#did you ever had a meeting where four men tried to figure out the problem in your budget file and you had to share the screen and wait

[wheeloffortune-design]

i got a higher dose of antidepressants yesterday but it's immediately cancelled by my work's bullshit.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ] 

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone  A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

 And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that. 

 The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick. 

 But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time. 

 He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now. 

 Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library. 

 "What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free. 

 "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?" 

 Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?" 

 Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

 "Bullshit."

 "I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

 "Am I that big of a distraction?" 

 You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it. 

 Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without." 

 He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down. 

 "I mean, yeah, but—"

 You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

 "Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

 "Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

 "We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

 You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

 "Maybe but not entirely."

 Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common. 

 You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does. 

 "Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

 "I'm not going into your room again!"

 "You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

 "Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

 Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

 "Yes." 

 You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in." 

 "Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time." 

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far. 

 He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth. 

 The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him. 

 "You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

 "I'll keep it in mind."

 With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips. 

 *

 You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door. 

 "Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch. 

 "I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

 "Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?" 

 "Dumb question. Of course I do."

 "Rude. Open that shit up."

 He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

 You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

 Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

 "Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it. 

 "Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

 You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game. 

 Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

 Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen. 

 "Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds." 

 "Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

 "For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud. 

 "I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

 You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

 Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

 "Uh huh, that's what I thought."

 While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even. 

 You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle. 

 "Wouldn't dream of it."

 *

 You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself. 

 You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before." 

 You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team. 

 You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.") 

 Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

 "Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice. 

 Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing. 

 And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

 Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all. 

 That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose. 

 You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up. 

 Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers. 

 "She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

 You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop. 

 "So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks. 

 You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

 Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

 You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

 "Whatever." 

 He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't. 

 Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?" 

 "I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?" 

 "Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

 "I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can." 

 Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course). 

 The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house. 

 He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again. 

*

 Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down. 

 You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do. 

 After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party. 

 "I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

 Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away. 

 You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

 Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

 You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius. 

 All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee. 

 “What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his. 

 “Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small. 

 “Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

 Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

 “Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

 “We don’t talk about that.”

 Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie. 

 “Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

 You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.” 

 “Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

 Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that. 

 “Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

 “And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

 He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable. 

 You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night. 

 “Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud. 

 “Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting. 

 Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism. 

 “Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.” 

 Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one. 

 “Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

 “More or less.”

 “That seems exhausting.”

 “It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

 “Ouch.”

 “Wounded.”

 “Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

 “And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

 “You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

 It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him. 

 He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two. 

 The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

 Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets. 

 “Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

 “Absolutely.”

 There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night. 

 Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly. 

 You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

 Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

 “Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

 “Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

 “You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

 “Yeah.”

 “Rich boy or the giant?”

 You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

 Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

 You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though. 

 “How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

 You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?” 

 You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them. 

 “‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

 It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences. 

 Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

 The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be. 

 “They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

 The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

 Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. 

 He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

 People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand. 

 When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

 You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

 He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night. 

 Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it. 

 “You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out. 

 It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time. 

 "Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile. 

 He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait." 

 You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine. 

 The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him. 

 More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement. 

 "They're pretty close, yeah?" 

 Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak. 

 He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

 "No shit?"

 "No shit."

 You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly. 

 Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead. 

 He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face. 

 "You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

 He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that— 

 Fuck. Stop. Just…

 "What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all. 

 "I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?" 

 You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him. 

 "I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

 "It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip. 

 "Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

 Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now. 

 "No, you really don't." 

 Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door. 

 Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group. 

 It's really not fair. 

 You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party. 

 But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit. 

 "Fuck, Mike." 

 He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices. 

 "Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive. 

 You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction. 

 The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble. 

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

 "You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you." 

 You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

 "Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick. 

 It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it. 

 Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue. 

 Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it. 

 He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed. 

 Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you. 

 "Jesus fucking—" 

 You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders. 

 Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth. 

 He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in. 

 He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

 You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe. 

 Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again. 

 This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

 The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again. 

 Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face. 

 He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it. 

 The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point. 

 You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want. 

 "Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

 He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands. 

 He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll. 

 "So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told. 

 Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him. 

 Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going. 

 You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit. 

 You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him. 

 Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm. 

 "Need… need…"

 "What do you need, babe?"

 Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

  "Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come." 

 You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

 "Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

 "Don't… Care…"

 "You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you. 

 Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in. 

 "What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?" 

 You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath. 

 His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

 Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

 "I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

 And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes. 

 You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms. 

 "You okay?" He asks into your hair. 

 He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself. 

 "Did I hurt you?" 

 "Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

 You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes. 

 When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess. 

 "'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce. 

 Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

 "You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

 His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. 

 The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found. 

 As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat. 

 *

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man. 

 "Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?" 

 "Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

 "No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move." 

 Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago. 

 Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states. 

 "Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

 He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

 Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?' 

 Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy." 

 "Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red. 

 Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle. 

 You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

 Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats. 

 "Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again. 

 You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

 Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does. 

 Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it? 

 Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's. 

 "You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

 Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away. 

 "No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

 "You don't, though."

 "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

 Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men. 

 "You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases. 

 Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger. 

 Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest. 

 So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right? 

 That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door. 

 He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way. 

 "Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night." 

 You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin. 

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

 Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

 "Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

 His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing. 

 Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt. 

 You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard. 

 "What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?" 

 "I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

 "That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

 You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

 "I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey." 

 "I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

 "Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?" 

 You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

 Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again. 

 "Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

 Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

 "Christ—"

 He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach. 

 It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

 "I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

 And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

 He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later. 

 "Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan. 

 Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

 The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with. 

 "Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

 He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

 “Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

 His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come. 

 You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

 The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that. 

 "Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass. 

 "Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

 "I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

 "What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before. 

 "Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

 Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

 He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information. 

 "Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

 "Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

 "I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

 "I mean, you can still do that."

 You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

 *

 After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

 "Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

 He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen. 

 "What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses. 

 Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?" 

 Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

 Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury. 

 "Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing. 

 "I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits. 

 "Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?" 

 "It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

 Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

 "That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

 "She didn't seem to mind."

 Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?" 

 "You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight. 

 Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

 "You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

 "What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to. 

 The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

 Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend. 

 Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes. 

 "Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

 Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options. 

 But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too. 

 Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head. 

 Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out. 

 He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid. 

 When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch. 

 "Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

 "Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

 Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 2)

Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

Just three days after the first installation and 4,000 words? That’s right baby! Because I run on validation and whew! Y’all provided.  The courting gift scene based on a recommendation from @tempered-char. Also with a hint of Geralt’s Delicate Sensibilities, as inspired by @valdomarx +Thicc Eskel as a bonus

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“Come in.”

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.

Geralt wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. From what he’d seen of the world he wasn’t so sure he believed in love at all. He could imagine, however, that if he were a painter or a poet he could have fallen in love right there.

The room was a tiny, dusty study, and standing in front of the window was, presumably, Julian. The light haloed him, dust mites floating down. Grey-blue doublet and slightly darker pants brought out clear, bright eyes, rimmed with thick lashes. 

He had a rounder jawline, the sort that was in style with painters at the moment. It leant a softness to his face. Maybe that was the fact that he was...nineteen? Geralt couldn’t remember.

He realized he was staring and bowed. It was awkard, still holding his gift and the gift from the countess. He looked up, Julian was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Julian,” Geralt said. “I am Geralt of Rivia.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Geralt, and please, call me Jaskier,” said the young man. He stuck out his hand. Geralt quickly shifted the gifts to one hand and shook. 

The hand was soft but not uncalloused, at the fingertips and base of the thumb. Long fingers, good for playing the lute that sat, gleaming and well cared for, in the corner.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, tasting the name. It was a good name, bright and pretty and a deadly poison if treated incorrectly. “I have a gift for you, and her ladyship gave me a gift but I haven’t opened it yet.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat on a plush chair, gesturing Geralt to one opposite. “I have my own gift for you,” he said. “Father and Amaria didn’t think I could get my own courting gifts.”

Geralt decided to give up on subtlety. He wanted answers and he hoped this young man, Jaskier, was willing to give them.

“They want rid of you,” he said. It was a question but without the inflection at the end. “Enough to marry you off to a witcher.”

Jaskier sighed. “Just father, Amaria doesn’t have much to do with anything these days.”

“She seemed...” Geralt trailed off, not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It’s all about heirs,” Jaskier said, standing and beginning to pace. “Suitable heirs, which I’m not.” He sent Geralt a bitter little smile and flopped back down. “My father is not a nice man, you see. He’s never taken kindly to disagreements, and to him there’s only one ‘right’ sort of man. Men like him, manly and strong who kill first and don’t bother asking questions later. I questioned him, maybe three years ago, I didn’t think he should raise taxes again. He doesn’t forgive that sort of slight.” 

Jaskier leaned forward, elbows on knees and stared at the ground for a second.

“I think he’d decided long before that, but he wants me struck from the family tree.” Jaskier looked up at Geralt. Some of his confusion must have been showing on his face.

This world of heirs and court intrigue was far from anything Geralt knew, and seemed more complicated than necessary.

“Follow me,” Jaskier said, rising and stretching out his hand again. “You can leave the gifts, we’ll be back.” Geralt set dow the gifts and hesitantly stretched out his hand, unsure if the gesture was figurative or if he was actually supposed to take it. Jaskier took him gently by the wrist and led him from the room.

“The halls are a maze,” he said, letting go a coridor later. “Follow close behind me, you could get lost.” Geralt did so. He couldn’t imagine anything more embarassing than having a footman fetch him from one of these little stone tunnels.

They emerged in yet another dusty hall, lined with tapestries. Jaskier stopped in between two, and in front of a large, painted wooden panel. It had a tree.

A family tree. 

“My father,” Jaskier said, tracing his finger along dusty, painted branches. “Finds it very important that the next Earl be his direct blood, and also his kind of man.” He looked at Geralt significantly. “That meant ridding himself of Amaria’s sons from her first marriage, by the laws of our country, he could have been heir. That also means getting rid of me.”

This explanation did not help Geralt’s bafflement. Jaskier sighed again, although he didn’t seem to be doing so at Geralt.

“Amaria had two sons, both manly and well suited to my father, but not his direct blood. And they were older than me, set to inherit the role of Earl first. They met with horrible accidents.” A shadow passed of Jaskier’s boyish face. 

“Strange coincidence, how a large rock managed to tumble from the ramparts on to Isak not even a week after the same thing happened to Tomas. Especially since there’s not rocks up there. I checked.”

“Your father,” Geralt said, a little numbly. “Had his stepson’s murdered.” He knew nobility could be nasty but still... “And we’ve made a deal with him.”

Jaskier patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much about it, Father mostly doesn’t do too much harm these days, and Filip, that’s my half brother, seems like he’ll turn out okay. Then again, he’s only seven.”

“Is he going to have you killed?” Geralt asked, knowing as he did that the Earl was trying, by way of marrying Jaskier to him.

“Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blood or just because another ‘accident’ would look suspicious, but there’s an easier way.” Jaskier pointed to a name circled in blue. “That’s my aunt Matylda, father’s older sister. She got married, which officially makes her part of her husband’s family tree, not ours, and she can no longer inherit,” Jaskier paused. “If she weren’t already a woman, I mean.”

“But we’re both men,” Geralt said. “I could just as easily become part of your family tree and then your father’s problem.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, “In theory, but of course that isn’t how he played it. I’ll be an honorary witcher, and my name,” here he tapped some fine script. “Will be circled in blue and removed from the line.”

They both looked at the tree, looming darkly for a while. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt offered, although he supposed it wasn’t worth much.

“I’m sorry too,” Jaskier said. “You shouldn’t be roped into all this.”

Geralt privately considered that, yes, while he would have preferred to avoid all this intrigue and politics, Jaskier didn’t seem too bad.

Jaskier led him back through the stone rabbit warren that made up the bowels of the castle.

“Is her ladyship...like that, because of the death of her sons?” Geralt asked when they paused at the top of a staircase. 

Jaskier cocked his head sadly, and then continued walking. Aftr a few more paced he said, “Yes, mostly. She wasn’t always...present, I suppose before but when they died so close together, and in such an awful way-- there’s nothing nice about a block of stone dropping on you from four stories up--something broke. She’s a nice lady, just happier living in her head, I think. Maybe she goes somewhere else, where her boys and her first husband are alive, I hope.”

They arrived back at the study without another word. 

They sat.

“I, um.” Geralt said. “Hmmm. I got you,” he proferred the package, not knowing what to say and begging Jaskier to save him from trying to figure it out. 

Jaskier took the package and pulled the string so that it fell open. The doublet slithered out. Vesemir had sent a letter asking for measurements as soon as Geralt had told him the idea.

“It’s basilisk leather,” Geralt said. “Witchers, um, our Path, it can be dangerous, so you should have this.”

Jaskier held up the fabric, watching the colors, deep blue and green, shift across the slick material. Privately, and for no reason Geralt could really guess at, he was very pleased, both that the doublet was in what seemed to be Jaskier’s colors, and also at the awe struck look on his face.

“It’s as light as silk,” Jaskier said, passing the fabric between his fingers. “And you said it’s leather?”

“Basilisk leather,” Geralt said. Monsters. They were talking about monsters, which he knew about. Thank the gods. “It’s like armor, and it won’t burn or get wet, water just runs off.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as basilisk leather,” Jaskier said, holding the doublet up. “Where did you get it? It’s incredible.”

Geralt coughed modestly, and tried not to puff his chest. “I killed the basilisk. Making the leather needs different skills than normal tanning, it’s more like potion making.” He remembered that most people knew little about witcher skills and needs. “All witchers know some alchemy, and we make potions for combat so I...I tanned it. My brother Lambert drew up the design, I don’t know much about clothes.”

The tailor had nearly cried when they’d presented him with the fabric, exclaiming about it’s luster and the ‘glorious smooth hand’, whatever that meant. 

Geralt watched Jaskier’s face anxiously. It wasn’t a courtly gift, no crown of pearls or whatever nobles expected, but it had taken him two months to turn the basilisk skin into leather. It would have taken him half the time but he’d had to do it on the road. Lambert had fussed about the design for almost a week too, and it had been Eskel’s idea to ask for the buttons to be little black pearls like that.

Vesemir had smiled at the team effort, calling it the wolves gift to their new pup.

Jaskier looked up at him, face like a sunbeam. 

“Can I try it on?”

Geralt just nodded, and looked away modestly as Jaskier divested himself of his previous doublet before buttoning the basilisk leather.

He twirled, and in the light from the window the fabric seemed to glow, shifting and turning with each movement. 

“And it really will keep me safe?” he asked, looking down at himself, beaming. 

Geralt nodded. “It would take a battle axe a dozen tries to pierce it.”

Jaskier smiled at him again, and it made Geralt’s stomach tingle, although he had eaten some suspect meat on the ride to Lettenhove. Then Jaskier threw his arms around his neck.

Geralt wasn’t old fashioned. He could move with the times, whatever Lambert said, but manners had been stiffer sixty years ago and Geralt was just thankful that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his ears going red.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaskier said, pulling back. “Thank you.”

Geralt shrugged uncomfortably. Jaskier smelled like soap and some sort of oil. Linseed maybe, probably for the wood of his lute.

“I have a gift for you, it’s not as lovely, but I hope you like it.”

Geralt carefully took the package. It was wrapped much prettier than his had been. “The countess already...”

“That was from her,” Jaskier said dismissively. “And maybe even from Father, although I doubt it, he wouldn’t waste money on me. But this gift is from me.” He sat forward eagerly. “Go on, open it.”

Geralt wasn’t about to refuse that eager, open expression, so he pulled at the ribbon, feeling rather like a bear trying to tie a shoelace.

The bright paper just fell away and there was a stiff paper box. He opened that too. 

Three glass bottles sat inside, nestled in paper. The paper was only there to keep them from clinking because as he pulled one out he saw the telltale dark sheen.

Brimstone glass. It was unbreakable. Sometimes witchers carried their more noxious potions in it but rarely, it was frighteningly expensive, usually only mages could afford it.

“How?” he said. How did you afford it? How did you know it existed? Did you know witchers use potions? He looked up at Jaskier, who looked nervous.

“Are they alright?” he said. “Only I won them off a sorceror in a pub. He told me they were indestructible and threw one at the ground to prove it. I thought they’d be useful...Was it a trick?” He looked so upset at the prospect.

“These, Geralt said, “Are Brimstone Glass, they are indeed indestructible and very, very useful.” Jaskier’s face split into a grin again. 

“Thank you,” Geralt said. It didn’t seem like enough, but if he hugged the lad like Jaskier had him he would kill him.

“Should I open the box from the countess?”

“Do,” Jaskier said. “I want to know what it is.”

The latch flicked easily under Geralt’s hand and the lid popped open.

Jaskier gasped.

“It’s my mother’s ring,” he said. “I don’t remember her well, but I remember her hands...”

It was a beautiful ring, opal, if Geralt was any judge, but Eskel knew stones better than him. Silver wound around the stone, with smaller gems studding the setting to either side. 

“I will use it in the ceremony,” Geralt said, offering it to Jaskier. “If it fits.”

“It won’t fit,” Jaskier said sadly. “Mother had very small hands, but it’s a nice thought.”

Geralt looked at the ring and Jaskier’s left hand. “Try it?”

Jaskier did, sliding the ring onto his finger easily. He looked at it in amazement.

“Amaria must have had it enlarged,” he said.

“A good gift,” Geralt said, although not sure who the gift was really for.

There came a polite knock at the door, interupting the moment, whatever sort of moment it was.

“My lord, it is time for supper.”

Damn. 

Jaskier slipped the ring back into the box and Geralt looked away as he changed into his regular doublet. He didn’t look away fast enough and caught a scandalous glimpse of collarbone and soft chest hair where the chemise got pulled down a little. The air felt a little stuffy suddenly.

The gifts, and Geralt was proud to see that Jaskier folded the doublet carefully back into the paper, although nothing could have harmed it, were handed to a footman to be taken back to their respective rooms.Geralt offered Jaskier his arm, like he’d seen the nobility do, and then Jaskier led him to the dining hall.

To his relief, the hall wasn’t packed. They were what Lambert would call ‘fashionably late’ (and what Vesemir would call a reason for three extra laps) and all the guests were seated. A table held Lady Amaria and a man who must be the Earl, although there was little visible resemblance to Jaskier. They were seated with perhap half a dozen other nobles, as well as a red headed boy of about seven, Filip, probably, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. There was another table of presumably more minor nobility, and then a small table with the wolves, two seats still empty.

All eyes turned to look at the pair. Jaskier bowed deeply, and since his arm was still linked with Geralt’s he was made to bow too, or else risk having his arm pulled from its socket. Then they made their way to the smallest table.

Geralt pulled out Jaskier’s chair for him and saw Vesemir’s approving nod, as well as Lambert’s smirk. He didn’t see the swift kick Eskel delivered below the table, but caught the way Lambert’s eyes watered suddenly, and smiled at his brother in thanks for the retribution. Then he sat.

“Julian,” Vesemir said, reaching over the table to shake hands. “I am Vesemir, Geralt’s teacher. It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“I am happy to make your aquaintance, Master Vesemir,” Jaskier said, and Geralt was impressed that he only winced a little bit as Vesemir inadvertently crushed his knuckles in a grip that could moor a boat. He did, however, gently shake out his fingers under the table once he’d been released.

“If you please, however,” Jaskier continued as if nothing had happened. “I prefer my nickname, Jaskier.”

“Jaskier it is, then,” Vesemir said, moustache twitching up at the corners. Geralt suspected he was thinking the same as he had done. Buttercups, pretty and poisonous.

“You were educated at Oxenfurt, is that correct?” Eskel said.

“Yes, in the fine arts, although I specialized in music composition and lute performance. I didn’t catch your name...?” The most delicate question mark was added to the end of the statement. Eskel blushed, Jaskier wouldn’t know it, but Geralt could see the back of his neck reddening.

“Eskel,” he said quickly. “And the asshole who’s snickering is Lambert.”

Jaskier didn’t look even a little intimidated by either of Geralt’s brothers, which was impressive, because Lambert could scowl like it was a contest and Eskel, although only an inch taller than Geralt, was naturally hugely muscled in a way even the mutagens hadn’t managed for Geralt. His chest and arms looked like they’d withstand a siege weapon.

Jaskier turned a smile on Lambert, who was sputtering indignantly at Eskel’s entirely fair description.

“I’m told you helped with my beautiful courting gift,” he said. Then he turned the smile on all of the wolves. “A team effort I imagine.” 

This stunned all three brothers, and made Vesemir smile. Lambert shrugged uncomfortably. For all his prickliness, he couldn’t take a compliment. 

“Eskel’s idea for the buttons,” he muttered, and Geralt knew he’d been entirely won over.

“The buttons are beautiful,” Jaskier said, smiling warmly at Eskel now, who looked like he’d rather be facing a mountain troll. 

“Was Vesemir that got your measurements,” he said, looking down at the tablecloth. Jaskier beamed at the whole table then.

“Truly a team effort, thank you all, it’s beautiful and I cannot wait to wear it.” With that the whole table was well and truly won over by Jaskier. Geralt couldn’t help but brag a little.

“Jaskier gave me Brimstone Glass bottles as a courting gift,” he said, and preened slightly under the others’ slightly jealous noises of amazement. Jaskier flushed a very pretty pink. 

“I just thought they’d be useful,” he said, although his smile was pleased.

Serving girls entered the hall with trays and the chatter in the hall expanded excitedly. A plump young woman set a tray down at their table and Eskel hummed in appreciation.

“It smells delicious,” he said. She smiled at him, looked him up and down, and then winked.

“Oh doesn’t it just, I could just eat it all up,” she said, not looking at the food even as she lifted the cloche from the appetizers. Then she winked and disappeared back into the kitchen. Another girl appeared and filled the goblets but the witchers hardly noticed for laughing at Eskel’s face.

“Seems Mabel took a liking to you,” Jaskier said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Through his own laughter, Geralt watched Jaskier’s father glaring at their table. Good. The old fuck could choke on it, he didn’t look like he’d ever laughed a day in his life. 

“Careful though,” Jaskier was saying. “She looked ready to take a bite out of you.”

“But,” Eskel gestured, baffled to his face.

“Oh pish,” Jaskier said, taking a swig of wine. “Nobody cares about that sort of thing, do they? Plenty of ladies around here like a few scars, makes men look rugged and dangerous.”

“Rugged?” Eskel rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating. 

“Definitely,” said Jaskier, nodding. He took one of the appetizers. Geralt moved a few to his own plate and slowly their little table descended into a quiet contentment. The appetizers were good, hors d'oeuvres , Geralt remembered Lambert telling him once. They were little bits of paste, meat and vegetable mostly, inside pastry casings.

He smiled when he noticed that he and his brothers were all looking between Jaskier and Vesemir to make sure they hadn’t missed any manners. Eskel swiped Lambert’s elbows off the table.

Eventually the appetizers were replaced with soup. The saucy kitchen girl, Mabel, Jaskier had called her, made a positively salacious remark to Eskel. Something daring about him licking everything clean. Eskel smiled faintly and turned redder than the beet soup.

“You should flirt back,” Jaskier said, once Mabel was gone. “If you’re actually interested, I mean.”

“It’s not that I’m not. Interested I mean,” Eskel squeaked. “But I can’t offer her anything, no marriage or security.”

Jaskier looked at him. It was definitely a look, although not a nasty one. “She asked you to lick her clean and you think that was an invitation to marriage?”

“I wouldn’t want to defile...”

“Oh shut up Eskel, sex doesn’t defile anything. It’s natural and normal and if you think it some how ‘decreases the value’ of a woman than you aren’t the man I thought you to be.” Lambert cut in. “Have some fun, maybe she can remove the stick you’ve lodged up your ass.”

“You’re right, of course,” Eskel said. But now Jaskier was looking worried.

“It won’t be a problem, right?” he asked Geralt. “That I’m not, um a virgin, I mean?”

“No,” Geralt said, probably missing the mark on reassuring, but doing his best. “Unless you mind that I’m not one either. And there is no fidelity clause, and no consummation, you needn’t sleep with me, and you’re free to see other people.”

Jaskier looked at first relieved and then impish, licking the soup from his spoon in a way that made significant parts of Geralt’s brain go numb. “I dunno,” he said, leaning towards Geralt and bumping him with a shoulder. “I can’t imagine consumation with you would be such a chore.”

Melitele’s great gauzy veil, this boy would be the death of him.

There was a pause between soup and the main course, but when Mabel picked up the dishes Eskel leaned towards her and asked if he’d licked it clean enough, to the woman’s obvious approval.

They sat and chatted, Jaskier, Eskel, and Vesemir debated over some old literature that Geralt had never heard of, and then they were interuppted with a cough.

The earl stood, face like stone, beside their table. 

They rose. Vesemir bowed.

“My Lord,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. I am Vesemir, of the school of the wolf.”

Lord Pankratz inclined his head. “Greetings, Master Vesemir,” he said. “I wish to discuss some of the terms of the contract with you.”

He snapped his fingers and a footman brought him a chair, without waiting for Vesemir’s response.

The wolves sat, feeling wary. Jaskier was looking down at his hands, shoulders shrunk in.

They sat in suspense as Vesemir and Lord Pankratz hashed out details of the legal protections. The main course appeared and the earl stood, and bowed.

“Why don’t we continue this after desert,” he said, smiling smoothly. And it was a very smooth smile. Like an oil slick.

Dinner after that was subdued, despite Eskel returning Mabel’s flirtations. Jaskier looked down at his plate most of the time and the witchers picked up on his unease.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt whispered.

“I don’t know, but he’s planning something, and I don’t like it.”

Then coffee was served after dessert, and the Earl de Lettenhove sat at their table again. 

“Now, for what I really wanted to discuss, I know political marriages can be...challenging,” the earl said in a voice like a snake. “But I wanted to make it clear, should either member express a wish to anul the marriage, the contract will become void.” Here he squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder so hard he winced. “I couldn’t bear for my dear Julian to be unhappy, you see. He’s high maintainance I know, but I wish him the best.”

The earl smiled a despicable little smile. “Now, I think you two shouldn’t really see more of each other before the wedding, yes? Bad luck and all.”

The earl then hauled Jaskier away by his collar.

“What a cunt,” Lambert said.

“I figured that was in the contract anyway,” Geralt said. “Isn’t that normally how it works?”

Vesemir nodded. “Indeed, it’s how these marriages go. But I expect the earl is betting that the two of you wont be able to stand eachother, and so he gets rid of his son and doesn’t have to help witchers all in one go.”

“Yes, Jaskier explained things.”

And then Geralt told his family what Jaskier had told him. The suspicious accidents, the laws, the family tree.

“I agree with Lambert,” Eskel said. “What a gigantic fucking cunt.”

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

What’s with my thing about clothing descriptions and fancy cloth? I’m a fashion design major, that’s what. 

We’ve got answers about Amaria, and the reason for the engagement, but what’s the wedding going to be like? oooh, cliffhanger, but not too much so I hope it makes up for last time when I was so bad to you all.

Tag List!  @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata  @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam@sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest@innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast  @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna 

@ailorian @toothhurtyam I’m having trouble adding you, I can’t tag if this is a password protected side blog or if you have Allow Blog to Appear in Search Results off, I think. 

[lunarflux]

"i promised i'd forget, but you're all i see when i dream the night away"

bang chan x reader

genre — drama!au

suggested background music: x

note: like i said - i put a lot of my life into writing. something similar to this happened to me today, and i'd like to think that music is getting me through it. i wanted to add more of a "post credits" scene for chan and o/c, but this is how my day is going and how this situation ends.

The world never felt so heavy.

You'd never thought that scrolling through social media could create this bleeding ring in your ears, yet somehow here you are, unable to look at your phone. The photo you stumbled across had already been burned into your memory. There were times when you could forget what song you'd just listened to, and yet this one image had suddenly been burned, a permanent nightmare in your mind.

Your ex looked happy. It wasn't a bad breakup, but after a year, you couldn't expect him to stay single forever. You'd both agreed to move on, and while you swore you had, seeing the photo of him with a beautiful girl kissing his cheek made your shoulders heavy. Staring at your blacked out screen, it was like the photo was still there, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't keep yourself from seeing it. Every time you closed your eyes, there he was.

Happy.

You fumbled with your cell phone, placing it face down on your desk before your boss could catch you. It was hard to hide the look on your face. It was pain, sadness, and confusion. How was it that after all this time, you hadn't succeeded in moving on, but he had?

Was it you? Or was this girl really so special that you were worth forgetting?

The feeling of being forgotten - it's seeing the dust gather on photos and the doorknob that he will never open again.

It's over.

"Do you have the paperwork for the meeting tomorrow?" Chan popped into your office, placing a fresh mug of coffee on your desk. You'd started here only six months ago, but he already knew that you liked your coffee light and sweet. "Jisoo wants to make sure we're not missing anything before -"

"Yeah, I have it." You said curtly, looking back at your computer, typing away at your report. "I'll bring it to you later."

"I mean, I can wait for it if you have it ready."

"Chan," you looked up at him. "I said I'll bring it to you later."

Chan looked at you with mild concern. Sure, there were a lot of women in the office, and the men had eventually learned when not to step on toes in the case of any mood swings because of work stress. You weren't one of those people though. You were the type of person who'd rid the stress with a bar of chocolate and be done with it. You'd never snapped at him before.

"Okay." Chan backed out quietly. He ducked into the next office over. Knocking on Minki's office door, he peered in.

"Hey," Minki stood up. "I gotta bring these to the fourth floor, can you watch the phone for me?"

"Yeah, no problem." Chan smiled before taking a seat.

Ping

He knew that you and Minki were office best friends ever since you got hired. While he didn't mean to see it, Minki left his messenger open and slowly your messages came flooding in.

x: he moved on x: am i supposed to be upset? x: we broke up a year ago, so why do i feel so defeated haha x: maybe i'm just decomposing. why do i feel like this x: can we get drinks later? i know you hate it when i drink to drown out my sorrows, but i just can't be here right now.

Damn.

Chan swore he didn't mean to see all that. That would explain the mood though.

x: i didn't think i'd miss him this much. i just want to forget about it.

Taking in a deep breath, Chan pulled out his phone and made a call.

**

"Chan, why did you need me for this stupid client dinner? And who the hell has dinner at 4PM?" You continuously complained as he drove you down the road into the next district.

"Just relax, it'll be fine."

You rested your head against the passenger side window. As your breath fogged up the glass, you scribbled little hearts, peppered over the skyline as Chan drove. It wasn't until you started seeing signs that you realized you were at Banpo Bridge. Chan pulled into the empty parking lot.

"The client wants to have dinner here? What are we doing - getting takeout?" You jested.

Chan opened your door. "Go sit over there, I'll be right back."

You took your seat right by the edge of the water. The weather really was perfect today. The fresh air helped clear out your thoughts. Even though the breakup was a year ago, seeing that photo really made it feel like it just happened yesterday. Your heart broke twice, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to think that you hate him now. You loved him as a memory - a beautiful, happy memory, and it was time to let go now.

Chan re-emerged next to you, a bag with four bottles of soju and piping hot ramen in his hands.

"Um -" You nearly laughed at the sight of him struggling to carry everything. "Am I missing something? Are the clients your drinking buddies?"

"Sit, sit, please." Chan arranged everything down on the ledge.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but I am confused."

"I, uh." He sat down next to you, removing his jacket. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me."

Stopping halfway from opening a bottle, you looked up at him.

"y/n, Minki had me watch over his desk, and I... I'm sorry, I saw your messages."

"Chan, that was private." You looked down at your shoes, feeling the heaviness in your chest again.

"I know. And I'm sorry." He grabbed the bottle from you and opened it himself. "Minki had to run to another meeting, and I saw how sad you were. I just figured I'd help you escape for a bit. I called in a favor from the interns to watch your stuff, so we could... do this, I guess."

You'd always known Chan was a softie. He was that guy in the office who never forgot about birthdays and important events. He was never late, and he would do everything he could to help out the new people. Even to you, he was a big help whenever you needed it.

"Again, I'm sorry." He poured two shots and handed you one. "But you looked like you needed it, so - cheers."

You watched him as you threw back your soju. You stifled a smile, "Pitiful, isn't it. Still feeling like you've been dumped even after an entire year."

Chan winced as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. "Not at all. Who said that a year was the right time to get over someone? There's no rule for that."

You continued to sip slowly, watching him open up all the snacks.

"I haven't had a girlfriend in years, and I swear, after my last girlfriend and I broke up, I couldn't stop thinking about her even because of the littlest things. It wasn't a bad breakup, but when you have so many happy moments with someone, you can't help but feel sad when you see that person making new moments with someone else. It makes you wonder if that could've been me, y'know?"

It couldn't be stopped. One deep breath and suddenly all the tears started pouring out. You couldn't control your breathing, and it felt like the weight of the world finally came crashing down on your chest, reminding you of every little happy memory that had to be released into the ocean like confetti.

Chan rushed over, placing his jacket on your shoulders. He hushed you, rubbing your arms to warm you up. Crouching down in front of you, he pulled you up and brought you into his chest.

"Wait, I'll get makeup on your shirt -"

He laughed at your childish worries. "It's just a shirt. Just go ahead, it's okay. I can get it dry-cleaned, and you're worth more than some shirt."

Feeling your tears soak up in the cotton, you just cried, and Chan let you until it felt like there was nothing left. You chest was still heaving, but you felt the weight lift slowly. The sea air started filling your lungs again like an icy burn.

"I'm sorry." You finally looked up, mascara stained on your cheeks. You smeared what you could from your face before sitting.

"Stop apologizing." Chan sat down beside you again. "Do you feel better?"

"A little."

Placing his hand on yours, Chan smiled. It was a warm gentle smile. He squeezed, "It will get better. I promise."

"I just feel like everyone keeps moving on, and I'm just stuck here."

"Where is 'here' to you? 'Here' to me is existing with a good job with good friends and a good life. 'Here' is anything you're doing happily without him." He reached up to cup your cheek. "I know you feel miserable, but your body won't let you feel this way forever. And neither will I. Please don't feel as if 'here' is an awful place. 'Here', you have me, and I'll stay until you're not sad anymore."

Peering up at him with red eyes, you smiled with whatever energy you had. Sadness still sat on your shoulders, but it didn't feel so awful anymore.

Chan nodded towards you.

"Until you're not sad or until you ask me to leave - I'll be here for you."

[fanfic-archive]

Meeting the Baron (2/7)

Chapter 2. Madripoor

Summary: When the Baron takes your search to Madripoor, the four of you are forced to play your roles. A role that brings you much closer to Zemo than you ever thought you could be comfortable with, but is it entirely an act?

(Yes, we're doing the fake dating trope. I don't care if it's overdone, I'm obsessed)

Part 1

Word Count: 4696

Zemo had provided each of you with, what he deemed to be, appropriate disguises. Bucky’s was fairly simple, just enough to make him look like the Winter Soldier, but Sam’s suit was brighter and apparently very much the style of the Smiling Tiger, not that he was a fan. You had instantly become hesitant when you opened the package that Zemo had handed you, staring at the black dress and strappy heels in disbelief. You knew that you had to keep up appearances, the people you would be meeting only understood three things, power, money, and women. Still, how were you meant to react if something went wrong while wearing this.

Putting on the garment only made you less sure. The dress was fitted to perfection, which was curious to you since Zemo never asked for your size, and the material was soft to the touch. It ended above the knees and had thin straps over your shoulders, it was more revealing than something you would usually wear but the length kept it surprisingly classy. You actually looked like the Baron’s partner rather than a date for one night. The dress itself wasn’t that uncomfortable, just impractical since you couldn’t hide a gun under it, and you were a little surprised by how good it looked on you, but the shoes were the bigger problem, being impractical. You wouldn’t be able to rush somewhere too easily.

Once you finished getting ready, you put on the necklace that Zemo had left for you and headed back out into the main room. Of course, the Baron’s date would need to have some sort of jewellery to really sell it.

“Finally” Sam sighed when he heard the door open and close behind him, the three men turning to you.

“What? Don’t look at me like that” you complained, noticing the surprised looks on Sam and Bucky’s faces.

“Just haven’t seen you all dressed up before” Sam shrugged. “And I thought I looked overdressed” he joked.

“You look good” Bucky complimented, hoping to make you feel more comfortable.

“Thanks, Bucky” you chuckled, shaking your head at him. “But of course, you haven’t seen me in anything like this before, I’ve never had the opportunity and if I could afford all of this, I would have retired by now” you pointed out, making them both laugh a little. You made a fair point.

“I, for one, think I made a perfect choice. You look wonderful” Zemo complimented, making you all look over at him. “Are you all ready?” he asked as he approached the three of you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“We aren’t there yet, keep your hands to yourself” you reminded him.

“Apologies” he nodded, lowering his hand. “But once we get out of the car, we all need to be in character” he warned the three of you, who just nodded in understanding.

A car picked the four of you up and dropped you off just outside the meeting place, and this time when Zemo held his hand out to you, you took it and let him help you out of the car. He offered his arm to you and you took hold of his elbow, letting him lead the way, Sam and Bucky following behind.

You couldn’t decide what was worse, watching Bucky fight while pretending to be the Winter Soldier or watching Sam drink whatever it was that the bartender gave him. Both were painful, and while witnessing each you had unconsciously gripped Zemo’s arm a little tighter, and he had pulled you a little closer each time. Luckily, while at the bar, Zemo had gotten you something a little sweeter than Sam’s drink.

Finally, Selby agreed to meet with you all and you were sent through to see her, but things only got more tense.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands” Selby spoke as the four of you entered the room. She sat comfortably on one of the couches, arms draped over the back cushion, watching you all like she was trying to read you.

“Not a demand. An offer” Zemo corrected her.

“A lot has changed since you were here last” Selby claimed as Sam crossed to stand on one side of the room while Bucky positioned himself on the other. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” she asked curiously.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered as he sat down on the couch opposite her, guiding you towards him by the hand. Without speaking, he was looking you in the eyes, as if to convey the choice that he was asking you to make.

You took a small, unnoticeable breath before quickly making a decision, placing yourself comfortably on his lap. You’ve surely done worse.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for” he continued, wrapping one arm around your waist to keep you steady and placing his other gloved hand on your bare knee. An attempt to be respectful while still being convincing.

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger” Selby suddenly turned her attention to Sam, who only responded with a nod.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him-” Zemo got her attention back onto him, gesturing to Bucky, his offer to her “-along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately but tell me…would she do anything I want?” the attention was suddenly put onto you as Selby stared you down, putting you on edge. You couldn’t help but tense a little, this wasn’t part of the plan and it unsettled you.

“This one only sings for me” Zemo informed her, his hand inching up your thigh slightly to prove his point. His touch left goosebumps in its wake, which you tried your best to ignore but you were sure that he noticed it.

Knowing you had to sell this, the hand you had on his shoulder lifted to play with his hair (though, not enough to mess it up) while you placed your other hand against his chest, smiling sweetly at him. Yes, you had noticed his attractiveness before, but this was the closest you had ever been to him and the longest you had been looking at him, and it only left you admiring him a little more. Luckily, you could blame it on acting if anyone noticed. Plus, his cologne was invading your senses and you found it oddly comforting.

“That’s a shame” Selby hummed. “But you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. 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. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but things didn’t go as planned” she informed him.

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked but your attention turned to the hand he had returned to your knee when his thumb started stroking little circles against your skin.

“Oh. The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me” Selby shook her head in disapproval. “Maybe we could work something out if you could make your little bird sing” she suggested, eyeing you again, and you couldn’t help but lean closer to the criminal who’s lap you were sat on.

“Go on, Liebling, answer her” Zemo prompted, giving your thigh a small reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry, but I only have eyes for one person” you claimed with a convincing smile, gently resting your head against Zemo’s shoulder. You would straddle his man right here in front of everyone if it meant she left you alone.

“And she is not a bargaining chip” Zemo insisted, holding onto you a little tighter, almost protectively. That brought a more genuine smile to your face.

However, when you glanced over at Selby, you could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t entirely convinced; you couldn’t tell whether she was trying to uncover your act or just find a weakness in your supposed relationship that she could exploit to get what she wanted. Your grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, trying to convey your concerns to him. It did seem to get his attention as he turned his face towards you as you lifted your head from his shoulders, resulting in your faces ending up a little closer than you expected.

Now or never. You had to sell this act if you wanted all of this to go smoothly. You lifted your hand, tracing your fingers alone his jaw as you put on your best love-struck smile. Zemo was watching you carefully, he knew what your possible moves were from here and while it surprised him, he would let you make the play.

So, you lent in closer as your fingertips reached his chin, lips hovering just over his. The hand on your knee brushed upwards, gloved fingertips touching the hem of your dress. Any longer would be suspicious, and so you closed the gap and touched your lips to his. You had made the move, you had kissed him, and so Zemo allowed himself to take the lead.

The hand on your thigh tightened as he deepened the kiss, what surprised you the most was that you returned the advancement, your hand cupping his jaw to hold him closer. You simply couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him and how this just didn’t feel as wrong as you thought it would.

While the moment felt disconnected from the others and endless, in reality it hadn’t been that long at all. And while it was beginning to feel easy to forget about where you were, you didn’t, slipping your hand down from his jaw and too his chest as you pulled away.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt you” Selby teased but she seemed to be fully convinced now. The comment put a slight blush on your face, but you figured it worked for the act, so didn’t worry about it. You still avoided looking at either Sam or Bucky, not wanting to see how they were looking at you after that little show.

Selby finally seemed to give up on getting anywhere in that deal, she wasn’t going to get her hands on you, and the conversation could continue.

As Zemo and Selby spoke, you fainlly spared a few glances at Sam and Bucky. Bucky was still in character, though he seemed even tenser than before, but Sam managed to sneak a small look in your direction that silently asked if you were okay. You gave him the smallest of nods before disguising it by resting your head against Zemo’s fur collar.

Things were going well, that was until Sam’s sister called him and your covers were blown, resulting in Selby’s death. All four of you knew that you had to get out of there as soon as possible, you had made it out of the building with no trouble and were walking down the street when people started shooting at you all, wanting to claim the bounty for Selby’s killers.

The four of you reacted the only way you could, you knew that you couldn’t fight back and win right now, so you all ran for cover. Bucky and Sam bolted ahead but Zemo had supplied you with thin heels, causing you to stumble on the uneven ground. You cursed to yourself, only to have somebody pull you off to the side. It was almost too quick for you to process but Zemo had wrapped an arm around you and pulled you along with him, in a different direction to the other two.

The two of you kept your heads down, slipping off into an alleyway before deciding that it was safe enough to slow down and speak. It seemed that the bounty hunters had mostly followed Sam and Bucky.

“I can’t believe you made me wear these stupid shoes” you complained as he guided you through the alleyways of Madripoor, he obviously knew where he was going.

“I thought they looked nice” Zemo weakly defended himself but sounded confident in his claim.

“Sure, but not so great when you’re being shot at” you scoffed.

“If your friend had turned off his phone, none of this would have happened” he pointed out but that didn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

“We better be going to find them” you warned him.

“Of course” he nodded.

When you were sure that nobody was following you, the two of you slowed down a little and focused on regrouping. You followed Zemo, your attention focusing on him when you saw him reach into his coat and pull out a handgun just in case you had been followed.

“When did you get a gun?” you asked, catching up to him and glaring up at him.

“I picked it up” he shrugged.

“Hand it over” you ordered, holding your hand out.

“No” Zemo answered as he glanced at you but kept walking.

“Yes. You’re a criminal, I’m not letting you have a gun” you stated the obvious as you came to a stop, grabbing his arm to stop him too. “Give me the gun” you demanded once more as he turned to you.

“If I don’t?” he asked, almost playfully.

“Are you…are you joking? Give me the damn gun” you thrusted your hand out towards him again.

“At least ask nicely” he chastised.

“…please?” you sighed, giving in.

This time he didn’t hesitate before placing the gun in your hand. “Very good” he praised before turning and continuing down the alley. You watched him in disbelief before continuing to follow him.

“You also didn’t warn me that it would get cold in Madripoor before parading me out here half dressed” you complained as you caught up with him again, a cool breeze blowing past you.

“I would not parade you around” Zemo stated sternly, almost like he was offended by the accusation. “And in my defence, I expected to be back in a car by now” he reminded you.

You just hummed in response, unimpressed with his excuse, while wrapping your arms around yourself for some extra warmth. The gun still in your hand since you had nowhere to put it.

“My apologies for not coming more prepared” he apologised as he came to a halt, causing you to stop too. Without another word, he slipped off his coat and held it out to you.

“Not necessary” you mumbled, shaking your head as you turned down the offer and walked past him.

As you passed him, Zemo carefully draped his coat over your shoulders. Not letting you go cold simply due to your stubbornness.

“Thank you” you still gave the Baron a small, grateful smile before slipping your arms through the sleeves, already feeling much warmer. His cologne lingered on the garment, making it all the more inviting, but you tried to ignore that feeling. Zemo returned your smile as the two of you continued navigating through the various alleyways.

Finally, you reunited with Sam and Bucky, where they had run into a familiar face. Sharon, you had heard of her but had never actually met her before. She took you to her place where you could stay for a little while, she also happened to be hosting a party of sorts that same night, so she offered to let you all change. Meaning you got to change out of the uncomfortable dress and into some black pants and a simple black top. Simple but enough to make you fit in. You had also changed out those flimsy heels for a more comfortable pair of boots.

“Ah, much better” you let out a sigh of relief as you walked into the room the others were sitting in.

“What is wrong with the dress? It looked good on you” Zemo questioned, taking in but still approving of your new look.

You gave him a sarcastic smile before realising he was the only one of you who hadn’t changed, but you guessed that he was the only one of you who was wearing his own clothes in the first place. “Are you not changing?” you asked him as you handed him his coat back.

“Should I?” he asked, gesturing to his own attire.

“…suits you” you shook your head, and you weren’t lying. He had certainly found a style that suited him.

Zemo smirked to himself as he placed the coat down and turned to pour two drinks, keeping one for himself while holding the other out for you.

“Hey, just leave her alone, alright?” Bucky warned him, obviously still on edge from your performance earlier.

You just laughed to yourself and accepted the drink, already becoming more comfortable around Zemo than you probably should be.

Sam managed to talk Sharon into helping you all out, she promised to look for information but in the meantime all you four had to do was enjoy the party.

When you joined the party, you had shared a drink with Sam and Bucky but at some point, the two of them ended up wandering off to explore by themselves. You remained at the bar, nursing your drink, and just enjoying being able to relax for a moment.

Sipping from your glass, you looked around the dance floor, watching the guests dance until your gaze landed on Zemo. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, his dancing was awkward, but he seemed completely comfortable, not caring if anyone was watching him. But it didn’t seem like anyone was, all caught up in their own worlds. It was difficult to see this man as the criminal he truly was when he was dancing like…that. It just made you smile.

After a moment of watching him, he met your gaze, realising that you had been watching him. He only smiled and beckoned you over. Your eyes widened slightly, that just wasn’t a good idea, but he beckoned again as he continued to dance.

You contemplated it for a moment before finishing your drink, stepping down from the barstool and walking in his direction. You carefully pushed through the crowd until you reached the Baron. It might not have been a good idea, but you wanted to see how this went.

“Is this how all Barons dance?” you asked, speaking just loud enough for him to hear you over the music.

“Is there something wrong with the way I dance?” he asked, now pumping his fist in time with the music.

“You’re the lamest criminal mastermind I’ve ever met” you insulted him, but he didn’t seem to take it seriously, he just continued. “God, this is embarrassing” you laughed, shaking your head at him.

Zemo smiled at making you laugh before trying to draw you in, “then show me how you would dance.”

“Oh no, I don’t dance” you shook your head, quickly trying to get that idea out of his head.

“Apparently neither do I” he joked, making you bite back another smile, but this time he held his hand out for you.

You glanced down at his hand, like you were considering it, before looking around a little, like you were doing something wrong. Maybe you were.

“Worried that your friends will catch you? Worried about what they would think?” Zemo asked, noticing the way you glanced around.

You had to make your decision, so you did. “No” you answered, placing a hand in his to reaffirm your answer.

“Don’t worry, let’s just pretend that you’re still playing the role of my date. You do play it well, after all” he suggested, letting you step closer before actually placing a hand on your waist and pulling you closer.

“Careful, or I’ll turn you in” you threated, hoping he didn’t notice the slight pinkening of your cheeks, but still placed your hands on his shoulders when he released your hand.

“We’ll see” Zemo had a little smirk on his face as he slipped one hand around to sit on the small of your back, looking at you like he knew something that you didn’t. The action brought you a little closer, causing you to snake your arms around his neck. What could possibly be wrong with one dance?

The two of you were lost in the crowd, other guests shielding you from Sam or Bucky catching a glimpse of you both. Turns out, Zemo was holding out on you because he was apparently a much better dancer than he let on. You weren’t lying about not being a dancer, but you didn’t feel lost for a moment, because he guided you through it, moving with the music. If you were being perfectly honest, it was the most fun you had had in a long time. Which was strange considering the circumstances that brought you to Madripoor and the man who you were dancing with.

Unfortunately, your time at the party was cut short when Sharon came for you all. She had gotten some information and the location of Dr Nagel, and while that was very helpful, a part of you actually wished that you could have a moment longer with Zemo on the dancefloor.

Neither Sam or Bucky gave you a questioning look or anything, so you assumed that they hadn’t seen you together. And so, you all climbed into the car and headed to the location Sharon had heard about.

The four of you headed down into the secret lab while Sharon remained outside to keep lookout and fight off some of the bounty hunters that were still after you all. Inside the lab was the doctor you had been searching for and, with some persuasion, he had explained that Karli had taken all the remaining vials of serum with her and he had none left in the lab. Twenty vials to be exact, she had twenty vials and you had no way of knowing how many super soldiers she had already created with them.

That was when Sharon came running in, alerting you that you were running out of time and there where bounty hunters already outside. Before anyone could react, Zemo had pulled out a gun and shot the doctor, and then before anyone could do anything about it, the lab was attacked.

An explosion sent you all flying to the ground, hands scraping against the floor as you tried to soften your fall. Your vision slowly returned to you and you gathered your senses, looking around enough to see the flames that were engulfing the lab. A sense of panic set in as you pushed yourself off of the floor, looking around for any sign of the others.

You could see Sam, Bucky, and Sharon had been knocked down by the blast but they seemed to be alright as well, though you would all probably be rather bruised.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asked with a slight groan as he lifted himself up.

You looked around the burning lab and managed to catch a glimpse of the Baron escaping. “I’ve got him!” you assured them as you climbed to your feet, lifting your arm to shield your face from the heat as you followed after him.

“Y/n” Sam and Bucky both called after you but you were already gone.

As you exited the lab, your ears were still ringing, and the blast had been disorientating. You couldn’t see where Zemo had gone, cursing yourself for losing him, but you readied your gun and kept your wits about you.

Movement on top of one of the shipping containers caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but feel a little sense of disbelief when you realised what you were looking at. It was Zemo, wearing a purple mask, with a gun in his hand. He aimed down from the container and shot a pipe that resulted in another explosion, you stepped back behind another shipping container to avoid the blast from it.

Peering around the container, you saw Zemo climbing down from the container he stood on to fight off a group of bounty hunters. He fought better that you thought he would, with skill and a certain amount of ease, and you hated this part of your brain but…it was kinda hot…

Tearing your gaze away from him, you noticed another bounty hunter rounding a corner and aiming their gun at Zemo. Before they could pull the trigger, you stepped out and shoot them. The gunshot got the Baron’s attention, making him turn to you.

Zemo approached you with a sense of urgency, placing a hand on your shoulder as he turned you around and escorted you with him.

“Where do you keep getting guns from?” you asked as he dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I have an eye for them” Zemo shrugged, the mask hiding his facial expressions from you.

“We have to go back for the others” you told him, looking over your shoulder to see that the scene was out of sight.

“They will be fine” he assured you.

“We’re not leaving them” you insisted, beginning to turn on your heel.

“You’re right” Zemo caught your arm, stilling you. “Just trust me” it was a big ask considering his history, but you still nodded and turned back around, continuing to follow him.

Eventually, the two of you came to an open shipping container. Looking inside, you saw a car, either he had planned something like this, or he had incredible luck. Zemo removed his mask, putting it in his pocket, before the two of you climbed into the car.

“I would like to apologise for last night” Zemo spoke up as he started the car

“What for?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“For if I made you uncomfortable at all during our meeting with Selby, it was not my intention” he explained himself, pulling the car out of the unit.

“…you didn’t” you assured him honestly. A part of you wished that you had felt uncomfortable, that was how you were supposed to feel, but it wasn’t at all. You felt far too comfortable around him.

“Good” he nodded.

“We were just playing are parts” you added quietly but it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than him.

“Very convincingly, might I add” Zemo hummed, glancing over at you.

“You might not” you mumbled, making him smirk to himself.

Sam and Bucky watched as the car pulled up in front of them, Zemo in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat.

“Supercharged” Zemo smiled as he put the car in park, though the three of them seem less impressed with your arrival.

“I told you I had him” you grinned, earning a short look from the two men.

“You’re going back to jail” Sam threated Zemo.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” the Baron asked with an exasperated sigh.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s three of us, and at least twenty of them” Bucky pointed out.

“He’s been useful so far and he hasn’t run yet. Now, come on, get in” you nodded towards the backseat.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again…” Sam began to warn but was interrupted.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Zemo assured him half-heartedly.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion” Sharon commented as Sam and Bucky climbed into the backseats of the car.

“Come back to the States with us” Sam offered her.

“I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me” Sharon nodded before walking away.

“Thanks for everything” Sam called after her before getting more comfortable in the back of the car.

“I think you’re warming up to me” Zemo commenting, looking to you.

“I think you need to shut up and drive” you told him, putting a small smirk on his face before he complied and drove off.

Meeting the Baron Taglist:

@viviace​

(Just ask to be added!)

[eclipsedpascal]

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

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The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

●●●●●●●●

Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

●●●●●●●●

Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 12

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Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo @khneltea @raeuberprinzessin

Tim had exactly zero idea what was going on.

Marinette had disappeared into the shower so he’d figured that, hey, work was over and he was 90% sure it was the day she usually shaved (something he knew because every time she shaved she excitedly asked him to touch her leg because it was smooth) so he had time to kill…

He walked over to her jewelry box.

He’d already bugged all of the new jewelry he had bought her but her old stuff was perfectly intact and he kind of wanted more insurance. Sure, they lived together now so it was unlikely she would have much reason to leave without him, but he was known for his millions of plans and contingencies and he wasn’t about to mess up when it was someone he cared about.

So, he went to work on the first necklace he grabbed. It had a tiny cat with green emeralds for eyes.

He looked at the tiny black pupils that the cat had. He pulled a tiny pick out of his pocket and carefully started carving a circle in it for the bug.

And then a bug-shaped god came flying out of the door for something.

There were a few beats as Tim and Tikki stared at each other.

Tikki broke it with a loud groan.

He watched her float past him for the towel hung on Marinette’s bedpost and then go back inside.

Shit.

He darted towards the bathroom, only to pause at the door. He really didn’t want to burst in while Marinette was probably naked, that was a huge breach of privacy, but he also didn’t want Tikki to tell him about all the bugs he was planting! Shit! He bit his lip, considering.

“Here’s your towel, Marinette,” Tikki said with a sharp edge to her tone.

“... are you mad?”

“Not at you. Where are the cookies you baked last night?”

“Uh, the fridge --?”

“Thank you.”

Why hadn’t she told her? Tim wasn’t complaining, of course, but he was a little confused. She was clearly mad about it and he doubted that Marinette had made some rule that said ‘you can’t tell me about people bugging me’ because that was oddly specific and not a very good idea… so… what?

He didn’t know. He was just going to thank the god of luck -- he was pretty sure that was Tikki -- and continue what he was doing.

~

Marinette didn’t have to struggle to keep everyone inside the first night. She liked that. More time to plan.

But how did she get herself let out, you may ask?

Remember how Tim had said that all-hands-on-deck situations are the only exceptions to the Stay Inside While Injured Rule? Well, guess what had happened.

Arkham had had a huge breakout and Marinette wasn’t going to complain… even if her kwami might be a little disappointed in how happy she was about it.

She was even happier when she’d found out that one of the people that had broken out was Scarecrow. She’d been meaning to tell him about her guesses about his brownie recipe for a while and she hadn’t really had a chance to do it when she was talking to him through a phone with a thick glass between them.

Batman -- Bruce? -- didn’t need to know that they’d broken into a bakery for the night to test out their theories before she had taken him back to Arkham.

He’d thank them when he got the brownies (the missing ingredient was Mexican cinnamon!). Or, at least, she hoped he would.

~

Tim had to say… Marinette's plan to get everyone in her house was working.

He could warn his siblings but, honestly, he found it kind of funny.

He was surprised to see Jason show up first. He raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Didn’t know you were in town, Flamebird.”

Jason did an exaggerated eye roll that Tim swore he could see despite the domino. “Marinette said she had something she wanted to show me.”

And she did. She walked over and dropped the Harry Potter books onto the window ledge beside him. “This is terrible and I hate you for making me read them.”

“It gets better later on --.”

“I read two books. That’s six hundred pages. If you can’t get your shit together in six hundred fucking pages then you don’t deserve my time.”

He scoffed. “They’re not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Read it. It’s been years for you, right? Get to book three and tell me it’s good.”

Jason scowled and grabbed the books, taking a seat in the armchair.

Tim grinned and rested an arm around his girlfriend. “You don’t actually hate Harry Potter, do you?”

“Only the book version.”

He frowned. “I think we need to break up.”

“Nope. Not allowed to break up with me.”

“Oh, well, if I’m not allowed then I guess I won’t,” he said, leaning down to press a tiny kiss to her lips.

There was a groan from the window and they both rolled their eyes, turning to look at Damian.

“Why must you sully my good mood so early on with your disgusting displays of affection?”

“It’s our apartment, you just so happen to be here,” said Tim, glaring at his brother. “We can do what we want.”

Marinette, bravely, stepped between the two of them with a bright smile. “Now, boys, it’s not the time.”

“It is not the time for your libido, and yet...” argued Damian.

“Please, that isn’t even close to libi --,” Tim started, only to get elbowed in the stomach.

She gave him a look that told him to let her handle it and, while he didn’t think that was a good idea, he held up his hands in surrender.

“Robin, it’s unbecoming of you to argue with everyone you meet,” she chided lightly.

… did she speak Damian or something? Because Damian actually looked a little reprimanded at that and Tim needed to learn her ways.

Then, she leaned down with a grin. He could see her hands start to rest on her knees but she thought better of it at the last second. “I got some new stuff from the pet store and I wanted to know if you wanted to help test them out on Vanelope.”

Damian narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kinds of new things?”

“A bunch of cat toys.”

“... I suppose I can test them out for you.”

“I mean, I said you could help --,” she started, but Damian was already heading towards Vanelope without her.

Tim looked over at his girlfriend. She didn’t seem all that put out by this.

“You really had something planned out for everyone?”

She smirked and took a seat on the windowsill. “Yep. It should take Flamebird about two days to finish the first two books -- assuming he can even get through them that quickly -- and Robin is sure to be very thorough in his testing of all the cat toys.”

“Oh? And what’s your plan for everyone else?”

She shrugged just slightly. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

When Dick appeared she set him up with Beat Saber, saying that she was curious about why the VR glasses gave her a headache and wanted to see if he had the same problem. Tim knew the problem was that they were made for men and therefore sometimes had negative side effects for women, but he bit his lip before he could offer to get a set custom-made for her in favor of watching Dick select the poppiest pop song in existence and instantly get addicted to the game.

Tim raised his eyebrows slightly when Steph appeared, textbook in hand.

“How did you know everyone would show up?” He asked once Marinette had set her up with a particularly long and difficult worksheet to make sure she got the lesson.

“Well, Spoiler shows up every Saturday night for tutoring, Robin comes by every other day or more and he didn’t stop by last night, Nightwing pops by most weekends, and I called Flamebird over myself… speaking of which…” She pulled out her phone and tapped a few buttons. “Right, Signal said he’ll be here in ten minutes seven minutes ago… so, he’s almost here.”

Tim grinned. “You forgot Cass.”

“She only ever really shows up to get away from all of you guys so, with everyone here, she’d have no reason to come over.” Her face split into a sheepish grin. “Also, she’d see through me pretty quickly.”

“Don’t you want B to have no help?”

She shrugged. “It should be a light night since almost everyone important is in Arkham right now but that doesn’t mean that the two of them can deal with all of Gotham’s petty crime on their own. I give them until three or four before they crack.”

“... you might be a little scary.”

“You don’t last long as a vigilante if you’re not at least a little smart,” she chirped. “I just choose to turn my brain off most of the time.”

He smiled. “Oh? And the exception is what? Making you stay inside?”

She waved him off. “Kind of. It’s more that I only put effort into making sure I’ll never be bored. What’s the point of thinking about anything else? All that does is make you sad.”

Well that didn’t sound healthy, now did it? Tim was pretty sure that was just repression but, honestly, he had no clue. His family famously did not use therapists.

Before he could figure out how to address that there was a knock on the door.

Marinette grinned and opened it to reveal Duke, who was holding a computer.

Duke looked around the apartment, raising his eyebrows at all the people there. “Uh… should I ask?”

“I’m spiting Bruce.”

“Wild. Whatever. Ready for GBBS?”

“Sure. Tim, you gonna watch it with us?”

He hesitated. Steph had been sending him pleading looks since she had gotten her worksheet and he felt kind of bad for her… but then Duke and Marinette sat on the couch and she rested her head on his shoulder lazily to get a better view of the computer and Tim figured that Steph was smart enough to do the worksheet on her own if she really tried.

He took a seat beside her and smiled a little when she switched to lean against him instead.

“So, who’s your favorite person for the season?” He asked.

She thought for a minute before shrugging. “The guy that always wins but keeps being anxious about his bakes. Forgot his name, though.”

“Rahul?!” said Duke.

“Sure.”

Duke frowned. “I’m not sure whether to be happy you like at least one contestant, be proud it’s Rahul, or be annoyed you didn’t remember his name.”

“Character development takes time,” said Tim wisely.

Marinette scoffed a little. “Just put on the damn show. I’m tired of listening to you assholes talk.”

Duke grinned. “Fine. Fine.”

Time passed as the three of them watched the show.

Other family members slowly made their way over one by one. Damian brought the cat with him. Jason came over to give his brain a break after all the reading he had done (and then, when Marinette pointed out that you never take breaks while reading good books, had gone straight back to Harry Potter). Steph decided she didn’t want to pass her class and came to lay across the top of the couch. Dick eventually got tired and rested his body after the intense game that is Beat Saber.

… B released her at almost exactly three thirty. They ignored their comms in favor of continuing to watch the season finale.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she preemptively turned off the notifications on her phone. Tim did the same.

They typed up matching tweets about how they were moving in with their partners, tagged each other...

Their fingers hovered over the tweet buttons.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure one of my siblings will do something stupid in a few days and the media will leave us alone,” said Tim.

She smiled awkwardly. “That isn’t what I’m worried about.”

He frowned just a little and slipped his arm around her. “Well, can I help with whatever it is?”

She hesitated. It would be better to warn him, she supposed. “Not really. You’re going to get the ‘shovel talk’ --.”

“My dad is Batman, Bean, I’ll live.”

“-- by the person who currently controls the embodiment of chaos and destruction.”

His face paled a little (which is dangerous, considering he was already pale enough). “Does Chat Noir not know we’re dating yet?”

“Nope.”

“... so he’s going to find out through the media?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.”

She nodded her agreement, curling into his side and glaring at the phone.

Adrien was going to be pissed. Especially since he was going to learn through the media. Sure, that was the intention, she was hoping that Tim would be left more or less alone because her friend would be too busy being hurt about not being told to focus on his anger at her boyfriend… but, yikes, she didn’t really want to deal with that just yet.

Also, she thought with a wince, Adrien was going to be even angrier when he figured out that she hadn’t exactly given up, as he called it, ‘stalking’ the people she was interested in. Marinette was pretty sure that Tim already knew about some of it but she wasn’t completely sure and, just in case, she wanted to keep it a secret for a while… a few years, at least, and she wanted to be the one to tell him because she was sure that Adrien would be a lot harsher about it than she would. He already called it ‘stalking’ when it was clearly different, she didn’t want to know what he would say if she let him talk about it in more depth.

Unfortunately, though, Adrien wasn’t stupid. He’d eventually catch on. The longer they dated without him knowing the guiltier he would assume she was.

She sighed and took his face in her hands. “I’m leaving it up to you. I’m not sure. I’m leaning towards being public but...”

He bit his lip as he considered it. She fought the urge to stretch his face until he let go.

He smiled hesitantly. “Well, I’ve lived long enough, I think.”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll summon a lucky charm for you,” she half-joked.

He gave a puff of laughter that wasn’t quite real and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Bean, but I doubt that’ll be necessary. This is Gotham, no one dies here.”

“We don’t know how long that’ll take, though,” she said with a pout. “I’d prefer to have you back as soon as possible.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll always have my siblings.”

“But I want you,” she huffed. “You’re my favorite.”

She felt his cheeks warm beneath her hands.

“I’m your second favorite,” he reminded her. “Cass.”

She snickered. “True. You’re my favorite until Cass accepts my proposal.”

“Hm. I’ll have to enforce the bro code to make sure that never happens.”

“Oh no! I guess I’ll be stuck with you forever, then. What a shame!”

He smiled brightly. Sometimes she lamented the fact that he didn’t give a lot of genuine smiles. The grins and smirks were nice, of course, but she liked to watch the way he would duck his head slightly to try and cover his face with his bangs. Still, in the privacy of her own head, she had to admit that the fact she could get such a smile out of him when few others could made her heart rate spike. He smiled for her. Who wouldn’t be flattered by that?

She pulled the smile that she loved so much down for a kiss.

~

The first time they stepped out the door as an official couple they were hounded by reporters.

Tim wanted to ask how they knew where they lived. He settled for asking them to blur the area around them.

It was more than a little annoying to be harassed on your way to the grocery store. They had just wanted eggs, milk (Marinette kept leaving it out for some strange reason), some cat food, and enough miscellaneous snacks to keep Cass occupied. They did not want cameras shoved in their faces.

But years of being public figures had trained them to keep pleasant smiles on their faces and to answer questions with as little information as possible.

Finally, though, they made it inside and a manager kicked out the reporters.

Marinette let her shoulders slump a little beneath his arm and Tim flexed the muscles in his face before it could get stuck in that awkward half-smile forever.

He squeezed her a little. “You alright?”

She shrugged as much as she could without displacing his arm. “Yeah. Just… hate reporters.”

He nodded his understanding. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Want to buy some Oreos while we’re here?”

Her face lit up. “Can we?”

“I’m rich. Of course we can.”

And, so, they did. He made a mental note to start buying oreos in bulk. All the flavors, just in case she ever got sick of the normal version.

They glanced out the door and, though they couldn’t see the paparazzi waiting just outside, they were sure that they would be back soon. They ducked through back alleys to try and get away.

Only to stop in the middle of a dark alley at the high-pitched cry of: “Give me your money or else!”

Tim sighed and set down the cat food to hand over everything in his pockets. A glance back at Marinette confirmed she was doing the same --.

And then he stopped short. He turned more fully to look at their mugger and then started to laugh.

“I’ll… I’ll kill you!” Said the mugger, who was just a kid. They might not have even hit puberty yet.

“With a pocketknife?” Tim said.

Marinette turned around as well at that and a grin spread across her face. “Oh my gods, that’s so lame.”

“It’s Gotham, you gotta do better than that,” said Tim. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a butterfly knife. He handed it over. “Here, have this, at least. Christ, that’s terrible.”

The kid didn’t seem to know what to do about the fact that his would-be victims were laughing at her and apparently helping her mug people.

Marinette handed over everything except for the necklace Tim had given her. “Here, kid. And get a mask or something to hide your face, it’s not nearly dark enough in here for you to just go with a hood.”

“Oh, and here’s my address,” added Tim. He typed it into his phone -- damn, he should have brought more than a pager -- and then handed it over. “We always have a lot of extra food, so if you ever need it just knock on the window.”

“... thanks?” said their now adoptive kid (they didn’t make the rules, this kid was theirs now).

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Can we go now? One of his siblings is coming over soon and he will start our show without us.”

“Uh… sure?”

~

Marinette sat on the kitchen island, squinting at the cast on her arm. Was it worth taking off for the sake of doing work? Maybe --.

Tim’s voice crackled through her ear and she perked up a little at the sound, smiling. He was talking, greeting guests it seemed. Right. He had a meeting today, Janet had mentioned it earlier that morning.

Marinette sighed a little at the reminder that, while she might not care about her broken arm, her boyfriend did. Yeah. Tim would probably be stressed if she took off her cast before the doctor said it was okay. She settled to lay back on the counter, head resting on her good arm, and stare at the ceiling as she listened to his voice...

Only to dart up when she felt a tap on her arm.

She looked over, eyes blown wide, and only relaxed slightly when she realized she recognized the person.

Adrien stood over her, arms crossed over his chest despite the glasses/miraculous he had hooked to the collar of his shirt, but he apparently wasn’t angry enough to not accept the usual kisses on both cheeks that Parisians did as greeting.

He said something that she couldn’t really understand with the part of her brain still concentrated on Tim explaining some sort of chart.

She sighed and reached a hand to her ear to turn off the bug. “Hey, can you repeat that?”

He didn’t. Instead he squinted at her ear suspiciously. “Does your ear hurt?”

“... no?” She said slowly, a little confused.

“Whatcha listening to?”

She paled. Shit. He was going to be pissed (or, at least, more pissed than he already was) if he found out that her supposed ‘stalking’ was getting worse. She needed an excuse.

“Uh, that one rapper, uh --.”

“BS. You don’t listen to rappers.”

He held a hand out and, reluctantly, she handed it over to him. She might as well get her murder over with.

He set it in his ear and, after a few attempts, turned it on. His face soured even more, somehow.

“This better not be who I think it is.”

She gave a tentative half-smile.

That was all the answer he needed. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and started dragging her through the streets.

No one helped. Not that she expected them to, it was Gotham, but it was still a little hurtful.

Adrien stopped suddenly after a few minutes of walking.

“... wait… where’s his office?”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?”

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

“Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

[thewhitejournal]

“Just One More Night” Part Two

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Series

hi everyone! i really hope you enjoy part two, it’s kind of lengthy i’ll admit. i’m having so much fun with this series so far and i wanna thank y’all for being along on the ride. y’all are the best 🤍

without further ado, onto the story!

content warnings: cursing, heated making out, mentions of pain

-

Four months later...

The first of many alarms on your phone woke you from your sleep with a small jolt. Today was the day; the day you’d worked towards for four years. Graduation day. Your brain was already buzzing despite only being awake for several seconds. Your fingers clicked the power button on your phone like muscle memory, silencing the alarm.

Just as almost every morning, there was one person on your mind: Aaron Hotchner. It had been four months since you had sex with him for the first time, and you’d been meeting up almost every week unless schedules conflicted. You wouldn’t meet if he was in a different state for the weekend, solving a crime. Turns out, he was a government employee; he was Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You didn’t know much else about him, and he didn’t know a whole lot about you either. It was a relationship - could you even call it that? - strictly for sex. No strings or feelings attached.

Except there was one problem; your dumbass had caught feelings. That was the deal from day one. You both decided it would be strictly fucking, nothing else. But hell if you didn’t defy the rules. How could you obey them, anyway, with him? Sure, you didn’t know a lot about him, but you didn’t need to. You fell in love with the way he treated you and the soft, ginger touches and kisses he gave you. Unless, of course, he’d had a bad week. It was a different story, then.

You still slept in his jacket, almost every night. It was your comfort item. It had lost his smell by now, but you loved it for more than just the fact that it used to smell like him. It reminded you of the best man you’d ever met; he treated you like nobody else ever did, in so many ways.

But a real relationship was strictly forbidden; even though his friends from that night (who you now knew as his coworkers) knew about you, they were under the impression that it was a one-night-stand. Your friends thought the same thing. Of course, they were suspicious, but per Aaron’s rules, you never admitted it.

He’d gotten a lot more personal since the first night, crossing his own boundaries about personal lives and knowledge of each other. Not that you minded that in the least.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand. It was a text message. You picked it up and clicked the power button.

A.H. : Happy graduation day. Congratulations.

A small smile fell on your lips. You left it, for the time being, checking your other notifications. Your friends mentioned getting breakfast before rehearsal for the following evening, so you agreed. Rachel was already awake and in the shower, which surprised you. Usually, it was her that slept in. Seconds later, you heard her get out and she walked into the room you shared of your tiny new apartment.

“It’s alive! Did you see Lexi’s text about breakfast?” She was butt-ass naked, drying her hair with a towel, strutting over to her bed and pulling her clothes on. Of course, this was the norm between the two of you; you were convinced she’d somehow seen more of you than Aaron had. You didn’t bat an eyelash at your best friend’s nudity anymore.

“Yeah, I’m gonna shower real quick.” You rolled out of bed and hopped in the shower, letting the water wash the sleep from your eyes. You took in your bare skin, admiring the hickeys on your breasts; the coloring on the bruises were from all stages of healing, along with a bite mark here and there. Like you’d said, a rough week meant rougher...well, you get the idea.

You traced your fingers over the bruises and the faint teeth impressions that marked your body, memories flooding your mind. A smirk graced your lips as you remembered every night associated with each mark. A thought crossed your mind, one that you were grateful for: Aaron was always careful to leave a mark where it could be hidden with clothes. You’d need that today. You went through your shower routine as quickly as possible, finishing when Rachel was drying her hair in the bathroom with you.

You pulled the curtain open, trying to grab your towel before Rachel saw the newest marks on your body, but it was too late. She caught your eye in the mirror, her jaw dropping. She flicked the hairdryer off and turned on her heel to face you.

“Are those new?” Disbelief sounded in her tone. You just rolled your eyes and smiled, shrugging at her. She gasped.

“When did you have time to…?”

“We have a schedule.”

The two of you shared a laugh and she congratulated you for finally getting laid like she said you needed to when you were too stressed about school. It turns out, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Not only did you enjoy the sex, but the man you were having it with helped you to feel relaxed, not to mention he treated you like royalty.

Within half an hour, you and Rachel were out the door and headed to a café to meet the other girls for breakfast. Your sundress blustered around in the wind, the temperature surprisingly comfortable for being under the sun at almost it’s highest point.

You held the door open for Rach, following in behind her. The girls were sitting at a table in the corner of the room and you filled the last two seats. The waitress came up and took your and Rachel’s orders, then left to put them in. Your eyes scanned the café, as they usually do in any slightly unfamiliar place.

Your eyes landed on a table with two seats across the room, one occupied by a man that you thought looked familiar. Your eyebrows knit together as you tried to figure it out to yourself, sipping your coffee and keeping up with the banter at the table in the meantime.

Then, it hit you: it was the older man from the bar, the first night you met Aaron. And he wasn’t alone. Across from him sat the skinny one, a portable chess table in between the two of them. The older man chuckled as the kid beat him for likely the millionth time this morning. Suddenly, he got a phone call. You watched him mouth Aaron’s name, and then something that looked like ‘what’s wrong?’. He told him he’d be there soon, and the two men stood quickly from their seats, rushing towards the door. But before they left, the kid caught your eye. You averted your gaze as quickly as you could, as to not be noticed.

“Where’s the fire, boys?”, Rachel muttered in your ear next to you, laughing. You chuckled in return to avoid suspicion. Little did she know, there was likely a heinous crime that the BAU had just found out about and they’d been called in. That means you were probably not on for this weekend, and it bummed you out. It was the second weekend in a row you couldn’t see Aaron, and you were starting to miss him. The sex was amazing, of course, but you missed his company too. His smell, his face, his lips...

You’d replied to Aaron’s text from earlier on your way here, but a new one just came in. You checked your phone inconspicuously; it helped that you didn’t put his full name as his contact, just in case someone looked over your shoulder, which was likely with Rachel at your side.

A.H.: This weekend’s not looking good again. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

You sighed, knowing this text was soon to come at some point today. You started drafting a response under the table.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s your job, Aaron. Be careful, I love-‘

Oh, fuck. You’d been denying it for so long now and you almost blew your cover. The recurring fear that he had to already have known because he was a profiler crept back into your mind. But you just couldn’t help it, you’d never had a connection like this with anyone. Your heart ached at the thought of not seeing him again.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s your job, Aaron. Be careful, text me when you can.’

Better. You watched the blue bar across the top of your screen zoom from left to right as the message sent. You clicked your phone off, returning your attention to the table. Your friend Lexi seemed to notice your change in emotion and gave you a small, empathetic look from across the table. She was the only one you were honest with about how you really felt about Aaron. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it to anyone else, you were just closest with her and she was your most empathetic friend.

Your phone buzzed in your lap again.

A.H.: You know I will, (Y/N).

You imagined him saying it to you in a reassuring tone and it warmed your heart. Fuck, you missed him. And you loved him. It wasn’t something you could deny anymore. Suddenly you wanted to run around the city and scream at the top of your lungs about how much you loved Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner.

Several hours later, you were getting ready to go out the door, putting the final touches on your outfit. Rachel came up beside you in the mirror, tilting your cap and running her fingers through the tassels until they hung straight. She smiled at you, and you smiled back. “We did it, (Y/N/N).”, she said, wrapping an arm around you. You hugged her back, trying not to cry.

You were sitting in the stadium, about to walk across the stage. You really wished Aaron could be here, as silly as it was. You knew he’d never do that, likely easily recognized in public and you two couldn’t be seen together. After the ceremony, you met up with your friends outside and started celebrating as much as you could in the parking lot. You were taking selfies and now, trying to figure out how to take a group picture with no one to take it. You tried propping the phone up on the hood of your car but the angle wasn’t right.

“Want me to take the picture for you, ladies?” A voice rang out from behind you. Your body was frozen in its place. Right away, you knew who it belonged to. You’d heard it almost every weekend, whispering in your ear, moaning your name, telling you to beg…

Hesitantly, you turned around. Your friends were already facing him, Rachel with a look on her face that could only be described as shocked. There Aaron stood, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket, a sly smile painted on his lips.

“Aaron, what’re you doing here?”, you asked him quietly, in complete disbelief. Your friends watched the exchange like it was a hit blockbuster movie.

“I couldn’t miss my girl’s graduation. I told the team we’d wait until tonight to leave.” A warm feeling washed over your body at his words. You tried suppressing a smile, but it weaseled its way out. You smiled so big you thought your cheeks would rip. He returned one, striding over to you. Your heart pounded against your ribs, waiting to see what he’d do next.

He stepped into your personal space, taking your face in both of his huge and calloused hands, planting a kiss on your lips. Your friends gasped and cheered and all things alike, but you weren’t paying attention to them. Your hands rested lightly on Aaron’s dress shirt and you kissed him back with all the love and passion that had been bubbling up inside you over the past two weeks. He pulled away too soon, a hand dropping from your cheek. His thumb stroked your skin, his soft brown eyes gazing down on you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and you just rested your head against his. So many things were being said between the two of you, and yet not a single word left your lips.

“Okay lovebirds, we don’t have all day.”, Rachel remarked playfully. You weren’t looking at her, but you could imagine the smirk on her face right now. You rolled your eyes internally, a smile showing itself on your lips. You pulled back from him, interlacing your fingers with his as you stood by his side. She suddenly held up her phone, telling the two of you to pose.

You were afraid Aaron wouldn’t have wanted to take a picture with you, but he pulled you into him without hesitation, wrapping an arm around you. Your arms wrapped around him and you flashed a toothy smile at the camera. Rachel smiled from behind the phone, genuinely happy to see you feeling the same way.

Aaron took every picture you wanted without complaining once, and your friends went their separate ways, leaving you and Aaron alone. You two were sitting in his SUV outside of his place, making out in his backseat. You were straddling him, fingers running through his black hair.

His lips trailed kisses down your neck, the strap of your dress being pulled ever so gently from your shoulder. You smiled as his lips travelled lower, leaving marks in between your breasts. A small moan slipped from your lips, the grip from his hand tightening on your hip. Suddenly, his phone started ringing, and he groaned, resting his head on your chest. You chuckled.

“You gonna get that, Aaron?”, you asked him slyly. He picked it up, looking at the screen. His lips tightened into a straight line, mouthing an apology before answering.

“Hotch.”, he said matter-of-factly into the speaker. Someone was speaking on the other end, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or who it was.

“Yeah, I lost track of time, I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and you frowned at him. He sighed, pulling you flush to his chest. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. I’m sorry, (Y/N).” His face donned a sad look.

“Aaron, like I said, you can’t help it. Go kick some ass and then bring yours back to me so I can tell you how hot it is.” A smirk painted itself on your lips and he chuckled deeply.

“You’re so funny, I love you.” It all came out of his mouth in a rush, like you’d said it to each other a million times, but it was quite the opposite. Your eyes grew wide, as did his, realizing what he’d said.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I-'', he stuttered. He stopped talking when you cradled his face, your thumb running along his cheekbone.

“Don’t…”, you whispered, kissing his lips softly. You could feel him relax against you, a sigh escaping him as he kissed you back. You pulled back from him, looking into his eyes and searching his face. “I love you too, Aaron. I have ever since I saw you that first night.”, you confessed. He smiled softly.

“So have I.”

The drive back to your apartment complex was silent, but the air between the two of you was buzzing with a loving and happy energy, and you couldn’t be more grateful for him. He parked in front of the building, looking over at you, his gaze softening in the dim light from the stereo. You laughed nervously, asking him what he was looking at.

“I just love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”, he said with a huge smile on his face. You mirrored his expression, resting your hand on his cheek.

“And I love you, Aaron Hotchner.” You two shared a kiss before you went inside; he sat in his car and made sure you got into the door before peeling off into the night.

You leaned on the door to find the key on your key ring, only to find the door ajar. Your forehead creased as you wracked your brain, trying to remember if you locked the door before you left or if Rachel was supposed to be back already. A bad feeling started festering inside of you.

The thought crossed your mind to call Aaron; you felt it was the most rational thing to do at the moment. Your heartbeat loudly in your chest and your palms started sweating. Something was wrong. You pulled your phone from your purse and almost hit the dial button, but suddenly you hit the floor, a pain surging from the back of your head and into the rest of your body. Your vision was blurry, and you couldn’t hold your eyes open. Your body felt weak, and you felt like you were lifted in the air and tossed over someone’s shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the pain being too much to take. That was when you slipped into unconsciousness.

taglist:

@andromedasstarship

@mac99martin

@laycblack

@art-and-thoughts

@bellamy1998

[kozu-chan]

when did we...

huge amount of angst because i kinda feel terrible and i'm starting to wonder if staying friends with someone is good for me... i don't have anyone to talk to about this but bottling things up isn't good for you right? so uhhhh here. and maybe listen to this?

semi x female! reader

content warnings: friends to lovers to exes to friends to strangers, angst, mentions of fights, a break up, mentions of poor mental health (idk maybe it's just me self-projecting because i think it's getting bad again), and idk just some problematic content partially based off of bad times in my life.

life was perfect... until it wasn't.

semi eita is the perfect lover, or at least he was.

you can't quite pinpoint when you became friends with semi or when the two of you became super close. was it when tendou dragged you to meet his volleyball team and you all hung out at the library that one time? or maybe when you both happened to get some extra help in math and ended up talking all the way home? either way, you and semi became inseparable. you and him always ate together, sharing food, joking around, and listening to music with shared earbuds.

at some point, your friends started to pick up on it and eventually people started to believe that the two of you were dating. you and him would get so many comments from people ranging from tendou to shirabu to even ushijima.

with tendou, he knew that you and semi were just friends, but he wanted to be a tease so the quote "n/n-chan! you and semi-semi look so cute together!" would always ring in your ears whenever the red-haired middle blocker was near. shirabu and ushijima both congratulated you and even your friends, kato eiko and yamamoto kojika, said that you and semi would definitely give shiratorizawa's current power couple a run for their money.

despite his and your constant dismissal of these claims, the rumors persisted and out of it bloomed your feelings for each other.

after a few months, you finally confessed to semi and that's how the two of you started dating.

dating semi was a breath of fresh air. he was always so charming and sweet, holding your hand and kissing your head as much as he could. you hardly ever missed a game of his and there was never a time where he wasn't there for you. even though the two of you had a very busy second year, you made time for each other. every hug, kiss, and date was always magical and memorable for you.

if that was the case, then when did things get so bad?

maybe you have memory problems or maybe you're just not good at finding clues or warning signs, but you simply couldn't figure out when it all started to go downhill.

maybe it was when semi started to get more serious with you - when he first dropped the l-bomb. maybe it was when the pressure of school started to get to you and your sanity was slowly leaving. maybe it was when he started getting concerned about his position as starting setter being taken away by shirabu. maybe it's when your mental health started getting bad and your sensitivity couldn't handle semi's constant and slightly offensive jokes.

either way, you both were reaching a breaking point that only tipped over when you lashed out at him for making a joke about tendou that struck a nerve. once the two of you were walking home, you got into this intense argument.

"you know, i can't keep dealing with this anymore. you're always so loud and can't keep a damn thing to yourself. always airing out our business to our friends and threatening to leave me and cut me off. if you're so sick of me, then why don't you do it. this came out of NOWHERE, y/n!"

this is when you had enough. "look, i'm sorry for being toxic. i'm sorry for treating you like this, but i've had enough. eita i've been trying so hard to get through to you whether it's been in public or in private and you keep dancing around it. this isn't out of nowhere. not even close. i've been trying so hard to resolve our issues but i don't think we're good for each other anymore..." at this point you've reached your doorstep and you're on the verge of tears.

semi freezes, his gaze hardening as he starts speaking. "if that's what you think, then i think it's time that we take a break from each other..." and with that, he walked away.

once you arrived in the comfort of your room, you laid down in your bed and started sobbing. you were crying, wondering what you did wrong and where you went wrong. and with the fall of your relationship came the fall of your life.

you exited all your group chats, you avoided your friends, you flaked out on plans and just kept to yourself. and soon enough, your appetite started to lessen until you were eating half of what you normally ate. you started reading more books and doing less work, often reading or daydreaming instead of studying or doing classwork. anything to distract yourself from the guilt and sadness you felt. your grades began to drop and the people around you started to get worried.

but semi? in your eyes, semi was fine. he was doing well in school despite volleyball consuming a lot of his time, he was hanging out with his friends, and he just seemed so happy. maybe he's happier without me...

during this time, only four people would talk to you as if nothing had happened, even if they would talk to semi as much as they did you. tendou, eiko, kojika, and surprisingly, shirabu stayed by your side throughout your mental crisis.

because they stayed by your side, they were also the ones to get you to talk to semi again and to your surprise, he still wanted to be friends.

a couple of months pass and everything was good again... until it wasn't.

yes, you healed with time and so did your relationship with semi. the two of you bonded again and you became as close as before. until one day when something was starting to feel a little bit too familiar.

maybe you were getting sensitive again. maybe you really were airing out your business again. maybe he was the one who didn't care about your feelings or maybe he just didn't realize it. but you started feeling hurt again. and with that, came the warning signs of the crashing of your mental health.

after a week of contemplating your options and thinking long and hard about it, you finally decided to bite the bullet.

"hey eita, can we talk?"

"sure. what is it?"

"..." this is when you started to panic and you mutter the eight words that changed your life. "i don't think i wanna be friends anymore..."

semi's froze again, a sight that made you tense up and sigh softly. "what? why? where did this come from?"

it was your turn to freeze before taking a deep breath, silently hyping yourself up in your head. "i just don't think we work. i don't wanna keep being offended by your jokes or saying something that makes you uncomfortable... and i've tried to make this work but it feels like we're about to repeat history and i just don't want that to happen... i'm sorry."

"well i guess this is goodbye then... i won't force you to be friends if this is how you feel."

"um... thanks. goodbye semi."

"goodbye l/n."

with that, the two of you parted ways, maybe for the better. and this time, you could actually tell when things started to get better for you.

a/n: omg sorry if this was hot garbage i just wanted to vent!! pls i especially hate the ending. ik i somehow make all the shiratorizawa men the bad guys but i swear i love them!!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Crown For Two {3}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes, Slow Burn, Tease, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 7.2k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.  

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”  

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.  

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride continues. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a reminder, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Slightly Interactive***

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | 

Chapter Three

-Y/N-

When you opened your eyes again, your head felt a lot different. It wasn’t spinning. It didn’t feel congested, heavy, or muddled. You saw everything with clear eyes, alert eyes. Glancing around the room, you took in your surroundings like it was your first time, though you were sure it wasn’t. Closing your eyes, you tried to remember everything that had happened. You remembered walking through the streets, taking pictures, and even watching the locals go about their business. You also remembered going into a bar and drinking that god awful drink.

 When you remembered seeing Henry’s face, you couldn’t help but smile. Your conversation played over and over in your head and how easy it was to talk to one another. Even his smile and goofy laugh had you snuggling deeper into the plush bedding. He was definitely attractive. All of a sudden, the accident flashed into mind. You’d been struggling with the wind and the snow and couldn’t see not even two inches in front of you. The pain of being hit was absent. It was like it happened so fast that you were out cold before your pain receptors could adequately translate it.

 You bolted up as the words “prince” and “your highness” echoed in your head.

 “Shit, he’s a prince.”

You rubbed your forehead, then pinched the bridge of your nose. Of course he is, you thought. Why would you meet some normal person in this clear fairytale country? Leaning against the headboard, you chewed your bottom lip, beginning to wonder about several other things. One of them was your exchange in the bar. He clearly knew who he was. You were not naïve when it came to the attention of men. There was evident flirting going on.

 “Was he trying to charm me into being some royal conquest?”

 Before you could think on the topic any further, there was a knock at the door. You sat up straighter while trying to figure out the right way to sit. You lied back casually but decided that was too casual. You then straightened your back and took note of how your breasts were accentuated thanks to the proper posture.

 “Too much,” you whispered, slouching again.

 The knock came again.

 “Ma’am?”

 Shaking your head, you sighed and said, forget it. You had no idea how to answer, so you said the first thing to come to mind.

 “You may enter.” You didn’t know why you decided to add an uppity British accent. Slapping your hand to your head, you shook it, already tired of your own shenanigans.

When you looked, it was the doctor you’d seen the night before.

 “Good morning, ma’am.”

 You gave him a polite smile as he approached with his black doctor’s bag.

 “How are you feeling today. Better, I hope.”

 “Much, thank you.”

 He nodded, then placed his bag on the bedside table.

 “How did you sleep? Any pain?”

 “No—well, not severe pain. I’m just mainly sore.”

 Dr. Alfonsi. nodded. “You can take aspirin for those aches. They should subside in another few days, as will the bruises.”

 You nodded again.

 “May I begin my examination?”

 Giving him a demure smile as permission, he approached and began doing all the things a doctor would at the beginning of any appointment. He took your blood pressure, checked your reflexes and your temperature. He examined your eyes, listened to your heart, followed along with your pulse and respiration, all the while taking diligent notes on his phone that he held in the breast pocket of his white coat.

 Ten or so minutes later, he closed his bag and then brought over one of the chairs in the room. Once he sat, he softly clapped his hands together.

 “And that is that. I am pleased your vitals are appearing better and better. Are you feeling the return of your strength?”

 “Not really,” you confessed.

 “As I explained yesterday, I had concerns from the results of a few blood tests I did. Did you know that you have several vitamin deficiencies?”

 Your eyebrows quirked. “Uh—n—no. I didn’t. What do you mean?”

 “Well, in an effort to provide a most comprehensive recovery plan for you, as I do with every patient I see in the royal family and elsewhere. I ran a full panel of tests and came back with several alarming finds. You have a deficiency of vitamin B12, Vitamins D, and E, you’re severely low in Iron and Folate. Have you ever been diagnosed with Anemia?”

 Your head swarmed with all the words and letters he’d just flung at you.

 “Uh—no. I don’t think so.”

 “I am diagnosing it now.”

 You watched his mouth move as he explained the dangers of the deficiencies and listed the symptoms one would expect, which all coincided with what you’d felt on and off for some time. The explanation seemed to go on and on. With every word Dr. Alfonsi. spoke, your breathing sped more and more. He must have seen the terror on your face because he reached out and took your hand.

 “It’s all right, dear. Though it is not as soon as I would have liked, we caught it. we now know that there is a serious problem.”

 “I—I didn’t know. I mean, I guess I’ve been busy these last few months and on the go, but—I never--,” you trailed off.

 “Calm down. It’s easy to fall behind on our health, but it is important we catch up. In order to do that, you’re going to have to make some changes.”

 “What kind of changes?”

 “Lifestyle and occupational. You’re going to need to change your diet, incorporate the therapies and medicines I will be prescribing, as well as taking it significantly easier than I suspect you have in the past,” Dr. Alfonsi explained.

 “Taking it easy? What exactly does that mean?”

 “Well, I mild cases I’ve seen in my years, I’ve recommended a month of strict relaxation along with what I’ve said before. That meant decreased hours at work, perhaps a sabbatical, bed rest until the patient begins to regain strength to prevent chances of falling and bone breakage.”

 “Bed rest?”

 “Yes, and that’s just for mild cases. Your case, I’m afraid, is a lot more serious. While I recommended it for others, for you, I would have to insist.”

 You sat up, giving him a look that said he was crazy.

 “I can’t go on bed rest. That’s not just decreased hours; that is complete incapacitation,” you protested.

 “I can understand your alarm, but that is how serious your situation is, ma’am.”

 “God, please stop calling me ma’am. My name is Xari.”

 “Ms. Xari,” he corrected.

 Several moments passed in silence. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yeah, you hadn’t gone to the doctor in almost two years and didn’t take multivitamins and oftentimes forgot to eat, but you worked out, ate your greens—sometimes, and experienced plenty of holistic activities throughout the world. You had no idea you were in this bad shape.

 “Do you understand what I am saying, Ms. Xari? If you do not make drastic changes for the foreseeable future, you may not see the blooming of spring flowers.”

 Your jaw dropped. He was laying on pretty thick, but it was working. You were alarmed. Sighing, you rubbed your forehead.

 “What exactly do you suggest then?”

 “What you’re doing now, bed rest. I will communicate with the staff your dietary needs for the coming weeks as well as instructions for your medication--.”

 “Wait, hold up. What? You don’t mean for me to stay here, do you?”

 Dr. Alfonsi looked at you as if you were missing a few screws.

 “Yes.”

You flung your hands out. “Nope. Absolutely not. I can’t stay here.”

 “Why not? I am more than sure the prince would allow you to remain here until you are fully recovered, especially seeing it was his highness’ royal car that hit you for us to discover your ailments.”

 “No. I can’t stay here. I don’t—I’m a stranger to these people. I am—there’s no way. I can’t ask him or anyone here to wait on me.”

 Dr. Alfonsi smiled. “I understand your apprehension, believe me, I do, but it is unnecessary. I have known the prince since he was a child. He is a kind man and would never dare turn someone who is in need and sick away. You will be safe here.”

 Hearing how highly he spoke of his prince piqued your curiosity. It could have been one of those things where one’s subjects loved them so dearly they had not one bad word to say about them, or one’s subjects fears them so much that they didn’t dare utter one negative thing about them. You wondered which was the real story. Perhaps a little in the middle, you thought.

 Sighing, you leaned your head on the headboard, still adamant you didn’t want to stay here.

 “I have a life to get back to. I’ve already been here for two days too long.”

 “Two days?”

 The question in his voice had your head snapping to him. You cautiously opened your mouth to speak. “Yes,” you squeaked.

 “No. I’m afraid it’s been more than two days. It’s been a week since you’ve been here, Ms. Xari.”

 Your eyes bugged, and you instantly began searching for your phone.

 “What are you looking for?”

 “My things. Where are my things? My phone?”

 Dr. Alfonsi looked around the room then walked to a large wardrobe before he came back with your purse. You unintentionally snatched it from him, digging through it for the desired object. Once you had it, you discovered it was dead.

 “Fuck.”

 You began trying to get off the bed, but as soon as you stood, you dropped back to the bed, your legs unable to hold you.

 “I would caution against doing too much too soon. I’m impressed you were able to attempt an escape once. I doubt you’d be successful a second time.”

 “I need my charger. Where are my things? I’ve been off the grid for a week. I have family, people who will worry. I need—need--.”

 Your chest pounded so fast you could barely catch your breath. As you struggled to get a full breath, you began to panic. Dr. Alfonsi was to you on the other side of the bed in seconds, checking your pulse and instructing you to breathe slowly and deeply. You would if you could and wished you could shout that to him. Before you knew it, darkness was all you saw.

 ~~~~~~~~

When you opened your eyes, you were again tucked in the bed, but you were now hooked up to an IV. You took a deep breath and noted the heaviness that resided in your chest. Groaning, you slowly sat up. Once rested against the headboard, you remembered your mission. Your phone. Kicking off the covers, you used the rolling IV rod as if it were a cane and stood on wobbly legs. After a full minute, you began moving though every step you took felt like you’d fall to the floor.

 What should have taken you seconds took minutes. The steps proved to be more challenging to maneuver with the IV stand. You searched the room, but you didn’t see your luggage. That was when you saw your phone plugged into a charger on the nightstand to the left of the bed. You wobbled toward it then quickly unlocked it. Feeling yourself shake even more, you used the wall as your brace as you scrolled through. You saw the bounty of missed calls, unanswered messages, and emails of alarm. As expected, everyone was worried to death about you.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 You found your sister’s number and dialed it. It didn’t ring; instead, it went to voicemail. Your frustration was evident as you knocked over the small glass figurine on the bedside table. You ignored the shattered pieces and grabbed the IV pole, ready to walk out of the room in search of your things. Once you opened the door, your jaw dropped, seeing another luxurious room similar to the bedroom but decked in different colors.

 You took one then two steps, and your knees gave out. Before you tumbled to the floor, you heard a shriek and your name being shouted; then you were in someone’s arms. You looked up into blue eyes that were framed by long lashes and thick eyebrows.

 “Are you all right?”

 You snorted. “We have got to stop meeting like this,” you teased with a soft smile. It was a smile Henry returned.

“I cannot make any promises.”

 Henry then lifted you into his strong arms and carried you where you’d just come from. As he held you, you couldn’t help but glance over the side of his face that was perfectly in view. If you thought his jaw was chiseled to perfection before, now—you were certain there was not even one flaw about it. When he placed you back in the bed, he hovered over you for a few seconds. They were seconds that felt like minutes, especially with the intensity you saw in his eyes.

 “Xari.”

 Tearing your eyes from his, you glanced to your left to see Anika, your sister.

 “Nika!”

 She leaped onto the bed and scurried across to you, then threw her arms around you.

 “Oh my god. What’re you doing here!? How’d you get here?”

 “I’ve been so worried! I’m so glad you’re okay.”

 Relief filled you, and you found yourself relaxing a little more.

 “I don’t get it. How are you?”

 Anika pulled back with a wide smile on her face. She looked up, bringing your eyes to the man who still stood beside the bed. His arms were crossed across his chest, and a soft smile decorated his lips.

 “Him. He’s how I’m here.”

 You were still confused, and you knew your expression showed it.

 “I couldn’t reach you. I called and called and no answer. A few days ago, I got a call back, and it was the prince,” Anika began giving you a wide-eyed look when she said, “prince.”

 “Henry, please, I insist.”

 Anika smiled and actually giggled before she continued. “Henry. He explained everything and kept me in the loop with your condition. Because of that damn storm, I couldn’t get here. He ended up sending the royal jet for me once the storm passed enough to bring me here, so you’d have someone with you.”

 Wow, you thought, letting all she’d said register. He’d done a lot. You slipped your eyes to him and found them on you.

 “He’s been very kind, Ri,” Anika added.

 You were speechless. What were you supposed to say? Clearing your throat, you said the first thing you thought of.

 “Thank you.”

 Henry nodded and held your gaze. “It was done for you alone and with you in mind.”

 Well, shit, you thought, unable to take your eyes off of his. After a few moments, you heard Anika clear her throat, and it was Henry who looked away first.

 “Right. I was bringing your sister here for you to see. Now that you have her, I will give the staff instructions to see whatever the two of you will need for your stay.”

 “Uh—about that. It won’t be necessary,” you piped up.

 “Excuse me?”

 His intimidating aura increased, making you feel like a disobedient little whose daddy was about to punish her. At that comparison, you had a quick thought about whether or not he was a vanilla prince or one with plenty of shades of grey. Straightening your back, you held your head higher.

 “While I appreciate all you’ve done for me thus far, it won’t be necessary for you or your staff to fuss over my sister or me any longer. We’ll be leaving.”

 Henry cocked his head to the right, then tightly clenched his jaw.

 “Is that right?”

 “Why are we leaving?”

 Ignoring Anika’s question, you decided not to look away from Henry feeling a challenge in how he looked at you.

 “According to Dr. Alfonsi, you’re in no shape to be going anywhere.” He nodded to your IV pole for emphasis.

 “I will stay at the inn that is in town or a hotel.”

 “Nonsense. It was my fault you were hurt, and my responsibility to rectify the damage and harm I have caused.”

 “He’s right, Xari. It’s his fault, and you should let him accrue the expenses,” Anika voiced.

 “Nika!”

 “What! He’s a prince, Ri. He got it,” she replied a little under her breath but still loud enough for him to hear.

 “I must agree with Lady Anika.”

 Anika snorted and laughed. “I’m definitely not a lady.”

 Henry smirked at her then quickly looked back to you. “I must insist you remain here. At least until Dr. Alfonsi has given you the seal of good health. I am afraid if you were to go anywhere, something would happen to you, and I would not be able to forgive myself.”

 You studied him for a few moments, taking in the expression on his face as well as the tight clench of his jaws. Your eyes moved down to his still folded arms and the muscles that bulged because of his stance. He was definitely overwhelming like this, and though you hated to feel like a bother, you suspected that here was the best place for now. Glancing to Anika, she gave you a stern eye that said, “just give in already.”

 Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “Fine, but only until I’m well enough.”

 “If that is your wish, just know you are welcomed here for however long you wish.”

 “My goodness, such a gentleman. They sure breed them differently here, huh sis.”

 Henry smiled, then glanced at Anika. “Everything is different here in Brexendor.”

 “I bet,” Anika finished.

 “Since it is settled, I will proceed to advise the staff. Dr. Alfonsi has already given several strict dietary orders as well as health orders. If there is anything you require do not hesitate to speak it. Lady Anika, I have already instructed a bedroom be prepared for you, but I will instruct it be as close to your sister as possible.”

 “Thank you.”

 He nodded, then looked back at you. “I sincerely hope you feel better soon.”

 “Are you leaving?”

 “Unfortunately, yes. I am afraid I have quite a lot to do today. By all means, though, feel free to go where you please. My home is yours, ladies.”

 With that, he curtly bowed his head then walked toward the door. Before he walked out, he stopped.

 “Oh, Xari, try not to escape again. I cannot guarantee I will always be there to catch you.”

 You saw the hint of a smile on his lips and instantly knew he was teasing you.

 “Somehow, your highness, I suspect you will magically appear at the mere hint of a faint.”

 He chuckled to himself then walked out, closing the doors behind him. Once alone, Anika wasted no time.

 “Holy fucking shit, he is hot as fuck!”

 You snorted and laughed as you relaxed into the bed.

 “Wonderful censor you have there, Nika.”

 “Fuck censor.”

 “Well, that last time I said fuck here, I was looked at like I was the most uncouth Neanderthal. I suggest you keep your fucks to a minimum.”

 Anika bounced you. “Will you be able to keep your fucks to a minimum?”

 “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 Anika rolled her eyes. “Whatever! The air hasn’t even gotten a chance to come back down from the sweltering levels your guys’ flirting raised it to.”

 Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me! There was no flirting.”

 “Yes, there was, and it was not on your side alone. He was flirting with you too. What in the world is going on? I need the whole story without even the smallest detail left out.”

 You sighed then proceeded to tell her the whole sordid tale. As instructed, you didn’t leave anything out. You even told her about that exchange between you and Henry before you walked out of the bar. At the end of story time, Anika had a huge grin on her face.

 “What are you grinning at?”

 “You. Leave it to you to get whisked away by a prince and have him fall; for you in record time.”

 “No, no, no. Falling? Nika, you’re imagining things. He hasn’t fallen for anyone. He’s a prince, for crying out loud. They don’t fall for anyone, let alone some commoner. Have you never watched The Crown?”

 Anika snorted and dropped to the bed at your feet.

 “First of all, The Crown is whack. Second of all, this is not England. This place is fantastic. It’s like some Hallmark country where everything is beautiful, quaint, and perfect. You smiled and bit your bottom lip, agreeing fully.

 “Third, I was sitting right here, listening to your banter. I think he could totally fall for you if he hasn’t already.”

 You rolled your eyes, ignoring everything she was saying. Anika loved to play matchmaker, though you hated every time she did it.

 “You’re practically in his bed. We just have to get you there.”

 You rolled your eyes again, shocked at how quickly she’d gotten there. “Okay, down, girl. According to this doctor, I’m falling apart, Nika. Any bed I’ll be in for a while is this one.”

 “Well, now you have me here to encourage you to lap up the luxury and hospitality of his highness the prince of Brexendor. Get the fuck outta here!”

 The two of you laughed loudly. This situation you’d found yourself into was the most ridiculous one either of you could have ever begun to imagine.

 A few hours later, you found yourself alone while Anika settled in her room. Another knock sounded at your door. Being unable to open it yourself, you instructed them to come in. Once the doors opened in walked a beautiful girl about your age with long black hair and features similar to Henry’s. In your head, you suspected she was a family member. She smiled sweetly as she approached you. When she was by your bedside, she dropped onto the mattress.

 “Hi.”

 You returned her warm smile. “Hi.”

 “My god, you are beautiful.”

 You snorted, then pinched your lips together, trying to suppress your laugh. She was insane. You looked the worst you’d ever looked.

 “You’re being kind. I haven’t showered in a week and only today got to comb my hair. You’re being very, very kind.”

 She giggled but still looked genuine.

 “I’m Jemma,” she said, holding her hand out to you. Once you took it, and instantly noted how soft they were.

 “It’s nice to meet you.”

 “I have been trying to get here to introduce myself, but Henry told me to stay away so you could acclimate. Otherwise, I would have been here much sooner.”

 You smiled and assured her it was fine.

 “How are you doing?”

 You shrugged. “I guess I’m okay.”

 She didn’t look convinced and took you in for a few moments. “I’m sure my brother has brought all the best doctors for your care and has thought of everything that would ensure your comfort. With that treatment, I expect you to make a full recovery in no time.”

 “Brother.”

 “Yes. Please tell me you did not think I was his girlfriend or something of the sort.”

 She looked disgusted, which made you laugh.

 “No. I suspected a family member. So you’re a princess.”

 Jemma rolled her eyes as she sighed out as if she was already tired of the conversation.

 “Yes, but I promise it is not nearly as glamourous as you’re thinking. The only nice thing about it is the diamonds, everything else, eh.”

 You smiled, already liking her. she gave off an air that said she didn’t take herself seriously and even liked to have a bit of fun more times than not.

 “The staff is all abuzz with news that you will be residing with us for the next few weeks. Henry has told them to cater to your every whim, and because it came from him, everyone is in a tizzy over it, prepping to ensure you are at your most comfortable,” Jemma explained.

 “What. No, that’s not what I want at all. They don’t have to go all out.”

 “It’s okay.”

 “No. then everyone will think I’m some prissy thing who likes to be waited on when that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

 Jemma took you for a little while, then took your hand and squeezed it gently.

 “Not to worry, Xari. I assure you no one will think that.”

 You sighed then tried to forget it because it was too late to change whether or not they thought it. You were sure everyone was already whispering about you and Anika, the two Americans who’d somehow found their way into the palace.

 “Also, we are not as gossip centered as other monarchies. I promise,” Jemma added, raising her hand as if to swear it.

 When she sensed you relaxed, she proceeded to ask a plethora of questions about you, ranging from where you were from to what you did and the all-important if you were single. You felt like you were on a modern-day “Who Wants to be Friends With a Princess” tv show. With every fact, you revealed she revealed a similar one and so on. After an hour, you found that you had plenty in common, something that was shocking for you.

 When Anika came back, the party really stated. Your laughter picked up, as did the stories that Jemma revealed about royal life. Those stories prompted Anika to tell stories of life as a commoner in America as she called it. The only thing was her stories we mainly all about partying, dating, and men. With each story, Jemma’s eyes widened, and you felt like slowly Anika would end up corrupting her.

 “Nika, stop. You’re going to have her on an episode of Princesses Gone Wild,” you joked, which had both of them in stitches on your bed.

 “I will have you know that I am not some innocent wallflower. I know things,” Jemma countered.

 You couldn’t help but laugh loudly. Just the way she said that told you she didn’t know very many things. That was when Jemma proceeded to list the names of the men she’d dated, a list of three men. Anika was the one to ask the nature of these relationships, to which Jemma said she knew in great detail the kind of underwear each man wore. You lost it right then and there, dropping onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

 Exhaustion caught you off guard, dampening the mood of the night. Jemma assured you that she’d keep Anika company and show her around to give you time to take a nap. After thanking her, the two women walked out of your room, leaving you to silence. Once the door closed, it opened again. this time it was the woman named Audrina.

 “Good evening, ma’am. Is there anything I can bring you?”

 “No. I’m all right.”

 She nodded, then closed the door leaving you again. You quickly drifted off to sleep.

  ~~~~~

 -Henry-

He’d never met anyone quite as beautiful as you. he remembered when you’d walked into the bar and sat down beside him like you were right where you were supposed to be. You had no idea that the bar was empty because it was closed for him to be there, had no idea that he was not some ordinary citizen. He liked being a no one, especially if it meant he could sit there with you all night. He remembered wanting just that. If his phone hadn’t run, if he’d had more time, he probably would have tried to hold your hand. If he’d had more time, he would have gotten himself into an even bigger predicament than he was now—attracted to a woman he knew better than to touch.

 Slowly he looked over the features of your face and took in each detail. He pressed the elements of your face to his memory so he could call on them when he was alone, buried in work. A sigh escaped him as a lite feeling filled him. It was an unfamiliar one. He wanted to touch you. It was an urge that was so strong he almost couldn’t overpower it—almost. He balled his fist and sat back in the settee beside your bed, trying to ignore the feelings that washed over him.

 “Remember yourself,” he whispered before he looked back to the work he’d brought with him when he’d decided to pay you a quick visit.

 This quick visit was an hour ago. When he found you asleep, he should have turned around and left, but he couldn’t. He intended to sit here for a few minutes, ten tops, but he still had yet to tear himself away. He mustered what was left of his control and focused on the screen before him and tried to write his speech for the new world bank’s upcoming opening.

 This was one of his father’s pet projects, and he was filled with pride to see it to fruition, but also it made him miss the man more. Sighing, he closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples. Every time he thought of his father in the last few months, it brought him added stress. It was this stress that prevented him from sleeping longer than four hours a night.

 “Christ,” he whispered.

 “Are you all right?”

 Jerking his head up, he saw you awake with your head still atop the pillow. You looked like a dream, or perhaps his best nightmare.

 “I am sorry. Was I too loud?”

 “No. I um—just happened to open my eyes.”

 You slowly sat up, allowing the blanket to fall from your chest to your lap. As you adjusted yourself, he moved his laptop to the other side of the settee.

 “You didn’t answer me, though. Are you all right?”

 A smile tugged at his lips, but he fought it. “Me? Should it not be me be asking you that?”

 “Can’t we ask each other?”

 He studied you for a few moments, then nodded. “I am fine.”

 “Liar.”

 His jaw dropped, half shocked you would go there. There weren’t many people in his life that would dare.

 “I take it no one calls his highness a liar,” you teased.

 “You take it right. Maybe Jemma or my mother on occasion and a few of my friends but not many.”

 You smiled, then shrugged. “I call em’ like I see em.’”

 He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Pray tell, what gave me away to make you insult me so?”

 Your smile widened before you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, bringing his eyes right there. He adjusted in the seat he sat and waited for you to continue.

 “Your eyes are red, under your eyes puffy, and one doesn’t just say Christ to say Christ.”

 You had him there. He pushed his fist under his chin and continued to watch you.

 “So you are implying I look bad.”

 You smirked then, and he picked up the change in the air.

 “I mean, I’m sure I look the same as you. So take comfort in that.”

 A chuckle escaped him. “So that is a yes; I do look bad.”

 You looked at him but didn’t answer.

 “I will take that as a yes on my part. however, regarding you, you look far from bad.”

 You snorted then laughed, and it was the most shockingly endearing sound. It wasn’t a laugh he would hear from others in his company. Their laughs would be all dignified, but yours was genuine. It was also downright terrifying, but he preferred it.

 “Now I know you’re a liar. I look absolutely disgusting. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but I haven't showered in a week.”

 He pinched his lips, hiding his smile. You looked so uncomfortable admitting that.

 “Oh my.” He placed his hand over his mouth as if the fact mortified him.

 You pinched your lips.

 “Please tell me you have at least brushed your teeth.”

 “Today was the first day in just as much time.”

 Again he put his hand over his mouth and widened his eyes for emphasis. “Appalling.”

 You snorted again, and the delightful laugh came back. This time the laugh looked to encompass your entire being, and you glowed. When your laughter subsided, you dabbed at your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. He held out his handkerchief to you. When you took it, you used it to replace your fingers.

 “Thank you.”

 When you finished, you inspected the fabric, then looked at him.

 “You must like your women disgusting to still be here.”

 He shrugged.

 “How are you feeling?”

 “After that nap, I’m feeling well.”

 That made him happy.

 “Are you feeling well enough for some dinner?”

 “Uh—I was told I’m to stay in bed.”

 “Yes, Dr. Alfonsi has informed me and the staff as well. That is why--,” he began before walking across the room to the door.

 Once he opened it, the staff rolled in three carts filled with platters, trays, and bowls of plenty. Once the carts were parked, he thanked the staff and let them see themselves out.

 “Dinner is served.”

 The look on your face said you didn’t know what to say, so he uncovered the treys finding the menu items he’d chosen for the meal.

 “I was not sure what you liked, so I had them bring all of it.”

 He took up a plate and brought it to you. It took a few moments for you to take it, but you did. That was when he went back for his to sit back on the settee.

 “Also, do not feel as if you have to eat ladylike for me,” he began.

 You took up your fork and shoved an overflowing fork full of mashed potatoes into your mouth, letting a small glob rest at the side of your mouth.

 “What was that, your highness?”

 That was all it took for his attraction to turn to yearning.

 The two of you ate in silence for the most part. He asked you questions to get to know you better, and every new piece of information he found out only made him like you more and more. When you spoke about your career, he heard the passion in your voice, and it spoke to something in him. It had been a long time since he’d been around anyone who was genuinely passionate about the things they enjoyed. It stirred something in him, something he wasn’t quite ready to uncover.

 “I am sorry that I did not tell you once we met who I was.”

 You paused with your fork in your mouth.

 “It’s okay. To be real, why would you reveal to a stranger your secret identity. That’s like Clark Kent walking around in his incognito glasses with an S on his chest. It defeats the purpose.”

 “Clark Kent. Superman.”

 “Yes, one of my favorite superheroes.”

 A soft smile spread across his face before he nodded.

 “What’s yours? Wonder Woman?”

 He scoffed, then shook his head as he stood and approached the carts, ready for dessert. It wasn’t the Strawberry Cheesecake he truly desired, but it would have to do. When he returned to his seat, he placed your plate in front of you and sat.

 “It’s Wonder Woman, huh, or maybe Poison Ivy, ooh, Catwoman.”

 He sat there patiently, letting you list them off. He couldn’t help but wonder why those were chosen.

 “Before I answer, can I ask why you chose them?”

 He saw the mischievous glint twinkle in your eye as your lips quirked up into a smirk.

 “Oh, this, I must hear.”

 “No reason. They’re just seen as the most desirable by fanboy standards,” you responded while rolling with your eyes.

 He suppressed a chuckle to put a piece of the cheesecake into his mouth.

 “So?”

 “None of those.”

 “Oh, please do enlighten me,” you quipped.

 Resting the fork on the side of the dish, he responded. “Nubia and Storm.”

 He sat there and thoroughly enjoyed watching the emotions wash over your face. Shock was the first, then disbelief, and finally awe. Now you sat there assessing him as if you thought he was pranking you. He was not. You opened your mouth to say something, and he stopped you before you did.

 “I suggest you do not repeat it. I assure you I am not.”

 Your eyes darkened right at the moment you sucked your bottom lip back into your mouth. Losing his train of thought and head for control, he put another piece of the cake into his mouth, licking the back of the fork. Your eyes lowered to his mouth and your teeth sunk into that delectable bottom lip. If he were a weaker man, he would have tossed the plate he held to the side and been on you in under five seconds, but he was not a weak man. As future King, weakness had no place in the monarchy.

 Weakness was not an option until he saw you put the fork in your mouth to mirror his actions, only your tongue swirled around the teeth of the fork in a way that made his pants instantly too tight. Christ, help him.

 He cleared his throat and changed his position on the couch to one that would hide your effect.

“Interesting. I didn’t expect those,” you stuttered.

 “What did—what did you expect?”

 You shrugged and toyed with the fork against your lips. “Something else, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

 Your eyes met again, and the temptation he felt was somehow more than he’d ever felt. He wanted you. He’d wanted you since you cursed about how disgusting the drink was at the bar. The only thing was, this want had shifted.

 “I am happy it is pleasantly.”

 Again your eyes lingered, and he wanted nothing more than to give in to the heavy cloud of temptation that filled the room.

 “What’re you working on?”

 He cleared his throat again and straightened himself. “Uh—a speech. One of my father’s projects premiers in a few days, the first since his um—” he cleared his throat again. “Since his passing, and I am going to be the one to cut the ribbon on it.”

 “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

 Keeping his eyes turned downward, he nodded. The sincerity in your voice touched him. “Thank you.”

 The silence between you stretched for a few seconds before you spoke again.

 “What’s wrong with it?”

 “The speech, um—I do not know. It just does not feel right.”

 “Want me to take a look?”

 “Do you have an aptness for speeches?”

 You placed your place to the side and adjusted your posture.

 “Not speeches in general. I do have a knack for words. I’ve spent the last few years writing about the places I’ve gone in such a way that makes people want to go there themselves. I might know a little something, something.”

 He smiled, put the plate beside him, and leaned forward to hand you his laptop. He watched as you read through the few paragraphs he’d already written and wondered what you thought of it. Every lift of your brow or nibble of your lip had him more and more curious as to the thoughts in your head. After a few minutes, you nodded.

 “This isn’t bad. You sound like you’re on a good roll.”

 “No critique?”

 “How about you leave me with it for a day or two, and I’ll have some notes. Or, you could give it to your royal speechwriter.”

 He chuckled. “What makes you think I have one of those?”

 You rolled your eyes and smiled. “Hello, this is a monarchy. I am sure the monarchy employs people to make sure their dear prince is always PC.”

 You were right.

 “I think I would rather leave it with you,” he replied, making you smile in the process.

 “Okay. I’ll knock your socks off then.”

 “You already have,” he said, standing to take your plate.

 He tried to arrange the empty plates, dishes, and classes on the carts in a way that wouldn’t have them falling once they were moved.

 “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

 He turned in time to see you wobbling toward him, clutching the IV pole with one hand and a plate with the other. He saw your knees buckle and wrapped you in his arms, taking you to the bed in the process. With you underneath him, he couldn't deny how right this felt. Your breathing was heavy, your eyes bright and chest heaving. The way you were looking at him made his next move the only possible one.

 He brought his lips toward yours but right before he claimed them, he hesitated. The tiny sliver of space between your lips made it easy to feel the literal electricity that sparked between you. He was so close, but so far, and he wanted to get closer. The fact that you didn’t look as if you objected to this made his blood bubble with desire even more than it had hours ago when he first walked in.

 “I apologize,” he whispered before he pulled away from you with whatever ounce of strength he had remaining. He stood before you then held his hands out to you.

 “Let me help you.”

 You placed your hands in his letting him hoist you up. He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you back to the side of the bed you’d been this entire time.  When he eased you down, he spread the blanket over you and assured you were comfortable. Being sure to keep his eyes away from yours, he turned to his things and gathered them.

 “I will let you get some rest. If Dr. Alfonsi found out I were here preventing that, he would give me a stern talk.”

 “Thank you for this,” you said.

 He took his laptop from your bed and nodded. “I will email it to you.”

 “You have my email?”

 “I am head of this country; I have multiple resources at my disposal,” he replied, smirking at you. Your smile said you fully understood his meaning and knew he was teasing. You understood him. Yet another thing to like about you, he thought. He quickly averted his eyes then gave you a slight head bow.

 “Good night, Xari.”

 “Good night, your highness.”

  He walked toward the door and poked his head out to instruct the waiting staff to remove the carts. The walk back to his room was filled with several stops as he thought to go back, but when he realized he couldn’t, he carried on his way. He’d never been filled with so many conflicting wants and thoughts before, and he suspected as the coming weeks stretched, this would be just the tip of the iceberg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[loudsuitlover]

A friends to lovers little thing

If today Y/N were to talk about her friendship with Harry, she’d probably not even mention Mitch, even if she did know him through him. But that has been years ago and even though Mitch was as close to Harry as he was to her, Harry and herself had develop their own friendship, where Mitch was always welcome but not always needed and she didn’t feel Mitch’s absence like a tragedy when she hang out alone with Harry. Which happened quite a lot. 

Like right now, when they are both sitting on Harry’s backyard in LA, and her feet are up on his lap as she takes the sun in behind her sunglasses and he absent-mindlesly draws figures on her jeans-covered calves while he scrolls through his emails. 

“H” she knows he’s listening even if he’s not looking at her “do you think things are going to go back to fully normal after this whole coronavirus pandemic is over?” 

Then he looks up at her. 

“How do you mean?” 

“I mean” she shrugs “you know, I can see that people are a lot more wary now... Me myself I’m a lot more wary... I mean Europeans are starting to act a lot like countries which do not have a public health care system like... We’re afraid of getting sick, you know? And that means we pull away from the sick and that’s just wrong, isn’t it? I don’t know.” She shrugs. 

“I mean it’s hard but... wrong? I don’t think it’s wrong. I think it’s what we need to do.” 

“I know, yeah, but it’s like people are afraid of getting sick not only for being sick themselves but for what being sick means, you know? Like at work there was this girl who tested positive, she was asymptomatic, and everyone was like talking shit about her, you know? Like calling her irresponsable and I was horrified by that. I mean she was sick, when did we start blaming the sick for their sickness?” 

“Yeah, I see what you mean. But people are afraid, you shouldn’t take it to heart, love.” He smirks. 

She smiles and snorts a chuckle at the way he is always so chilled in LA. 

“I hope you know, if you get sick, I’ll get sick too.” 

He rolls his eyes but chuckles. 

“That’s just plain silly, Y/N. I wouldn’t let you.” 

“You would kick me out of your house?” Her mouth opens in the shape of an o and he raises his eyebrows while he nods. “That’s so rude!”

“I’d do it out of love!” He explains. “These days the way to say I love you is staying the fuck away.”

“And wearing a mask.” 

“And wearing a mask.” He agrees. 

“I think masks did a lot of good to ugly people.” 

And like that she changes the topic and makes Harry laugh and they both talk about how useful masks can be. When he doesn’t feel like shaving he doesn’t have to, when she has a zit on her chin for her period there’s no worry and he laughs along because he thinks it’s ridiculous that she’s ever worried about the way she looks. 

He met her four years ago in his own house. Mitch was over and they were going to order pizza for dinner but he said he had plans with a good friend and Harry said he could invite them if he wanted to so he did and there you were. 

You arrived twenty minutes after the invitation and the first thing you said he remembers was this apartment is fucking massive and then your eyes had met his and yours had gone wide and embarrassed while he had just laughed at your honesty. 

You had known who he was beforehand and you hadn’t pretended you didn’t but you had admitted you were not really a fan of One Direction just because you were not really a fan of anything- you didn’t believe in the fandom thing- or so you thought before he proved to you that you were a fan of a lot of things on just that first night. You would talk and then he would say so then one could say you’re a fan of chocolate and you would laugh and find him funny. 

And then when the pizza was over and Mitch was mindlessly playing some chords on his guitar, you were both sitting on the same couch and your bodies were turned to the side so you were facing one another and it had been like such a magnetic connection in just about three hours he had fancied you and you were sipping from your beer bottle and the way you brought it to your mouth and rested your lips against the glass circle had him mesmerised and he thought you were really such a pretty girl and that you were funny and confident and you looked kind to him, even though he didn’t really know you, but he found himself wanting to know more and he wondered whether you would yes to dinner with him. He scratched the back of his neck then as if that was going to settle down the blush creeping up when Mitch talked. 

“Hey, Y/N, we never got to talk about just how mad you were with “men as a gender” last week.” He reminded. “D’you still wanna talk about it?” 

She sighed and had a sip of her beer. 

“Well that depends on how you two are going to take it. If you’re going to be the kind of guy who feels attacked and tries to sell me that bullshit not all mean are the same then I’d rather not. I don’t feel like arguing tonight.” 

And Harry liked that too. That you were fiery and had a mind of your own and had no fear to talk about it. Not because you were a woman, because he thought some men were lacking that too, but because you clearly had some ideas and he had always liked that about people.

“So we’re just supposed to agree with you on everything?” Mitch smirked. 

“Not at all. You don’t have to agree. You just have to shut the fuck up if you don’t.” 

They both threw their head backs and laugh and Y/N herself chuckled too. She didn’t mean that and Mitch knew that, he could always speak up his mind and disagree with her and she would take it but she had had enough and she was tired of men as a gender, of genders entirely, and Mitch had always been the ear who would listen to every little complaint she had so she another sip of beer and then she started talking. 

“You know how you told me everything with Brandon was going to end up badly.” She pointed at him and he nodded. “Well, you were right.” 

Then she tilted her neck so her eyes met Harry’s and she explained. 

“Brandon is a mutual friend of Mitch and mine.” 

“More hers than mine.” Mitch clarified but she just rolled her eyes so Harry smirked.

“They have this weird competition going on, I think it’s the testosterone again.” 

“Not at all. I am like the least toxic masculine guy in England and you know that. It’s him who seems to have a problem with me.” He shrugged. “We know each other from high school and, don’t take me wrong, I love the guy because he’s like family at this point, but it’s true that he always seems to measure himself with me, you know? And then Y/N had the great idea to sleep with him and that only made it worse because, you know, Y/N’s my best friend and I’m her best friend so in his mind, I was a thread.” He chuckled. “Me, being a thread, as if I would ever date her.” He joked. 

Y/N threw a pillow at him that he dogded thanks to years of practice and then she got back to her explanation to Harry. 

“The thing is, I did meet Brandon through Mitch and I liked him” she looked at Mitch “that’s the truth and we were friends for a long time because he had a weird thing with a girl, I didn’t want to be a part of it and all that but then last summer something changed, you know? Like I actually thought he might be interested in me so I flirted with him, despite Mitch’s relentless advice not to-”

“But she’s never been known for listening to me.” He intervened, making her roll her eyes again. 

“And so we became... You know... Special friends.” 

“Friends with benefits, she means.” Mitch explained making Harry smirk. 

“I think he figured that out.” She scolded him. “Well, two weeks ago, we went out and we were drunk, at least I know I was drunk off my ass, and he like literally stopped me at the washroom door and told me that he didn’t want to keep shagging with me because he liked a girl.” 

“Shit.” Harry said. 

“No, that’s not all.” Her eyes widened. “He said he wanted to let me know because I needed to change my behaviour because he knew I still wanted to sleep with him.” 

Harry’s eyes widen and settled on Mitch’s and Mitch just nodded as if saying yeah, I know he’s a dick but he’s our dick, I guess. 

“And the thing is what bothered me is realizing what he thinks of me, you know? He doesn’t see me as a friend and I wonder if he ever has or if he did and then it changed the minute he saw me naked- like what the fuck? So that’s where my problem with men as a gender began because then a few days later, I’m talking about this to another friend from work and you know what his reaction was?” She gave them a few seconds to answer but they both remained silent. “He asked me out! Like- what? I thought we were friends! But we’re not! He was just waiting to ask me out. So then I was like do I really have any male friends who do not want to see me naked? Other than Mitch?” 

“Ryan.” Mitch offered then.

“Ryan is gay.” 

“Still a male.” 

She clicked her tongue but smiled. That had Harry thinking, he even felt bad for thinking of her like he had done before she told them all of that. He was considering asking her out himself then but after all that, he figured that’s not what she would want so he didn’t and for days after that he still thought about it. 

It happened to him sometimes too and he knew some people would never get it, those who would say wait, so you’re complaining about being pretty? And then he remembered that Mika song are you wishing to be ugly like me? But no, it was not about being pretty or being ugly, it was about being objectified and he knew that was how Y/N had felt because he had felt that way sometimes too, so he didn’t ask her out. Instead he buried his feelings and he pretended he didn’t like her but damn right he did... 

He liked the way she would bring up weird deep conversations any minute, he liked that thin black line she would get on her lips whenever she drank red wine because her lips were always so dry but she was too forgetful to have care with something as simple as lipbalm, he liked the clothes she wore and her scent and pretty much everything that had to do with her. And he’s liked that for four years but he’s always been afraid of saying something about it because he didn’t want to add to her feeling of being objectified. 

But then four years later she was coming home from a date with Nate, a friend of a friend, and the guy had been nice and sweet but he hadn’t been as funny as Harry or smelled as good as Harry or moved as lanky and clumsy as Harry and he definitely didn’t have Harry’s sex appeal and she just didn’t like him like he liked Harry. 

She rests her head on the door and sighs like a teenager because it’s been four fucking years of him being nothing but the sweetest, kindest friend; but she still can’t take him out of her mind. And this is the same old story, the girl falling in love with someone so clearly out of her league because Harry would never be interested in her like that- that’s just plain silly- but he loved her and he was so good at loving... 

Sarah: How was the date? x

Y/N: Like every other... 

Sarah: Pal, you’re the Grinch... 

Y/N laughed at that. So what if she was? She rather liked the Grinch. She looked at the clock on her kitchen, it was too late to call Harry so she went to bed because the sooner she fell asleep, the sooner she would stop thinking about him. Even if it was just to dream with him... 

He called her tonight too. He has lost the count of who called who or rather he had never counted. He figures those things some people did in relationships had more to do with pride than with actual healthy patterns and he called Y/N because he wanted to spend time with her, quite simply, and now they are both sprawled out like cats on the couches on his living room after watching Now You See Me and he is still sipping from his glass of wine when she asks him. 

“Harry” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” 

He swallows the sip of wine he’s taken as his eyes set on her. She’s changed her position on the couch so she’s facing him but she’s still somewhat lying down so her eyelashes almost hit her cheeks because she has to look at him from an angle. He takes a deep breath, he studies her, he doesn’t know what she wants him to say. 

“‘F course.” So he goes with the truth. “I think you’re beautiful.” 

“Really?” 

He frowns then. Is she being insecure now? She’s going to drive him crazy. He rests his now empty glass on the table and leans on his elbows on his knees before he breathes in. 

“What’s this about?” 

She purses her lips and looks away from him shaking her head. The wine had given her some courage, the wine and all the thinking she did the night before- maybe she should say something because if it has been four years it’s because even though the rational part of her knew it was impossible for him to feel the same, there was a little of irrational hope that he did; but if he said it- if he said no, Y/N, I just love you as a friend then she would have no reason not to move on and she would probably ask him for some time and space until she could mend her heart and then they could be friends without their friendship interfering on her love life. 

“Can you please not do that?” He begs. 

“What?” She tilts her neck and looks at him. 

“Avoiding confrontation.” 

She frowns. 

“I’m not avoiding confrontation! Confrontation of what? We’re not arguing.” 

“No, we’re not. But you asked me whether I thought you were pretty and I answered and asked you why you’re asking me that and now you’re not answering me.” 

“It’s silly, H...” She shakes her head. 

“Well, I want to know.” He presses. 

She sighs. She’s going to say it. 

“It’s just... We’re such good friends. I thought you would be honest with me about that.” 

Except she doesn’t. 

He nods. 

“Why would you need me to tell you you’re beautiful? Do you not have mirrors?” 

She smiles. 

“I just wanted to know if you thought I was pretty.” She smiles. “That’s all.” 

She leans over to the table to rest her empty glass of wine as well and Harry lets his eyes set on every inch of her body. The way that soft green cardigan has almost fallen from her shoulder, her strapped crop top and the way her cheeks has turned pink. And she hasn’t said anything, but that’s the first time he thinks she might fancy him too so he sighs. He has no problem in taking this slow. After four years, what difference does a day make? 

“Well, I do.” He smirks. “I think you’re gorgeous.” 

And that’s how their thoughts about what the other might feel started to change but their relationship didn’t yet change much. If anything, they didn’t look away anymore when the other catch them staring and the sheepish smirks came more often but they didn’t say anything still and it was nice and comfortable and nothing needed to be said. 

And then this morning Harry just appeared on Y/N’s apartment very early when she was still on her PJs and he dragged her inside her bedroom when she claimed she had to study because he had found this very nice small village that he wanted to check out and he had heard they served good food on the town too so you got changed as he waited downstairs. 

“Can I at least have breakfast?” 

“Sure.” He smiles. 

She rolls her eyes like she always did and swats his chest to push him away but that time he holds her wrist and pulls from her until she has to press her free hand against his chest to stop herself from colliding against him and he just smiles. 

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, love.” 

“Or what?” She challenges. 

His green eyes fall to her lips for a second and she feels her heartbeat accelerating. Please, God, have him kissing me. But his eyes flicker back to hers and he lets her wrist go with a teasing smirk. When she turns around, she rolls her eyes again. 

After breakfast, she’s sitting on the passenger seat of his convertible and he’s driving one hour and a half away until they get to this very lovely clear sand, clear water beach and they step out of the car as he smiles like a kid. 

“Are we in Santa Barbara?” 

“Almost.” He smiles. 

He doesn’t tell her the name of the town and she doesn’t really need to know, all she cares about is out of all the people in the world, he chose her to spend the day with at this town and she quite likes that. 

As they walk up a cement hill towards the town, Harry’s arm wraps around her shoulders and he pulls her to him, pressing a kiss on her hairline and she feels her heart fluttering but not in a painful way, like it sometimes had in the last four years, but in a good one, in a new one, in a way that doesn’t feel inappropriate. 

They walk around the town like that and she likes the way old ladies look at them, probably think he looks like James Dean, but somehow she feels like they think they make a good couple and that thought had never crossed her mind in four years. 

“I like this town.” She says. 

“You do? Me too. I was thinking about filming the Golden music video here.” 

“Love that song too.” 

She stops so she can look into his eyes and he holds her hazel gaze and he wishes he could tell her she is golden but instead he licks his lips inside his mouth so his smirk doesn’t give him away. 

“Thank you, love.” 

It’s true she loves that song. She loves everything she writes or performs, but that song especially, it just feels like he’s writing her own feelings towards him and she felt so exposed when she listened to it the first time because she was so sure he knew it all then but his jade eyes didn’t leave hers for as long as the song was coming out of their headphones and he was sitting in front of her and she almost cried right there but somehow she managed not to. 

And then they keep walking, and they even stop at some souvenir shops and joke around with ugly hats and sunglasses and then they enter a cheese shop and buy two different cheeses and they talk about it like a married couple would and the old man from the shop really did think they were together because Harry held the door for her twice and because of the way they stared at each other when the other wasn’t looking. 

She hasn’t stopped thinking about the Golden song ever since he had mentioned it and his arm had kept wrapping around her shoulders and his hand resting on her waist when they had to pull to the side because a car was passing on a narrow street or when the carriages of the market had passed them by and he had pulled her to him so they wouldn’t accidentally hit her. 

“Are you hungry?” He asks. 

“I could eat.” 

He smirks. He could eat too... 

“Jeff told me about this place... He was there with Glenne, it’s a good one, right by the beach like you like.” 

She smiles and wants to kiss him as he looks down at his phone with a frown checking for the name of the place. 

“H, why are you not seeing anyone?” She smirks. 

His phone is still on his hand when he looks up at her and her smirk seems to be contagious. He shrugs but his eyes look into hers and it gives him away. 

“What’s with the smile?” He asks. 

This time it’s her who shrugs. 

“I’m just happy you chose to bring me here.” 

“Are you surprised?” 

She shrugs again. 

“I mean... This looks like the perfect plan for a date. You know, the beach, the nice restaurant, the lovely town...” 

“It could be a date” he smirks “if you want.” 

They both stare into each other’s eyes and people keep walking past them and cars keep driving down the road behind them but for all they care the world has stopped for these few seconds. They are both smirking and their hearts are beating fast like teenager’s before they kiss. 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Yeah.” He confesses. “You’re beautiful, you like my music... I don’t see why I wouldn’t take you out.” 

She rolls her eyes again and he realizes he just made it sound like a joke but she’s been playing with his mind for years, she can take some mind game for a while too. Let’s see how she reacts too... She could turn it back into a real proposition, which is what she does. 

“Then, yes, I do want it to be a date.” 

He snorts a chuckle and she grins at him. 

“Then a date it is.” 

And for the first time in four years of friendship, he holds her hand as they walk towards the restaurant by the beach and it feels so right and so comfortable, she even caresses the back of his hand with her thumb. 

But they didn’t kiss that day either because none of them was brave enough so despite all the times they had stood in front of one another and their heart had beaten hard and fast against their throats, they hadn’t dared so that night again she went to bed thinking it was all in her mind. 

And then four days later he was having lunch with Mitch on Café Habana and he was munching on his salad when his friend cleared his throat. 

“So what the fuck are you doing with Y/N?” 

“Pardon?” 

“I know you like her. I’m not an idiot but,dude, she’s like... Bad.” 

“What do you mean she’s bad?” 

“She thinks you don’t!” He shrugged. 

“How would she think I don’t?” He frowned. “I’m so obvious!”

“She’s a jerk.” Mitch shook his head and Harry almost chuckled. “But if you hurt her, I’m going to have to kill you.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Then talk to her, mate. She’s driving herself crazy.” 

“She’s been driving me crazy for four years, mate.” 

“You’ve liked her for four years?” Mitch frowned. “But, wait, when did you guys even meet?” 

“Four years ago.” Harry nodded. 

“Wait, what?” Mitch chuckled because  “So you’ve liked her since you met her.” 

“Yeah...” He blushed then and Mitch started laughing. “What’s so funny?” 

“The day after the pizzas at your house, she asked me if you were single, if you had ever dated someone non model, non famous, if she was anything like your type...”

“Really?” 

Mitch nodded. 

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” 

“Mate, you know. I don’t do that.” 

“You’re telling me I could have been with her these last four years and I didn’t because you don’t do that?” 

So that night after talking to Jeff about the Golden music video, he picked her favourite sushi and knocked on her door around dinner time. She was on her housewear, like she liked to call it, so an old t-shirt of his and cottom shorts- very short- and his eyes inevitably roam her body before he even said hello. 

“What’s this?” She asks.

“Sushi number 25 from Quimos.” 

“Oh, God, I love you. Come in.” 

He smiles differently that time, despite all the times he had heard she loved him, because that time he thought she might mean it in a different way. 

She takes the bag from him and walks towards the kitchen, him following her suit and only when they’re in the kitchen he sees the mess she’s made with flour and cinammon and oranges all over. 

“What were you doing, love?” 

“Doughnuts.” She giggles. “Do you wanna help or should we let it be until after dinner?” 

“Can you even let it be?”

“I probably shouldn’t.” She giggles. 

He laughs too and places his jacket on one of the kitchen stools before he turns to her and presses a kiss on her cheek, his hand gripping her waist through his own t-shirt. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” 

Her hazel, to him golden eyes, look into his own and as stupid as it might sound, it’s like he can hear his own song in his mind, the instrumental part, and he knows she’s scared but he’s going to kiss her now. 

So with a determination he’s been lacking for four years, he leans in and captures his lips with hers and he feels her breath getting caught on her throat as her lips welcome his. It takes a few seconds to react but when she does, it’s like they’ve been kissing one another for years. Their lips adjust to one another like a ring fits a finger and their hands know where to stand even if now they can probably touch places they never have before but for now they don’t. For now his hands linger on her waist for longer than he’s ever dared and hers tangle on his hair and caress the back of his neck and that freckle he has on the line where his neck meets his shoulder and her tongue timidly comes out at last making him moan and press his hips against hers mindlessly. 

“I should have done that last saturday.” He explains when he pulls back. 

She’s still fighting for breath and her smile almost doesn’t let her peck his lips as many times as she wants but he holds her waist and chuckles as she covers his face with kisses. 

[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

        They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

Tell me what you think?

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[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 58-62

This is the second half of the Santana arc, where Joseph actually fights the guy.   From the first appearance of Santana at the beginning of Part 2, all Speedwagon wanted was for someone to destroy him with the Ripple.  He asked Straizo to do it and he turned on him.   Then the Nazi officer Rudol von Stroheim happened along and decided to wake Santana up instead.   Now the only one left who could possibly stop Santana is Joseph, and he’s finally here, but first he decides to try talking to the guy, figuring that he might not be evil.  

And that’s fair.  The only people Santana has killed so far are a vampire and a bunch of Nazi soldiers.  If Captain America did that, we’d throw him a parade.  

But Santana isn’t in the mood to talk.  He regards the humans as inferior primitives, and he’s more interested in studying their behavior and technology.  He mastered their language in mere minutes, but when Joseph insists on getting his attention, he tries to kill him by extruding his own ribs and using them like pincers.   Joseph manages to block this with his Hamon powers, but they seem to do no harm to Santana.    Speedwagon reasons that the Hamon power can at least protect Joseph from Santana, but Santana’s own body is able to resist the Ripple, unlike the vampires we’ve seen so far. 

As for Santana, he seems surprised by Joseph’s abilities, and wonders if every human has evolved such power.   But when he sticks his hand onto Speedwagon’s face, he can still absorb him, so apparently Joseph is unique.  Speedwagon doesn’t die from this, but it’s enough to make Joseph want to fight Santana in earnest.

However, Santana can make his body all rubbery, preventing any of Joseph’s attacks from connecting.   He tries to stab Santana with a knife so he can channel the Ripple through it and inside Santana’s body, but the knife won’t penetrate.   He tries to gouge Santana’s eyes, but that doesn’t work either.    Then Santana appears to knock him unconscious, and starts to absorb Joseph like he did that vampire from before.   But then...

... Joseph wakes up!    He was just feigning unconsciousness to lure Santana into this position.   Once he was pulled inside Santana’s body, he could use Hamon and blow him apart from the inside.   Good thing he didn’t wait any longer, because Stroheim was prepared to self-destruct the whole base.  

But this doesn’t kill Santana.   Luckily, Joseph is prepared for this, since he saw Straizo reassemble his own body back in New York.   He traps Santana in a length of chain, very Hermit Purple-like if you asked me, and resolves to drag Santana upstairs and out into the sun.  

You know, for all the precautions Stroheim took for this experimentation, you’d think he would have had a lab designed with a sunroof.  He seemed more concerned with keeping Santana contained, but if things went really wrong, he would need the sun to destroy him, but instead he’s got him in some underground bunker.

The problem is that Santana can still control his separated body parts to some extent, and they attack Joseph, making it even harder for him to climb the stair.   Stroheim leaps past them and offers to open the door for them, but Santana attacks his leg as well.   So Stroheim tells Joseph to chop off his leg with a nearby axe, and that lets him reach the door.    We’re expected to applaud Stroheim’s courage, but he’s a fucking Nazi shitbag who created this problem in the first place, so no thank you.  

Anyway, it doesn’t help, because Santana just puts his entire body into Stroheim’s open leg wound, using Stroheim’s body to protect him from the sunlight.   Stroheim then grabs a grenade, hoping to destroy himself and leave Santana nowhere to run, but before he dies he tells Joseph what this was all about.  

Seems that there were three more Pillar Men in Europe.   The Nazis discovered them not too long ago, and they learned enough to know that they’ll awaken soon, and that they’ll need more than just sunlight to stop them.    That’s why Stroheim was so determined to learn all he could about Santana.   I’m not sure if Stroheim was assigned to Mexico for this purpose, or if he was already stationed here and just happened to be nearby when Santana was discovered. 

But when the grenade goes off, Santana is whole and nude and seemingly no worse off.  He still tries to seek cover in a nearby well, and tackles Joseph to get to it.    

But Joseph was counting on this, because it’s high noon, and the sun is directly over the well, trapping Santana between the sun overhead and the sun’s reflection below.  I guess Santana might have found shelter in the water, but Joseph’s in the way to prevent this.   

Okay, so I think I’m starting to understand how sunlight affects the Pillar Men.  With vampires, the sun just makes them explode and die instantly.   It doesn’t kill the Pillar Men, though.   It just turns them into a stone-like material.  They still don’t like this, though, because it leaves them vulnerable, and I’m pretty sure Santana can’t just change back.   Like, he was sort of succumbing to the sunlight a minute ago, but he still had time to jump into the well before he completely petrified.    Then he might have had enough flesh to slough off the petrified skin and figure out his next move.    But Joseph prevented that from happening.  

So they have to spend a decent amount of time in the sun for this to happen, and maybe this is why they were trapped in the pillars in the first place.    At some point, they got exposed to sunlight and they’ve been “sleeping” ever since, waiting to absorb enough nutrients to reactivate.  

I say all this because I could never understand how Joseph got Santana out of the well without a piece or two falling into the shade.   By 12:30PM, he wouldn’t have the sun beaming down on him, so apparently Santana must have stayed petrified long enough for him to climb out.

Regardless, Santana is not dead.   Speedwagon takes him back to the Speedwagon Foundation, and his scientists discover that if they put a live snake on Santana’s stone body, the snake will be absorbed.   They believe that if they leave him in darkness long enough, he’ll reassemble and come back to life.    The only thing preventing this are a bunch of UV lamps they have set up inside a special chamber where they’re keeping him.   

This makes Santana somewhat remarkable in JJBA, because he’s a pretty major villain, yet he wasn’t permanently disposed of like the others, so you’d think he could come back to menace the world in some later part.   I doubt that he survived for long, though. 

Speedwagon is concerned because in the temple where they found Santana, there was a relief bearing images of all four Pillar Men: Santana and the three Stroheim mentioned in Europe.   But they’re arranged in such a way as to suggest that Santana was the weakest of the four.   Worse, the temple engravings claimed that the Pillar Men would awaken in the Aztec year 2852, or 1938 by our calendar.    So not only are they unsure how to kill Santana, but there’s three stronger Pillar Men out there, and they’ll be waking up any day now.   Uh-oh.

The problem is that Joseph Joestar’s Hamon powers aren’t strong enough to tackle this threat.   Before he blew himself up, Stroheim told him to go to Europe to meet someone Speedwagon knows, who could assist him with this matter.   And Speedwagon agrees, sending Joseph to Rome, Italy.

There, Joseph argues with a waiter over spaghetti.   He thinks the black sauce is a joke, but the waiter explains that it’s squid ink and actually delicious.   Then some guy at another table insults Joseph from afar, so Joseph decides to shoot spaghetti at him with Hamon power.  Except the other guy catches these noodles with his own noodles on a fork, and fires them back using... more Hamon.  

And that’s because this dude is the one Joseph was sent to meet, Caesar Zeppeli.     He says “Mama mia”, so you know he’s extra Italian.

[fnf-brain-rot]

[Whitty x Boyfriend]

Chapter 3 - He's dangerous

Pico didn't like the idea of Boyfriend going to see this mystery man, and his gut feeling would only be made worse if his idea of who the stranger was, was correct. He only usually closed himself off in his room when he's in deep thought, or when he's organizing business. Right now, it was the latter.

He couldn't stop thinking about Boyfriend's surprise visit. Why did he hesitate to tell his name? He wasn't stupid, he could tell the guy was lying, the only problem is without a name, he wasn't totally sure if this target was the same guy he was hanging out with. Lying down on his queen sized mattress, he sighed, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. He couldn't help but feel guilt for the plan he would come up with. He didn't like the idea of using his dear, close friend, especially since he quite liked him, but there's no other way to get the info out of him. Speaking of..

He heard a knock on his door. He quickly got up, put out his cigarette, and made his way down to answer. Of course, when he opened it, there stood Boyfriend, holding his beloved microphone. "Pi- oh! Sorry, am I bothering you?" The blue haired's face went red as he noticed Pico wasn't wearing a shirt. "Nope, you're just on time actually." Pico couldn't help but chuckle at the flustered male. "Come on, I'll make some tea." The ginger turned to retreat back into his house, and Boyfriend followed loosely behind him. He's seen Pico shirtless a lot, sure, but he still couldn't get used to seeing him like that. He wondered why. 

"So, you come bearing more news about this mystery man of yours?" Pico's voice echoed from his place in the kitchen. "Well.. Yes and no." Boyfriend made himself at home right on Pico's couch of course, kicking his legs up onto the cushions. Pico noticed he's been in such a happy-go-lucky mood ever since meeting this guy. He was starting to suspect he had a crush. "We haven't hung out recently. I just wanted to you know.. kick it with you for a bit." He stated with a grin. Pico rolled his eyes and returned to the living room, holding a cup of coffee and a cup of tea. "Gee, who's fault is that?" He teased, and Boyfriend sat up with a whine, allowing the ginger to sit next to him. "I'm sorry! It's just.. I just really feel for him you know?" Pico only nodded.

"You barely know him Bee." Pico reminded him. "But I bought him food! He ate it! All of it! Like.. Oh my god.. If you were there you would know how much he ate I ordered one of everything." Boyfriend shuddered a little. He was thankful for him finishing the food though. "With who's money?" Pico snorted, and Boyfriend pouted, almost dejectedly. "Gigi's." He answered honestly. "Well.. At least it sounded like you had fun." The ginger glanced away, taking a brisk sip of his black coffee. The bitter taste kept him awake. "I'd love for you to actually meet him this weekend." Boyfriend then spoke up. Pico blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected it to be handed to him like that. "This weekend? Wh- You could barely tell me his name yesterday." He set his cup down and crossed his arms. "I know! But I'll talk him into meeting you and Gigi and Nene and Darnell and the spooky boys!" The smaller male almost squealed in delight.

Pico didn't like the idea of his information being put out there to strangers-especially considering his reputation-but he guessed that was up to Boyfriend's innocence. Pico found it hard to stay mad at him. How could he? He sighed, looking the blue haired male up and down. "I.. guess it's fine. Just as long as he's not smelly, who knows where that guy's been lying around." He scrunched up his nose in distaste. Boyfriend grinned, thankful for Pico's blessing, then hugged him tightly, an action that made Pico's face go a slight shade of red. "Yeah yeah whatever, just.." He huffed in embarrassment, turning his head as Boyfriend buried his face into his chest. This blueberry had no sense of personal space, did he?

___________________________________________

Whitty hated to admit it, but he had been thinking about that shorty all day.

So much so, he ended up walking around the area they first met. He almost hadn't noticed his feet subconsciously leading him back to that alley. He only realised when he looked at his crude graffiti where he was, and had an immediate thought to flee but.. instead he sat against the wall. He couldn't help but get second hand embarrassment from the simple thought of his break down during their first battle. He looked down and took out a small phone that was gifted to him some time ago. During their afternoon binge yesterday-well his afternoon binge-he had gotten his phone number in case he needed to call or something. Of course, he wasn't planning on calling any time soon. He wasn't the type to ask for anything, but he was tempted to ask if they could hang out again today.

As he opened Boyfriend's contact, he paused, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings. He set the phone in his pants pocket and stood back up. He could've sworn he heard movement...He stared intensely at the entrance to the alley way. It wasn't the sound of eager yet gentle foot steps by Boyfriend. It was definitely not friendly.

He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. He was starting to take steps back with each sound he heard, only to see about three-four? About four figures make their way into the alley. He was trapped, he had no where to run. This alley was a dead end. "See boss? I told you he would be here!" A small, yet gritty voice exhoed along the walls, followed by a loud "shhh!" with another loud "shhh!!"

Whitty could recognise these voices. He's heard them before. In this same spot, weeks ago. They were part of some gang that was out for his bounty. He didn't bother to learn the name, all he knew was that everyone was an enemy. Well.. except for Boyfriend of course. "Whitty, right?" The tallest male stood to the front. His voice was just as gritty, and he had pale skin, straight brown hair and was wearing what seemed to be casual attire. In fact, all of them looked similar. The only intimidating thing to a normal person would be his demeanor and the fact he's above 5'10. Whitty, however, was no normal person. He was a target. By everyone.

___________________________________________

Boyfriend sighed happily, just leaving Pico's house. He left with some conflicted feelings, butterflies in his stomach, and red constantly plastered on his cheeks. Sure he thought he had a crush on Pico for a while now but.. He might have been distracted with Whitty. The way his body grew hot at every tiny touch Pico gave him. He can't even see the guy shirtless without becoming a flustered mess. He could tell something was up with Pico too. Maybe he should talk to him about it..

He decided to run and stop at his favorite cafe. He wished he could sit with Whitty in the place. He thought Whitty would like the decor inside. It's warm, quiet, and they give tasty snacks. Boyfriend smiled at the thought of Whitty. He wondered what he was doing. Taking care of himself he hoped. He should probably stop by that alley they first met in, check to see if he left anything there possibly. He did leave in a hurry. Maybe he left his favorite.. thing?? Okay, he'll admit, he had no real reason to go. He just kind of... wanted to think about the taller guy. That's fine, right?

___________________________________________

Whitty had been trying his best to stand his ground. His main advantage, and disadvantage, was his height. He found it hard to get back up after being knocked down, so the plan was to stay on his feet. "Why don't you scumbags fuck off somewhere?" The bomb man scoffed, feeling the heat in his head begin, and his fuse started to light. "And miss out on this opportunity? No. You're lucky we want to take you alive." All four of them advanced. They planned to rush him. Whitty's been in a tussle a couple of times, but never with more than two people. Their first plan was to surround him, and take him down that way. He tried to focus and not panic,  taking his hands out of his pockets and balling them into fists. They lit ablaze as if he were holding fire, and he turned around, throwing a punch at the guy to his left, catching them all by surprise. They honestly though he was the flight type.

"AH!! SHIT!" The male yelled in pain, but Whitty could care less. These guys were here supposedly to kidnap him or something. The other two goons went in, one grabbing his arm, thinking he could simply flip him over, and the other on his leg to catch him off balance. The big male stumbled, but forced himself to the side instead of on his back, pushing against the alley wall. He growled, an angry growl, before picking up the smaller guy on his leg by the neck. His hand seared the skin around his hold, and the other male tried to get him to drop him since he was practically cooking his throat.

The man who received the first punch finally recuperated, and dashed over to help. Shame, these three were gonna get killed by the hands of this thing. Everyone knows the leaders tend to make the smartest decisions. He's the leader right? This fight wasn't winnable with only four guys. Not with this big ass creature that seemed to become more and more unhinged with every second, almost as if he were taking pleasure in burning these men alive.

Whitty threw away the severely burned man and turned to the guy on his arm, who had tried to stab him with a needle, but the moment he touched the bare arm, it was like touching a burning stove. Whitty couldn't help but laugh, grabbing this man by the wrist with one hand, and catching the other by the arm as he tried to jump onto him. Yeah.. This is karma right? Their screams of pain, agony, they deserved more than to burn alive.

___________________________________________

Boyfriend was almost skipping down the sidewalk, but scrunched his nose at the smell of something burning. It seemed like it was coming right from where he was planning to go too. Was Whitty there? Granted it could just be a hobo using a fire to cook or something but... this was a different smelling burn. A smell he's never smelled before, and it formed a pit in his stomach, though he could never explain why.

He didn't rush popping his head around the corner. The sight made him pale, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Was that.. Whitty?

No way, had to be an evil twin or something..

No, it definitely was Whitty. He was crying.. and laughing? The burning smell was because of him. It was burning clothes, burning flesh. Two men were out on the ground, seeming to have accumulated severe burn wounds, singed clothing.. he almost thought they were dead. "You fucked with the wrong guy. Four dudes?? That's all you got?" He heard Whitty laugh. The laugh wasn't like any Boyfriend had heard. When he saw the man he was holding, he had to step in. "W-Whitty!" He choked, and Whitty stopped almost immediately. He stopped everything. He stopped crying. He stopped laughing. He was no longer heated. It was like his brain had to process what the fuck was going on, and he knew what it was when  Boyfriend hesitantly stepped within his radius. "Whitty.. Put him down." The blue haired male demanded in a shaky voice. He felt like he was gonna vomit. Whitty dropped the guy, then looked at his hands. There were burned things sticking to them.. Hopefully he wasn't looking at human flesh and blood.

"B.. B-Bee.." Whitty's hands began to tremble. His eyes went wide and the black, inky substance began to leak from his eyes again. He did it again. He.. he hurt people again.. "Oh.. fuck.." Whitty breathed out shakily, beginning to back away from the short male. Boyfriend didn't know how to react, but.. he could feel the remorse in Whitty's actions. He had a feeling Whitty wouldn't want him to see him like this. Not like.. a monster. "Whitty.. c.. c-calm down.." Boyfriend didn't let him scoot away too far, tugging on his jacket sleeve. "Don't! Stop!" Whitty exclaimed, causing Boyfriend to jump a bit. "You're not gonna hurt me. "

"You don't know that!"

"Yes I do." Boyfriend stared into Whitty's eyes with intent.

The bomb crouched down, allowing Boyfriend to give him a look of permission, then hug him. "It's.. It's okay, I'm sure you had a reason to." Boyfriend tried to comfort him, while Whitty began to mutter "I'm sorry" Over and over again. Boyfriend only shushed him, hugging the bomb shaped head in his arms. His fuse was short. He's glad he caught him before he exploded. "Let's get out of here, okay? Don't worry about these guys, I'll.. I'll handle it. For now, let's get you somewhere calmer." Boyfriend muttered softly as he pulled away. Whitty was surprised he could still look him in the eyes and not scowl. He nodded and stood straight. Boyfriend took his hand and led him out. He would simply call an ambulance for these guys. For now, he wouldn't allow Whitty to worry about any of it. They were gonna sit by a tree for the rest of the day.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Yandere fairytale au! Swan lake or jack the giant slayer with Joseph joestar or speedwagon or kars?

This will be a two part but I hope you enjoy

The princess who became a swan (pt1)

(Yandere Kars X Female Reader X Yandere Joseph)

You sat on a chair looking at the moon. You knew you could run away but even then you would never truly be free. Not while he still had control.

“My dear swan you’ve been looking at the moon for far too long” a deep voice spoke as you felt a large hand grip your shoulder.

“I thought you’d try to indulge yourself but it seems you’d rather mope around” he commented only to cause your hatred towards the male to grow. You turned your head back to see him. Long dark hair contoured his sharp face and pearly skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

He pulled one hand away, various rings with fine jewels covered his fingers. He rested his head on said hand before pulling a small smirk.

“So are you done being so miserable? I’d actually like for you to give me some company as it gets dreadfully lonely reading by myself” Kars asked. You stood up and faced him properly, feeling the fire in your heart.

“You have the audacity to mock my emotions after what you did to me! You stole away my freedom and took me far from those I love! You even dare to torment me further by calling me your swan. Is that how you like to cruelly remind me of what you’ve made me!” you yelled at him before trying to run from him only for him to grab your wrist.

“You are the one who put yourself in this position. I offered you dazzling jewels and silken robes. I offered you the softest pelts and exotic treasures yet you still rejected me, surely you understand that hurt me” he said as he looked at you with his crimson eyes.

“When you mean hurt you mean your ego at most, you are a selfish man in every way imaginable! I’d never marry a man who only wished to benefit themself, it would be my failure if I was to let my kingdom succumb to a greed such as yours!” you hissed as you tried to escape his grasp only to make him pull you tightly into his frame

“Lets not fight about the ins and outs of who’s to blame, you only have a few hours left after all” he said as he stroked your hair.

“Why don’t you just sit down and relax with me, you'll wear down your beauty if you keep frowning” he continued before you pushed away from him. You ran past him and through the halls and ran down as your long dress flowed behind but Kars was not worried as he knew you would come back, you always did.

🦢🦢🦢

You ran through the dark woods with tears in your eyes as the sky began to lighten. The forest thinned out in the middle to reveal a gorgeous garden long forgotten, a place only few know. The Swan lake.

You sat beside the lake weeping. Knowing that despite how much you wish upon a shooting star or how much you prayed to god in the heavens above that there was no escape. You knew how to break the spell you had read it out of Baron Kars notes but who would ever proclaim their love to you at the dead of night, let alone keep their promise. The swans of the lake pitied you as they had been cursed in a very similar way by the cruel Baron but unlike you they no longer had any hope of returning to the ones they loved, they were stolen from their husbands and wives and had their promises of a safe return broken in the heart of war from the evil sorcerer.  

As the first rays of sunshine peered from the horizon you felt your body lose balance before you fell into the crystal water of the lake. You shut your eyes as you felt your body become consumed by the curse. Eventually you emerged from the water, knowing that you had been reclaimed by your curse of day. You opened your eyes to see all the other swans around you in the lake and the forest behind you.

You turned and returned to the land before flapping your wings while running, soon the air under your wings lifted you into the sky. The higher you got the smaller everything became, even your problems seemed to become insignificant. You were touching the heavens like many dreamed to accomplish.

🦢🦢🦢

A brunette prince let out a yawn as he waited by the stable as he held a crossbow in hand. He was waiting to see if a certain knight accepted his invitation for an afternoon of competitive hunting. He huffed before having a look around the grounds before seeing the familiar face of the fair maid Suzie Qutaro cutting roses for his mother. She noticed him and waved while giving a sheepish smile, he gave her a cheeky smile back making a rosy hue to form on her cheeks before returning to her duties in a flustered state. He snickered a bit before hearing a pair of footsteps.

He looked to the otherside to see the blonde male which he had been waiting for.

“Took you long enough Caesar, I was beginning to think you didn’t have the balls to accept my challenge” the prince smugly spoke as he stretched.

“Well unlike you I actually have other things to do” Caesar commented as he walked closer.

“And if I remember correctly you lost our sparring yesterday, a four to ten if I remember correctly… you’re probably only doing this to get even with me” the male continued with a laugh which irritated the prince.

“So what if I am, I bet you’ll scare away all the wildlife with your presence alone” he retorted with a sly tone as he entered the stable and grabbed his horse. The blonde muttered something under his breath as he followed the prince and grabbed his own horse before the set of far beyond the palace grounds.

It seemed like hours of riding for the two and as night drew close it seemed less likely that either one of the young men were going to bring any trophies home.

“We should just give up now, It’ll be dark soon” Caesar said to Joseph but the ego struck brunette did not listen as he searched deeper into the thick forest. He was determined to prove that he was greater than the blonde.

“Fine then, I’ll leave by myself… if you get eaten by the wolves then it’s not my fault” Caesar stated as rolled his eyes before he began walking back to where they left their horses.

Joseph only snickered at the blonde, thinking about how much of a coward he was to leave now. He kept up his search for something worthy for his display but to no success but when he realised the sun was setting and his luck was not with him today he found what he was looking for. A snow white swan sleeping just a few meters in front of him, it seemed almost like it was given to him on a silver tray.

All he needed to do was shoot it in the heart and it was his. He had a steady aim, his finger slowly before the loud shout of an owl threw him off, causing the arrow to hit the swans wing instead.

You woke up to feel the sharp pain of the arrow, you screamed out before running deeper into the forest, the brunette was quick in his attempt to apprehend you. You tried to fly but it only hurt more.

You managed to get at a far distance from the man who was chasing you but you knew you needed to hide. You looked around to find some shrubs that might offer a good hiding place. You hid yourself and watched through the shrubs as he approached before standing around to try to figure where you had gone, you thought you had managed to lose him before you saw the moon begin to rise.

Just as the prince was about to give up he saw you appear from the bushes, a beautiful young woman adone in a swan feathered gown he was captivated by you as he saw the most beautiful woman he’d seen. As she ran he saw the arrow in her arm, he tried to reach you in an attempt to help you, unaware that you were the swan he had shot.

You panicked as he still chased through the forest but just as you began to lose your strength you felt a pair of arms pull you aside, you looked up to see Kars looking down at you with an emotion you hadn’t seen before.

“I’m glad I came in time” he said empathetically before tracing his finger against the arrow in your arm causing you to flinch.

“This is why I need you to stay with me, that horrible man could have killed you dear” he said in a soft yet condoning manner, at this moment you knew he was just using the situation as a way to scare you out of leaving him but yet you still held onto him, you were afraid as you knew you could have very well died.

“Without me you’re defenceless” he continued as he stroked your hair as you buried your head in his chest and when you finally looked at him again you realised that you were both back in his castle.

“Now I’ll have to remove that arrow so lay down and stay still” he requested, you laid on the love seat knowing very well that he wasn’t going to let his crimson eyes off of you for sometime after this incident.  

Meanwhile Joseph the forest on his horse with a bloody feather from the mysterious woman's dress, wondering if he’d ever see you again, hoping he would meet you again in a better circumstance.