option but to oblige. “Apologies”. After further debating and a lot of disagreements you and Sam finally agree to trust Zemo.. for the time being anyways. “Alright Zemo, where do we start”

You mentally set a reminder to always have an eye on Zemo, how could you not with a guy like him. He seemed to be sending you anxious glances in return, which to be fair you did nearly choke him to death. He leads you to a large warehouse containing numerous cars of different ages, sizes and colours. Probably stolen you think. After grabbing a case full with clothes for zemo you all head to an airstrip. In the middle of which was a private jet. You look at it in awe. “So you were rich all this time?” Sam asks. “I’m a baron Sam, my family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country”. Shit. Those cars weren’t stolen then..

The mention of his country makes you think back to that battle against ultron. You were very tempted to leave the avengers after nearly wiping out the entirety of a population of a country. But they convinced you to stay, where else could you have gone anyway? You think a little longer about the aftermath, when you helped after the battle with the injured, and loved ones finding their dead. It was one of the saddest moment of your life, until the blip. No one else helped from the avengers, they didn’t even visit the memorial..

“Y/n you coming?” Sam was saying from the top of the stairs. Lost in thought you were stood in front of the plane. Maybe I should stop getting distracted you thought. Entering the jet the seats on the right were already occupied by Sam and Bucky, leaving the only other seat opposite Zemo free. Great. As a gentle reminder you check your dagger on your thigh, almost like a warning that if he tries anything he’ll know what’s coming. Zemo swallows looking where it would be and ask his butler person for a drink. Was that his butler or the pilot? Rich people problems you thought. The plane sets off and you look out of the window daydreaming a little.

The other three talk lightly until the mention of Buckys list, which ends in zemo being choked yet again. You smile a little, enjoying the mini acts of revenge for the people he’s hurt and killed. You feel a bit sleepy but then they start to discuss where you were going. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the red skull” Zemo shakes his head lightly “that’s why we’re going to Madripoor”. Confused, Bucky explains the place’s history in the Indonesian archipelago. “It’s kept its lawless ways but we cannot go in as our selves” Zemo says. Uh oh that can’t be good.

You were right. Zemo had handed you a bag full of clothes and a pair of heels. You stared at yourself in the full length mirror that resided in the toilets. “You have got to be kidding me” you say aloud. Your were wearing a dark purple silky dress that reached only just halfway down your thigh. It exposed most of your arms, shoulders and a lot of your chest. Thankfully there was a black leather jacket in the bag too, however on the shoulders sat a blanket of fur, similarly to Zemos coat that he took from the warehouse. Your heels were also purple. You thank the lord you took the time to train in heels too because you never know when the situation arises when you happen to find yourself in those monstrous shoes.

“This” you point at yourself “is not happening”. “Ah my baroness has arrived” Zemo says, amusement glinting in his eyes. You glared at the word ‘baroness’. “Here put this on darling, to finish it off”. He holds what seems to be a lipstick in his hand. You already knew what shade it was before taking it from him. “Do you have some thing for purple or is that just me?” Sam and Bucky both laughed.

You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad, in fact it looked expensive. To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, not necessarily for what you were wearing, but for the hand now draped around your waist. Zemos hand. He said that no matter what, you couldn’t break character. Bucky was playing the role as the winter soldier; you felt bad for him, the memories this must bring up. You can’t even begin to imagine. Sam however, wore an extravagant and abstract red suit that kind of looked like a dress. It was funny to see his reaction to which he comments that he looked like a “pimp”.

A car pulls up beside you and you all pile in. Of course you were sat next to zemo in the back. After around five minutes you arrive in lowtown. A place where you could apparently find a gall called Selby. That hand snaked back around you as you intermingle with the crowded streets. The high density of the crowd forced you even closer to Zemos side leaving practically no space between you now. You could feel his warm body against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down on you. His eyes seem to be softer now than they were before and he gives you a quick kiss on the temple as if to reassure you that you’re safe. You tried to keep yourself from shaking him off of you but as you carried on walking, you got used to him a bit more. Sam and Bucky followed the two of you, both with grim faces.

Finally, you come to a bar, most people around you watching carefully as you all enter. Zemo orders the both of you a shot and Sam gets his usual. This turned out to be something containing whatever the barman cutout of a snake. The sight of it made your stomach drop, and to your astonishment, Sam actually drank it. He looked like he wanted to be sick but, no matter what he had to stay in character. Bucky gave a slight nod, he didn’t get a drink, not as the winter soldier.

You had let it be known of who you wanted to see and as you waited a man came up behind Zemo and you. He immediately guided you away from this man so he was in front of you and Zemo in front of the man. He knew you could hold your own, you had made that clear already, but he wanted to protect you. For the act of course. “You ain’t welcome here” the man stated, placing a hand roughly on zemos shoulder as he turned to face him. “I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either talk to me” Zemo points at Bucky. His hand then slipped to yours, holding it tightly. “Or bring Selby for a chat”. The man looks displeased and walks away. You had many things you wanted to say to Zemo at this moment, but sticking to your character was more important. As he continued to grip your hand, other men started to menacingly prowl towards you all. Zemo gave Bucky the order to attack and so he did. A fight quickly broke out between them all but Bucky was far too strong for them all. This ended in Bucky holding one of the guys that remained standing against the bar table. Finally someone called to say selby was ready to see your group. This was going to be interesting.

Notes

Okay i left this on a little bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter should be out in a day or so. This is my first fanfic i have published so I’m interested to see what everyone thinks. If there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes then umm you didn’t see anything. I hope you enjoyed!

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904

#mcu #helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #daniel brühl #marvel #tfatws

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captainrogers-ass · 4 years ago

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Leather & Spice - Zemo x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You could never say no to a mission when it was Sam Wilson calling, yet cooperating with a convicted mass murderer hadn’t exactly been what you were expecting. Wounding, maiming, killing; those were all in your job description. Acting as Helmut Zemo’s lover was not.

Word Count: 4900

Pairings: Zemo x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic), Bucky x Reader (platonic)

A/N: Ok so I know I’ve been super inactive and I know this isn’t strictly Chris Evans related but I’m currently obsessed with TFATWS; more specifically a certain mass murderer. I’ve substituted Serbian for Sokovian, although Zemo talks to Bucky in Russian. As always, any and all feedback is much appreciated. I hope you enjoy!!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!!

The call had been tense, brief, and widely lacking in any important information, and yet you had still gone anyway.

No matter how many times the Avengers had screwed you over you couldn’t help yourself when Sam Wilson called. Your resistance was futile. He was too charming to say no to, and you were pretty sure he was perfectly well aware of that.

The private jet had been a nice surprise in all honesty. Sam had seemingly always had a knack for finding the seediest alleyway or dingiest motel room to meet up in whenever he called for your help, so you couldn’t help but smile at the change in scenery. Your boots clicked loudly on the tarmac below as you approached the plane, your hand pausing as it connected with the railing of the stair car, a small smile escaping onto your lips as you tried to contain your unusual excitement.

A butler with greying hair and aged skin greeted you at the entrance to the plane. He was dressed in a neat, black suit and smiled at you kindly upon your arrival, his arms already extended as he motioned towards your luggage.

“Oh, thank you,” you said with a smile as you handed over your bag.

The cabin was lovely; spacious, lavish and filled with two grown men who were currently too enthralled in their escalating argument to take any notice of your arrival.

Bucky and Sam were sitting next to each other; Bucky slumped over within his seat with his arms folded across his chest, Sam perched at the edge of his own seat, his hands raised passionately before him as he berated Bucky in a tone that was clearly trying to stay relatively calm but was miserably failing. You cleared your throat as a small smile escaped onto your lips; these two hadn’t changed one bit.

Sam’s eyes met yours first.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, immediately rising from his seat and striding the few steps towards you, engulfing you in a hug. “I wasn’t sure, you’d come. I haven’t seen you in so long!”

You laughed as you managed to extract yourself from Sam’s embrace.

“You know I can never say no to you, Sam,” you chuckled.

“It’s because I’m too handsome, right?”

“Sure.”

You turned your attention to Bucky who was now standing just slightly back from Sam, their argument apparently forgotten as Bucky smiled kindly towards you.

“Hey there stranger,” you said as you gave Bucky a brief hug.

“And here I was thinking I was the most antisocial person I knew,” he retorted.

“I haven’t been avoiding you two, I promise. I’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “With whatever it is you do.”

You laughed but didn’t answer his implied question.

“This jet is a nice touch. How in the hell did you afford this?” you questioned.

The atmosphere changed immediately, the smile on your features faltering slightly as you felt the tension rise around you. Bucky turned his eyes to the floor, his figure hunching over slightly so that he looked far smaller than he usually appeared. Sam averted his gaze as well, instead turning to look at something past your shoulder.

“It’s mine actually. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Having worked in secret services your entire life you found yourself quite shocked at having failed to notice the third man on board. There was no doubt that this man hadn’t been in the main cabin upon your arrival, but having failed to recognise his presence until he spoke was an unusual oversight on your part; especially since he was standing quite close to you.

As you turned around you registered three things before your eyes landed upon him. Firstly, his accent was unusual, captivating and alluring, not one that you could outright recognise on an initial introduction alone. Secondly, his cologne was extraordinarily enticing; a dark, spicy smell that washed over you and filled your senses all at once so that you couldn’t help but inhale deeply to try and get another whiff of it. And thirdly, his presence was remarkable. Even before you looked upon him you could tell that this was a man of wealth; his tone, his posture, his cologne, his everything, oozed sophistication.

And then your eyes met his.

“I’m Helm-”

Before he could finish you grabbed the hand he had been in the process of outstretching for a handshake, twisted it behind his back before shoving him up against the wall of the plane with quite possibly a tad more force than was strictly necessary. A grunt escaped his lips as you did so, but whether it was from pain or surprise you couldn’t tell.

“Y/N!” Bucky and Sam yelled in unison.

“Would someone care to explain to me why there is a convicted criminal on board this plane.” Your voice came out far calmer than you were expecting.

“Well it is my pla-”

“Shut up,” you, Bucky and Sam all said in unison.

You pushed his contorted arm higher and a flicker of pain crossed his features for just a second, yet he remained silent. His face was pressed against the wall, your body weight holding him in place, and yet his eyes were trained on you, a piercing blend of hazel and gold that sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t resisting at all—which was surprising considering he could probably overpower you with his military history—and he no longer made any obvious outward indication that he was in pain even though the placement of his arm would suggest otherwise.

“We need him, Y/N,” Sam finally spoke up.

You struggled to pull your gaze from his, lingering for what felt like years.

“And his life-long prison sentence just happened to be up, I suppose?” you replied.

You couldn’t quite tell, but the subtle vibrations coming from Zemo made you think that he was laughing.

“Well, Bucky was the one who actually broke him ou-” Sam began.

“Oh yeah blame it on me,” Bucky exclaimed.

“Were you not the one who broke him out?”

“You know we needed him I was just the-”

“Ok, ok, boys,” you interrupted. “I really don’t care whose fault it is. What’s done is done. But will someone please explain why the hell we need a mass murderer’s help?”

“Well, there’s this new terrorist organisation called the Flagsmashers,” Sam began.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Zemo interrupted. You pushed him up against the wall harder but he continued on unfazed. “But I feel like this story is going to take a while so is there any possibility that I can have the function of my arm back, please?”

There was that accent again, so unusual and yet so smooth that it took you a few seconds to actually register what the man was saying. You glared at him for several seconds but eventually loosened your grip.

Immediately turning around, Zemo brought his hand up to rub at the arm that had been angled uncomfortably behind his back, his gaze never leaving yours. Your eyes travelled down his figure, taking in the luxurious coat draped around his shoulders, the well-tailored purple turtleneck underneath that shaped his frame well, and the expensive-looking black gloves that clung to his fingers. When your eyes returned to his a smile was peeking through onto his lips.

“As I was saying before, I’m Helmut Zemo.” You noticed that he didn’t extend his hand a second time for a handshake. “But I take it you already knew that…Y/N, is it?”

You didn’t answer, simply continuing to stare at him through slitted eyelids.

“I would say it is a pleasure to meet you,” he began again, making his way over to a small bar cart as he poured himself a drink. “But it was actually a surprisingly painful introduction.”

Extending a gloved hand towards you Zemo offered you a glass of the brown liquid. With some hesitation you accepted, your eyes never leaving his as your hand brushed over his gloved one.

Tearing your gaze from his you made your way to the seat in front of where Sam and Bucky had been previously sitting. Taking a sip from your drink you motioned for the two men to reclaim their seats.

“So, tell me about these Flagsmashers.”

“If we have to do something about this, I’m the only one that looks like a pimp,” Sam commented, looking down to admire the colourfully decorated suit he was wearing.

The four of you were currently walking across an empty bridge, the lights of the bustling city burning bright in the distance.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing; a sophisticated, charming, African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger,” Zemo replied, passing his phone to Sam, a photo lighting up the screen.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me though.”

You walked closer to Sam, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the picture. You laughed slightly to yourself.

“You sure you don’t have some alter ego you’re not telling us about?” you questioned.

“Ha, ha,” Sam responded dryly.

“So then who am I supposed to be?” you asked Zemo. “Some stunningly beautiful millionaire who also happens to look exactly like me, I presume?”

The sarcasm was obvious in your tone and yet you were still surprised at the small laugh that left Zemo’s lips. It was deep, dark, and didn’t last very long, but it was charming. You turned away from him and looped your arm through Sam’s instead, pretending to need assistance with walking from the six-inch heels Zemo had you wear.

The dress he had presented to you on the plane was surprisingly stunning. It was black and fell just above your ankles, a large slit running up the left side of the fabric and a cowling neckline that accentuated your figure perfectly. The back was low, the straps criss-crossing across your shoulders doing little to provide any solace from the evenings cold wind.

“In a sense I suppose that is correct,” Zemo responded. “You will be playing the role of my date.”

Your head whipped around to stare at him.

“Excuse me?”

Bucky and Sam tried in vain to hide their snickers. You punched Sam lightly in the arm.

“The Smiling Tiger, the Winter Soldier and I all have reputations that we can rely on here in Madripoor. Nobody knows who you are Y/N and that makes you the most valuable person here. By limiting you to just my date people will begin to underestimate you which makes you a valuable asset if things begin to go South.”

His words made sense and yet you refused to admit it.

“He’s not wrong, Y/N,” Sam whispered to you.

“I think if Bucky can pretend to be the Winter Soldier,” Zemo continued. “Then you will be perfectly capable of pretending to be my date.”

“No, I think Y/N still got the short straw here,” Bucky said, causing you and Sam to begin to snicker as a scowl appeared on Zemo’s face.

A black car began to approach you on the bridge, pulling up beside you. Just before you could open the door a gloved hand enclosed around the handle.

“Allow me, draga.”

He opened the door and motioned for you to enter. You met his gaze, raising an eyebrow up at him.

“I’m not your date just yet.”

“A lady should always be treated with respect whether she is one’s date or not.”

You hadn’t been expecting a response, yet he had provided one so quickly and with such sincerity in his voice that you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at him. Your gaze lingered upon his for several seconds before he provided you with a curt nod.

You entered the car without another word, Zemo following in behind you so that you were now sandwiched between him and Sam with Bucky sitting quite comfortably in the front seat.

The drive into town was mostly quiet. You enjoyed looking out the window at the bright city, mesmerised by all the neon signs and blinding lights. The streets were riddled with guns; hidden in holsters on people’s hips, tucked into the backs of pants, or simply waved around nonchalantly. You checked the holster attached to your thigh for good measure.

Glancing into the rear-view mirror you could have sworn that you had met Zemo’s gaze for a split second, but with a blink of your eyes his head was now directed out the window, his gaze fixated on the passing buildings. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but returned your gaze to the window once more without a word.

The streets were crawling with criminals when you reached the bar. Guns were being waved around as if they were a fashion accessory and blatant felonies were being conducted out in the open with no attempt to conceal anything.

Zemo exited the car first, and as you scooted across the seat to make your own exit you found that familiar gloved hand was already extended towards you. Looking up, your eyes met his, taking his hand without a word. You were now in character and you were going to play the role as best you could.

You didn’t let go of Zemo’s hand as he helped you from the car. Instead, after waiting for him to close the door behind you, you looped your arm through his as you had done to Sam only minutes previously, this time leaning into him much more closely than you had done with your friend.

If Zemo was surprised at your gentle touch he did not show it. Instead he flexed his arm to bring you slightly closer before leading you, Bucky and Sam into the bar. As soon as you had exited the car it seemed as if the whole street had their eyes on you. Your heart fluttered nervously in your chest, but your features remained neutral even as your eyes roamed freely around your surroundings.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you whispered to Zemo. “But I think you should’ve given me something a bit more revealing to wear. This dress is beautiful, but I look so out of place.”

Zemo turned to you with a smile on his face.

“Any woman on my arm will always be dressed in the finest of silks. It would be far more suspicious if I made you wear a more revealing dress, trust me.”

His voice was low as he spoke to you, his gaze fixated on you as he smiled cheekily.

Your heart fluttered nervously once more.

The bar was loud, hot and filled with half-drunk people rubbing their private parts against each other. The popular neon lights trickled in to the establishment, casting contrasting shadows of yellow and red across the space.

A bartender greeted you as you approached the bar, his face stoic and void of emotion.

“Hello gentlemen,” he nodded towards Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

Zemo answered for him.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender turned to Sam.

“The usual?”

Sam nodded.

When the bartender returned with a snake and began to gut it right in front of you you couldn’t help the small smile that crept up onto your face when you realised what was happening.

“Ah,” Zemo began, “Smiling Tiger, your favourite.”

His tone was slightly mocking and it nearly caused you to burst out laughing right there, but you managed to retain your composure. Sam turned with a resentful look on his face to see you and Zemo trying to hide the smiles that were creeping on to your faces.

“I love these,” Sam said as he raised the glass to you.

You leaned your head on to Zemo’s shoulder in an attempt to hide your snickers. Sam clinked his glass against Zemo’s, and after some hesitation, downed the shot in one.

The smile was wiped from your face as you felt a presence approach you from behind, struggling against the instinct to reach for your weapon. Zemo felt you still beside him and immediately turned to meet the approaching man, placing you slightly behind him.

“I got word from on high,” the man said. “You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo’s voice sounded nonchalant as he responded.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists he can either come and talk to me,” Zemo looked behind him to where Bucky was standing.

“New haircut?” the man said to Bucky with a scoff.

Zemo’s voice was deep and demanding, grasping the man’s attention once more, “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man left but now your senses were on high alert as Zemo turned back to talk to Bucky. Your eyes scoured the room, noticing several men beginning to approach you. Slowly your hand began to travel down to your gun.

“Not yet, dušica.” Zemo’s gaze turned to Bucky just as one of the approaching men placed his hand upon Zemo’s shoulder. “Zimniy soldat. Ataka.”

Without hesitating Bucky grabbed the arm of the man who had touched Zemo, bending it painfully backwards. You watched on with bated breath, worried for your friend as he reverted back to what he once was, not because he wasn’t able to handle the fight—he wasn’t even breaking a sweat as he took on three guys at once—but because of what this little act might have on all the progress he had made.

Your gaze flickered to Zemo for a split second to find that he was smiling.

“It didn’t take long for him to fall back into form,” he whispered to you.

Ever since this trip had begun you had slowly started to become desensitised to the fact that you were in the presence of a mass murderer, often forgetting at times that the man before you had caused so much pain and suffering. But now it hit you all at once, causing you to become quite repulsed by the presence beside you.

Wanting to remove yourself from his side but knowing that you couldn’t you instead leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“If you smile again from Bucky’s pain, I’ll punch your teeth in so that when I burn you to death they won’t be able to use your dental records to identify your body.”

To say that Zemo was surprised at your comment was an understatement as he whipped his head around to look at you, his mask of composure forgotten for a split second as his eyes met yours. He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told you that he had not been expecting such a response. His gaze fell to the floor and you thought, just for a second, that maybe he was about to apologise, but when his eyes came back to look at you his mouth remained closed.

He noticed the change in your attitude immediately. Whilst you did not disentangle your arm from his, you now distanced yourself as far as you could from his side, your touch no longer the comfortable presence he had begun to enjoy, now cold and impersonal.

The sounds of guns being cocked brought your attention back to the room.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo quickly whispered to Bucky. “Otlichnaya rabota, soldat,” he said louder.

Everyone in the bar paused as Bucky let go of the man he had been in the process of choking.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interrupted.

A small sigh of relief escaped from your lips.

The back room was poorly lit and smelt of alcohol and cigarettes, the wall to your left illuminated by small televisions that displayed the security camera footage from all over the bar.

Selby—a middle aged, menacing looking woman with short, platinum blonde hair—was sitting upon one of the luxurious couches, dressed in an ill-fitting suit with a loosely tied tie hanging around her neck.

“You should know, Baron,” she began, tapping her hand against the head of the couch. “People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand,” Zemo responded. “An offer.”

Zemo took a seat on the couch opposite to Selby’s, his hand in yours as he motioned for you to sit next to him. You paused for just a second before perching yourself so that you were instead sitting in his lap. As much as you didn’t want to be in this position, when you went undercover you did it well. Zemo’s face showed no hint of surprise, but his hands fumbled for a split second, unsure of where to place them before he rested one on your waist and one on your thigh, quite high up so that he was basically at your knee. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed and you found yourself quite surprised at his willingness to respect your boundaries.

Selby raised an eyebrow at you.

“A lot has changed since you were last here,” she said, her gaze now fixated on you. It made you feel uncomfortable, but you didn’t show it as you leaned back into Zemo’s touch. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

Zemo’s gloved hand began rubbing circles on your knee, your skin exposed from the slit in the dress. You were pretty sure he wasn’t aware he was doing it, but you weren’t altogether against the touch.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” he responded. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“What’s the offer.”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo’s gaze turned to Bucky who remained stoic and impassive in the corner of the room. “Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” She paused as she considered the offer. “You were right to seek me out. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank…or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned.

“Oh, the breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron.” Selby’s gaze shifted to Bucky before it returned to land on you. “Who is this beautiful creature you’ve got with you?”

You felt Zemo stiffen beneath you.

“Ah,” he began, his voice somehow having grown deeper. “This one isn’t part of the deal. She’s mine.”

There was an intensity to the way he said mine. It was subtle, but it was there, and Selby noticed it as she quirked an eyebrow up at him.

“Are you sure about that, Baron?” she responded with a laugh. “These young creatures get so restless. Are you sure she’s not bored with you already?”

Zemo’s hand was now gripping your thigh a lot lower than where it had previously been and a lot harder; not so roughly that it hurt, but hard enough for you to realise that he was unsure of how to proceed. You turned your gaze to Selby who licked her lips as your eyes met hers, before turning your attention back to Zemo. He looked up towards you, a confused look flashing across his eyes as he tried to figure out what you were about to do. Having made your decision—and before you had enough time to really question what you were about to do—you leaned down towards the Baron and collided your lips with his.

Zemo hesitated at first, his lips unresponsive against yours for a split second before he returned the gesture. His hands came up to tangle themselves in your hair, your own hands gripping the base of his scalp. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and turned slightly so that Selby had a clear view.

You made sure the kiss was dirty and ferocious, and it left both of you breathless as you pulled away from him.

You turned to Selby with a smirk on your face, wiping some saliva from the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb as you maintained eye-contact with her.

“Not quite yet,” you said.

A viscous smile spread across her face but before Selby could respond Sam’s phone began to ring, and everything went downhill pretty quickly from there.

When the sniper shot came through the window you didn’t have time to be surprised, immediately leaping to your feet, gun already in hand. Before Selby’s henchmen had even had time to react you had already shot a bullet into two of their chests, Bucky taking out the third man in the room.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead,” Zemo said, quickly making his way back down to the bar with you, Sam and Bucky close behind, your gun back in its concealed holster.

Descending the stairs quickly, Bucky leaned back with a smirk on his face.

"Told you you got the short straw."

Punching him in the arm to try to get him to shut up you quickly realised your mistake as you brought your hand to your chest, pain flaring in your knuckles at having collided with the vibranium. A short laugh escaped from Bucky's lips.

"Focus," Zemo called from the front of the group.

You made your way back on to the street quickly, following Zemo as he hastily walked in a direction that you hoped would get you off the main strip. Looking around you as you walked you kept noticing people getting notifications on their phones and a bad feeling began to grow in your stomach.

A round of bullets were shot towards you, the proximity of the bang causing your ears to ring painfully. All four of you ducked immediately as you scrambled away quickly. Bucky and Sam ran forwards and Zemo, grabbing your hand swiftly, veered off into a small alley way, his hand never leaving yours as he ran. The sound of several footsteps followed close behind you, but before you could reach for your gun Zemo crowded you into a small alcove.

“What are you doing? They’ll see us here,” you angrily whispered. Your hand began to reach for your gun once more but Zemo stopped you.

“There’s too many of them,” he said quickly, peeking out from behind the alcove to spy on the approaching men.

“We’re sitting ducks here. I can probably get a few shots out if-”

All at once Zemo whipped back around and placed his index finger upon your lips to stop you from speaking.

“I’m truly sorry for this.”

For the second time that night Helmut Zemo’s lips were now upon yours, kissing you far more softly than you had kissed him before. His body was crowding yours against the wall of the alley way, his broad form easily shielding you. The footsteps got closer and closer, all the while you kept kissing the Baron. This time there was no tongue, just gentle lips upon yours as he kissed you tenderly and slowly.

That cologne you had first smelt that morning engulfed your senses now so that it was all you could smell. Your hands came up to grip at the fur collar of his coat, pulling him closer by the furred lapel, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the softness of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the approaching footsteps; how close they came to you before they past right by, the group of men not giving you a second glance as one shouted orders to the rest in a language you couldn't be bothered to recognise.

At some point Zemo's tongue ended up in your mouth, or maybe it was your tongue in his. Either way you couldn't recall who had initiated it, and couldn't quite find the effort to care. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek whilst the other became entangled within your hair, pulling at your roots slightly so that you moaned at the feeling.

You moaned.

Pushing the baron away from you you immediately put as much distance as you could between the two of you. His lips were red and swollen and you were quite sure yours looked the same, both panting slightly as the cold air illuminated your breaths.

You could feel your cheeks begin to redden immediately, and swiftly turned away from him to hide your embarrassment.

You could still hear the men who had been following you, their footsteps far quieter now as they continued down the alley.

“I think they’re gone,” you finally said, having allowed the awkward silence to grow palpable between you.

“Yes…yes I think you’re right,” he responded, not meeting your gaze.

The sound of footsteps coming down the alley filled your ears once more, and this time you didn’t hesitate as you pulled your gun from its holster.

“Woah, easy there tiger, it’s just us,” Sam said, his hands held upwards in a sign of surrender.

You let out a sigh as you saw them and immediately felt Zemo’s gaze fall upon you.

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #daniel brühl #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #MCU

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cosmic-affinities · 4 years ago

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Intense and Passing Infatuation

Summary: Flirting with your crush who doesn't take it seriously? No harm in that right? Right?

Well, Izuku does it anyway. Until the day he said he wouldn't anymore.

(A very self-indulgent bkdk fic that has a tiny bit of past krbk, totally not a thing in the fic. A plot device at most!)

Read it on AO3 Here.

Crush: (noun) an intense and usually passing infatuation.

That’s all it was.

Just a crush.

Izuku was sure of it.

Nevermind Uraraka who said her psychology professor had told them a crush can only last about four months, after that it’s considered being ‘in love’ he was sure love was much too strong of a word.

Nevermind the last year which Izuku spent flirting with his Kacchan, something no one else would dare call him, while also never getting the right response.

“Morning love!” Izuku planted a sweet kiss on Katsuki’s cheek, a normal sight for their friends given the fact that they had witnessed it every day for the last nine months.

“Hey Deku, sleep in again?” Katsuki barely reacted to the kiss now, Izuku loved and hated it. He felt it was progress, just not in quite the right way.

“You mean waking up at the same time I do every Tuesday? It stops being ‘sleeping in’ once I’ve done it for months. And what about you Kacchan? Did you wake up early again today?” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shorter man’s sass, he should’ve known where that was going.

Their friends all sat around them and waited, they knew if they tried to interject before their morning exchange they would simply be ignored.

“Looking good Kacchan seems like that campus gym treats you well.”

“Not too shabby yourself, nerd.” Katsuki quickly supplied, letting his signature smirk fall into place.

Izuku’s heart fluttered and he smiled back. If only the blonde was serious.

Just a crush. That’s all it was.

Finally, their friends could join the conversation they had waited out the morning kiss and compliment, they would now be acknowledged.

They had aptly claimed a table for eight, a seat for each of them, and two empty ones to house their enormous bags that came with life on a college campus. Sero and Kaminari always sat together, being roommates had been great for both of them. Shinsou and Uraraka sat beside them, knowing they might very well be the only sane ones at the entire table. Lastly, Katsuki and Izuku sat next to each other, across the table from Kaminari and Sero.

Their conversation carried on as normal, eventually, Katsuki turned and noticed Izuku looking at him.

Katsuki simply jutted his chin out questioningly, knowing Izuku would understand his unsaid remark.

“Oh, nothing. Just waiting until you’ll see me as your love interest.” Katsuki really should know the drill by now.

Katsuki smirked once again making Izuku weak in the knees, boy was he glad he was sitting.

“Trust me Deku, you’ll know if you’re my love interest. For now, I’m alright.” Izuku knew the drill too, it was rejection every time. Even so, he couldn’t help but deflate ever so slightly.

“Can we not discuss love interests at the breakfast table? I am trying to eat here.”

“Oh you can tune us out Sero, you should be used to it by now.”

“Or, I have an even better idea! Since it’s been nearly a year you could just, ya know, give up.”

Sero’s statement earned him a few dramatic gasps.

“Blasphemy!”

“Mutiny!” Uraraka jumped in, unprompted.

“Treason!”

“Ugh, they even got you, Kami? I thought Midoriya and Uraraka were the only ones invested in this.” Kaminari shrugged in response, he enjoyed the fun they had.

“Hey, you can’t blame him for trying. You gotta give him that at least.” Shinsou finally spoke up, he could appreciate Izuku’s patience and persistence even if he didn’t know why he used his energy on Katsuki.

“Yes! Exactly thank you Shinsou! I am just going to have to keep trying!”

“I’m not gonna stop you. Who knows I might even fall for ya one day.” Katsuki smirked along with his remark.

“I’ll be waiting.” Izuku winked at him, enjoying the ease of their interaction, even if it was all one-sided.

That’s all it was. Just a silly crush.

“What will it take for you to actually quit?” Sero, it seemed, wasn’t quite finished.

“I’ll quit when Kacchan finds himself falling in love with someone, until then you will all witness my persistence.”

“Deku aren’t you late for your TA spot in critical data analytics?” Katsuki cut in suddenly.

“Ah shit thanks, love! I’ll see you later!”

“No need to thank me sweetheart I only remind you every fucking Tuesday and Thursday.”

Katsuki called Izuku a handful of playful nicknames, the most dangerous of the bunch being ‘sweetheart’. Izuku didn’t know when it started and could only hope for it not to stop.

Katsuki didn’t seem to mind the playful flirting, Izuku would even go as far as to say that he enjoyed it and participated, but he also doesn’t take it seriously. He knew that Katsuki was just playing along.

It was a dangerous game that he couldn’t bring himself to stop playing, after all:

It was just a crush.

“Oh, you’re so sweet but I’m sorry I’m going to have to say no. I’m really not looking for something right now,” Izuku spoke to the taller boy in front of him. Izuku knew he was really sweet and, he can admit when he meets an attractive person but the red and white-haired man had one issue, he wasn’t Katsuki.

The taller man nodded and turned to walk away, leaving Izuku more relieved than he thought he would be.

“He was cute.”

“AH! Kacchan! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Izuku planted a swift peck on Katsuki’s cheek, they hadn’t seen each other all day.

“Whatever, you just get scared too fucking easily. Anyway who was the dude? You totally could’ve gone out with him.” Izuku sighed, he didn’t want to explain that he turned down the critical data analytics hottie, Todoroki, because he was already crushing on someone but what other reason was there.

“Oh, he’s a student in the class that I TA for, I’m sure there’s some kind of rule against that or something. Plus he’s been with, like, at least three people I know, he was probably just looking for a new piece.”

Katsuki shrugged in response, seemingly accepting Izuku’s reasoning. The pair walked towards their meeting spot where they were going to join the rest of their friends for pizza.

“So how’s that crush coming?” Katsuki smirked at Izuku, the only thing that kept his knees from swaying was the sheer disbelief at the question he was asked. He quickly pulled himself together to answer.

“Well, if you must know, he’s been trying to pimp me out. Just recently he tried to get me to go out with someone!”

Katsuki hummed in response, “It’s been around a year I’ve heard. Is that right?”

“I hate to say it but I can’t disagree, a year sounds about right. I’d like to say I’m making progress but he might not be so inclined to agree.”

“I’ve heard through the shitty grapevine gossip central that our school is that progress is different for everyone but he seems to be making some of his own, although I’ve heard he’s still not too sure himself.”

Izuku wanted to gawk at Katsuki’s nonchalance, he held it together though.

“Is that so? Huh, if that's true it might be time I tell him about you, love.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sure he’s aware, probably just fucking confused as to why you keep going.”

Izuku stopped their walk, he knew they had just been teasing but he wanted to make sure the part he was serious about came through. Katsuki noticed a few steps later and stopped and made his way back, facing Izuku.

“I’m going to keep trying until you are taken.”

“And when that happens?”

“Then it’s my time to stop.”

Katsuki didn’t respond, he simply looked at Izuku. The fierceness of his gaze made warmth blossom on the back of Izuku’s neck.

“You can’t look at me like that. I’m just gonna kiss that expression right off your face.” Izuku whispered, he was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Why don't you.” Katsuki’s expression changed into a smirk, almost as if he knew the effect it had on Izuku. Instinctually, Izuku’s eyes flickered down to Katsuki’s pink lips, almost tempting him to follow through.

“You are one cruel man, Kacchan.” Izuku snapped himself out of his trance and stepped back before turning and continuing their journey to their friends.

It was just a crush, even if everyone knew about it.

The group enjoyed their night together, they all needed it after the month they had been having with school. The end of the night came much too quickly for everyone.

After whatever moment they had on their way to the restaurant, Izuku was ready to lie down. He paid his portion of the bill and planned on sneaking out, knowing he would see everyone in the morning, he had no such luck.

“Where are you sneaking off to sweetheart? You didn’t even say bye to the rest of the shit heads.”

“As if I won’t see everyone in less than twelve hours back on campus! I was just going to get home and grade papers for Tuesday.”

“You could’ve at least come and said bye to me, you’ve barely said a damn thing to me tonight.”

“Well then, bye love I’ll see you tomorrow. Get back safe and don’t forget to water your plants, I know you hate when they start to wilt.”

“Now that’s better, I’ll see you tomorrow, you damn nerd.”

Izuku finally made it out, he let out a long sigh. He was in much too deep with this man.

Honestly, it wasn’t just a crush.

Kirishima Eijiro.

Apparently, that was the name of the guy in Izuku’s seat on Thursday. He had woken up later, as usual, and made his way to the table everyone had breakfast. As he approached though, he noticed his seat was not empty. He was going to go straight to Katsuki for his morning kiss but even from far away, he could see the look on his face.

He brought with him Izuku’s time to stop.

Izuku quickly veered into the nearest bathroom to collect himself, he had no clue what to do. Once he felt better he made his way back towards the table.

“Hey Shinsou, I’m going to move your bag over so I can sit.” Izuku kept his voice low, he didn’t need any extra attention, Uraraka had already shot him a sympathetic look.

Once he was seated his friends greeted him.

“Morning guys.”

“Oh hey! We haven’t met, I’m Kirishima!”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Midoriya.” Izuku felt his phone vibrate, Uraraka had sent him a text. “On and off ex-boyfriend of baku's”

Izuku’s eyes widened and he stilled, he needed to think of something quick there was no way he could stay there. He luckily caught a glimpse of the time.

“Oh shit, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for uh, um... Fuck, critical data analytics, that's what it is. I’ll see you guys later!” Izuku grabbed his stuff and quickly left, that was the first time all semester that he had remembered on his own.

Now, there was no way Katsuki could know that it was anything more than just a crush.

Izuku held strong for two days, for two days he went to the table and saw the clear entrancement written all over Katsuki’s face whenever Kirishima spoke, he never once kissed Katsuki’s cheek in Kirishima’s presence and they were never far behind each other. There was no more sweetheart and love, just the bare pleasantries Izuku could muster.

After his two days he couldn’t handle it, he began going straight to his classes, catching up with his friends in their rooms. It was the first time he and Uraraka had time alone when everything truly went to shit.

“Look, they were best friends in high school and started dating halfway through, they were on and off for months when they went to different schools until they were finally done for good, a little while before you met him. Now that Kirishima is here, I really don’t know what’s going to happen.” Izuku took a calming breath before he responded.

“I always said if he found someone I would stop. I stopped and he doesn’t even care so everything’s fine. Why don't we review for your math exam? I made flashcards for you.”

Uraraka was suspicious, but she went along with him. The pair spent the rest of the night studying and Izuku continued to avoid their table.

He had to figure out how to get it back to just a crush.

Turns out that staying in your dorm gets quite boring. With the amount of extra work Izuku had offered to take on he had better win “TA of the Year” if it was a thing. Nearly two weeks had gone by with Izuku’s new schedule, he never did like change. He finally had his first misstep.

“OI Deku!”

Shit.

Two weeks of carefully planned avoidance, out the window.

“Oh hey, I didn’t even see you two.” Of course, the first time he interacts with Katsuki after two weeks, Kirishima would be with him.

“Nice to see you again dude!” Of course, he just had to be super nice too.

“Yeah yeah. Listen Kirishima I gotta talk to Deku real quick, go ahead I’ll meet you guys later.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, he wasn’t ready to be with Katsuki alone!

Kirishima nodded and walked away, leaving Izuku and Katsuki standing in the middle of the hallway.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve barely seen you in the last two weeks.”

“Oh um, I’ve just been busy with teaching, Professor Aizawa has me leading classes now.” Izuku held back the urge to keep talking, if he started he probably wouldn’t stop until he said something that he didn’t mean to.

“Tch, that’s never stopped you before, hasn’t the guy been giving you a shit load of work all semester?”

“Well yeah, but he has me writing lesson plans and leading lectures now, even if he takes over most of the time. I’ve just been trying to keep up, doesn’t leave time for much else.” He can only make so much stuff up.

“But you always leave time fo- whatever. When is the guy gonna lay off?”

“Uh not sure, probably closer to finals so I’ll have time to study?” Izuku glanced at his watch and noticed he only had two minutes to make it to critical data analytics. “Ah shit, I’m running late I have to go.” Izuku quickly turned and continued making his way to his class, but he didn’t get too far before he heard the last thing Katsuki had to say.

“I’m supposed to be the one that says you’re running late.”

Izuku fought the urge to turn around, it would only give him hope he couldn’t afford.

Just a crush, just a crush, just a crush. It became a mantra.

Izuku was finally let out of his last class for the day, he really hated Thursdays, they were long and drawn out, and seeing Katsuki hadn’t helped like it normally would.

“Deku wait up!” Speak of the devil.

Izuku watched, frozen, as Katsuki made his way towards him. Completely and utterly alone.

“Kac- um Bak- what's up?” Izuku could barely stutter his way through a greeting, he seriously wasn’t prepared for this.

Katsuki met him with a strange look, before deciding to respond.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No, I don’t think so? I have my bag…” Of course Izuku wasn’t, he had to keep himself from planting a swift kiss on Katsuki’s cheek every time he saw him, he had to.

“What the hell Deku?! You go MIA for two weeks, and when I finally see you again it’s like everything is different! What the fuck happened?”

“What do you mean? I told you I’ve just been busy.” He knew exactly what Katsuki was talking about, he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

“You know exactly what I mean! Two weeks ago you came and had breakfast with me every day. You called me love and Kacchan and every time you saw me you gave me a kiss! Now you will barely even fucking talk to me! So let me ask again, what the fuck happened?”

Izuku felt like he could barely breathe, what was he supposed to do? He wasn't ready for any of this.

He tried to calm himself with a deep breath, he couldn’t just stand there and act dumb no matter how much he wanted to.

“Look, I-”

“I don’t want to hear whatever excuse you’re trying to come up with. The truth Deku.”

“I always told you that, when the time came, I would stop all of that. Well, the time came and I wasn’t ready so I had to do what I had to do.”

“Now you just aren’t making sense. What the fuck do you mean stop? Who said you had to stop?”

“I did. I always said when you find yourself inevitably falling for someone else I would stop. Now you have Kirishima and I stopped.”

“Wha- What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Kacchan! It doesn’t take a genius to see the way you look at him. It’s, it’s the same way I looked at you when I started to fall in love.”

Wait.

Shit.

That came out of his mouth.

That was never supposed to leave his brain.

Fuck.

Now there was no way he could get anyone to believe that it was only a crush.

Katsuki wasn’t faring much better. He seemed frozen, although Izuku couldn’t pinpoint why. Obviously hearing that someone is in love with you will do that but he couldn’t be sure if it was shock, disgust, or something entirely different in its own right.

He didn’t want to find out.

“Uh, I have to go, bye.”

“No! Deku wait!”

That’s all Izuku heard before he took off, he could handle a lot but flat-out rejection was not a part of that list.

Katsuki knew it was never ‘just a crush.’

Izuku simply shut himself away, he was luckily done for the week, having strategically chosen to have a long weekend while making his schedule. He emailed Aizawa the grades for the quiz he administered and decided that was enough. He didn’t want to try and explain himself to anyone or have anyone pity him.

Therefore, when he heard the knock on his dorm room door, he assumed his roommate simply forgot his key.

He was wrong.

He opened the door to see a more composed-looking Katsuki. He could only hope his eyes weren’t rimmed with red.

“What are you doing here?” Izuku’s voice was soft, he was just glad his arm didn’t instinctually slam the door, that would not have gone well.

“What am I doing here? You’re seriously going to ask what the fuck I’m doing here?” Izuku noted that Katsuki seemed more frantic than anything, maybe his composed demeanor was for show.

Izuku took in a breath and moved aside, gesturing for Katsuki to come in, this wasn’t something an unfortunate bystander needed to witness.

Once safely inside his room, the pair waited, they waited for someone to start talking, for some answers.

Katsuki finally snapped.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Right because everything else I have done was specifically to hide the fact.” Izuku hadn’t meant to sound so teasing but he had nothing else.

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay, I didn’t say anything because… well because I didn’t want anything to change! As much as the consistent rejection hurt at least it was lowball, we were still friends! We still hung out! I was still allowed to shamelessly flirt with you! I was actually planning on telling you but then everything with Kirishima, and well I just couldn’t bring myself to ruin tha-”

“What the fuck are you talking about? That's the second time you have thrown him into this, this is between us why are you bringing him up?”

“Come on, Uraraka told me you guys were a thing, and she told me that you guys broke it off because you went to different schools, now that's not an issue anymore! The way you look at him shows how much he means to you.”

“Deku, he was my best friend for years that I hadn’t seen for about two years. I was shocked to see him and I seriously forgot how good it was before we dated!” Katsuki steeled himself with a breath.

“Look Deku, since he’s been here Kirishima has been up my ass about what the fuck was going on with me. He hadn’t seen me for nearly two years and he knew something was up with me. That day we ran into you outside of your class, he told me something. He told me that he was going to ask me out and then didn’t. All because of the way I reacted when we ran into you. He said I was more myself for the minute he saw me with you than I had been for the previous two weeks. Now, what the fuck does that tell you Deku?”

Izuku stood in shock, he really didn’t know what to say. There was a short pause before Izuku began to speak again.

“I don’t kn-”

“Nope. I don’t want to hear any bull shit. It took me way too fucking long to realize all of this and that was after someone told me to my face that I need to figure out my shit with you. Right now I just need to know if… if I’m too late.”

Izuku’s knees came out from under him, he fell backward onto his bed, thankful that he didn’t crack open his skull.

He was having a hard time understanding. There was no way Katsuki meant what Izuku thought he meant. No, that would mean… well, too much for Izuku to think through.

“Deku…?”

“I’m sorry. I think I’m just having a hard time understanding what you’re telling me.”

Katsuki used all of his remaining restraint to not grab the man in front of him and shake him until everything fell into place.

“Deku, what I’m telling you is that I was fucking wrong. I thought that everything between us was purely friendly and it was just a fun thing we did. I’m telling you that every time I turn someone down the reason in my mind is you. I am telling you that, if you will still consider me after every single shitty thing that has happened, I want to be with you. I am telling you that what I feel for you isn’t just some stupid fucking crush. Even if it took shitty hair telling me that I look at you like you hung the stars for me to realize it.”

Izuku blinked a few tears from his eyes. There was no room for misunderstanding and both of them knew it. Izuku couldn’t even think of a proper response, he simply threw himself forward and wrapped himself tightly around Katsuki.

Katsuki let out a shaky breath and returned the hug, basking in the warmth he had been missing since Izuku had been away.

“You know what nerd? Now it’s my turn.” Katsuki swiftly leaned forward and placed a small kiss on Izuku’s cheek, mirroring the action Izuku had done plenty of times before.

As Katsuki pulled back Izuku faced him properly, letting his gaze slip down to Katsuki’s pink lips, silently asking for permission. Katsuki wasted no time, they had done enough of that already.

It was perfect, their lips fit together better than puzzle pieces. It was instant gratification, a satisfaction so great, they were keen to never stop. Alas, they did need to breathe.

Once they pulled apart Izuku looked Katsuki up and down, in a way that gave him the chills.

“It took over a year of shameless flirting, cute nicknames, and trying to fend off anyone who had eyes but damn are you so worth it.”

Katsuki flushed darkly, something he wasn’t accustomed to doing, and simply stared back.

“To answer your question, of course, I’d still consider you. As long as you’re my ‘love’ I’ll consider you.”

“I will be your ‘love’ as long as you are my ‘sweetheart’ how does that sound?”

“That sounds like the perfect thing for the two most stubborn people on this planet. Does that mean I get to finally say that you’re my boyfriend?”

“Well either you say it or I will, every shitty extra in this place is going to know where they stand, let me tell you it is nowhere near you.”

Izuku smiled, he could get used to this. In response he kissed his new boyfriend, letting out a pleased hum due to how familiar the feeling was starting to become already.

Izuku couldn’t believe he ever thought it was only a crush.

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javajunkieao3 · 4 years ago

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Never Have I Ever: Post-Series Fic

Ben Gross prided himself on being smart. And falling in love with Devi Vishwakumar? Well, that was just about the dumbest thing he could do.

But, it happened anyway.

He didn’t exactly know when, but somewhere between first grade and watching her dance with that tool, Paxton Hall-Yoshida, she had gone from the person he always wanted to beat to someone he genuinely hoped would win. Because she deserved that. After everything she went through with her dad and then everything after, she deserved a win.

But, did that win have to be him?

“Of course, it’s him,” Ben said, voice colored with defeat and just a hint of indignation. He still hated losing. Even if he technically wasn’t in this game. Aneesa was waiting for him over by the punch. “It’s always been him.”

Beside him, Eleanor said, “What? No, it hasn’t. After you took her to Malibu, she wanted to choose you.”

Ben listened incredulously as Eleanor explained how she and Fabiana had talked Devi out of choosing him. It was fucked up, and he was going to tell her as much, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Devi, imagining how different things would have been. It would have been him with her, not that glorified meat puppet.

“So, just for the record, it hasn’t always been him.”

Eleanor walked off after dropping her figurative bomb and he stayed rooted in place, not knowing what to do or think next. He wasn’t used to this level of indecisiveness and he probably would have just stayed there, staring at Devi dance with another guy, if Aneesa hadn’t come over, sliding her hand over his shoulder.

“Hey, I thought you were meeting me over by the punch,” she said, glancing over at where he had just been staring. “Oh wow, good for Devi.”

Aneesa looked up at Ben, noting the tense set of his jaw. “But…you don’t think that.”

“What?” he said immediately, finally looking away from the slow train wreck happening across the dance floor. “I don’t care about them. I mean, he’s a tool who, based on what I’ve seen, can barely read above an eighth grade level. But, I don’t care.”

“Uh, yeah, you do.”

“Aneesa-“

“Ben, I saw the way you were looking at them. At her.”

He went to argue, but then realized he had no defense. Aneesa ducked her chin to her chest.

“Okay. So, I guess I’m going to go now.” She turned to leave, but then stopped, turning back. “Don’t mess this up for her?”

He didn’t know what he hated more, the implication that he would mess things up or the fact that Aneesa was maybe a little right. The song ended and he watched Paxton and Devi kiss before Paxton dipped his mouth to her ear. Devi nodded at whatever he said, and then Paxton walked away, not letting go of her hand until the distance made it necessary. Devi’s grin widened and Ben hated Paxton even more.

Devi stood alone on the dance floor for a moment, seeming blissfully content, and then she caught his gaze. Ben noticed that her grin dimmed slightly and then she walked over, clasping her hands nervously in front of her.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say,” she began.

“No, actually, you don’t.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Okay. Then, what are you going to say?”

I know you wanted to choose me.

“I’m happy for you, Devi.”

It wasn’t what she expected, and not what he wanted, so they both felt out of sorts. But then her shoulders slackened, a genuine smile spreading on her face, and Ben knew he did the right thing. Because she deserved the win. Even if it wasn’t him.

“Thanks, Ben.”

Paxton came over with two glasses of punch and handed Devi one, his now free arm going around her waist. He gave Ben a lukewarm hello which, given their history, wasn’t entirely unfounded.

“Anyway, I’ll see you around,” Devi said.

“See you around, David.”

Paxton looked at him strangely, but Devi only smiled wider.

-----

There were only a few weeks left in the school year after the dance, and Ben did his best to keep his distance from Devi. She hovered a bit after learning about his and Aneesa’s breakup, but then they all got busy with finals and then the schoolyear ended. Ben was grateful for the time apart. He didn’t know how long it took to fall out of love with someone, but he figured summer break��s three Devi-free-months should do the trick.

That summer, he lined up a volunteer program to pad his college applications just like every other summer. He was supposed to help out with pro bono work at his dad’s firm, but at the last minute his dad hired a law clerk instead so that he could bill out his time at a markup. So, he was stuck with a retirement home. Everyone volunteered at retirement homes, which meant it was the last thing Ben wanted to put on his resume. But, there was nothing else left and it was better than nothing, so he grudgingly accepted a spot at one about fifteen minutes from his house and prepared himself for a summer of moth balls and stories about “the war”.

Instead, he got Devi.

“I thought you were working at your dad’s firm this summer,” Devi said.

“Something came up. Weren’t you supposed to do Habitat for Humanity?”

Devi nodded. “I had an incident with a hammer. Apparently, you aren’t supposed to bedazzle it.”

Ben smirked. “You bedazzled your hammer?”

“Oh, yeah. I added feathers, too. Honestly, it was an upgrade.”

“I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to take you,” he mocked.

Devi shrugged. “Probably for the best. I mean, would you want a house built by me?”

“You make a fair point.”

“So, here we are,” Devi said. “Slumming it at the retirement home.”

“You may want to say that a little louder. I don’t think the guy in the back with the hearing aid heard you.”

“But, you know what, if anyone can make the best out this, it’s you and me, Gross.”

She flashed him a smile and he felt it all the way down to his toes. This was going to be a long three months.

----

It turned out, Ben was surprisingly adept at being around old people, and Devi was an immediate crowd pleaser.

“Even Marvin likes me,” Devi said. “And I’m pretty sure he’s a low-key racist.”

“Not that low key. He specifically asked me to help him fill out a banking form yesterday because, as he put it, your people are good at that.”

“Damn. Remind me to not give him an extra pudding cup.”

One of the long-time residents, Gladys, rolled by with her walker and said, “Benjamin, don’t forget my granddaughter is visiting this afternoon. I told her all about you.”

“I won’t forget, Gladys.”

“Look at you, Benjamin.” He rolled his eyes. “Using the residents to get a date. Honestly, it’s sort of genius. If I wasn’t dating Paxton, I would totally use these guys to pimp myself out.”

“Slow down, David. Gladys came to me about her granddaughter. I’m not that desperate. I have options.”

“Sure, you do, Ben.”

“But, um, you and Paxton? That’s going well?”

He didn’t know why he asked. You don’t ask the girl you’re in love with how her relationship is going, but he asked, and now he had no choice but to hear the answer.

“Yeah, it is,” Devi said. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she smiled, and Ben wished he could sink directly down into the ground.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. It is.”

That afternoon, he asked Gladys’ granddaughter out on a date.

----

Ben could always tell when Devi and Paxton were fighting by her mood. She had never been good at hiding her emotions, and while in a relationship, that hadn’t changed. He noticed it a few weeks in. She went back into the employees’ area and shoved her bag forcefully into the cubby hole.

“Did the cubby hole do something to you?” he asked.

“No,” she said stubbornly. “The cubby hole is doing nothing. Which is the problem. The cubby hole just sits there playing video games all day. Which, sure, I can play some Mario Kart here and there. I’m a team player. But, at a certain point, enough with the stupid video games. I am not dating freaking Yoshi!”

Ben was quiet for a moment and then said, “I didn’t know a cubby hole had apposable thumbs to play video games.”

She shot him a look, but then couldn’t help but laugh.

“The cubby hole was a metaphor.”

“Yeah, I caught on to that.”

----

Ben found it remarkably easy to be around her, even as his feelings stayed rooted to the core, and at a certain point he became resigned to it all. Maybe Devi was just one of those people he would always have feelings for. Isn’t that what they said about your first love? You could move on, but you never really forgot it. So, he would love her and just move on.

He dated Gladys’ granddaughter, enjoying himself but never really feeling anything beneath surface level. But, she was nice enough, and Gladys was delighted by the pairing, even as the volunteer coordinator was not.

“Just don’t have sex anywhere on property,” she had said in a huff.

“I, uh, won’t. Thanks for the clarification.”

He was dating someone else. He and Devi were finally sort of back to how they were before. And then he accidentally ate pecans.

“Oh my God, Ben, your mouth is getting huge,” Devi said, eyes wide with concern.

“I am so sorry,” Gladys’ granddaughter said. “I thought the muffin was banana-walnut, not banana-pecan.”

“Do you have an Epi-Pen or something?” Devi barked at the terrified looking volunteer coordinator.

“No, and even if we did, I don’t think we can technically use it on a non-resident.”

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Do you see him?” She pointed at Ben, whose face was rapidly growing in size. “You know what, I’ll just handle it myself.”

Devi dragged him out to her car, which was concerning since he knew she only just got her license the week before, and he also knew based on what she told him that her passing was a total fluke.

“I think I’d rather go into anaphylactic shock in there,” he said, already turning back toward the retirement home.

“Don’t be dumb, Ben,” she said, forcefully pulling him back to the car. “You are not going into anaphylactic shock. I’ll take you to my mom’s office and she can give you a shot or something. She’s only a few minutes away.”

He reluctantly got into the car, and Devi started her car, forgetting to put it into reverse before she pressed on the gas. The car lurched forward, nearly hitting the one parked in front of them, and Ben said, “Please don’t let me die in this car.”

“No one is dying today, Ben Gross. So, calm down, okay? I got this.”

It was not exactly a smooth ride, but true to her word, five minutes later they pulled into a parking spot in front of Dr. Vishwakumar’s office. They burst into the office, Ben now leaning a bit on Devi as it became harder to breath.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going into anaphylactic shock,” he gasped.

“No, you are not. You are fine.” Devi’s words were calm, but her tone was not.

Nalini Vishwakumar walked out of her office and stopped short when she saw Devi and Ben.

“What in the world – Benjamin, what happened to your face?”

“He ate pecans which, turns out, he’s also allergic to,” Devi said quickly. “Can you give him a shot or something?”

“Devi, you should have taken him to the emergency room!” Nalini said, rushing over to her daughter and Ben and bringing them back to an examination room.

“The hospital was farther away.”

Ben became to gasp for breath and Nalini hissed, “He’s going into anaphylactic shock.”

Ben could barely breathe, but he managed a, “Told you.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know!” Devi said loudly.

One shot of epinephrine and an IV full of antihistamines and cortisone later, Ben could breathe again, but Nilani made him stay for a while longer so that she could observe him. She put he and Devi in one of the unused examination rooms, and told them to let her know if he had any more trouble breathing. Devi sat next to him, her knees pulled tight into her chest.

“I’m sorry that I almost killed you.”

“You’re not getting valedictorian that easily.”

He was joking because, yeah, his throat had almost closed up and she probably should have taken him to the hospital and not her mom’s office, but it was fine now. Except, when he looked over at Devi, she still looked scared. After a beat, she launched herself toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing her back. “I’m okay.”

She pulled away and gave his arm a light punch. “You really scared me.”

“Yeah, well, next time I’ll double check my banana-walnut muffin actually has walnuts.”

“And I’ll believe you when you say your throat is closing up.”

Devi’s phone rang and he saw Paxton’s name flash on the screen. He asked her, “Do you need to get that?”

He watched her hesitate before sending it to voicemail.

----

Devi and Paxton broke up a week later. He found out from one of the retirement home residents, who he overheard telling Devi, “You’re better off, Devi. Take it from an old woman. You have the rest of your life to be with one person. Now is the time to be free. Sow your wild oats, if you will.”

“Um, I don’t really know what that last part means, but I feel you. I mean, I’m too young and hot to be tied down, right?”

“Exactly. You know, I have a grandson you might be interested in. He’s pre-med.”

“I appreciate the offer, Beatrice. And offering me your grandson after I just broke up with my boyfriend? Savage. But, I think I need to take some time by myself.”

That afternoon during bingo, Ben casually brought up the breakup after calling out B-27.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. She ran the machine and picked out the next ball. “B-13!” She put the ball down and said in a regular volume voice, “We just didn’t have that much in common.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Ben said automatically.

“Wow, okay,” Devi said with a laugh that didn’t exactly sound reassuring.

“I didn’t mean,..” he trailed off, because he kind of did. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.” He paused and picked up the next ball. “N-7!”

“Bingo!”

----

Summer was coming to a close, and so was their time at the retirement home. For some reason, Ben felt an impending sense of dread. Sure, he would still see Devi, but it would be different. Everyone else would be added back to the mix, including Paxton.

Their last big event at the retirement home was a movie night. They set up a projector in one of the recreation rooms and made it up like an old theater, complete with velvet ropes and individual little bags of popcorn. They even wore old-timey usher costumes they rented from a local costume shop.

“Does yours also smell like nachos?” Devi asked.

“Yeah. I’m trying not to think about it.”

The movie was It Happened One Night, and Devi and Ben sat in the back, watching the movie along with the residents. It was secretly one of Ben’s favorites. He and his mom had spent little time together when he was growing up, but she shared with him her love of old movies.

It was the Jericho scene, where Clark Gable’s character was setting up a sheet between him and Claudette Colbert in their motel room. He stripped down to just his undershirt, and Devi mused, “Clark Gable was super bangable.”

“Shh,” Ben said. “This is my favorite part.”

Devi looked over at him and grinned. Feeling her gaze, he glanced over and felt his breath stop when their eyes met. They were close, and in the darkness her eyes seemed to glow. He always thought she had pretty eyes. Even before, when he hated her more times than he liked her. He felt an urge to lean forward. It would be so easy. Just the slightest lean and his mouth would be against hers. But, that would just be a kiss in the back of a dark room. He wanted more.

“Eleanor told me that you wanted to choose me after Malibu.”

She blinked rapidly. “What?”

“After you scattered your dad’s ashes. She said you wanted to choose me, but they made you also consider Paxton.”

“Okay.”

“Is that true?��

Devi didn’t answer, so he kept talking.

“And she said that you started the rumor about Aneesa because you thought that we were dating and you were jealous. And, you see, I’ve had it in my mind all this time that it was always Paxton. And that I was, I don’t know, some detour on the way, but-“

“You were not a detour,” Devi said immediately. “You were…you were perfect. And I messed us up.”

“So, Eleanor was telling the truth?”

Devi nodded. “Yeah, she was.”

Ben took a deep breath. “Devi. I’m going to kiss you now.”

She nodded, all business, but he could hear the nerves in her voice when she said, “Okay. Thank you for the advanced warning.”

He leaned in and captured her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. And in a way, they did. There was a noise behind them, and they pulled apart abruptly. Their supervisor stood over them and said, "Remember what I said about no sex on property?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Devi said. "Who is having sex in these gross costumes?"

"You'd be surprised."

The supervisor walked away, and Devi looked at Ben. "You don't think she meant..."

"I think she absolutely did."

"I need to take this off immediately."

#never have I ever #ben x devi #devi vishwakumar #ben gross #never have I ever fanfiction #post-series fic

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swaglexander-the-great · 5 years ago

Text

Yakuza: Like A Dragon

I just watched the 2007 Yakuza: Like a Dragon film and DEAR GOD I need to share this experience (Spoilers, of course)

Firstly, this film just... makes NO sense. Some (MAIN) characters are not connected to each other in any way. Who are they? No explanation. Why are they here? Who Knows. Just watch them go heat mad from 32 degrees celsius and rob various stores until one of them gets shot. She breaks the news to her boyfriend that she is mortally wounded by saying ‘i will never have ur kids’ (they have never discussed children, and are like 18). The bf is, understandably baffled by this choice of words to explain a fatal bullet wound

There is a masochistic guy who Majima beats up in a basement, and to get to said basement, Majima deadlifts a door off the wall to reveal an elevator. This guy also gets punched by Kiryu and LOVES it

Bank robbery that is drawn out throughout the whole plot, but literally doesn’t go anywhere. It’s just two dudes going heat mad because something (God??) broke the air con during their heist

Kiryu’s Ass. This man has cake for DAYS. It deflects the rubble of a skyscraper at one point.

(^^kiryu’s distractingly huge ass)

5. it took me 90% of the movie to figure out 3 depressed men in a bar were meant to be Kiryu’s host friends

6. Nishikiyama is only in the movie for 2.5 seconds and looks like an absolute, total geed

(^ my sleep paralysis demon)

7. Date-san is jarringly tall 8|

8. Apparently everyone in the city is going mad from global warming and a 3 degree raise in the overall temperature, and to combat this, Haruka chugs water.

9. Kiryu walks into a bar and three people bow on instinct alone

10. Korean assassins appear for some reason?? One of them serves drinks to 20+ policemen trapped in a 45 degree van, which has a loony-tunes style heat gauge in it

11. Majima finds a shotgun and straight up obliterates like 6 people

12. Scenes are cut into weird stop motion sometimes?? Why?? It’s usually with Majima, so maybe he just Moves Like That

13. Kiryu takes haruka, a little girl, to a brothel. The doorman leads him into a bar with a couch facing a curtain. Kiryu feels a ping in his spider-senses and dives behind the couch. At the sound of a gong, the curtain opens to reveal Majima on a golden pimp throne with a shotgun as his men fire at the now Kiryu-less couch. Majima rebukes kiryu: You brought a CHILD to a BrOTHEL??

(Glory Be)

14. Majima and Kiryu cock empty shotguns at each other for 10 seconds straight. They also punch each other in the face in what seems like an unbreakable loop for the same amount of time.

15. This Iconic moment

(what does your Eye Patch see, Majima-san?)

16. Majima smacks baseballs into Kiryu’s firm abs until the guy who throws the baseballs fucking dies. I’m pretty sure this is some sort of test, and if Kiryu passes, he gets Majima’s hand in marriage.

17. Kiryu passes the test, which leads us to whatever THIS scene is

(yes, that is a mirror ceiling in the top picture [ft. kiryu’s bubble butt], and yes, there is far too much weird grunting in this scene)

18. It is at this point that the tone of the film goes from artistically bizarre to confusingly horny (including one whole scene of Nishiki just walking and stripping off his clothes)

(get ur hand off Kiryu’s thicc bountiful ass, Nishiki)

19. Three major characters (Nishiki, Yumi, and Jingu) appear in the final 10 minutes with probably 1 line of dialogue to build up who they are through the entire film, only all to be immediately killed. I may, however, have become confused, as Nishiki, Jingu and Kazama’s names were all translated as Sanada (??) and Yumi was translated as... Jenny even though you could HEAR THEM SAYING THE NAMES.

21. Kazama’s name was also translated to Majima, and then finally to Kazuro for some fucking reason

22. There is no explanation to why or how the ten billion is stolen. It just Was. The how is the most confusing part, as it is not a digital transaction, it is literally a comedically huge pile of cash as per the game

23. A helicopter causes a magnitude 6.1 earthquake and just casually smashes through some buildings, but is undamaged. Majima’s masochistic basement slut prays to be crushed by the helicopter earthquake. It also vibrates Majima back to life after he’s shot by Kiryu’s dad for sitting on Kiryu’s face (see above)

24. A very dramatic scene of Kiryu drinking an energy drink while the seven grown men who surround him scream

(he then bursts into flame)

25. The Korean assassins assassinate Jingu who is literally onscreen for 1 second. Yumi now blows herself up for no reason. Kiryu does not try to stop her. Kiryu respects her resolve, and his enormous cake saves him and Haruka from being crushed by the resulting rubble

26. majima just crawls out through karumocho to the batting cages to dramatically die on their stairs. His drama is foiled by a sneeze, and he realizes he is in fact not dying, but may have just caught a cold.

27. Kiryu absolutely seems to love Majima even though Majima literally murders people, beats him to a pulp, and tries to actually kill him.

28. It is never explained who Kazama is. He just appears out of the blue, and vanishes into money-filled mist at the end.

29. The violence swings between goofy gags and actually good fighting (classic yakuza), nothing is explained unless you’ve played the game, kiryu, the main protagonist spends half his time wandering around aimlessly with a girl and a dog (not explained why he has acquired these, at some point in the movie they just Appear), and at one point I think it turned into a musical so briefly that it seems like I imagined that scene

30. All in all 10/10, would watch again. Please, somebody make a friend who has never played Yakuza watch this and see what they make of it

#yakuza #kiryu kazuma #majima goro #kazumaji #yakuza 1 #i am in Shock tbh #what did i just experience #a hot strange mess #all these pics were just me screenshotting to my friend as i live messaged the Experience #please dear god kiryu tame your ass

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years ago

Note

May I ask you the question on a rather delicate topic (which bothers me from time to time, when I stumble upon Murat’s mentions in Poniatowski’s biographies etc.)? It is often repeated that they resembled each other in some areas, like their love for parties, dances, horses and women...

So my question will be on that, latter topic.

We all know about Caroline, but what about other women in Joachim’s life? Did he have other significant “love interests”? Was Caroline the first woman he proposed to? Did he... cheat on her???

If you know anything on the topic could you please share it with us? ))) (Because I am very curious why did prince Murat earn such a reputation ;)

Thanks in advance!

Oooh this is going to be a fun one. :)

Murat did acquire quite a reputation for womanizing. Napoleon would say on Saint Helena that Murat "needed women like he needed food." On another occasion (and for some reason Napoleon returned to the subject of Murat's sex life on numerous occasions) he exclaimed "How many mistakes did Murat not commit in order to establish his headquarters in a chateau where there were women! He needed them every day, so I readily tolerated a general having a whore with him, in order to avoid this inconvenience." (From Gourgaud's diary, 3 April 1817.) Apparently Napoleon was quite fixated on this subject because Bertrand records similar remarks from him in an undated note assumed to be from some time in 1820: "Murat supposedly needed a woman each night, but every woman was good to him, and nothing stopped him, whether she had the pox or not." (Vol. 2 of Bertrand's Cahiers de Sainte-Hélène, pg 438) Which is likely a reference to one of Murat's more well-known mistresses, Madame Ruga, a lawyer's wife, whom he met (and possibly fell in love with) in Brescia.

But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. We'll get back to Madame Ruga.

Murat's early life is very poorly documented. Some of his early biographers allude vaguely to him womanizing while he was still a student in the seminary, and even claim that he fought a duel over a young woman before abandoning the seminary to become a soldier. Take it all with a grain of salt. The first actual evidence of Murat having an attachment to a woman, lies in his letters referencing a young woman named Mion Bastide, from his hometown. It's hard to tell how deep his feelings for her ran; he repeatedly asks his older brother for news of her--and also what her "intentions" are, and if she is flirting with the young men of La Bastide while he is away on his military duties. Perhaps they had spoken of marriage at some point while he'd been home. Anyway, he eventually got tired of her not responding to him and moved on. While a captain in the chasseurs à cheval, he apparently had an affair with a woman named Eléonore; I haven't come across any details about this, but his attachment to her was strong enough that he kept a pocketwatch with "Joachim Murat, capitaine de chasseurs à cheval: Eléonore to Joachim - do not forget her" inscribed inside; he only relinquished this watch during the 1812 campaign, as a gift to a Cossack.

During the Italian campaign, Murat had affairs with two men's wives; the aforementioned Madame Ruga, and one Madame Ghirardi (more on her shortly). Madame Ruga is described in Desaix's notes as "young, pretty; wife of a lawyer; like all the Milanese, loving pleasures, having suffered from the venom"--"the venom" (le venin) being a tactful way of saying she'd had venereal disease, which she soon passed on to Murat. "Murat is ill," Napoleon writes to Josephine on 22 July 1796; "the goddess of the ball, Mme Ruga, properly gave him une galanterie," which is another lovely old-fashioned euphemism for giving someone VD. Napoleon continues that Murat "is furious; he wants to put his adventure in the gazettes." But in typical Murat fashion, his fury burned out quickly, and he seems to have been quite infatuated with Mme Ruga--he continued the affair, which is probably what spawned Napoleon's later disgusted recollection on Saint Helena. He even temporarily neglected his duties, until Napoleon sent him a mild reprimand, to which Murat replied with indignation. "I have never had any idea which could be the least disfavorable to you," Napoleon responded drily on 21 June 1797, "but I thought that you were more necessary to your division than to your mistress in Brescia." When Murat was sent back to Italy in 1800--months after marrying Caroline--there's a very good likelihood that he resumed his affair with Mme Ruga. At any rate, they maintained contact for some time; she delivered a letter to Eugène de Beauharnais for him in 1805.

Now on to Mme Ghirardi. Apparently he also met this woman, wife of a General Lechi, in Brescia. Eventually Napoleon sent Murat to Rastadt for peace negotiations at the end of the Italian campaign. According to an article in the January 1908 Revue Napoléonienne, this is what happened next:

But Murat's conquest does not intend to let him go. Desperate to hold him back, she follows him. The beauty flees from Brescia, crosses the Alps and falls into Strasbourg; when Murat returns from Rastadt to Paris, she settles there with him and stays in the same hotel, rue des Capucins-Neufs, number 20. The adventure here is complicated by a comic novel. The husband, worthy and notable citizen of Brescia, makes a lot of noise about his misadventure and instantly demands the lost object. He brings his complaint to Milan; he comes as far as Paris to address a mournful petition to the Directory. He begs Barras and his colleagues to set themselves up as defenders of outraged morality: "Put this young woman betrayed by a vile seducer on the path of righteousness and virtue, give a mother to an innocent child; it is an honest husband who asks for this act of justice. He will be able to publish it throughout the Cisalpine and to his fellow citizens who expect it from you." (...) A singular crossover facilitated the outcome. While the husband brought his action in Paris for restitution of wife, Murat, perhaps judging that the follies of youth should not be prolonged, adopted the part of bringing the fugitive back to Brescia and resuming his military career in Italy.

Napoleon writes to Berthier to inform him that Murat is coming back to Italy to return "this heroine of Brescia," take a vacation in Rome, and then rejoin the army. And that is the last we know of Mme Ghirardi and her affair with Murat.

The short answer to your question as to whether Murat cheated on Caroline is, unfortunately, yes.

And, not to make excuses for him, but it's hard to see it turning out otherwise given that Murat was pretty set in his ways by the time of his marriage. He had long since gotten into the habit of flitting from one woman to another, and he was in his early thirties when he finally married. On top of that, his military duties made it inevitable that he would spend long periods far away from Caroline--which he did--and I just don't think he had either the self-control or the interest in remaining faithful after awhile.

(I'm just going to excerpt this next part from a post I did on Murat's relationship with Caroline awhile back, since it fits in perfectly here.)

They endured a long period of separation very early in their marriage–the first of many, adding up to several total years spent apart between 1800 and their final parting in May of 1815. Murat was sent to take command of a force in Italy in November 1800 while Caroline was pregnant with their first child; they did not see each other again until May of the following year. There are a couple of letters within Murat’s published correspondence that hint that, though he at first attempted to remain faithful to his wife during this interim, he may have given up on the endeavor prior to their reunion. The diplomat Charles Alquier, who befriended Murat in Italy, wrote to him in April 1801, lamenting not being able to spend a few days with him in Florence, teasing that he “would like to witness your gallant successes there and hear you talk about your marital fidelity, without believing it in the slightest.” The following month, after the arrival of Caroline, Alquier teases Murat again along these lines, in a postscript that reads “It was about time that Madame Murat arrived in Florence, or your hard-pressed fidelity was about to escape you.” He had almost certainly resumed his affair with Madame Ruga during this period.

There is a rather fascinating little affair that takes place early in 1806, in which Napoleon and Murat were having a simultaneous affair with a young woman named Éleonore Denuelle de la Plaigne, who was staying with the Murats at Neuilly at the time. Napoleon abruptly put an end to his affair with her when he discovered that she was also sleeping with Murat. Éleonore gave birth to a baby boy at the end of the year, and Napoleon believed the child was probably Murat's--up until he saw the boy in person prior to embarking for Saint Helena. What's particularly fascinating to me about this episode is the fact that Caroline pretty much arranged this affair for her brother--the Bonaparte siblings were so hell-bent on getting Napoleon to divorce Josephine by this point that some of them were acting like glorified pimps, hooking Napoleon up with girls left and right in hopes that he'd eventually produce a baby and prove that he wasn't to blame for the lack of an heir. But the timing of Murat, a man of proven fertility (he had four children by now), swooping in to plant a few seeds of his own at the same time that he undoubtedly knew Napoleon was bedding Éleonore just... let's just say I have theories about this. Suffice to say I think the Murats' sexual dynamic took some interesting twists and turns, and I'm fairly convinced that they each weaponized the other's sexuality on occasion--the Éleonore affair being the first example, and Caroline's affair with Metternich later on being another. This is totally, 100% my own personal theory and there's no way in hell to prove it either way, it's just my own reading of the situation given my current understanding of the personalities involved.

Anyway. The interesting thing about Murat's alleged affairs is that so few of his mistresses have been written of by name, the ones above being the exceptions. I've seen it written that he had a brief fling with the actress Mademoiselle Georges--who also allegedly had a short affair with Napoleon--but it's another one of those things that isn't well-sourced, at least from what I've found so far. As for his mistresses in Naples, I haven't come across the name of a single one. General Guglielmo Pépé only refers to them in the most general terms, remarking that King Joachim considered it dishonorable to refuse to grant a woman a favor "even were she not his mistress," and that he was especially susceptible to the "entreaties of the ladies about the Court". He also recounts Murat telling him once that "The Queen does not much like my giving audience to ladies," to which Pépé rejoined, "I pity the Queen if she notices the gallantries of Your Majesty." But I do find it extremely interesting that there seems to be absolutely no information whatsoever on any of Murat's alleged mistresses in Naples, which makes me wonder if his reputation in that area might be a bit exaggerated and if a lot of his so-called "gallantries" were simple flirtations. He never stopped being a massive flirt or enjoying having women's eyes on him. "He was very vain," Madame Fusil, an actress who met him in 1812, wrote of him, "and he liked women to watch out for him."

I hope I didn't forget anything! And thanks for the ask! ^_^

#asks #Joachim Murat #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte

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whumpforthewin · 3 years ago

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The Answer - 3

“You think anyone cares about you?” Her words were like venom. “You’re a cheap whore people fuck into the mattress and leave the money on the table. You’re everyone’s bitch. The moment you forget that is the moment you lose.” The door slammed behind her.

Jack didn’t stop himself from falling to his knees. He knew she was right. He’d forgotten himself, and it almost ruined them. She was like a mentor to him. He’d had no where to go when she took him under her wing. Lost and alone. She made sure he didn’t die. Taught him the tricks of the trade as it were. She was the closest thing to a friend he had. But she was right.

He took a breath. He needed to get himself together. Rent was coming up and he needed a little extra this month. His landlord, or more accurately his pimp, was a prick and Jack had pissed him off so he punched a hold in the wall and was charging Jack for it. It was likely some lesson Jack had failed to learn. But all the people under him had to live in the building so he couldn’t exactly move.

Jack had tried to hold down a job but that hadn’t ended well. Apparently multiple years of torture fucks with your mental state and random things can set you off. So now he was twenty-one and just trying to make the best out of his shitty circumstances.

He took a quick shower, fluffed his hair and put on his makeup. His rotation was in the higher end tonight. The girls pretty much ran themselves with their pimp taking a percentage.

According to Amy, his mentor, the girls had almost unionized and had sorted everything out. That way they could keep most of the money but he got a low percentage and got to charge them rent. And to make sure each of the girls made enough to cover rent they rotated areas and would help each other out when needed. It was a good system and it worked for them. It was almost like a family. And the girls included Jack, and the two other male workers. None of them had a problem with being one of the girls.

Every insult seemed to cut deeper that night.

“You like that whore?”

“Such a good slut for me.”

“Oh yeah, choke you bitch.”

They weren’t particularly memorable insults but Amy’s words echoed in his mind.

Then the car he dreaded to see pulled up. Not a word was spoken as the door was opened. Jack hesitated just a moment before climbing in.

Mark sat across from him in the limousine. “Mark-“ Jack started but stopped himself as Mark leaned forward. They didn’t typically speak until after Jack had been moaning his name.

Mark just raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t, I can’t do this, with you, anymore.”

That caused Mark to pause. “Why is that?” His voice was rich and calm and Jack was terrified. Normally Mark was commanding and powerful, but all he seemed now was guarded.

“You’re developing feelings.” Jack had to push all the blame on Mark. If he didn’t… he didn’t want to think of it.

“And that’s not allowed?” Mark said, sitting back. That gave Jack a little bit of breathing room.

“No, this isn’t a relationship.” Jack was impressed his voice hadn’t cracked yet.

“It could be,” Mark offered, again.

“No, I’m not, I can’t.” Jack didn’t know what to say.

“Why not? I’ve offered to take care of you, pet.”

Jack flinched at the nickname.

Something in Mark’s eyes flashed but he didn’t have a chance to catch it.

“Oh, that’s it isn’t it.” Mark moved closer once again. “You’re a whore,” the words dripped like honey, “but you’re no pet.” He grabbed Jack’s neck, using a finger to tilt his face to look him in the eyes. “That’s it isn’t it.”

Jack whimpered but didn’t fight his grip.

“Do you think a slut like you doesn’t deserve to be a pet.” He tightened his grip just enough to cause Jack’s breath to catch. “Like you don’t deserve to be treated as nicely as a pet?”

He pressed his lips against Jack’s harshly, Jack let Mark dominate the kiss as always.

“Or,” he pulled back. “Do you think your ruined self is too good to be demoted to a pet. That you may be a bitch but you’re no one's pet.”

Jack didn’t have an answer. Not one that would satisfy Mark. So he said nothing.

“Have I been treating you too nicely whore?” He tightened his grip again and Jack’s hands went to Mark’s wrist reflexively. “Perhaps I should fuck you with no prep? Maybe I’ve been too nice. Sloppy as you are after all those men I’m sure I could fit right in. Maybe you need to be shown you would be lucky to be my pet.” He threw Jack to the floor of the limo.

Jack almost smiled. This he understood. He was nothing more than someone to be fucked into the mattress, even if this mattress was the rough floor of a limo. Finally Mark understood that.

“But I don’t think I will.”

Jack froze and looked up at Mark.

“Because despite what you think or want. I care about you. Sure, it is mostly your body, but it is also you. So, here. Your standard payment, plus tip. Plus.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “This. I refuse to watch you throw away your life. I won’t seek you out again. But if you wish to change your life, with my help, come here. Show whoever tries to stop you this card. Then go up to the floor I’ve written on here. Someone will be there to let you in.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. He took the money with trembling hands. The business card was nice. Jack felt wrong even holding it.

“But, if you chose to continue being a whore, I won’t stop you.” Mark didn’t make a move as Jack got to his knees and shuffled to the door. He didn’t say anything as he opened it. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing felt right so he didn’t say anything.

He shut the door and there was a click of finality there. He watched the limo pull away.

He intended to throw out the card, he did. The night passed in a blur of “whore,” “slut,” and other degrading names. It wasn’t until he was back in his apartment that he realized Dark had paid him nearly triple his rate. Jack was shocked.

He didn’t throw away the card.

Taglist

@whumper-in-training

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #taunting #insults #markipler egos #jacksepticegos #fic #fanfic #whump #emotional whump #angst #Whoomp for the Win

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bluebellwriting · 4 years ago

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Love Me Tender - Part 2

“He’s so in love with ya,” Angel smirks, lying on your bed in your hotel room, surrounded by your folded laundry and knocking over said piles of laundry. You roll your eyes and continue hanging up your newly cleaned dresses and blouses.

“What are you going on about?”

“The fact that Strawberry Pimp has been following ya around like a love-sick puppy for the last year.”

You throw a sock at Angel and shoot him a glare. Although, your mind can’t help but wander to the last year following Alastor’s insertion into your lives. He has been spending quite a bit of time with you... which is completely understandable! You both enjoy the same type of music, although he was quite affronted when he learned that you don’t really dance and insisted that he teach you. Now he pulls you into a dance whenever there is a good song playing.

And he loves to cook just like you, even though you are partial to baking. He often joins you in the kitchen around meal times to assist in prep or even to make a dish when you’re overwhelmed. On slow days, you find yourself thinking about the time Charlie had you all celebrate Thanksgiving. Charlie had insisted you all celebrate the holiday in even though nobody, save you and Alastor, could cook to save their lives. You were honestly dreading all the sides and desserts and proteins you would have to prepare for everyone, and Charlie had only added to the stress when she came prancing into the kitchen and revealed that her mother had agreed to eat with you all. Somehow sensing your stress, Alastor was there in an instant and allowed you to put him to work. He was a dream in the kitchen, so helpful and chivalrous, and he even made a curated playlist of all your favorite songs to put you in better spirits. It was one of your fonder moments in the normally stressful work environment, particularly when you had cut yourself chopping sweet potatoes and Alastor had rushed to tend to you. Really, it was just a little nick. It didn’t even draw blood but it did sting a bit causing you to hiss quietly. Alastor heard that sound as if it were as loud as a siren and was by your side, bending down to analyze your hand, behaving as though you had just chopped off your entire hand.

“You really must be more careful, dearest,” he murmured and frowned at the cut, willing it to disappear.

You think about Thanksgiving and the way he held your injured finger more than you’re proud to admit.

---

You shake yourself out of your reverie. No. No, no, no. Nope! You were not about to indulge in some small school-girl crush. That would only cause it to fester into something bigger in your heart, something dangerous. And you were certainly not about to buy into your brother’s teasing and tendency to romanticize things. Angel was smart, observant, but was also incredibly naive when it came to affection, or rather, sinisterness disguised by affection. And you were no stranger when it came to love and its effects on perception. You made that mistake once and it got you down here, you were not about to let that happen again...

Even if it was at the hands of that darling deer.

“Come on.” You hang up your last blouse and motion for Angel to follow you to the lobby. You both were late for your weekly family dinner and your father would not be pleased.

“I’m just saying, when was the last time ya got laid?” Angel asks as you make your way down the hall towards the lobby.

“Angel!”

“What? Please tell me you’ve at least gotten some since--”

You’re too short to smack his head, so you resort to kicking him in the shin.

“If you say his name in front of me I will maim you,” you scold.

“Got it, got it. Okay but in all seriousness, are ya ever gonna move on?”

“Nope, and even if I did, he’d have to be very special and very serious. I’m not going to waste my time pining.” You cross your arms, quieting your voice as you draw nearer to the warm glow of the lobby.

“But Alastor seems more than eager.”

“Of course he does,” you say sarcastically.

“Sis, I’m serious! He follows ya--”

“--Around like a lovesick puppy, yes so you keep saying.” You stop suddenly and shift your arms so that they’re wrapped around your torso. You avoid Angel’s confused and worried eyes, finding the carpet far easier to face than your brother’s concern. You are supposed to take care of him, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone.

“Angel,” you sigh. “He’s like that with everyone. I’m not special to him, he just likes me because we enjoy some of the same things and I fit his idea of ‘polite company.’ But I’m not special. And... And even if I did feel that way about him it wouldn’t matter because I’m not anything to him. He’s made it perfectly clear that he has no use for close friends. So why would I be an exception?”

You turn and start taking brisk steps towards the door before you allow Angel to hear your sniffs and see your red-rimmed eyes. You bid a quick goodbye to Husk even though he’s passed out at his desk and make your way to your car. You don’t see Alastor, who was leaning against the wall near the mouth of the hallway where you had just pored your heart out to your brother. You don’t see the way his smile falters just a little or the way his eyes widen in alarm. You don’t see the plate of cookies in his hands, ones he had made just for you as a surprise.

But Angel does.

“Ya okay there, smiles?” Angel reaches for one of the double chocolate chip cookies but his hand is smacked away by Alastor.

“These are not for you,” he snaps but his voice lacks conviction and his eyes continue to stare off longingly at the door you’ve just walked through. Angel takes in the Radio Demon’s furrowed brows and follows his gaze.

“They’re for (Y/N),” Angel smirks and elbows Alastor’s arm teasingly.

“I knew ya had the hots for her! Jeez, could ya have been any more obvious?” Angel cackles.

“Apparently not obvious enough,” Alastor mutters.

“You heard some of that, huh?”

“All of it, actually.” Alastor looks down dejectedly at the plate of cookies. “I... I thought I was--”

“Oh, believe me, if you were being any more obvious with anyone else, you would’ve had your answer months ago. But (Y/N) she’s... she’s not everyone else. She’s very closed off, honestly you’re lucky she even sees you as a friend.”

Alastor barely nods his head in acknowledgement because all his mental energies are directed towards you. You and your bouncy, beautiful hair. You and your enchanting curves and the smooth sound of your voice when you think he isn’t around to hear you. You and your tenderness towards the very few who have earned it, and your willingness to utterly destroy anyone who tries to hurt those few. You and the time he came home with a few scratches after an altercation with Vox and you fussed over him in the genuine way his mother once did. You and your gentle hands that kneed pie crusts and crack eggs, hands that he delights in holding and finds any reason to do so.

He really never believed he could feel this way about anyone. This captivated, this dedicated, this entranced and enchanted. But here you are, captivating and enchanting him beyond all reason. At first it was infuriating, the nights he would lie awake thinking of whatever adorable thing you had done that day. Or the way his body wanted, needed to be near you even when his mind screamed at him that you were a weakness. Someone he couldn’t afford to love lest it make him vulnerable, puny, at risk of losing everything that he had built in Hell.

Until about four months into knowing each other. Some brute had come to stay in the hotel. He didn’t really bother to remember the creature’s name, just that he was rude and inconsiderate and didn’t know how to respect a lady. Alastor had wandered into the kitchen to help you with lunch, per the subconscious ritual he had fallen into, when he heard a loud smack. He opened the door to see said brute trying to force himself upon you and... the next thing he knew the entire kitchen, himself, and you were drenched in the blood of this horrid man. The kind of carnage Alastor only found himself achieving when in an intense fit of rage. You had stood there, frozen, and Alastor was briefly afraid that he had terrified you beyond the point of repair. But after you had gotten over the shock of the man’s attempted assault, you had sprinted to him and buried yourself into his chest before you could remind yourself about his aversion to touch. But he had always seemed to make an exception for you. And he always would.

After that day Alastor realized two things: that you were not a weakness, rather a new source of strength for him, and that he would literally do anything to get you to run into his arms like that again. Alastor didn’t need anymore convincing of the love he had for you. But apparently, you were in an entirely different boat.

“So what do I do?”

“What?” Angel asks, pulling away a hand that was trying again to steal another cookie.

“You’re incredibly close. She tells you everything. What more can I do to show her I’m serious?” Alastor hates how desperate he sounds but that’s what he is. Desperate for you.

“Well that depends, how serious are ya?”

“Deathly.”

Angel’s eyes glance down and back up at the cookies. Alastor relents and tosses him a cookie so he can continue.

“She’s... she’s so incredibly dear to me. She drives me mad and yet I can’t bring myself to stay away. I need her, I feel like there’s a deep, gaping chasm when I’m without her. I--”

“God, okay, you’ve convinced me. I give ya my blessing, sheesh.” Angel finishes the cookie.

“Angel,” you call, marching back into the lobby. Alastor almost drops the plate at your sudden appearance.

“Angel we’re going to be late!”

“Good evening, dearest,” Alastor lurches from the wall, smile wide and beaming, trying to convey all the love he holds for you. He tries to lower his tone on the word ‘dearest,’ tries to make it apparent that you are his dearest everything.

“Good evening, Alastor.” You grace him with a sweet smile but your eyes are sad, probably from what he overheard earlier. “Who are those for, Al?”

“Oh, for you, dearie!” He thrusts the plate in front of you, shoulders hunched in an effort to seem more humble, less intimidating for you. You really are quite small and so precious.

“F-For me?” Your face flushes the prettiest shade of red.

“You mentioned double-chocolate chip is your favorite, yes?”

“It is. T-Thank you, Al, that really is so sweet.” You take one cookie off the plate and indulge yourself in the dark chocolate. Oh, he really outdid himself.

Alastor revels in the joy in your eyes and the fact that he put it there.

“It was my absolute pleasure, darling. I was more than happy to do it. You’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought you deserved something sweet.”

Your smile widens, bathing him in warmth until it falters at the sight of Angel.

“Angel, we have to go or dad and Niss are going to have a fit.”

“Oh,” Alastor interjects. “Where are you both off to?”

You smooth down your fancier-than-normal (f/c) skirt.

“Just family dinner, but it’s important apparently. Dad has an announcement. We would have had more time to chat if Angel didn’t distract me this evening,” you say pointedly at your brother.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be out in a minute. I just have to go bother Husky for a moment.”

You roll your eyes.

“Fine. Alastor,” you turn back to him. Alastor perks up immediately at your attention. “Thank you so much for this. You really didn’t--”

“I won’t hear it, love. Now go enjoy your dinner, I’ll make sure these are waiting when you get back.” He gives you a genuine grin, something reserved only for you. “And might I add that you look ravishing in that skirt, dear. Is it new?”

“Oh,” your blush increases and glows. “Thank you, Alastor. Um... have a pleasant evening.”

Once you’re out of the lobby, Angel turns to Alastor, noticing the way he deflates in your absence.

“Look, I gotta go. Now I can talk more when we get back but this,” he points at the plate of cookies. “Is a great start! Personal, sweet, something you wouldn’t do for anyone else. She needs to know that you think she’s special, that you make exceptions for her, that you want to spend time with her outside of “coincidentally” being in the kitchen with her. And for Pete’s sake, ya gotta ask her out soon cause God knows she ain’t gonna take the chance and ask you.”

Angel strolls out of the lobby, leaving Alastor to brainstorm the many ways he’ll make just that happen.

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #they say write the stories you want to see #alastor x chubby!reader #x chubby!reader #x chubby reader

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Implied Smut, consent is important, feelings, Claire is 19 in this story.

WC: 2461

A/N: This chapter fills my square‘titty fucking’ for @spnkinkbingo. Although it’s only mentioned. Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

She follows him, is fucking relieved that she wore boots and not heels because Dean’s fucking fast and she almost has to run to keep up with him. They go up the stairs and a bouncer opens the door into the VIP room for them when he sees his boss approaching.

It’s that easy, isn’t it?

Stepping in, it feels like a whole other world opens up for her and it welcomes her in. The air is thick. It gets a little harder to breathe. She can smell a hint of arousal. Can detect the smell of bodily fluid — the sexy kind, not the nasty ones.

The room is quite big, could easily fit one hundred people, at least, but there were about thirty if she had to guess. There’s a long couch along both walls, stretching from one end to the other, and there are groups of sofas in the middle. Dean walks ahead and she slows down, taking in her surroundings.

There are people kissing on the couch, full on making out. A girl grinding on someone’s lap who’s still dressed but the girl is naked, there are men getting blow jobs. One girl is receiving oral whilst getting her big tits fucked. Y/N can’t stop watching them but eventually, she tears her eyes away. She’s sure that someone is fucking right at the end of the couch in a dimly lit corner and then there’s also people engaging in an orgy right in the middle of the room like it’s no fucking big deal. While she stops to scan the room, her eyes find a familiar face.

Claire.

She’s sitting in a guy’s lab, while she turns her head to kiss him and there’s another woman with her face buried between Claire’s thighs. Oh wow, Y/N thought she was only a waitress. Maybe the mother wasn’t exaggerating after all.

“You coming?” Dean returns to be by her side.

“I— y—eah,” She stammers but can’t quite take her eyes off of the crowd. She feels hot all of a sudden and there’s something tingling between her thighs. She realizes that seeing these things turns her on so fucking much. Like, she’s never seen anything like it.

Dean chuckles and takes her by the hand to whisk her to another door but she’s still staring until they are out of that room.

They pass a girl sitting on a tiny desk with a laptop on it as they walk along a big hallway, with rooms left and right and Dean’s still so fast, she can’t even take a real look at the little windows with light spilling out of them. Even though she’s sure that she’s not allowed to look anyway but still...

There are little red and green lights lined above the respective doors and putting two and two together if she’d have to guess, she thinks it’s to signal if the room’s occupied or free. The guests probably have to book the rooms with the girl who runs the front desk.

The hallway is long, and there are about two dozen rooms with numbers on them and nothing else. No description of what they could find in there. Maybe they’re just all bedrooms? She doesn’t know but she needs to find out.

He pulls her along with him until they finally come to a halt at another door. This place is a fucking maze. She wonders if she’ll find her way back, probably would need to ask Dean for a fucking map. Dean punches in a code and goes in, his hand still holding hers tight as they walk up a staircase until they reach yet another door. He goes in and she realizes that they are in some sort of office.

Dean lets go of her hand and she takes in the room. There are several screens with security camera footage, a big wooden desk with a huge office chair. He probably saw her coming. She’s sure that the bouncer called him up.

In the middle of the room is a big couch, off to the side is a little bar.

“Please take a seat,” Dean says and walks over to his bar to pour himself a drink, “You want anything?”

“No, thanks.” She replies, she’s not really a drinker. She usually only has one drink and that’s enough because she’s always been afraid that she’ll end up like her mother — dead.

“So,” He says, turns back to her with a tumbler in his hand, brown liquid sloshing inside, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“It’s just, I don’t think you’re the nightlife kinda girl,” He shrugs and sits down on the couch next to her.

Well, he’s not wrong. Damn him.

“To tell you the truth,” She starts to say, thinking that it’s maybe good if she tells him what’s going on. She knows him. Dean was always straight forward with her at school, “I’ve been tipped off and now I’m investigating.”

“Here?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have received a call from someone who was very upset that their daughter worked here and they think that you’re probably making them do things they don’t want to.”

Dean’s face changes. He looks a little hurt. She can’t really read him though. With Dean, you only see what he wants you to see. It’s always been like that.

After a while, he opens his mouth to speak, “‘S that way you’re here? Because you think I’m a pimp?”

“No,” She says, “I don’t think that but maybe you can clear it up, prove me wrong.”

Dean rubs a hand over his scruff, thinks about it, “You’re a journalist now, right?” Dean raises his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah,”

“Congratulations! That’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it? You were attending creative writing, too. I remember seeing you on the playground writing under the big tree after school.”

“Well, not really what I always wanted, but writing novels apparently isn’t that rewarding,” She shrugs with a weak smile. Doesn’t want to really go into detail about the playground remark because she doesn’t want to reveal to him that the reason she did that, was because she was avoiding going home.

Dean frowns but then he changes the subject back, “Let me guess the one that tipped you off, it’s Jody Mills, right? Claire’s stepmother?”

Her eyes widened, “How do you know?”

“The woman has been raging on and on since Claire started to work here. Came by too many times to get Claire to go back with her but Claire likes it here. She loves working for me.”

“She loves being pimped out?”

Dean throws his head back and laughs, she doesn’t think it’s funny at all.

“Y/N,” He says after a while and she likes how her name sounds off his lips, “Consent is very important here. It’s like a mantra we use. Nothing happens without consent and my employees know that. I would never make them do anything they don’t want to do. They don’t take orders from me. They are old enough to decide what they do or don’t do.”

“Or who they do,” She mumbles and Dean has to grin.

“Look, the VIP room is what it says on the tin. It’s strictly for very important people. It’s difficult to get on that list, difficult to stay on the list. They want absolute secrecy and in turn, they play by my rules. They undergo a tough background check, they get tested regularly, and if someone behaves just a little out of place, they get kicked out immediately. The list of new people want to get a spot is so fucking long. I look out for my people, Y/N. Everyone knows the rules and knows not to cross the line. What I’m doing is legal and I have a license for it. There’s no harm in giving people what they really want and can’t act upon at home. And no, I don’t have underage girls working for me, neither do I have pedophiles on the list. Like I said, I have employed three private investigators and they will find anything unusual if there is anything to find. I like being thorough.”

“Okay,” She says, and it’s weird. She kind of believes him. Maybe because she saw Claire. Saw how the girl was smiling while she’s been eaten out, and Y/N had the feeling that the girl clearly enjoyed being sandwiched between a man and a woman.

No wonder, Y/N thinks. Perhaps she would enjoy it too, can’t lie about it. There’s still a tingly feeling between her thighs and she presses them together, trying not to be obvious.

“Listen, what I can offer is, if you still have to write that piece or article, then you at least can do it right. I will show you everything in the club. I can show you every room. I can get you alone time with my employees and you can ask them questions. I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay, that sounds fair.”

“There’s one condition.”

“What?”

He smirks, “I can’t obviously show you everything tonight, because we’re open and it’s not long before all the rooms will be occupied. I want you to come in another day before the club opens, I can show you around then.”

“Yeah, okay.” She agrees.

“Great,” He says and he stands up after they agree on it and exchange numbers, waiting for her to do the same, “Come on, I’ll take you back. I have a meeting to attend.” He places a hand on the small of her back and ushers her to the door. Dean leans down to whisper into her ear, “And try not to get too aroused walking through the VIP room, alright?”

She looks up at him with raised eyebrows and flush cheeks. He chuckles.

Dean takes her hand again, probably doesn’t want her to stall because as he said, he has a meeting to attend. He walks her to the door that separates the VIP room from the normal club and looks down at her, he’s still smirking because she’s probably more flustered than before.

He lowers his face to whisper into her ear, “You’re turned on, aren’t you?”

Ugh, she hates that he knows.

Y/N doesn’t say anything though, instead she looks down and gnaws on her bottom lip.

He chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he leans down again, “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Wow, consent is apparently really important.

She nods her head, because there’s nothing wrong with it, right? Dean’s a good looking man, too good probably — with his suit that looks like it’s been sewed onto him — and she’s turned on, there’s no harm in kissing one's cheek.

Dean smiles, a breath of hot air hits her skin and he leans down, kisses her cheek. His lips feel soft on her skin, his scruff a little on the rougher side but it’s nice. It makes her heart flutter, the tingling feeling between her legs intensifies.

“You’re still as cute as I remember,” Dean whispers before he stands up straight and has to clear his throat after.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, she can’t because she’s too flustered.

“See you soon, Y/N.” He smiles that easy smile of his before he opens the door and closes it behind her.

Dean hurries back into his office, ignoring a woman who called out for him to join them. It’s one of his employees, he guesses, but he doesn’t look. He thinks it’s kind of stupid too, because he never did join in, what makes them think that he would now.

Well, having a boner, yeah, maybe that gave it away, and his dress pants don’t really conceal much, he realizes when he looks down on himself as he makes his way back.

He sits back into his chair at his desk, pulls up some camera footage to watch her over his monitor. He watches her until she leaves.

When she’s gone, Dean sighs and bends down, leaving his forehead on his desk.

Fuck.

He never thought that he'd meet her again in his life. Never thought that she’d be the one looking out for him. And now that she’s here, he feels things that he had buried deep within himself.

It’s a stupid high school crush, he tries to tell himself. She’s probably changed and so had he, right?

Yeah, right. She changed. She’s even cuter now and she has something vulnerable about her. Something that wakes the protective instincts in him. He senses that there’s more to the girl with no friends in high school, more to the girl who turned him down when he was about to ask her out to prom — which he didn’t want to attend in the first place but if she would have wanted to, he would have taken her out. There’s something about her that makes him want to know more, makes him want to know what and who hurt her. If it was a guy, Dean would also like to rip that guys fucking lungs out.

But there’s also something about her that shows that she became a strong woman. She was holding eye contact when he talked to her, something she never did while in school. He also didn’t feel like she was intimidated by him, which speaks volumes because most people are.

She’s something he’d like to explore, he can’t lie about that. His body can’t lie about that either, apparently, because he popped a boner as soon as he kissed her cheek, which never happened and he thinks it’s stupid. He’s not a fucking teenager anymore, he thinks that he should be able to control himself better.

It’s stupid of him though, to tell her that he wants to show her everything. He doesn’t even know what to show her, where to fucking start. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to see her again and him showing her his club was just a lame excuse on his part. He doesn’t think that her article would harm him. He told her the truth when he said that he has got nothing to hide.

Now if he could get his dick in check when she shows up next, that would be fabulous.

Of course the meeting was a lie. He just didn’t know how he could be around her without ripping the clothes from her body. He needs time to think about his next moves. Time to train his body to not act like a seventeen years old when he’s around her.

Chapter 3

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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bybibucky · 4 years ago

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We Do It All – Everything – on Our Own

All That I Ever Was – Chapter I

Bucky Barnes x reader Series – post Captain America: The Winter Soldier (WIP)

You are a damsel in distress, not matter how much you don’t want to be. Bucky Barnes is your knight in rusty armor, lost in his own head, trying to figure himself out. After having found each other, you go from there, accidentally fixing what shouldn’t be broken in the first place.

– song fic based on “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol

warnings overall: language, slow burn, angst, violence, mentions of death, injury, mentions of rape, prostitution, physical abuse

word count: 4.3k

author’s note: and so the journey begins. I’m hella excited, are you?

In a way, he should have seen this coming. Wandering around New York City, trying to relearn the ins and outs of the place, he was bound to run across something he wasn’t supposed to see. Usually, he was good at ignoring things that didn’t concern him, and he was by no means a vigilante of any sort, but that helpless, muffled scream that perked up his ears wasn’t anything to walk away from.

“Please.” The way just that simple word held so much fear was enough to make him grind his teeth together. Someone was in danger, helpless in the hands of a bad person, that much he knew and he also knew that, somewhere deep down, even though he didn’t want to allow himself to admit it, there was a part of him that was better. Maybe, this would take him a step further to rediscovering that person he had once been.

So, he briefly checked whether his gloves were still in place, and then walked towards the noise all the way down the alley. Every step made your whimpering that much easier to discern, his heightened senses always on high alert, and he could make out the unmistakable sound of fruitless struggling. When he saw you, he knew for sure.

“Stop fucking trying to escape.” The man, large but not muscular, had one hand tightly fisted in the fabric of your flimsy dress, one on the back of your head, pushing it against the rugged brick wall. Bucky knew from experience that it would leave a burning mark on your skin and he already wanted your attacker to feel the tenfold of that sharp pain.

Your voice was muffled against the stone when you tried to beg again. It wouldn’t go anywhere, and Bucky decided to make himself known. Taking both you and the attacker by surprise, he grabbed the latter by his collar, yanking him backward. He hadn’t even used his metal arm, but the man still lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. Weak. Bucky followed suit and you could do nothing but watch. He straddled the guy’s legs to keep him still and, this time, used both hands punch to him black and blue, using some of his hidden fury that always seemed to be there to really make it hurt. But contrary to what everyone he knew thought, he was able to stop himself before he’d commit another murder. Watching his victim for a second, making sure that he’d stay down, he looked up to see you cowered against the wall, hands cradled to your chest, wide eyes leaking tears that had to sting in the fresh cuts on your cheek. You were favoring your right foot.

He stood up, hands raised to show he wouldn’t hurt you, and waited for you to react. He’d anticipated for you to scream or run away, to tell him he’d made a mistake, but what he hadn’t seen coming was for you to just, well, collapse. Bucky was just barely fast enough to catch you from where he had stood. You were limp in his arms, helpless, and he was looking around as if the dark alley had answers, running his mind to figure out what to do with you now.

:::::

You woke up on a mattress. Not a bed, but a mattress. And that alone made you sit up way too quickly, the blood rush forcing out a hiss between your teeth. But you pushed it aside, fingers rubbing your temples, and took in your surroundings. None of the things you saw belonged to either you or your roommates. Not any of the books scattered around the tiny apartment, not the piles of clothes on the floor, some neat, some carelessly dumped there, and not the small kitchen counter with the dirty dishes in the sink. The windows were covered by thick black fabric, basking the place in darkness which was only broken by the one window that didn’t have a makeshift curtain, and this told you it was already morning. Where the fuck were you?

“You’re awake,” came a deep voice from a corner of the room and you almost jumped out of your skin. Moving your hands to cover yourself on instinct, you noticed that someone had put a sweater on you.

“You were shivering,” was all the explanation you got and you chose to be okay with that. You were still wearing your dress and there wasn’t that unmistakable feeling between your legs that you weren’t wearing any panties. So he probably hadn’t raped you.

And then the memory came back. The way Dylan had pushed you against the wall, how he had threatened to kill you, once again, how his fingers had dug into your skin. You shook your head to clear it. “Where am I?” This guy had apparently saved you from Dylan but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t dangerous himself.

“My apartment.” He slowly moved out of his corner and when you finally saw him, your first thought was that he was absolutely gorgeous. The kind of guy you used to joke about with your friends that you would let him do anything to you. Besides the fact that he could use a shave and maybe a different outfit, he was beautiful.

“I brought you here when you passed out,” he said, “I don’t know where you live.”

The more he spoke the more it became clear that he didn’t converse with strangers very often. The pauses in between his sentences he used to figure out what to say next, and his voice was deep but not loud like you were used to. He might have beaten Dylan to a pulp but, from what you knew, he hadn’t laid a harming finger on you. You nodded.

“Thank you.”

The man flinched. You didn’t know what to do with that.

He changed the subject. “Are you hungry?” he asked, “I think I have something in the fridge.” And he pointed towards the old, crammed kitchen space.

You shook your head. “No, thank you.”

“Water?” He looked weirdly hopeful for a yes and you realized he probably didn’t get a lot of guests.

You nodded and the man hurried to the small kitchen. He emerged with a bottle of water that he handed you with a gloved hand. You chose not to ask. Thanking him again, you took it and screwed off the cap. The seal was still in place so you were sure he wasn’t trying to poison you. He watched intently as you brought the bottle to your lips and, finally realizing how parched you were, gulped down half of the liquid in seconds.

“Okay?” he asked and you nodded.

Something about his careful, almost shy demeanor made you feel like he was nothing like any other man you had met. While clearly being strong – you had watched his strength in person and even all the layers he wore couldn’t hide his muscular build – it hadn’t made him cocky. It was a nice change.

“Are you in pain?” he piped up again, softly and in the same deep rumble you had sort of gotten used to already.

You wanted to shake your head once more, but now that your adrenaline had subsided, you were starting to feel the events of the night. “A little.” There was no saying what he would do with that response and you wouldn’t have thought that you’d get to watch him ball his hands to tight fists by his sides before he walked out to a room you deduced must have been the bathroom. When he came back, the small first aid kid was comically tiny in his gloved hands that held it out to you. You had no idea what to do with it.

He gestured toward the bed, silently asking for permission to sit. You scooched over a little to give him more space on the small mattress. Silently, he got to work. Opening up the plastic box, he rummaged through its contents for some disinfectant spray that he applied on a cotton swab.

“This’ll probably sting,” he warned, before he carefully began to dab the area around the cuts on your face. You winced because you couldn’t help it, it really did sting.

“Sorry,” he mumbled but you shook your head.

“It’s not your fault.”

He was silent again, after you had spoken, and neither of you could deny the tension in your words. You suddenly felt the need to talk about it.

“Thank you for stepping in,” you said. He was avoiding your eyes, but you couldn’t keep yours off of him. Up close, he was even more beautiful, although his face was unreadable. The useless, almost frowning expression told you nothing except that he was probably concentrating. You didn’t know him well enough to place his behavior. But for some reason, and you found yourself scared of the answer, you weren’t scared of him. “He always threatens me,” you continued, “but this time I really thought he was going to kill me.” It was the truth. Last night had not been the first time Dylan had cornered you like this, and it hadn’t been the only time you had needed to be saved. Only the first time someone had actually intervened.

“This is going to bruise,” the man in front of you informed you, and you scoffed bitterly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

His frown deepened. “Why would anyone hurt you?”

That made you laugh. “Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, “that was my pimp. I’m a prostitute.”

He was taken aback, putting down the cotton swab. He knew about prostitutes. It wasn’t some new twenty-first century invention, but he had never met one. Not that he knew of. “Oh,” he said.

“You seriously didn’t realize?”

He shook his head, and suddenly, he looked so innocent. When he had first seen you, you had been wearing nothing but a thin negligée, panties, and heels, and that in mid-November air. Now, the only difference was the lack of heels that he had probably taken off for you and the additional sweater. This man was a puzzle to you.

“Do you like what you do?” he asked then, and instantly realized what he had said. “No, sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

You smiled. “It’s no big deal,” you assured him, “I did at first. It felt so empowering. But the years went by and this guy – the one in the alley – took me under his wing and he turned out to be real asshole.”

The man nodded, clearly deeply in thought at your words, but you didn’t want the pity.

“What’s your name?” you asked to change the subject but it didn’t seem to be the right one.

His eyes widened just barely, mouth open like a fish. “I’m not sure,” he confessed, and you were about to ask what the hell that meant, when he added, somewhat unsurely, “Bucky.”

That certainly had been weird but you weren’t perfect either. “I’m Y/N,” you replied, and it felt odd to have your real name on your tongue for once. These days, you only ever introduced yourself by your stage name.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” It was a simple line to portray politeness and it felt a little forced but with good intentions nonetheless. “Does anything else hurt?”

It did. Your whole body ached, in fact, but his little first aid kit wouldn’t be able to help with that. So you shook your head.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, briefly scanning your body. “Your foot,” he said, “and I’m guessing you might have a bruised rib or two.”

You gasped just barely, suddenly found out. No one had ever been this observant.

He shrugged. “I saw the foot thing in the alley and you’re taking really shallow breaths.”

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I can take a look to make sure nothing is broken, if you want.” He said it carefully, making sure he didn’t seem like a pervert. “Your foot.”

It hadn’t been the first time you’d had to lick your own wounds but you had no medical experience, he probably knew more than you. “Sure.” You pushed the thin blanket off your legs and held out your right foot. Brows knitted in concentration, he gently ran his hands across your calf down to your toes, stopping to apply pressure at certain points, waiting for you to wince or whimper. He placed his hand on the back of your heel, the other against the ball of your foot, rotating your ankle slightly. On instinct, because that really fucking hurt, your tried to pull your leg from his grasp and he let you.

“Sprain,” he deduced, before carding through the first aid kit again. He dug out a bandage of some sort and looked at you questioningly, silently asking for permission to touch you again.

You extended your leg toward him once more, and felt something weird swell in your chest that wasn’t the pain coming from your ribs. This man respected you. You observed as he began to bind your foot starting at your toes, the stretchy fabric putting a relieving pressure against the pain.

“Too tight?” he asked and you shook your head. Bucky snapped off the band with his teeth before tugging the end under the wraps.

“Thank you.”

He gave you a curt nod, standing up. From your low vantage point, you watched as he moved around the room, gathering some books and a few shirts from the neat pile. Wordlessly, he arranged them in a tower beside the mattress, and you were confused until he carefully lifted your leg and placed it on top.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. This man was so… kind. Each movement deliberately thought through, each word chosen with care, you found yourself wondering why he was alone. It was obvious that he didn’t spend much time with other people, even though you thought he deserved to. What had happened to him?

“Would you like to take a shower?”

The question surprised you. A shower hadn’t really crossed your mind, but now that he had mentioned it, you started yearning for one.

“Only if it’s not too much,” you said and Bucky’s eye twitched.

But he walked over and stretched out his arms, offering you help. You took them gladly, your small hands almost getting lost in the large leather gloves as he pulled you to your feet. Instantly, you shifted your weight onto your good foot.

“Can you walk?”

You didn’t like the thought of him carrying you again, so you proceeded an awkward wobbling dance towards the bathroom, leaning on Bucky’s forearm for support. It must have looked ridiculous but luckily, his apartment was tiny, so it didn’t take you too long to get there. Bucky leaned you against the wall like a broomstick, briefly gesturing for you stay put, before he disappeared into the living room and reemerged with a plastic stool.

You were ready to cry at the thoughtfulness, the small gesture bigger to you than anything that had happened in your life before last night. Unbelievable, how people like this actually still existed. To you, it seemed like that generation had lived a hundred years ago.

“Clever,” you admitted, “thanks.”

Giving you a quick run-down of the shower settings, offering you everything in his supply of cleaning products, which literally only was a bar of soap, but you’d make do, he handed you a rather rugged towel that you gratefully accepted. Why he was being so nice to you, you couldn’t wrap your head around.

He left you to your own devices, then, softly closing the bathroom door behind himself. You, in turn, fumbled around with the settings on the shower until you liked the temperature enough. Eager to get under the stream, your clothes were shed in a hurry, though only as quickly as possible with your injuries. You were glad that Bucky didn’t appear to have a mirror anywhere in the apartment, meaning you didn’t have to look at yourself. The extend of the bruises, you imagined, wasn’t something you wanted on your mind. You hoped Bucky wouldn’t see.

The hot water loosened your tense muscles instantly. A blissful sigh left your lips like it had been aching to for ages, and you relaxed against the back of the chair. You had needed this desperately. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a hot shower. This was a luxury you didn’t feel like you deserved.

Forcing yourself to keep the whole ordeal as short possible – you didn’t want to strain your gifted resourced by any means – you went through a quick cleaning routine. The truth was, you were dreading the moment you’d have to leave this place. Yes, it was cluttered, undecorated, and frankly a little dusty, but the company was nice and you didn’t expect any respect relative to the one you were receiving now to be there once you said goodbye to Bucky. You lathered yourself up with the soap quickly, mindful of the bruises and keeping your injured foot away from the water. It was a difficult task but you didn’t want Bucky to have to patch you up again. Once was definitely too much already. The soap didn’t do a lot for your hair, but clean was clean.

After you had dried yourself off with the towel, you realized that you would have to put your old clothes back on. Or maybe you didn’t.

With a soft knock, Bucky squeezed a set of folded somethings through a tiny crack in the door. You took it, thanking him. Unfolding the garments, you discovered he had brought an arrangement of sweatpants, shirts, and boxer briefs. Grateful for not needing to wear your panties again, you chose the pair of underwear that looked the smallest, otherwise opting for a set of plain sweatpants and a sweatshirt. All of it was comically large on you, but so very comfortable. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this at ease. It was a stark difference to your work uniform.

Bare-footed, you tiptoed – ignoring the pain in your ankle – back to the rest of the apartment, finding Bucky by the sink.

Without facing you, he asked, “okay?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you. “I really needed that, thank you.”

He didn’t respond further, busy cleaning the dishes. Oddly enough, he still wore the gloves and that was weird enough for you to ask.

“What’s with the gloves?”

Bucky tensed barely, but you noticed. He shrugged.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you asked. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

And Bucky relaxed. So it was a touchy subject. That was fine. He hadn’t pushed the topic of your profession once he’d realized you were uncomfortable with it. It was only respectful to treat him the same. Besides, it really was none of your business.

“Hungry?” he asked, this time, turning around. He had put the last plate on a folded dish towel next to the sink, letting it dry.

You were about to decline once more, but your growling stomach stole the show. Both of you breathed out a shy laugh. Most of the tension caused by the foreign nature of your relationship dissipated then, and something else, something slight and easy settled in its place.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bucky teased, though somewhat still careful that any word of his was in danger of being the wrong one. You wondered whether he had always been this way, or if someone had hurt him. He opened the fridge. “I have bread and, uh, eggs. Those should still be good.” The inside of this fridge resembled the décor in his apartment. Scarce and only the bare necessities.

“Wait,” he said, taking in your appearance, and suddenly gasped, “why are you standing?” He took one large step and was directly in front of you. “May I?” he asked, and even though you didn’t know what he was talking about, you nodded.

Bucky, then, wiped his hands on his worn jeans and sneaked them under your armpit, lifting you gently but efficiently so you were sat on the counter top. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and brought his attention to the stove to make scrambled eggs.

You watched every move. The way he broke the eggshells with a single tap against the side of the small pan, how he placed the spatula so it was exactly parallel with the edge of the stove, and how he stared down at the cooking meal, as if that would make it go faster.

He stuffed two untoasted slices of bread with the scrambled eggs before handing you the plate. Bucky didn’t have a dining table, so he stood opposite you as you both ate right there in the middle of the kitchen area, your legs dangling off the counter top. It felt strangely intimate, like you had been doing this for years, eating in a comfortable silence. To your surprise, the sandwich was quite delicious, too, given his limited resources. When you told him so, Bucky beamed a shy smile that warmed your heart.

“It’s not much, I know,” he said but you had to disagree. The gesture alone was worth more than any fancy meal you had ever eaten.

Once you were finished and Bucky had taken the empty plate from you, he spoke again. “Your phone rang while you were in the shower.” He was avoiding your eyes.

“Oh, thanks. I should probably check that.” But you were kind of stuck on the counter. “Could you, um…” You trailed off, hoping he would get what you meant.

Your idea had been for him to get your phone from the bed, but you let out a surprised shriek when Bucky sneaked his arm under your legs, the other around your back and carried you over there. Scared he would drop you, you clutched his shoulders, but he walked as if you weighed nothing.

He went down on one knee, setting you onto the mattress carefully, before he stood up. “I’ll, uh, I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, awkwardly looking around the apartment for a place where he’d be out of earshot. When you saw him glance toward the bathroom, you put an end to it.

“Wanna sit with me?” you asked, patting the space on your right.

Not hesitating, and you decided to jot that down as some sort of progress between the two of you, he pushed the scrunched-up blanket away, plopping down. You bounced slightly from the force of it, and found yourself giggling.

“Okay,” you said, “give me a sec.” One look at your phone, however, dampened your improved mood drastically. The cracked screen was littered with dozens of missed calls, hundreds of furious text messages. You were in big trouble. Sighing deeply, you gathered enough courage to call Dylan back.

“Were the fuck are you?” came his voice screaming through the speaker right after the first ring, “you have clients waiting for you! If you’re brave enough to come back, you better have your affairs in order because I am going to fucking kill you! You little bitch! I should have kicked your head in yesterday when I had the chance!” After that, you toned out his words. You’d heard them before countless of times. But still, because you really were weak like he always told you, there were tears in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall any second. What if this time, he’d be true to his word?

You’d completely forgotten about Bucky, who still sat next to you, able to hear everything Dylan yelled at the other end of the line. But he reminded you when he reached out to pull your phone from your grasp. Your breath hitched, suddenly looking at him, and from the force of the movement, a tear quickly rolled down your cheek.

“You can’t go back there,” he said, and his voice held something foreign that you couldn’t name.

You shook your head. He was right, but if there was any other way, you didn’t know it.

“He’ll hurt you again.”

You bit your lip, nodding. But if this was to be your fate, then so be it.

“Stay.”

There was a tiny gasp and it took you a second before you realized it had come from your own throat. “I couldn’t–“

“Please, don’t say no right away. Hear me out,” Bucky insisted, “I know this shitty apartment isn’t what you deserve, but I can make it better. I could get another chair or something. And I’m out most of the time anyway.” He paused. “But he hurt you. He’ll do it again and I–I can’t let that happen.”

“If I don’t go back, I won’t have any money.” This was ridiculous. You didn’t know each other and he was asking you to move in?

“Let’s make a deal,” Bucky said and he was the most energetic you’d ever seen him. Granted, he still was quiet and reserved, but he seemed genuinely determined. “You cook and maybe help me make this place livable and I let you stay and get us food and everything.”

“I can’t.” But Bucky, in a moment of bravery and probably desperation, grasped your hands.

“Y/N.” The word held everything from a plea to a promise, and something in his eyes told you he was trustworthy. So you yielded.

“Only until I can get something on my own,” you said pointedly, and Bucky nodded. Satisfied, he was back to his shy self and you wondered whether you’d get him to come out of his shell one day, whether you’d tear his walls down at some point.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes #Avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

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lifebeginsbyleaving · 5 years ago

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Mama Mia Scotts A Peace Pimp

Hey ya!!! So this is my last entry for @sterek-bingo I've had such a great time and I'm so glad I did this!!! So all the love to the admins over yonder 💜💜💜 I hope to see you all well when sterek week rolls around. Also the biggest of thank yous and the mostest loves to @halevetica Girl you know how important you are to me. I wouldn’t have even dreamed of attempting this if it wasn’t for you. So, *strums guitar* I love you bitch. Thank you for your endless support in my shenanigans (Like shlongshire, naming this mama mia scotts a peace pimp, and my endless unnecessary backstory that stresses both of us out.) and for brainstorming with me well past two in the morning multiple times. Oh and also for your help wrangling Brian, god that asshole. She also made this amazing mood board for me ahhhhh!!!! She is so amazing an talented I love her. You should check her out!!! She writes 1000x better than me, so you will not regret it if you like sterek. Anyway, this is around 10,000 words.

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Derek could feel himself losing his patience. He got it already. Fairies were tricky. Don't offend them. Don't accept gifts from them. He got it, they all got it, hell they had it ten minutes into his half hour rant. But Stiles went on and on.

"Don't accept anything. Anything at all. Pay attention to wording. And, for the love of God, don't-"

Derek's patience snapped. "Eat anything, we know."

Scott went to move in front of Stiles, but Stiles put an arm across him. Derek puffed out his chest unconsciously.

They had been so territorial and snippy with each other lately both packs were sick of it. Especially Stiles, though. These last few months had been filled with uncooperative alpha instinct bullshit. It was the last thing they needed right now while dealing with fairies, beings that were known for being cutthroat at exploiting weaknesses to kill entire packs if they so wished it. Stiles hated being in the middle of it, but as Scott's emissary he needed to keep the peace between packs.

"Would you quit it you two. You're both pretty. And petty."

Scott protested, "You're just trying to explain everything. Why does he have to be like that? You don't even have to help their pack, but you are. He should be thankful."

Derek tried to ignore how that grated on him. Scott, unconsciously, had been referring more and more to Stiles as being his and separating them from Derek and his pack. He supposed he had been doing it as well, but he couldn't help it. Still, it didn't escape his notice that he had been pushing everyone from Scott's pack to be separate except Stiles. Deaton had warned them two alphas sharing a territory would be hard, but they could do it if they were determined. He also said some things about compromise and not challenging each other, but that wasn't as memorable. "Stiles is your emissary, not your beta. And he certainly isn't anyone's bitch. He can help whoever he wants without you."

Stiles gave him the murder face and once again, with greater difficulty, stopped Scott from going forward. "Both of you need to chill the fuck out or I'm leaving both of your furry asses and taking your packs with me."

They quickly snapped their mouths shut because they knew he could and would. Their posture slumped.

Stiles looked pleased. "Good. Now shut the fuck up if you don't want to die. These fairies aren't like the tooth fairy, and they sure as hell ain't Tinkerbell. They can and will kill you given the chance. Do not give them the chance. Watch your words and mind your manners. It is easy to offend a fairy, so don't. I don't care if you're non verbal through it."

Liam spoke up from the couch, "I don't see why we have to sit here for this. Only the pack alphas, Derek's first beta, and you, cuz you're Scott's emissary, are allowed to go."

"So you know for the future."

Issac spoke from where he was at Derek's side, "But why would they be so hostile towards us? We have that treaty thing with them. They couldn't hurt us without breaking that."

Stiles groaned and looked at Derek. "You see, this." He shoved a hand out towards Issac. "This is why I repeat myself. We don't have shit with them. Derek's mom saved the fairy queen. Her and her pack had the treaty. It's Derek pack now, hence the moot point you just made. Some things like a life debt or a blood oath can be passed through the generations, but not a treaty. Not when the terms or people involved change. Believe me, I do not want to be doing this any more than you do, but it's important. I found their fairy ring and Deaton said they would know I found it. He also said it would be akin to an open declaration of war if we ignored it. Apparently they're touchy about being snubbed and want to be introduced. Which shouldn't be a shock, they're touchy about everything. Now, the options are say hello to the fairies on our land, don't offend them, and hopefully sign a new treaty, or get the fuck out of Beacon Hills and hope they don't hunt us down. Should we put it to a vote?" He asked sarcastically.

Lydia looked analytical. "So is there something we can do to please them?"

Stiles gave her a flat look. "Other than not doing and doing all the things I've told you about for the last half hour? No, not really. Die, maybe."

Derek crossed his arms. "What do we actually need to know?"

Stiles gave him an annoyed look. "I'll start at the beginning."

There was a loud chorus of groans.

---

Stiles was glad the pack was out of his hair. He had stayed behind to help Derek clean up and was relieved to have finally shooed out Scott after both alphas had apologized. For all their bickering, at the end of the day they were friends. Even if their wolves wanted to tear the other to shreds. Stiles folded another blanket as Derek walked back out from the kitchen.

"That could've gone better. Can you help me wi-" Stiles' words were cut off as Derek hadn't stopped in front of him, but had continued right into his space. Derek wrapped an arm around his waist and quickly pulled him closer. He pulled him into a forceful kiss and Stiles was caught off guard.

Once Stiles recovered from the shock he tried to slow him down. He finally was able to pull back and ask, "Okay, what was that for?"

Derek only tried to kiss him again, but Stiles pulled back to look into his eyes. Derek huffed. "Mine." It sounded like it was barely able to be growled out.

Stiles smirked. "What's got you all gruff, sourwolf?"

Derek only reacted by sniffing deeply to smell Stiles' satisfaction. It was one of his favorites, despite how he hated seeing it on his face when they were arguing. Stiles smiled and tilted his head to the side slightly. Derek rumbled out his approval and dove into the offered space. He kissed and licked at his neck till he felt Stiles' light laugh bubble up. He pulled back and looked inquisitive.

"I bet you don't even know you're half shifted right now."

Derek immediately shifted back as if to prove his point. Stiles leaned forward with a smile and kissed him. "It's okay. You know I think it's kinda hot."

Derek kissed him again and the harshness was gone, but it was still insistent. Right before he spoke, Stiles wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I bet you were listening to Scott. I bet you only waited one second after he was out of earshot to come in here and kiss me. I bet yo-"

Derek cut him off again, but this time he added a nip to his lip to curb his snark. "Kiss me. Shut up."

Well, who was he to refuse such a polite request. Stiles wrapped his arms around his neck. Derek harshly grabbed his hips and leaned into him.

"Okay, are you going to tell me what's got you like this?"

"He said you don't have to help their pack. He said it like you're separate from us."

Stiles sighed and looked down. "I am separate Derek. I am, and always will be, in Scott's pack. I wish I could choose both of you, but if I can't, I choose him. Scott's my brother. I can't turn my back on him, not when he's always had mine. So until we figure out a way to work it out, I'm in his pack." Stiles looked up guiltily even though he'd done nothing wrong.

Derek rested their foreheads together. "He's your family. I get it. I do, anyway. The wild in me just wants you to myself though. It wants to take care of you myself. To keep you safe myself. To have you in my pack. To love you. It wants you to be mine." Derek's eyes flashed red. "Mine. I want you. I want you to share a pack with me. I want you with my pack. I want you with me."

Stiles gripped the back of his neck harder. "I am with you. I'm here. We are together."

It pained Derek how much that wasn't true. They had been dating for over six months and both packs were in the dark. He hated having to lie, but Stiles said it was for the best and in the end he agreed. He didn't want to start a pack war over Stiles with Scott. Mostly because he knew it would kill Stiles for him to have caused it. So they both agreed they'd get the alpha instinct pissing contest over with first and then tell everyone. Derek smiled at him. "You're right. You being here is enough."

Looking at Derek's insincere face rolled Stiles' stomach. "Don't be like that. Don't smile at me if you don't mean it. Don't say shit you don't believe. Me just being here isn't fucking enough." Stiles looked as sad as Derek felt. "I want to be able to stay with you. I don't want to sneak around with you. I don't want to have to make up stupid emissary shit that Scott believes because I'm a bridge between packs so he doesn't get all territorial with me sharing info with you. Or any other bullshit Deaton says. I want to belong in Scott's pack, but I also want to belong with you and yours." Stiles scratched at the hair on the back of Derek's neck.

"Fine. I hate this. I hate that we can't tell anybody. I hate that I don't get to scream it from the rooftops that you're my boyfriend. I hate that we can only go on dates in the preserve, so no one recognizes us. I hate that Scott gets more of your time. I hate that you see Scott at all, even though I know that's not really me talking and that I don't. I hate that you don't smell like me. I hate that once you walk out that door you aren't mine anymore. I hate that more than anything. God, I hate that."

Stiles kissed him softly and after kept his eyes closed with their foreheads together. "So show me tonight. Make me yours. Make me forget I have to walk out that door. Right here, right now I am yours. Make me want to wake up everyday yours. Make me crave you Derek. Make me need you. Make me yours sourwolf."

Derek's hands moved from his hips to his ass and he yanked him up and he immediately wrapped his legs around him with a smile.

"Are you going to carry me to your bed?"

Derek growled out around fangs, "I'm going to fuck you into my bed."

A thrill raced through Stiles and he leaned forward to kiss him as Derek walked him to his room. "Atta boy."

---

Derek woke up knowing the bed was empty, but a soft smile curled on to his face hearing the movement in the room around him. He squinted against the light coming through the curtains and turned over. He faced Stiles who was moving around the room to get changed. "Good morning sunshine."

Stiles looked at him and his face mirrored Derek's smile. "Mornin yourself hot stuff."

Derek grinned and patted the bed. "Come here."

Stiles obliged and leaned hand down on the bed to give him a good morning kiss. "Your breath is terrible."

"Yours is minty fresh."

Stiles flashed his gleaming teeth and picked his shirt off the ground. Derek always appreciated the lithe beauty of his mole dotted skin, but Stiles covered in the marks he left the night before would always be his favorite. Derek looked up and Stiles had caught his staring in the mirror. "I think you missed a spot."

Derek tossed the sheet aside and got up despite the slight chill. He slid behind Stiles and put a hand around his waist. "Oh sorry, did I? Can't have that."

Stiles' head lulled to the side unconsciously. "We really can't. That's the only spot people look at really. That one tiny uncovered part of my neck."

Derek smiled and started kissing his shoulder then worked his way up. Stiles carded his hand into Derek's hair.

Derek seemed satisfied. "Did I make you forget?"

"Forget what?" He seemed distracted.

"That you have to walk out that door."

Derek saw his grin in the mirror they both faced. "Baby, you made me forget I could walk at all last night."

Derek tried to smile back at him, but he couldn't muster it. Not when he hadn't gotten the answer he had wanted.

Stiles moved away to continue getting ready. Derek leaned against the dresser.

"Alright, I better head out. I'll see you in a couple hours for the meeting with the fairies." Stiles kissed him. He was almost out the door when he turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He went to Derek's night stand and grabbed his bracelet. He put it on and instantly the scent of them together was everywhere in the room except on Stiles. He waved his hands a few times and let a few sparks go. The marks on his neck and undoubtedly everywhere else started to fade.

Derek's wolf howled like it had been burned. He looked away from the vanishing marks. Tears threatened to gather in his eyes. His voice was thick as he softly said, "I don't think you know how much that hurts."

Stiles turned around concerned. "How much what hurts?"

Derek gestured to his neck. "It's like you rejecting everything we did last night. It's like you regret it. My wolf thinks that you are deciding to leave me for good every time."

Derek could see the disheartened look in his eyes, but he still tried for humor. "Well, what about you? Leaning against that dresser all sleep ruffled and naked. It's practically a crime. Nay, a sin. You shouldn't be able to look that hot. How could I reject you when you stand there practically begging for someone to make sure you don't get cold or lonely. I don't know if I can leave you like that. All naked and hot."

Derek let out a huff. He muttered, "Is that all it would take?" He looked up. "I'll never put in pants again if you stay."

Hurt flashed briefly on Stiles' face and Derek instantly felt guilty. He walked over to him. "Hey, no I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that like it's your fault. It's not up to you, and it sure as hell isn't up to me. I get that we can't do anything about it right now, it just frustrates me. I didn't mean to guilt you. I'm sorry."

Stiles folded into his arms. "I know. I hate it too."

Derek kissed him. "You should go."

Stiles nodded. "I'll see you in a bit."

Derek nodded bittersweetly.

---

"This is it? This is just twigs."

"Issac, what did I say? Watch your mouth. Besides, you can't see how amazing it looks."

Derek looked over to his wonder filled eyes. "But you can, can't you?"

They all turned to Stiles. "Yes. Ground fairy wings sprinkled into my eyes allows me to see through their illusions. I didn't want to be fooled by pretty faces as well as mellifluous words."

"Damn, that's hella metal." Issac tilted his head in consideration while Scott looked disgusted. Derek looked impressed.

"Whatever, just listen. Their spring moon festival will be going on so hopefully we can blend in with all the other royalty and dignitaries they met. And also they should be in high spirits. Ground rules. No eating, I do most of the talking, but don't ignore words directed at you, no insulting, no dancing, stay close, no gifts or favors, and-" Stiles pointed a finger in between Scott and Derek. "Absolutely no alpha macho fighting."

They looked offended but agreeable.

Stiles turned to the gate. "Now, follow me."

---

The tall intimidating ethereal being that towered over them steepled their hands. "I have given you much to discuss. We will leave you to make your decision. This room is warded against all prying eyes, no one will listen to you here." The king's impressive guard and extensive council readied themselves to leave.

All four of them let out a breath of relief at having a moment to themselves after nearly three hours of talks.

As they filed out a female voice spoke, "Father?"

Stiles caught the easy smile that took over their face. "Yes, my petal?"

She locked eyes with Issac even as he desperately tried to send help signals out to Stiles and Derek. "I want to dance with that one."

Issac locked pleading puppy eyes with Stiles.

Stiles stepped forward slightly. "I think we are all too tired, your grace. He would probably step on her toes more than anything." Stiles tried for the easy humor and high spirits they had been sharing all night.

They clearly missed the king. Their eyes went sharp and demeanor cold. "You wouldn't allow my daughter to dance the night with your beta?"

Issac and Derek both went to speak, but Stiles cut them off. "He may dance with her for one dance. Any more would be too high an honor." Stiles turned to Issac with a look.

Issac opened his mouth, but seemed to think better if it. He simply bowed his head to the king and princess.

"Very well. Come petal. Come boy."

Issac left with one final traumatized look over his shoulder. Stiles nodded calmly and confidently to him and Isaac looked slightly calmer.

As soon as they shut the door Derek exploded. "What the fuck Stiles! What happened to no dancing and stay close?! Issac is bad with this kind of thing and you just let him go? Do you just not give a shit about him, huh!?"

Stiles was about to placate him when Scott jumped in. "He's doing the best he can. Besides, he has no obligation to watch out for you. You're not h-"

Derek interrupted through clenched teeth, "His pack. Believe me, I know."

"Can we focus children? Issac will be fine as long as he listened to me. Besides, a refusal of the fairy king's prized daughter would've ended in death for all of us. They could come back any moment and demand an answer. And I don't know about you, but I don't trust our odds about getting back to the portal through that literal army of ancient ruthless beings. So stow your crap and let's get this figured out."

They grumbled but complied.

"Good. Okay, so we know their claim on the eastern woods is complete bull, and we can get out of it easily. But what are we doing about the claim hierarchy? If both of you die or are unable to lead they want to take control of the territory. Which is something that shouldn't happen, but we don't have a way out of it, not really."

"Is that what they were saying? I thought they were talking about pack kids. With all that legacy shit. Also where's the queen? What happened there?" Scott looked thoughtful. "So, what do we do?"

"We can't agree to that. It would paint a target on your backs if they ever wanted to take over and that's all they would have to do. Also, I swear to god Scott, if you bring up the queen I'll cut your balls off. If he wanted us to know he would've told us, he could kill us if she died and it's a sore spot. Now, back to business. We can leverage their spot where they are right now, I think. It takes a lot of time and energy to built a fairy circle as powerful as that one, they won't want to just pack up and leave it. Even if the land they're on is now back to your ownership. So, I say we leverage their current part of the woods for the claim hierarchy they want. Sure, what we offer them is what they have, but they don't have to put in the effort and sacrifices again to build another circle."

Derek furrowed his brows. "You said time does not concern fae and that they are willing to put in the effort. Don't you think they would just forcefully take more land and make a new circle?"

Stiles looked considering. "No. I think most of this is just to size us up. I don't think they want more than what they have right now or they would've taken it by now. The king looked more playful than aggressive, which isn't to say that couldn't change."

They went back and forth debating possible terms and conditions for several minutes.

"Yes, but the northern preserve is Hale territory indisputably. Given that, I think we're in agreement. What about th-"

The doors slammed open with a loud bang and their heads snapped up.

Issac had his hands still outstretched and his chest was heaving. They took in his appearance. He was absolutely covered head to toe in at least an inch of glitter, his hair was wild and there were twigs woven into the strands. He was wearing a long robe also covered in glitter and falling off one side. Most disturbing there was what looked almost like a dead rat that fell off his shoulder, but Stiles knew it wasn't quite a rat. There was a desperation and terror in his eyes as he spoke, "Guys! I think I just got engaged!?"

The doors slammed back closed. Scott's face looked confused. Derek's eyebrows were high in shock. Stiles just closed his eyes and tilted his head down to let out a deep sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose.

Stiles didn't even look up before he began to speak, "Issac. I thought I was pretty clear, don't accept anything from them. I'm pretty sure a freakin marriage proposal qualifies as anything!" He looked at Issac disappointed, but not surprised.

The distressed beta walked closer to his alpha for comfort. "I didn't! I promise!"

Scott still looked confused. "I thought you were going to dance?"

"We did! But then they started shoving me into this robe and covered me with glitter and put branches in my hair. I thought it was just a party thing, but no one else got a dead rat so I got concerned. I asked what's going on and they told me I'm engaged to marry princess Annalise! I can't get married! I don't even have a credit card yet!"

Derek put a hand on his beta's neck to soothe him. "Calm down. We'll figure this out." He looked to Stiles.

"Oh, don't look at me. Your dumbass beta did this. You get him out of it, big guy."

Derek gave him a flat look.

Issac looked over at him desperately. "Stiles I know we don't always get along, but please. I am literally begging you, I cannot marry her." He looked white as a sheet when he leaned forward to murmur, "When she smiles you can see bug legs in her teeth."

Scott's face scrunched up. "Gross."

Stiles grinned. "And you can't even see her true form. That'll give you nightmares come wedding night." Issac whimpered.

"Stiles." Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. Derek simply raised it higher. Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek raised the other one and looked expectant. Stiles squinted at him. Derek kept both brows up as he tilted his head towards Issac.

Stiles huffed and threw out his arms. "Oh, my, god, fine! I'll think of something."

Scott piped up. "Wait, would you have to stay here if you married her?"

Derek sighed. "Well, she certainly isn't going to become a PTA mom."

Stiles huffed. "Issac, explain. Everything. From the beginning. Don't leave anything out."

"We were just dancing and not talking like you said, then they grabbed me and started doing all this weird stuff to me." He shook some of the glitter off and a twig fell from his hair.

Stiles looked confused. "You didn't talk at all?"

"No. Nothing. Other than when she asked to dance."

Stiles closed his eyes breathed through his nose heavily. "Yeah, and what exactly did she ask you?" He squinted at him and pursed his lips while nodding waiting for the answer.

He seemed insistent for the first part. "She just asked..." His eyes widened. "For my hand."

Stiles turned away from him to face Derek and Scott. He threw an arm behind him to the general area of Issac. "This! Is why you listen to Stiles! This! Is why you appreciate Stiles and listen to him! This! Is why Stiles is always right and you listen to him. This! Is why when there's a clan of fairies about to declare war on you if you don't meet them you show up to the fucking pack meeting ready to mother fuckin-"

Scott and Derek chorused with Stiles. "Listen to Stiles." "Listen to Stiles." "Listen to Stiles."

"Exactly!"

"If it helps, I'm sorry for not listening."

"If it helps, I'm only moderately considering wishing her well on training you to listen to her and hoping she likes scarves."

The door opened, this time much more calmly and less violently. "The king would request to see at least one of their mortal guests. If not the groom, then the emissary."

Issac made a choked off noise and looked wildly at Stiles before opening his mouth just to be interrupted.

"I think our discussion has concluded. We will all join the king to finalize their treaty terms."

The two guards filed out into the hall. Scott followed them and Derek motioned for Issac to do so as he fell into step with Stiles at the back. They had a bit of space between them.

"Have you thought of something yet?" Derek whispered.

They both kept their eyes forward. "I'm working on it."

"Well, work faster. You know what I'll do to you if you don't get my beta out of this." It was said with harshness in case someone was listening, but after he finished he looked over with a raised brow and smirk. Stiles resolutely looked forward and shut everything else out to focus.

The no sex treatment was brutal.

Stiles' mind raced with ideas on how to get them out of this. He thought about all he knew about fairies and couldn't think of anything about how to get out of a marriage proposal. There were so many stories, but none that didn't end in death. There had been one thing about a fairy and a human truly falling in love, but the groom made his bride dance until she died. Definitely not the solution, no matter how much he didn't get along with Issac some of the times, he was still a good friend. Stiles and him had grown closer even despite the occasional ribbing or friction.

They came up on the dance hall and were guided through the bustling floor to the king's harvest table. Annalise immediately went to Isaac's side with a sharp toothed smile.

Stiles thought about all the different fae he'd read about and their rules. Somehow he didn't think spilling some salt would help here. He tried to remember everything he'd read, but there was so much and somehow he couldn't think of anything. Stiles began to feel frustrated as he had to tune out the three of them talking with the king trying to buy him some time. Deaton had showed and told him so much, why was it so hard to get them out of this! He had a story or book about everything. About lore, about fae folk, about how Talia dealt with them and got her peace treaty. He made it sound like a movie. Talia sounded like a great hero to him. Stiles was next to tears as he thought about how much better at this she would be.

Wait...

Stiles remembered a lore book about how, if a person saved a fairy child, that person could dictate what that fairy child did. Most used them for an I'll advised marriage, or slave. Both never ended well. They would just have to be careful to make it seem like they aren't wronging them. Talia had gotten her peace treaty because she had saved the life of the fairy queen. The fae hated owing or being in someone's debt so they penned the treaty. If Stiles gently mentioned that the king's daughters would never have been born if not for Derek's mother. They would owe Derek for them. In that same book he learned that blood oaths and life debts were passed down, even if treaties weren't. Stiles smiled as a plan took root. He would mention the life debt and that that Derek could claim to dictate Annalise's life as well as her sisters'. They would say very carefully that they wished her nothing but happiness in a marriage to a fae to continue the line of great rulers. Perfect!

The king was speaking, seemingly agitated. "You speak in circles more like fae than humans. Enough. Why can't you marry my beautiful daughter Annalise?" They demanded and let just a little of their glamour fade to reveal their horrific face. The once glittering beautiful wings turned to a pitch black with twisted roots digging into and fixing them to their back.

Stiles was ready to jump in and save the day. "I would lik-"

Issac blurted and full volume, "Because I'm already married!"

Stiles craned his neck to look at him with an incredulous look. Scott looked bewildered and Derek just swore under his breath.

The king looked disbelieving. "Really?"

All four of them looked at each other as hopelessly lost and fucked as they felt.

They were in an unfamiliar place with a literal supernatural army between the four of them and the door. There was no way they could fight their way out, and his last plan was shot now, when they had to get him out of this lie first. Stiles figured he might as well roll with it.

"To me." His words came out just as Derek's did. "To me."

Stiles and Derek caught each others eye.

Stiles cleared his throat and gathered himself. Derek knew from the set of Stiles' shoulders he wasn't going to like what came next. He walked up between Derek and Issac and grabbed each of their hands. "To us." Stiles gripped their hands as harshly as he could for getting them into this before letting up.

A ripple of chatter erupted from the king's table, but the dance hall around them continued the festivities.

The king narrowed their eyes before motioning for a servant to come forward. They whispered into his ear and the servant left. "We will see."

Stiles swallowed harshly and Derek squeezed his hand.

The servant hurried back in with what seemed to be a crystal vial of a shimmering light blue liquid. The king tilted their head back and the servant put a few drops in each eye. The king blinked before focusing intently on the three of them.

Stiles had his eyes narrowed in confusion before they widened. "You're using fairy wings."

The king focused on Stiles. "Don't sound so appalled boy. Did you think we didn't know you used some as well to see our true forms?" They smiled. "Fairy wings have many magical properties, but most notably their use for sight magic. Mix the right ingredients in and you can see just about anything. For example: myrrh, basil, and valerian root."

"And what are you using those ingredients for?" Scott inquired.

"If one knows how to look, you can see a sort of line, a link one might say, between people. You can see what ties bind people. I believe wolves think a pack bond is something intangible by everything except instinct, but they are wrong. There is nothing magic cannot see or touch with the right entity wielding it. No matter how one tries to his or conceal it, it is always set free with patience. Ah ha, there you are."

They all took in a breath and held it as they looked in-between them. They looked puzzled for several moments. They tilted their head and made an inquisitive noise. Their council began to murmur and that seemed to distract them.

"Oh. Most interesting." They turned to their daughter. "My poor sweet Lise, the wedding is unfortunately off."

They let out a relieved, if not confused, breath.

Scott spoke, "Wait, what?!"

The king turned to Scott with a predatory grin. "You. You are quite the enigma. True, we had wondered how two alphas were possibly keeping the peace sharing a territory, but this? This was unexpected. A true alpha arranging a marriage between his emissary and greatest friend to his rival alpha and also his rival alpha's first beta? Unexpected, but well played." The king looked like they were appraising a clever chess game. "I am curious how you knew that an emissary building a relationship with a different alpha can quell instinct and unite packs?"

Scott gaped at him.

Stiles let go of Derek and Isaac's hands to wave his around. "Wait. What?"

The king turned to him with furrowed brows. "You did not know? Hm, I would have thought you would have been the one to figure it out. Clever human must not be as clever as I thought. Yes, he used you. But with how strong those bonds are I would say it did not work out entirely disadvantageous for you, did it?"

Stiles didn't know how to respond as Scott gave him a, 'What the fuck?!' face. Stiles sent back a, 'Just go with it!' face. "I would say not."

"Well, now that the nuptials are halted, should we continue our negotiation?" The king settled back against their chair.

Stiles quickly gathered himself yet again. "As the emissary representative of both packs I put forth the same treaty you and Talia Hale had. She gave you favorable terms and we are willing to do the same. You stay here and live on our territory peacefully in exchange for protection against things. You can draw from the nemeton without dealing with the things it draws. You stay on your side of the circle and we will keep our side there. We find it agreeable that instead of involving you in the care of our territory through a claim hierarchy, you keep your portal here. It would take a great deal of effort and sacrifice to move your circle closer in order to defend and manage Beacon and the nemeton, if it were ever to come down to a claim. It is better for all parties if we manage our territory and you manage yours. Agreeable?"

The king held his chin up by resting it on three of his fingers. "And if we want more?"

"If you wanted more then you'd try to take it. Are you?"

The king spoke aloof. "And if we did try to take your land?"

Stiles' eyes went hard and cold. "We'd protect it."

Scott looked to Stiles nervously after his risky answer.

The king grinned. "Good. No sense in having a treaty with packs that won't protect their land or us." He turned to Derek. "Your mother would approve of this one. He reminds me of her. His voice never wavered, exactly like hers. But do not be concerned with your strength little human." They looked at Stiles with an almost paternal interest. "Her hands shook just like your as well."

Stiles gaped, awed at how the king had seen right through him. He wondered what ingredients he had used for that one, or if it just came with a long life. Derek looked down at Stiles' shaking fist and reached out to hold it. Isaac saw it and after momentary hesitation mirrored it.

They laughed and then inclined their head toward their hands. "You know, it is intriguing to watch you mortals run in circles. You have such short lives so you dare not waste time looking to the past to learn from it, but we fae live long enough to see you as what you really are. Rats. Forever spinning on a wheel. Fun to play with and good pets, but ultimately you end where you started."

Everyone looked confused and they all looked to Stiles then, but he was just as confused.

"True, everyone in her pack looked to her just as you all look to the emissary, but that-" They once again motioned to Derek and Stiles' hands. "That was what your father did when he noticed her trembling. He didn't take over, he didn't talk over her. He supported her and trusted that she could handle it. Round and round you go, living the same lives in different bodies. He may have an edge to his voice like she had, but I see the same steadfast faith your father had for your mother in your eyes. You carry it for the emissary. The same relationships in different people. You bore me. Give me one good reason I should let you leave here alive. Especially when the fae could do so much more with the land."

Derek knew the fae could sense the fear coming off each of them.

Stiles spoke with conviction, "Does the juniberry flower get less beautiful with each passing season that they bloom? Is every peaceful ruler boring because there have been so many before it? Is a trick any less fun because you've already pulled it? You cannot deem us less worthy of life because we live it with the same burning love of those before us, the same beauty, the same compassion, the same embrace of frivolity. Repetition, while in our nature, isn't its entirety. Humans are known for their growth. Fae are born with magic and always have been. Humans learned to harness and use it. We grew with it, we invent and change it. There will always be humans fighting to love, to discover, to live, to be happy, to destroy, to hate, to do so many things good and bad. You call that fight not as important while you sit on a throne built by fae who did all the same things. The fact that you are immortal does not exclude you from the truth that you are also a part of the circle. Here you are again making another treaty. We are not two forces, we are one. But if you would like to divide us in two, pit us against each other in a way that would cost both sides lives, you are not breaking the circle. You are completing it. There has always been war, there has always been peace."

The king smiled. "And what would you have me do?"

"Do not attempt to break the circle. Appreciate it. Slow down and realize there have been before me, there will be after me, and I am being now. Make peace when possible, and war when it is not. Create when you can, but also destroy when it is necessary. Love your family, hate your enemies. But most prudent, know the difference between friend and foe, and have the wisdom to act accordingly. That his my advice, take it or leave it." Stiles bowed his head slightly while all three boys looked at him awed.

The king looked impressed. "You have moved my opinion and taught me, that is no small feat. Consider the treaty done according to your stated terms. Will you accept this favor from us?"

Scott and Derek went to jump in, but Stiles held up a hand. "We will accept no favors, but we accept the treaty."

The king nodded approvingly. "You are the clever human. Well done. Not many survive a fairy court. Much less on that was intent on killing them eventually from the moment they walked in. Consider the treaty in effect. This will probably be the last time you hear from us. That is, unless you need a favor."

"We'll see about that one."

The king motioned to the guard.

Stiles bowed and the other three followed suit. "It has been an honor."

The king bowed back. "Likewise emissary." The king nodded to the other three. "You as well." He looked to a guard who then began to lead them out. As they left fae talked and pointed at Stiles as they walked out.

They made their way back through the halls and to the circle.

"Well, we're not ones to over stay our welcome." Stiles nervously laughed. Upon seeing the fairy's unchanging face he nervously shoved Issac through the circle. "Best be going." Derek stepped through and they both followed.

---

As soon as they stepped back into the, now dark, woods they spoke hysterically, "Stiles, what the fuck!?" "What the ever loving hell Issac!" "Oh my god guys we made it! Hallelujah." Derek remained quiet.

Stiles turned to Issac. "Hallelujah. Hallelujah?! Like I want the one that got your ass out of there?"

Scott looked absolutely shell shocked. "Stiles? What the fuck?!"

Stiles looked back through the circle and saw the impassive guard still there. He gave a tiny wave. "Not here guys. Let's get back home."

"But yo-"

Stiles grabbed his arm. "Not. Here."

They walked in silence back to their cars.

"Let's talk at the loft. If my phone is right it's been over eight hours. Our packs will be worried."

Derek nodded. Scott jumped into the Jeep. Stiles followed him and started it. Issac watched them turn around then drive away before whirling on Derek. "What the hell? Why did the fairies think we had a bond?"

"Get in. It's going to take a little bit."

Derek started from the beginning and explained how Stiles and him had been in a relationship for over six months, how Stiles didn't want to betray Scott and his pack, and how the packs absolutely could not know, under any circumstances.

Issac understood quickly and they were on the road to the loft.

---

"Wait, you guys got the treaty signed, but somehow Issac almost got married off and then he did. But to Derek and Stiles? Now I'm kinda sad I didn't get to go. His little sad puppy face would've been hilarious." Jackson snorted.

Erica crossed her arms. "If you would have gone they would've taken one look at your cold conniving heart and made you stay because they thought you were one of them."

Lydia high-fived her and Jackson flipped both of them off.

Malia looked confused. "Did you actually all get married?"

Stiles sighed. "No matter how many times a different person asks, no. No, we did not get married."

Thankfully he got Scott to the loft without answering anything, but now it was him against both packs, who had been waiting for them together.

"Why isn't my brother here yet? Check your spouse bond. You can telepathically speak to your spouse if you're a werewolf. Ask him."

Stiles was so sick of them. "Cora, you absolutely cannot telepathically speak to your spouse if you are a werewolf. For Christ sake, you are the only born wolf here! You know that, stop being a dick."

She snickered.

Erica decided to join in. "Go on Stiles, check your spouse bond." Boyd cracked a small smile beside her.

"There is no such thing as a spouse bond!" He sounded manic.

"So you are married?" Allison played dumb.

"I swear to fucking Christ I will murder you all!"

As he screamed that Derek and Issac walked in with hesitant and fearful faces. "Bad time?"

"Perfect. Get in here and tell them we didn't all just get married."

"We didn't?" Issac looked relieved. "Oh thank fuck. I mean, you guys are better than Annalise, but no thanks. I thought with that bond shit he did he married us."

Jackson and Cora snorted.

Derek's pack walked up to him and checked to see if they were alright. "And just where the hell have you been? Stilinski drives recklessly, but he's not that much of a speed demon." Cora crossed her arms.

"Had to make a stop." Derek gruffly replied.

No one believed it.

Lydia finally piped up after having an analytical look on her face for awhile. "Wait, but how did the king see the bonds? He would've had to have seen something in order to believe you guys. Fairies hate lying. He must've believed you. What did he see?"

Issac looked at Stiles and Derek's panicked faces and thought about how much Derek had stressed their relationship remain a secret. His wolf howled for him to quickly defend and protect his alpha. He anxiously tried to think, but there were to many people staring expectantly. "I'm fucking Stiles!" He blurted.

Everyone's faces went wide with open shock, especially Stiles'.

Both packs instantaneously hurled questions. They overlapped and drown each other out with their volume.

"Everybody stop!" Stiles commanded.

There was silence.

"And here I was thinking Isaac was a bottom." Jackson snarked.

At least eight, "So did I."s were heard.

Isaac's cheeks flamed.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "He is a bottom. But thats no-"

The questions came from everyone except Issac who looked embarrassed and Derek who looked reserved.

"Everybody shut up! I'm not fucking Isaac!"

There was confused silence.

"Yes you are!" Isaac replied petulantly.

The shouting began once again.

Derek burst and finally roared at them while showing his eyes and teeth. They stopped. He grabbed Stiles' wrist and began yanking him behind himself. "We need to talk."

Scott instantly moved closer. "Whoa, whoa. Just because he's dating your beta doesn't mean you can shove him around! I get that you don't like it, but you don't see me pushing Isaac somewhere to give him the shovel talk."

Derek just growled threateningly.

Scott was about to respond when Stiles got in-between them. "Hey, hey, stop. No. Bad dogs. No fighting over the Stiles. Scott, just let me talk to him. I can handle this."

Scott opened his mouth.

"Remember what we just learned about trusting Stiles?" Stiles raised his eyebrows.

Scott closed his mouth and backed off.

Derek continued dragging Stiles up to his room. As the door shut behind them, Stiles was grateful for the soundproofing. "Thank God. I hav-"

Derek harshly clawed off Stiles' bracket without tearing his skin.

"Dude! What the hell!"

Derek didn't respond he just slammed Stiles against the wall and shoved his head into his neck.

"I repeat, dude, what the hell!?"

Derek licked a wide stripe up his neck. "Mine." He licked another stripe up the other side. "Mine."

"Okay, do you mind explaining? Because I'm starting to feel like a milkbone."

Derek teased the sensitive skin of his neck between his fangs. "He said we all had bonds."

"Yeah?"

Derek pulled back and looked calmer, but sad. "He saw bonds between all three of us, not just me and you. And then Isaac said that, so I thought-"

"You thought Isaac and I?"

Derek nodded to confirm. "I thought you were fucking him too. I needed to know, to smell that you were just mine."

Stiles shoved him back and off of him. Derek's eyes flashed hurt, but Stiles' held anger. "Fuck off!" He shoved his chest again. "Fuck off if you think I would ever do that to you. And especially fuck you for implying all we do is fuck. Derek, I love you. Fuck you for thinking that." Stiles' voice broke as he said the last sentence. Tears started to fall from his eyes. "God, fuck you so much."

Stiles went closer to the door and Derek quickly followed. He grabbed Stiles' arm. "Hey, hey. No. No baby, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's just, shit, we can't tell anybody, you never smell like me, you use spells so I don't smell like you, we can't even go on dates. I'm going out of my mind here. We are so much more than fuck buddies, that isn't what I meant. I just want you to be mine. Hell, that's all I've wanted for the longest time. I just want you." Stiles turned back to him and Derek leaned their foreheads together. "I just want you. I love you."

Stiles closed his eyes and another tear raced down his cheek. They stood there together for a moment.

"Don't lose me thinking you already lost me. Because I swear to god Derek if you ever accuse me of cheating again, I'll shove wolfsbane so far up your ass you'll have to pick it out of your teeth. I love you so much it hurts my heart knowing you thought that about me. I could, and would, never cheat on you. You hear me Derek Hale? Never." Stiles looked deep into his eyes with glossy ones. "You're it for me. God, you are. You're the person I want to wake up beside and not have to leave covering up your marks. Hell, I don't want to leave our bed at all. I don't want to ever have to leave you. It tears me up inside."

Derek kissed him and Stiles kissed back ferociously, like he had to leave the second their lips parted. Stiles pulled back for air, but clung onto his neck desperately.

"What are we going to do?"

Stiles wiped his eyes and then smirked. "I've got a plan."

"I'm going to hate this."

"You're going to love this."

"I have hated literally every single one of your plans since day one."

Stiles drew circles in the hair on the back of Derek's head with his finger tips. He smiled. "You didn't hate the one with the picnic and the strawberries with chocolate sauce and the-"

"Okay, I liked that one."

"You didn't absolutely hate your birthday with the-"

"Yes, I did like that one."

"What about two weeks ago with the woods and th-"

"Alright fine, your sex plans are perfect. Is this a sex plan? I would like to stress that this is the only time I'll say this, please say no."

"No, it is not a sex plan."

"Oh good. Then I probably will hate it."

Stiles grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together to pull him along. "Let's find out."

"Wait, wait! You're not wearing your bracelet."

"I don't need it."

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "Have you finally learned how to block your scent?"

"No. Thanks for rubbing it in. I just don't need it." Stiles once again turned to the door and he stopped him.

"If you walk out there, they'll know. Scott, your pack. I can't do that to you. No matter how much this hurts, I can't do that because I know how much it would hurt you."

Stiles smiled softly and kissed him. "I love you for that. But it's okay."

Derek started to shake his head, but Stiles put a hand on his cheek. Stiles grinned. "It's okay. Trust Stiles." He pecked his lips and looked at him expectantly.

Derek nodded his head and Stiles' stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Perfect. Now, follow my lead, and when the moment is right you better sweep me off my feet, Hale."

"How am I supposed to know which moment you're talking about?"

"Trust me, you'll know when it's the moment."

Derek's eyes went emotional and his hand gripped Stiles' tighter. "Every moment with you is the moment Stiles."

Stiles rolled his eyes and kissed him, then pulled him to the door. Right as he reached for the doorknob he hesitated.

"What?"

"Next Friday is half off milkshake day at Sassy's. You'll order curly fries too. And I will eat half of them while you pretend not to notice. I want a proper out in public diner date. I'll meet you there at seven. Don't you dare be late, sourwolf."

Derek was over the moon. "Don't you dare be late. We both know I'm going to be there twenty minutes early nervously organizing the sugar packets and wondering if I put on enough cologne. Next Sunday I want to have breakfast with your dad. Don't you dare embarrass me."

"Perfect. And you know I will, but it won't matter because you've already won him over."

Derek held onto his hand like a life line. "Perfect."

Stiles let go and marched down the stairs. Derek followed.

They all quieted, but heard the last thing uttered. "You don't think he'd kill him for fucking Isaac, do you?"

"I'm not fucking Isaac, Alli."

"You ar-" Derek silenced Isaac by lifting a hand up. Isaac looked at him questioningly.

Derek shook his head. "Isaac is not fucking Stiles."

Stiles piped up, "Derek is fucking Stiles."

Everyone was stunned silent.

Derek's face was still not giving anything away. "And sometimes Stiles is fucking Derek."

Isaac let out a relieved breath. "Oh thank God that's over. Erica asked me what your face looks like when you come."

Derek shot her a dirty look and she stuck out her tongue. "Now I'll just ask you."

Everyone's shock faded at once, other than Scott who remained stunned. Loud, 'I told you,'s and, 'You owe me,'s exploded.

"For the love of fuck, shut up!" Stiles screamed.

Everyone looked at him.

"Thank you."

Scott finally caught up. "Wait. What!?"

Stiles turned to his gaping face. "Now Scott, I would like for you to bless the Hale alpha and I. Officially, that is. It's a little too late otherwise. Been there, done him multiple times."

Scott still looked confused. "Wait, like the fae king said? No! I don't want to use you like that! I'm not going to pimp you out for peace!"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Scotty, keep up. Me and Derek bone like bunnies, we're in a relationship. I want to stare at his stupid face multiple hours of the day for the foreseeable future."

Scott looked like his brain broke.

Stiles huffed. "Oh for the love of God. I love him!"

Scott's face melted into a sappy grin. "Bro really?"

"Yeah, really."

Scott looked over to Derek who had a flat face. He sighed. "I love him too."

Scott turned back to face Stiles. "Broooo!"

Stiles grinned and looked down. "I know."

Scott seemed to get serious. "Okay, I give you to him."

Stiles pinched his brow. "You're not giving me over like I'm the last dinner roll on Thanksgiving dinner. You're giving your agreement and blessing to our relationship."

"Okay. I bless you."

"What are you, the pope?" Jackson snarked.

Scott's shoulders went up in a shrug. "Well, sorry! I don't know how to do this! I'm fine with it okay! You have my blessing."

Erica turned to Stiles. "You're good to go the next time you sneeze."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

Stiles furrowed his brow in concentration. Derek put an arm on his shoulder. "What is is?"

"It should've worked."

"What should've worked?"

Lydia spoke, "You were hoping that if Scott blessed your relationship, you could bridge the two packs like the king said. You were hoping to make them one."

"But it didn't work. Maybe, Scott are you really not okay with it?"

Scott looked defensive and confused. "What? No. I'm so super okay with this! It's not me. I just want you to be happy. I know Derek is a good guy. It has to be something else. Stiles are you okay with it?"

Stiles looked defensive and snippy. "Of course I'm okay with it! I'm the one that wanted this! I am so beyond okay with this! I'm actually out of this universe okay with this! Derek are you okay with this?"

Derek looked like it was obvious and crossed his arms at the stupidity of the question. "Yes." He turned to Isaac sarcastically. "Are you okay with this? Husband ours?"

Isaac answered genuinely, "Yeah, of course."

Stiles crossed his arms back at Derek. He started to pace. "Okay, that should've worked. Why didn't work? The king said I could be the bridge to the packs, but why didn't it work? Do I need to do it with Isaac too? No, that doesn't make sense, it should work with just Derek. Maybe I have to actually marry him. No, in magical matters usually intent matters more than the actual contract. I intend to be with him. I intend to unite the packs..." Stiles looked up and stopped pacing. "Maybe its not about my intent. Or Derek's, or Scott's. You can't force a wolf to accept a pack. They have to choose it. I'm supposed to be the bridge, but you all still have to walk across it. You all have to choose to join each other. If I'm uniting packs, I kinda need packs permission. Are you guys okay with it?"

Four, 'Yeah!'s were heard and one, 'Hell yeah!' sounded. Cora looked at Stiles with squinted eyes. "Don't break him Stilinski."

They all turned to Jackson. He huffed and turned to Derek. "If Stilinski comes over at midnight to watch The Notebook with Lydia and he wakes me up with his blubberin, it's your ass I'm gonna paralyze."

They looked to Erica. "You all know I'm going to say yes. Especially with all the work batman put into trying to get the packs to get along."

Derek and Scott looked confused.

"Oh come on, we all know Scott is clueless, but you didn't know Derek? Lydia and I have standing nail appointments together ever since he took her on a day I just "happened" to be going. Jackson and him help Isaac with his complicated social worker law shit on Thursdays, which I have no idea what kind of magic he uses for that. Somehow, god knows how, he found out Boyd used to go deer hunting with his dad, and now he goes with Malia. That's just some of the shit he's done. Hell, he put together a training session without you guys about how to deescalate alphas challenging each other."

Cora piped up, "Oh come on Derek, you haven't smelled Isaac coming home on Fridays?"

He didn't want to mention that the spell Stiles used to get rid of his scent on Derek also kept him from smelling Stiles sometimes.

She continued, "He reeks of the sheriff and Stilinski. The sheriff all but adopted Isaac after hearing his sob story. He goes over there every week. Stiles is the main reason he's even surviving college. He wanted to get close to your beta, so he put all the fighting behind them. Well, most of the fighting." She shrugged.

Scott and Derek looked at Stiles. "Oh, don't give me that. The packs needed a lot of work, forgive me for wanting a head start. I wanted for them to at least be friends by the time you two got your heads out of your asses. Side note Derek, the bond between Isaac and I the king saw was probably the new friend thing we've got going on and the bond I was trying to forge to bridge everyone. That paired with how close you and Isaac are he probably couldn't tell the difference. Sight magic is hard, especially if there's a block. Like my bracelet or the spells I use on you. It probably muddled our relationships to each other enough." He turned to Erica. "Also, that wasn't a yes."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh for godsake, yes, you can be my new daddy Stiles. Scott too."

Just like the latch clicking behind you when you get home, they all felt the new pack bond slide into place like it was always waiting to.

Scott whispered awed and joyful, "Did we all just become one big awesome pack?"

Derek pulled Stiles' body to himself and dipped Stiles with a passionate kiss.

The pack hollered around them and Derek pulled him back up. "That was the moment, wasn't it?"

Stiles smiled at him. "Every moment is the moment with you, big guy."

64 notes · View notes

vintage-story-time · 4 years ago

Text

Mom Gets It On by Kathy Andrews

Chapter 4

Oddly, Sandy felt no guilt over what she had done with her son. On the

contrary, she had enjoyed the experience tremendously. It had been so

good, she was looking forward to fucking him again.

Since it was a weekend, and Rob would be home in just a few more hours,

she would be unable to fuck her son or give him the blowjob he seemed to

want quite badly. Her lack of jealousy did not disturb her. In a way,

she was pleased that Joey was much more interested in whether Lori Layne

would suck him off than he was in fucking her. At least that was what he

seemed to indicate to her.

She began to consider the possibility of trying to get Lori for her son

and, of course, for Rob. Last night, she had managed to suck him off in

the car with people all around them, then, at home, she had managed to

climb on top of him for the first time. She knew all this had been

accomplished with Rob because of his desire for the beautiful, bouncy,

teenage girl. Joey had been different, though. He wanted Lori,

apparently, as much as his father did. The only difference there was the

fact that Joey was young and was interested in cunt no matter who the

pussy belonged to. Joey would not continue to dwell upon Lori once she,

his mother, taught him all those nice, delicious things they could do

with each other. But Rob was different. He was older, with many

inhibitions that had to be overcome.

Sandy felt that if he could get his hands on the girl, manage to fuck

her at least once, part of those inhibitions would come tumbling down.

And she wanted her husband to relax, to enjoy sex in every way possible.

Fucking would be much better for her if he would enjoy sex. Perhaps, if

her husband could fuck that teenage sexpot, he would be more willing to

do other things too, things that Sandy wanted and hungered for.

But she knew that Rob would never approach the girl. He would never

approach any girl, nor would he make a pass at them. He would look at

them from a distance, desire them with a hard cock, but he would not

approach them. She also felt that Joey would not approach Lori. Oh, he

would talk to her as boys would, but he would not make a pass at her.

For one thing, at those ages, girls seldom wanted anything to do with a

boy Joey's age. When a girl was Lori's age, she thought she was a woman

of the world, and her attentions went toward grown men, or at least the

senior boys at school, those who had cars, or access to one. They would

never go out with a boy too young to own his own car. It was beneath

them, would lower them in the eyes of their peers. It was silly, Sandy

knew, but that was the way teenage girls felt.

So, how to get the hot looking bundle of sex for her two men? Joey

wanted Lori to give him a blowjob, and her husband ... what did he want

from the girl? A piece of ass because she was young and fresh? Would he

want a blowjob from the teenager, too? Sandy didn't care what Rob wanted

from the girl ... she had to come up with some way to provide Lori for

them first.

All weekend, Sandy gave a lot of thought to the problem. She had never

approached a girl before. Not that she would approach one for sex in the

first place. Sandy had never had sex with a girl in her life, and she

had no desire to. Wouldn't it look odd to the girl if she approached

her? Would Lori think she was a lesbian? A female pimp for her husband

and son? There were a lot of questions needing answers, and she wondered

if she were up to trying this.

If Lori were a man or a teenage boy, it would be so much easier, she

felt. But a woman, a wife and mother, simply walking up to a teenage

girl and saying: "Would you mind terribly if my husband and son fucked

you," would place her in a dangerous situation.

There had to be some way.

All weekend Sandy thought about how to get Lori for her men. By the time

Monday arrived, she still had no plan of action.

She spent the day thinking hard, and still she saw no safe way to talk

to Lori. At three, Joey called to ask if he could visit with a friend of

his for an hour or so, and she agreed. School was out for the day, but

Sandy recalled Joey mentioning that there was usually cheerleader

practice after school. She could go to the school grounds and see Lori.

Maybe something would come to her.

Sandy was dressed in a pair of shorts since it was an unusually hot day

for spring. Her thighs flashed in the afternoon sunlight, and her

swelling ass was boldly outlined by the tightness of her shorts. Her

tits thrust and strained against a thin, white blouse. The blouse was so

thin she had to wear a bra so her tits would not show through.

She parked in the parking lot of the school and got out. The place

looked deserted. She wondered where practice would be held, and decided

it would be in the gym. She walked toward the gym, hoping a school

official or teacher would not stop her, ask what she wanted. She was

nervous enough as it was.

When she arrived at the gym, she found the doors closed, but not locked.

She opened the door and peered inside. There was no one on the floor,

and the huge room was totally empty. She entered and listened, thinking

there might be another room where practice was held.

She walked onto the court, trying to keep her heels from clattering.

There were doors at the far end, and she knew they must be equipment

rooms. One was obviously a rest room since there was a sign that said

"boys" on the door. Turning she saw the girls' rest room at the other

end of the big room.

She walked to one of the doors, and as she came close to it, she heard

voices.

Thinking it was the practice room, Sandy opened the door and stepped in

... and stopped in her tracks, her eyes going huge in surprise. Lori was

there, all right. So were four boys.

Lori was totally naked, lying on a long bench between rows of lockers.

Her slender legs hung over the bench, and a boy was between them,

fucking her vigorously. The other three boys stood watching, their cocks

in their fists.

Sandy was rooted to the spot, her eyes staring at the boy's bouncing,

naked ass as he fucked his cock in and out of Lori's cunt. The other

boys were so interested in watching, no one noticed Sandy.

"Ohhh, wow!" she heard Lori yelping in pleasure. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Lori's hands gripped the cheeks of the boy's bouncing ass tightly, her

fingers digging into his crack as she pounded her teenage cunt up and

down, grinding ecstatically against his fucking cock. Sandy could see

the boy's balls slapping up and down, and there was a sudden burning in

her own pussy. With surprise, Sandy realized she was excited, very, very

excited. Lori was getting fucked by this boy, and Sandy wanted to get

fucked, too. She had walked in on a gang-bang.

She heard the boy grunt, saw his balls draw up tight against his cock,

and she knew he was shooting come into Lori's cunt. Lori, too, must be

coming, Sandy thought. Lori was squealing loudly and jerking her hips

about in a frenzy.

Sandy's thighs trembled as the boy pulled his prick from Lori's cunt and

moved to the side. Immediately one of the other boys got between Lori's

legs, his cock going straight into her pussy. Lori kicked her heels

about, gurgling with pleasure.

"Give it to me!" Lori shouted gleefully. "Give me your cock! Fuck me,

damn you! Fuck the piss out of me, damn you! Come on, you cocksuckers

... fuck me!"

Sandy heard the girl shouting, and knew now that it would not be

difficult at all to get her for Rob and Joey. It was quite evident that

Lori not only looked like a fluffy bundle of sex, but she actually was

one. One thing Sandy knew without any doubts now ... Lori loved to fuck!

The teenage girl loved to fuck so much, she wanted, to be gang-banged by

these senior students.

Then Sandy realized she had been discovered.

The boy that had just finished fucking Lori was looking directly at her.

"Hey, who are you?"

Immediately, the boy on top of Lori jerked his cock free and turned in

fear. The others looked at Sandy, too, all with fright showing in their

eyes. Cocks were quickly put away, out of sight. Lori sat up, covering

her naked tits with one arm and crossing her legs to conceal her cunt.

"Oh, shit!" Lori said, her voice cracking.

One of the boys, bigger than the others, asked, "Are you a teacher?"

Sandy looked at him. He didn't show the fear the others did. In fact,

she felt slightly afraid of him. When she didn't answer, he asked, anger

in his voice now: "What are you snooping around here for, lady? What do

you want?"

"I ... I'm--" Sandy stopped. She had almost told them her name.

"I don't give a shit who you are, lady," the big boy said, coming toward

her. "You have no business snooping around here. What are you, some kind

of pervert, looking for a little girl to play with?"

"No, I ... "

The other boys had recovered now, and they weren't showing fear now that

the big boy was taking the lead. They all started toward her. Lori

remained on the bench, still trying to cover her naked tits and pussy.

Her eyes were wide with fear, though.

Sandy started to turn, but before she could, the big boy grabbed her by

the arm, his fingers hurting her.

"Please, don't ... let me go!" she pleaded, struggling against him. "I

won't say anything about this. Let me go, please."

"I know you won't, lady," he growled. "I know damn well you ain't gonna

say anything."

The other boys were surrounding her now, and Sandy cringed. "Please,

don't hurt me," she begged.

"We're not gonna hurt you, lady," the boy holding her arm said. "You

like watching us? Does it turn you on to see us fucking? I bet it made

your cunt a little hot, didn't it, lady?"

"No, I ... please, let me go!"

"She's good looking," one of the other boys said. "She's got a fine ass

on her. Man, I bet she's a good piece of pussy!"

"Let's fuck her," another boy said. "Let's take her shorts off and give

her some hard cock!"

"Would you like that, lady?" the boy holding her asked. "Would you like

some hard, young cock up your cunt?"

Despite a feeling of fear, Sandy was becoming aroused. The idea of being

fucked by these boys appealed to her, but she couldn't let them know

that. She had to feign fear. She certainly didn't want to be injured.

"Hey, guys," she heard Lori say, her voice indicating her fear, "Leave

her alone. She's afraid, can't you see that? Come on, leave her alone."

"Shut up, Lori!" the big boy snarled. "She'll tell on us," one of the

boys said.

"Not if we fuck her," the big boy replied. "If we fuck her, she won't

say anything at all."

The logic failed to make sense to Sandy, but she kept her mouth shut.

Her pussy was having fits between her thighs. She wanted them to fuck

her, but she didn't want to be raped. But if she told them, she felt it

would make them mad, and they might hurt her. That logic didn't make

sense to her either, but she wasn't thinking very straight right now

anyway.

"Let's do it!" one of the boys said. "Let's fuck her ass off?"

Sandy's mind was agreeing with him, but she continued to cringe.

She felt hands on her shorts, pulling at them.

When they fell to her feet, one of the boys whistled in appreciation.

"No panties! Man, look at that sweet ass, would you?"

"I'm too busy looking at that hairy cunt, man!" another said.

"You guys look," said a third voice, "I'm gonna fuck her!"

Sandy was pulled toward the bench. Her shorts were left on the floor

where they had been removed from her body. Hands began fumbling at her

blouse and bra, and she hoped they would not tear them. That would be

difficult to explain. Lori continued to sit where she had been, her eyes

wide, fear still shining in them.

"Come on, you guys," Sandy heard the girl pleading. "We can get in

trouble if you fuck her. Don't you know that's rape?"

Sandy, in her mind, was telling Lori to shut the fuck up, that she

wanted this. By now, Sandy was naked, her tits being manipulated and

fondled. Hands were running about her trembling body, feeling her. Her

legs were shoved apart and a boy was fingerfucking her. She felt cocks

pressing against her body, and she closed her eyes and made small, soft

whimpering sounds.

"You won't tell anyone, will you, lady?" she heard Lori ask. "If they

let you go, you won't say anything, would you?"

"No," Sandy whispered. "I won't tell ... if you let me go. Please, don't

do it to me!"

"Fuck that noise, lady!" one of the boys snarled. "We're gonna fuck you

good! We're gonna fuck you so good, you'll come back for more!"

Sandy was pulled backwards until she was laying on the long bench, in

the same position as Lori. Her legs were spread wide, and a boy was

between them. She felt his hard cock slither into her pussy, and then

the boy was fucking her. Both her naked tits were being sucked on, and

she looked up directly into Lori's eyes.

"If you don't fight them," Lori said, "they won't hurt you. Let them

fuck you and they'll leave you alone."

"Oh, God, please!" Sandy whimpered, still pretending fear. But inside

she was a raging volcano. She wanted to slam her cunt against that

driving cock, fuck the goddamn prick off the boy. She knew she could

fuck them silly, turn the tables back on them, but she continued to

pretend to be afraid.

"Good pussy!" grunted the boy fucking her. "This cunt is a good fuck!

Man, is her cunt hot and tight!"

Sandy was coming already. Her pussy was flexing about the boy's cock,

drawing on his prick, sucking on his cock. She had to fight to hold her

body still, struggle to keep from screaming that she wanted more and

more, just as she had heard Lori beg. Then she felt the boy coming, his

come juice spurting deep into her cunt.

"Oooo," she whimpered, unable to hold her feelings back. Her hips moved,

and her pussy convulsed tighter.

No sooner had the first boy pulled his cock from her cunt than another

cock was sliding up her. She moaned again as the boy began stabbing

powerfully into her pussy. She could not hold her hips still. They moved

despite her efforts. She was still coming, never stopping.

The second boy was fast. He stabbed her cunt a few times and came off,

flooding her cunt with more thick come juice.

A third boy was in his place, banging hard and brutally into her pussy.

Sandy could no longer be still. Her ass whipped up and down with him,

her cunt convulsing in spasms that were threatening to make her pass

out. She had never felt so much ecstasy before. She could not stop

coming, and she whimpered and groaned loudly.

"Don't fight them," Lori was saying, thinking Sandy was being hurt.

"Don't move, and it won't hurt so bad. Please, don't fight them! Let

them finish ... get it over with! They'll leave you alone then."

In her mind, Sandy was screaming at the girl to shut the fuck up! She

wanted to scream her pleasure, to scream for the boys to fuck her raw,

fuck her cunt until she had to walk straddle-legged.

The boy came in her pussy, and the fourth, and last, boy settled upon

her, his cock driving into her cunt swiftly. She could hear him pant

against her ear as he fucked away, and her cunt continued to flex in

orgasm. She was becoming very weak from so many orgasms, but she wanted

more and more cock. Her naked ass was moving, writhing and twisting of

its own accord. Her cunt gripped and sucked on the thrusting cock. There

was nothing she could do about her reaction.

"Oh, shit!" the boy fucking her groaned. "Shit, shit, shit! I'm coming

... too fucking fast!"

She felt his cock squirting into her cunt, and she could not suppress a

wail of delight. Her body shook and her naked, jutting tits jiggled. By

the time the boy finished coming, Sandy was so weak and exhausted that

she closed her eyes and breathed raggedly, her arms hanging down limply,

her legs wide apart. Thick come juice dripped from her hairy, throbbing

cunt, and she was happy when the waves of orgasm receded.

When she opened her eyes, she thought for a moment they had left her,

that she was alone.

"Lie still," she heard Lori say. Then she felt a wet cloth between her

thighs. "Let me clean you up. They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No," Sandy said in a tired-sounding voice. "No, they didn't hurt me."

She struggled to sit up, and Lori removed the wet cloth from her cunt.

Sandy looked at the girl. Lori had put her clothes on, a pair of faded

jeans and a sweater. The clothing did nothing to conceal her ripe body.

In fact, the jeans were quite tight, and the sweater indicated Lori's

nipples.

"Can you walk?" Lori asked. "Let me help you get dressed."

"I'm all right," Sandy said. She took the shorts Lori handed her and

pulled them on. Then she replaced her bra and buttoned her blouse. "I

guess ... I guess I shouldn't have come in here."

"Will you be able to get home okay?" Lori asked, concern in her voice.

"I mean, I'll help you if you'd like."

Sandy realized she was being handed the answer to her problem. If she

could get Lori in her house, if she could get Lori to fuck her husband

and son, it would be just what she wanted.

Pretending weakness, she leaned against the teenage girl. "Perhaps I am

a bit weak," she said. "I appreciate your concern."

"You're Mrs. Henderson, aren't you?" Lori asked as she placed her arm

about Sandy's waist. "Aren't you Joey's mother?"

"Yes," Sandy said. "Do you know my son?"

"Of course," Lori said. "He's a sweet boy."

"Has he ... I mean, have you ... " Sandy started to ask, trying to

pretend apprehension.

"You mean ... back there?" Lori asked. "No, Mrs. Henderson. I should

explain that. You see ... "

"No, not yet," Sandy said. "Help me home and we can have something cold

to drink. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"But ... " Lori didn't understand. "You won't tell anyone about this,

will you? I mean, since they didn't really hurt you?"

"It was rape, Lori," Sandy said.

"I know, but, please," Lori begged. "I'd get into a lot of trouble if

anyone knew about that. Not for rape, but me, doing it with those boys."

"We'll talk about it," Sandy said. "Please help me home and we'll talk

about it."

As Sandy drove home with Lori next to her, she smiled to herself. She

could sense the teenage girl's apprehension, and whatever it was that

she feared about exposure could possibly work to Sandy's advantage.

#Mom Gets It On by Kathy Andrews #Chapter 4

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