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katyswrites · 1 year ago

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 10 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 10.4K

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.

Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start.

You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day.

You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:

I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to.

I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best.

Take care,

Steve

Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.

A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”

“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”

“What is it?”

You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?”

Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.

To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.

The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed.

The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.

Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.

“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.

“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just okay?”

“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”

“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”

“Do you have someone for your thesis?”

You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff.

“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”

“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”

He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”

You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”

He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”

“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”

The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.

The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.

“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.

“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming.

“Do you have anything lined up?”

He nodded.

“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”

You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.

“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”

“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.

He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”

He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.

“What -”

“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”

You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…

“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”

You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now.

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”

You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.

You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.

There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for!

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.

Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.

“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.

You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.

“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”

Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.

“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”

“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”

You nodded.

“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”

You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?

You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”

Steve made that perfectly clear.

Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”

“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.

“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

You sighed, frustrated.

“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”

“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”

You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”

“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”

You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.

It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.

“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks.”

“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”

“I’m sorry if they -”

“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”

You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.

“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”

You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”

You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.

“Right, okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.

“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”

“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”

It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.

“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”

You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.

You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.

Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.

“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.

“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”

“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”

“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”

“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”

“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.

You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.

I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.

You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.

You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?

What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.

A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.

The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?

********

The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.

Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.

The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.

You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order.

You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind.

It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.

Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?

Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.

“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.

“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.

“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”

“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”

You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?

“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.

Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.

“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.

He rolled his eyes.

“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”

“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”

“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I - what?”

“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.

“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”

He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.

You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”

He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.

“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did.

“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You realize how crazy that is, right?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”

“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.

He nodded.

Oh.

“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.

“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.

“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”

Baby.

“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”

You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?

“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”

Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”

“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.

“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”

“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”

Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.

“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”

“Yeah, okay.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.

“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.

“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”

“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”

He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.

“No bra?” he asked.

“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”

“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.

You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.

“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”

“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”

You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”

“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”

He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.

“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.

“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”

He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”

“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”

The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -

But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?

“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, your face heating.

“Are you saying -”

“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”

You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”

He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”

You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.

“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.

“How long?” you asked.

“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”

You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.

“Steve - I -”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”

The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.

“Steve - I need you, please -”

“Mm - yeah, okay -”

Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.

“Christ, baby -”

“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone.

“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”

You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.

“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”

A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.

“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.

His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed.

You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.

“Shut up.”

“About you? Not likely.”

Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.

But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down -

“What are you -”

“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”

“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”

“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.

He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.

“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”

You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily.

You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.

“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”

Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.

You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”

“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.

“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.

You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.

“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”

“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”

“I know -”

“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”

“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left.

“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”

“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”

“I know, I know - ready baby?”

You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.

“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”

“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”

He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder.

“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.

It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”

“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”

He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.

Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”

You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”

His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.

Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.

“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.

“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”

“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”

“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”

“I do,” you murmured.

You really did.

“Besides, I graduated.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”

“Officially? A few days ago.”

He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.

“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”

“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”

There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.

“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”

“I - what? What about work?”

He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What? Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.”

You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”

“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”

You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.

“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”

“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”

“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.

“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”

You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.

******

That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.

“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”

Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.

You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.

“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”

“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”

Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.

It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.

He was here to stay.

author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!

#steve harrington #steve harrington/reader smut #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/reader angst #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #dcmb fic

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loulouwrites · 7 months ago

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THE NIGHT WATCH . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's eldest son is sick - he won't leave his bedside. warnings: illness, swearing, thoughts surrounding the death of a child, melancholy, unedited, angst, violence, discussions regarding the death of a child word count: 1.5k a/n: a lil drabble form the home series! i'm honoured by the love people have for this family. i know i'm not the most active on here but i just wanna say if anybody wants to talk to me (about anything) don't hesitate to hit me up! (i am still putting my taglist together but I completely forgot about it when I wrote this - forgive me pls)

It had been going around for a while now.

Some illness spreading around London that had children dropping left, right and centre.

Some children barely got a sore throat, and those that did were usually better after a few days, but he had heard the stories of the unlucky few, the children that had been bed bound for weeks before silently passing in their sleep.

He hadn't thought much of it at first - he found stories about other people's children mind numbingly boring - even the saddest accounts he had heard had barely registered in his mind.

When Benjamin had started coughing one morning, he had rolled his eyes, insisting he wouldn't get out of school that easily. His wife - who was gentler and kinder than he could ever be - had laid her hands on her son's cheeks, instructing him to go back to bed with a kiss on his forehead.

It had caused quite a tiff between the couple.

"You're too fuckin' soft," Alfie had told her, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"And you're too fucking hard on him," she had spat back, smacking his hand away.

She had been right, of course.

When Alfie returned home that night, the house was eerily quiet. No children greeted him at the door, even Bubbe the dog had barely looked up from her bed by the fireplace.

He had found them in the master bedroom, his wife had pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was dabbing a damp cloth on his son's forehead.

He would never forget the way Benjamin looked lying on the bed, his face pale and his hair sticking to his forehead, the wheezing breaths he took being the only sound in the room.

"I sent the children to my mum's," his wife had said, sitting with her back to him, her eyes completely focused on her little boy lying in the bed. "The doctor said it's highly contagious so they shouldn't be around him - or us."

He could tell she had been crying, her voice quiet and shaky.

Alfie didn't say anything in response, because what could he say? He stepped further in the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on Benjamin's limp body.

"He's fucking boiling, Alfie," she choked out a sob, "he's so hot but he won't stop fucking shivering, I don't know what to do."

Alfie watched as his wife's body shook with sobs, putting her head in her hands as he sat on the bed, silent, confused, and so very scared.

"He'll be alright," his voice held no conviction, almost as shaky as her's was. "He's a tough lad-"

"No, he isn't," she cried, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband. "He isn't. He's sweet and gentle, he isn't tough."

"Love," Alfie shook his head, leaning forward slightly, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter anyways, it doesn't matter how tough he is - or isn't - kids have died, Alfie, they've died from this."

She stood from her seat, pacing the room as he looked on helplessly. He had seen her scared before, he had seen her sad and everything in between, but nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had smudged, and there was already dark circles beginning to form underneath her damp eyes.

"Listen," Alfie rose from the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. "He's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she whispered, hanging her head.

"And you don't know he won't be," he bowed his head to meet her eyes, "but we're going to do everything we can do to help him, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

That had been hours ago.

It was almost three in the morning as Alfie sat on the chair beside the bed, a dimp lamp casting a soft glow on his son's pale face. His wife had fallen asleep on the bed next to Benjamin, and the room was silent apart from the occasional raspy breath from his son.

This was all he could do.

All he could do to help his son was to sit by his bedside and watch him breathe, watch for any sign that Benjamin was struggling, and to press the damp cloth to his face whenever a shiver broke out of his body.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

If it were any other situation, they would know what to do. If Benjamin had cut his knee when he was playing, his mother would be able to patch him up and make him feel better, if he had gotten into trouble at school, Alfie could pay the teacher's a visit to make sure it never happened again.

But this was completely in the hands of God.

Alfie wasn't a particularly religious man - not in the common sense of the word, at least. He was proud of his identity, he enjoyed the community and sense of belonging it gave him, but he fell short when it came to the believing part of his religion.

He had always thought God was something people used as a comfort in their darkest times, or as an excuse for things not working out the way they had wanted it to, it was never particularly real to him. Yet, as he sat at his son's bedside, with nothing to offer him but a damp cloth, he found himself bowing his head, and silently praying to God that Benjamin would be okay.

He hoped this would be the first time God listened to him.

The doctor had arrived early the next morning, prodding and poking the sick child and humming to himself.

Alfie stood by the doorway with his wife, both of them shuffling slightly on the feet as they waited for the doctor to finish his assessment, their patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

The doctor sighed when he turned to face the parents, a frown on his old and battered face, his beard moving as he scrunched his mouth.

"I see no improvements," he had spoke, and Alfie had to grasp his wife by her waist when he body began to collapse, another sob racking her body.

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked, his hands still secure around his crying wife.

"It means that you should prepare for the worst."

"No, no, no, no," she whispered, her legs giving way for the second time.

"If he recovers it will be a miracle, I've seen stronger boys succumb to this illness."

Maybe it was the doctor's tone of indifference when he spoke, maybe it was the feeling of his wife's body shaking uncontrollably in his arms, maybe he was just looking for somebody to take his frustration out on, whatever possessed Alfie in that moment to let go of his wife and grab the doctor by the collar, slamming his body into the wall, was as fierce and raw as the fear gripping his heart.

"Now you listen here," Alfie growled, his face inches away from the doctor's. "My son will not die. You know how I know that?" the doctor shook his head, his face reddening in fear. "I know that because you are going to fix him. If you don't, it'll be your body they wheel out of here."

The doctor's eyes widened, and Alfie was sure he was about to start crying. "Mr Solomons, there's nothing I can do, I would if I could-"

"You will," Alfie roared, pulling the doctor back slightly only to slam him back into the wall harder. "You will find a way."

Just as Alfie pulled his arm back, his hand curled into a fist, his wife's voice called out to him.

"This won't help Benjamin, Alfie. Just stop it."

Alfie released the doctor, who gasped for breath, his face pale. He turned to his wife, his face softening. "He can't die."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He won't die," she muttered into his chest, "you won't let him."

It was nearing nine o'clock at night when Benjamin started to stir in the bed. His mother had yet again, fallen asleep at his side, and Alfie was sat in the uncomfortable chair by the bed.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice weak.

"I'm here, mate," Alfie said, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm here."

"I don't feel well."

"You're not well, mate," Alfie leaned forward, placing his palm on Benjamin's forehead, which was already beginning to cool.

"I told you I wasn't just trying to get out of school," Benjamin choked out, and Alfie let out a hearty laugh, startling his wife awake.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, sitting up and cupping Benjamin's face in her hands. "Thank God."

"You might catch it, mum," Benjamin groaned when his mother bent down to pepper kisses on his face.

"Still sharp as ever, I see," Alfie muttered, the tension in his body seemingly disappearing.

"We need to ring the doctor," his wife said, and Alfie shot her an unimpressed look in response. "A different doctor," she conceded. "Though him being awake means the worst is over."

"What did I tell ya?" Alfie grinned. "Tough as nails, this one."

#alfie solomons fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader

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thebigbadbatswife · 27 days ago

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Your Eyes Whispered, "Have We Met?”

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Previous Part - Sticking Noses Where They Don't Belong

Summary - During a party, you meet Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. The more that you’re around him, the more familiar he is to you.

Warnings - Explicit language, POV alternates between Reader and Bruce. (If I missed anything, lmk!)

Taglist - Taglist is at the end of the fic. As always, if you would like to be added/removed, feel free to message me!

A/N - No current ETA for the next part, but I am hoping for it to be ready toward the end of the month (no promises though, December can keep me very busy). Hope you all enjoy this part! 💜

Word Count - 4.2k

Your hands smoothed over the front of your dress as you looked yourself over in your floor length mirror. Once again, your injuries had healed well. All bruising and swelling along your ribs and arm was completely gone, each breath no longer hurting. And all you had to remind yourself of the bullet that almost took your life was a nasty looking scar. At least it was in an easily hidden place.

Tonight you were headed for a party. It was one of those extravagant festive parties that happened close to the end of the year, which you honestly didn’t even like to begin with, but you had to attend to keep up appearances within your circles. Otherwise you were risking questions that didn’t have answers to them.

You just had to suck it up for a few hours and before you knew it, you would be back home, huddled beneath a blanket with a cheesy movie on the tv that you could fall asleep to.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped away from the mirror to grab your clutch purse and coat. The sooner you arrived, the sooner it could be over with.

The venue was dressed to the nines, as expected. Large, gaudy decorations cover the place with a ridiculous large tree to match, set off into one corner of the ballroom. It was a complete and utter eyesore. You no longer bothered with this sort of stuff anymore. Since your father had passed you hadn’t really seen the point.

Your eyes were drawn to him from the moment that he walked into the room. Outside of occasionally catching a morning talk show or the articles you scroll past on social media, you never thought that you would actually see him.

Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s most eligible bachelor for the longest time.

What was he doing here?

He didn’t exactly run within the same circles that you did. Though you were rich, you were not that sort of rich. He was old money. The sort of rich that preferred to stay in their tight stuffy circles while looking down at everyone else. Their philanthropy only happening when it benefited them.

Yet, here he was.

As soon as he had stepped into the ballroom, that dazzling white smile of his on his face, gasps had rippled through the room. Those gasps were quickly replaced by whispers. People leaning in close to each other, not even being subtle about it as they all asked the exact same question. “Did you know he was coming here?”. Meanwhile men and women alike swooned each time he looked in their general direction. Honestly, they might as well had been drooling all over the floor the way that they were looking at him.

There was no woman on his arm. No entourage following close behind and kissing his ass. He was completely by himself and, from what you could gage from the people around you, that made him all the more intimidating.

Sure, he was attractive in that irritating type of way where it was clear that he not only knew he was hot, but also used it to his advantage. Of course, if he did somehow end up in your bed you certainly wouldn’t throw him out of it. At the same time your brain was quick to remind you how much of a womanizer he was. An endless stream of articles from over the years detailing every breakup to new relationship to one night stands and back again.

And not to mention that, despite your money and the news coverage that had happened following your father’s death, you continued to remain relatively unknown to the outside world. Getting involved with a man like Bruce Wayne could potentially ruin that and leave your superhero identity compromised.

That, obviously, couldn’t be allowed to happen. Which made him the sort of person that you definitely didn’t want to get involved with.

Still, your gaze lingered on him. There was something about him. Something familiar. And not because you had seen him through a screen before now. No. It was something else that was holding your attention and you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it was.

You averted your gaze away from him and snatched up a glass of champagne from the silver tray of a passing waiter.

You mingled with the other guests, chatting to new and familiar faces alike. All the while you did your best to make sure that you avoid Bruce. Physically, so far, it was working well. Verbally though? That was a different story. It felt like you couldn’t escape him. No matter who you spoke to. He was everywhere.

It definitely didn’t help that he kept on catching your eye. Something was really… off about him. It was the only word you could think of that really fit. And it continued to bug you.

At that moment, from across the ballroom, his eyes met yours. You felt frozen, like a deer in headlights as he looked you over. There was no lust or desire in his eyes. Only curiosity. A question was clear in his eyes. The same one that had been on your mind from the moment he walked in.

“Have we met?”

You didn’t wait for him to find an excuse to break away from the group that had surrounded him. You broke your gaze first and swapped your empty glass for a full one.

As you moved through the room, your eyes landed on someone that you were definitely happy to see.

Erica had been your best friend ever since you had been little. While you had drifted apart from each other during your teenage years, after you had returned you had reconnected with each other. In the years you were gone for, she had taken over her father’s tech company and, when you were sure you could trust her with your plan, she had started to draw up designs for your suit and gear.

She was also the person who had thrown tonight’s party. Tonight she had picked out a nice purple, velvet suit to wear.

Her dark brown eyes lit up when she saw you. She broke away from the group she was with and walked across the room to you. You hug each other tightly as it had been a while since you had actually seen each other, following the injuries you had received at the amusement park.

“So, how’s that outfit I gifted you?” she asked as you pulled away.

You looked around, making sure that no one was close enough to overhear before turning back to her. “It didn’t stop a bullet,” you said in a hushed voice.

“Fuck,” Erica replies, barely hiding her surprise. “That explains why you vanished.”

You nodded as you took a sip from your glass.

“I’ll swing by and pick it up at the end of the week,” she told you. “I’ll find my mistake and fix it.”

“It’s not your fault,” you started, but she cut you off with a sharp look.

“I made you something that was supposed to protect you and you almost… well, you know. That’s unacceptable.”

You sighed softly. As you were about to reply, the sound of obnoxious laughter caught your attention. Bruce Wayne was surrounded by a gaggle of people. Men and women shamelessly throwing themselves at him and he was drinking it all in. The disgust must of been evident on your face because Erica laughed.

“Damn, you don’t like him, do you?”

You scoffed softly. “Eh I just don’t like the whole womanising bullshit.”

The voice in the back of your head kept telling you that you knew him. No matter how much you pushed against it. Insisting that it wasn’t possible. You had never crossed paths with him. If you had you were certain that you would remember it.

“Fair. Though, if the internet is anything to go by, he’s not a bad lay,” Erica said.

You rolled your eyes. “I doubt it’s worth the attention that comes with it.”

There was the sudden sound of glass shattering and Erica’s head snapped in the direction as her brow furrowed. She sighed. “If you’ll excuse me.” As she walked away to deal with whatever mess had befallen the staff, she stopped for a moment and turned back to you. “Listen, if you get a chance to, I say jump him. Have some fun for once, you know? It’s not like you’ll ever have to see him again afterwards.” She winked at you, leaving before you could tell her she was crazy to think that you would ever “jump” Bruce Wayne.

You couldn’t believe that she had actually suggested to you to sleep with Bruce Wayne, of all people. Nor that, the gripes you had about him aside, it wasn’t entirely unappealing. It had been a while since you had last slept with someone. The last person being Batman. Whether it was Bruce or not, maybe it was time that you took someone else to your bed.

You went to bring your glass back up to your lips, but instead you gave the half full glass a hard stare. You frowned. You needed something stronger than the champagne they were serving. You discarded the glass on a passing waiter’s tray and made your way for the bar.

As you sipped on your preferred drink, the feeling that someone was watching you washed over you. You ignored it or, at least, you did your best to ignore it. You already knew who was watching you. He had taken notice of you earlier and his interest must had only grown considering you had tried to run.

Following the sounds of disgruntled and disappointed people, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. You kept your eyes focused on your drink.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him come to lean against the bartop. Bruce ordered himself an old fashioned, which you thought to be rather fitting.

There was a silence between you. The only real noise coming from ice clinking against the side of the glasses. After taking a sip of his drink, he broke that silence first.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before, yet I feel like I’ve already met you,” he said. His voice was smooth like honey and you could feel his eyes watching you.

You scoffed, not bothering to look at him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Were you really doing this? Engaging in banter with a man whom you had already decided wasn’t worth the risk? You must of had more to drink than you originally thought.

Bruce chuckled. “Only to the most beautiful women.”

You felt your heart skip a beat and you almost wanted to laugh. Such a damn cheesy line shouldn’t of had your heart fluttering like that. He was too damn good at this. Still, you kept up the mask that he wasn’t having any effects on you. Which included sipping your drink and keeping your eyes focused either on the back of the bar or on your own drink.

“Does that line really work?” you asked.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shrug. “More often than not.”

“Right. Of course.”

Your unconvinced tone didn’t deter him. Bruce chuckled again. He was clearly finding this whole back and forth very entertaining. Honestly, you were enjoying it as well.

“I can count all of the people who are openly unimpressed with me on one hand. You’ve not only made it two, but my interest in you has only grown.”

His voice dropped an octave, sending a tingling up your spine. Batman came to the forefront of your mind. The deepness and rough edge of his voice as he growled and how it always left you feeling weak in the knees…

You shoved that thought away. Locking Batman back into his cage, deep within your mind. He had a habit for popping up in your thoughts when you didn’t want him to.

What Erica had said replayed in your mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe you should try and have some fun. You still had no idea why he seemed so familiar, but maybe that didn’t even matter anymore. After tonight you would never see him again, so why not?

Fuck it, you decided.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his own. His gaze was intense. Those steely blue eyes taking you in. The intensity of it, once again, reminded you of Batman and the way it felt when he looked you over, even if you couldn’t see his eyes thanks to the white lenses of his cowl.

You forced those thoughts away again. Doing the best to make sure your irritation was hidden. He wasn’t even here and he was still trying to ruin your evening.

“As has mine,” you purred.

His eyes visibly darkened and he swallowed thickly. You held his gaze a little longer. Even leaning in for a moment. Which had him leaning in as well. But before your lips could even get close enough to meet, you abruptly pulled away from him to down the rest of your drink.

After you had set the empty glass down, you pushed away from the bar and left the ballroom behind. Your heels clicked against the well polished flooring. As you rounded a corner, heading further away from the ballroom, you could hear footsteps behind you.

You didn’t get very far. Before you knew it a large hand wrapped around your upper arm, making you turn to face him.

Bruce towered over you, not too unlike a certain someone. There was a silent question in his eyes as they briefly looked at your lips before returning to your eyes.

“May I?”

You nodded. Your heart was hammering hard and fast against your chest, excitement flowing through your veins as he leaned in.

His lips were incredibly soft as they moved against your own. As he kissed you, soft and slowly, one of his hands came up to cup your face while the other came to rest on your waist. Bruce pushed you up against the wall. His knee parted your legs, pressing up against your core. The action made you gasp, which allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth.

The kiss quickly grew heated. As his tongue explored your mouth, your hands explored his body. You ran your hands down his chest and you untucked his shirt from his pants. Beneath your fingers, as you traced and appreciated his abs, you came across something that made you temporarily freeze.

The skin between two of his ribs was raised, rough and jagged. Like he had been cut into by a knife or something. Not only was it not the only one, but you recognised each and every scar your fingers came into contact with. After all, you had felt them enough each time he had been on top of you.

Suddenly you weren’t in a dimly lit hallway with one of the richest men on the planet. Instead, you were back on the Watchtower with Batman towering over you as he pushed you up against a wall, impatient fingers pulling at your suit.

The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it.

Bruce Wayne was Batman? It was a ridiculous thought, but it wasn’t like you were able to ignore the evidence in front of you. All night you had been plagued with the idea that something was familiar about the man currently kissing you and now you knew why.

That was just your luck, wasn’t it?

It did beg the question of whether or not he was aware of your own identity. Was that why he’d had such an interest in you tonight, despite the fact he had spent a lot of the time letting others drool all over him? Surely not. The conversation you’d had with Batman previously played out in your head. He wished to be on better terms with you. Not besties, but better teammates was good enough. Doing something like this, while knowing who you are, but leaving you in the dark? No, doing something like that would be severely damaging.

Batman was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Not when it came to things like this. Which could only mean that he had absolutely no idea. But you did and continuing this wasn’t a good idea.

You broke the kiss and pushed against his chest. He got the signal immediately as he let go of you and stepped away, giving you much needed space.

Bruce was panting hard and your lipstick was smeared on his lips. He was looking you over, concern evident in his eyes. Without the mask he was far more emotive than you had ever seen before.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

His concern was actually kind of sweet, but what did you do now? Did you tell him who you were? Or did you bolt, like you really wanted to?

Would he ever tell you if the roles were reversed? Probably not. Knowing the way that Batman was, he would keep it hidden. So, with that thought in your head, you decided on the latter.

Sure, it was the cowardly move, but you could feel your pulse getting faster, your heart thumping harder, and it definitely wasn’t because of the heavy kissing that had just taken place.

“No, you didn’t,” you replied with a shake of your head. “I just… remembered I have somewhere else to be tonight.”

It was the stupidest excuse you could come up with, on the spot, and he definitely didn’t look overly convinced, but it wasn’t like you gave him any time to respond. Without another thought, you shot past him and headed for the exit.

You half expected him to come after you. That maybe your behaviour had tipped him off, sending that detective mind of his into overdrive as he put the pieces together. You were thankful that he didn’t.

Your heart was still hammering against your chest and you honestly felt like you might be on the brink of an anxiety attack. You made your way to the check-in desk to grab your coat and purse and then you were stepping outside.

The freezing, winter night air that met your skin as you got outside did very little to help soothe you. You only really started to calm down once your driver pulled up and you were in the safety of your car, leaving the venue behind.

“You alright, miss?” he asked, glancing up at you in the mirror.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just take me home, please?”

“Of course, miss.”

You were thankful that he didn’t ask any more questions, letting the rest of the drive continue in silence. You spent the time focusing on the buildings that passed by the window.

It felt like you had violated his privacy somehow. Like you had walked in on Batman (Bruce?) and seen something you definitely shouldn't have. This whole thing would have felt so much better if you knew that he already knew your identity. Of course, if that had been the case, you doubted that you never would have got close enough to find out, in the first place.

You knew that you likely needed to tell him. You should have told him back there, but panic had driven you first.

How was he going to feel once you told him that you knew? Hurt? That you didn’t tell him then and there? Betrayed, maybe? You might have felt that if the situation was reversed. Especially after the conversation you had shared with him.

There was also a chance that you were overthinking this whole thing and that he might actually appreciate the honesty. You really wouldn’t know until you found a way to bring it up with him.

“Fuck,” you muttered quietly to yourself. “Why the hell did you have to be the same person?”

The rest of the drive to your place was silent. Though your mind kept racing at the speed of light.

You thanked your driver, and made a mental note to give him a rather large bonus this year, before you got out of the car and headed inside.

Instead of curling up on your couch and watching a cheesy movie, like you had planned, you headed for the bookcase. Your fingers traced over the spines of each one before finally landing on the correct one, which you gently pulled back. The bookcase slid backwards before sliding off to the side, revealing the elevator hidden behind.

You weren’t going to be able to get any sleep tonight, and finding out Batman’s true identity had done wonders in sobering you up, so you might as well go out and see if there was anything around your city that required your attention. While your newest suit remained damaged and unusable, you still had your previous one, which would do well enough for now. After all, you weren’t planning on fighting any supervillains tonight. And you hoped that none decided to cross your path.

All you needed was one quick patrol to help clear your head and figure out how you were supposed to approach this subject.

Bruce frowned as the woman scurried away from him and disappeared around the corner, the sounds of her heels quickly fading. He had clearly done something wrong that had made her run from him, but he was clueless as to what that actually was. He was an expert at reading body language, not to mention the World’s Greatest Detective, and yet, here he was. Completely stumped.

He shrugged it off and busied himself with making himself look presentable again. The reasoning really didn’t matter. She had become uncomfortable and no longer had any interest in him. Which was fine by him. In truth he had originally been looking for a way out of that ballroom he had felt like he was suffocating in and she had provided the perfect escape. He really didn’t care that he didn’t get to have sex tonight.

There were other things that required his attention tonight and now he was able to slip away without any questions being raised.

As he tucked his shirt back into his pants, he couldn’t help, but wonder if it was his scars that had deterred her. She had been feeling him up quite a bit until her fingers had come in contact with one. Then she had stiffened for a moment before promptly shoving him away.

It wasn’t the first time his scars had upset a potential lover. Though, both those times, he’d had time to explain them away as having happened during one of his many public “accidents”. No one ever saw his chest fully anymore. At least, not outside of his mask and pointed ears…

Before any certain memories were able to come forth properly, he shifted his focus on getting outside before someone wandered out of the ballroom and spotted him; therefore making it impossible for him to leave.

The valet was quick to get him his car and, as always, Bruce was more than happy to give him a sizeable tip.

During the drive back to his hotel, against his will, Bruce’s mind kept going over what had occurred tonight. An incessant need to analyse everything like he always did. At this point it wasn’t exactly something that he was capable of switching off.

His approaching her hadn’t been an impulse. Nor had it been entirely down to his need to escape. There was something about her that had screamed familiarity to him. It had plagued him throughout the night. His eyes constantly being drawn back to her. And not just because she kept looking in his direction.

Bruce hadn’t lied to her. He really felt like he knew her.

He knew that it wasn’t possible. He had never seen or even heard her name before tonight. Yet his gut was telling him that it didn’t matter what his brain thought. He had already met her. That feeling had only grown once he held her in his hands with his lips pressed against hers.

Perhaps it was because she reminded him a little bit of you. He knew that it couldn’t possible be you. Though this was your city, he knew you had a dislike for parties. From the Justice League’s Induction party to their New Year’s party, you had a skill for avoiding them, like the plague. On the off chance that you did show up, you stayed for a max of two hours before leaving, always complaining of a headache afterwards.

So, there was no way it could be you.

If there was one thing he hated the most, it was not knowing something. Especially when his instincts were telling him one thing while his brain said another. It was infuriating, but growing frustrated over it wasn’t going to assist in the real reason he had come all this way from Gotham.

While Bruce Wayne’s night was now coming to a close, Batman’s was about to begin.

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#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #batman imagine #batman x you #under your skin verse #bruce wayne imagine #dc imagine #x reader #bruce wayne x you #my writing

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 11 months ago

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Ask me about my sins (and I'll tell you about my love)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.8k

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warnings: the initial awkwardness of enemies to lovers who have JUST moved on to the lovers stage, there's a lil jealousy but it's smoothed over pretty easily

a/n: this is a bit of a longer one but whatever I hope y'all like it <3

The galas Bruce Wayne holds may have become a normal occurrence for Damian, but the thought of them and everything they entail still makes something uneasy stir in your gut. Damian assures you that it's fine - that it's understandable. He stares intently in the mirror, straightening his suit as he speaks soothing words.

"You haven't been in Gotham for very long," he says. "No one expects you to adjust to life here immediately… and no one will demand you do anything you're not comfortable with. Ever. If you never go to one of these galas, that's fine with me."

You stare at the pattern of the wood floor in Damian's room, your hands bunching the covers of his bed where you sit as he moves to stand in front of you. He doesn't touch you - he's not sure enough, yet. This newfound peace between the two of you is still so fragile and neither of you know exactly how to navigate it yet. It pains him, though - he often finds himself wishing he could reach out, wishing there was something he could do to bridge the gap between the two of you.

"You've adapted to life outside of the League very well," you say quietly, a sharpness coating your words. There's an accusation there somewhere, maybe born of jealousy, maybe born of fear. Damian doesn't take the bait, though - another indicator of the ways in which he's grown since coming here. Another moment that leaves a bitterness on your tongue.

"No," he responds simply. "It's just that the years I spent learning this new life, you were… still back there. You knew me in the League and you know me now. There was an in-between that you just didn't see."

You don't respond to his words, a swirling sort of panic rising in your chest at the reminder that there was so much of him that you missed, so much of his life that you were so far away for. Damian kneels in front of you, tilting his head to lock his eyes with yours, a gentle love shining in his irises that makes you wish you could run away - again.

"Please be here tonight when I get back?" he asks softly. "We can talk more about this then." You nod at his words and he reaches out slowly, taking your hand in his and pressing a series of delicate kisses to your knuckles. There are words neither of you can say yet, bridges neither of you are ready to cross, but he hopes - every day he hopes that you know how much he loves you. And every day you pray he can see how much you love him back.

Having spent his whole life circling you and watching you circle back, it's almost second nature for Damian, now, to check for you. No one else is aware of your presence, too focused on the press and the dresses and the endless champagne that comes with these events - not that any of them could find you if they tried, Damian thinks smugly. He knows, of course. He always knows. The flicker of a shadow seen through a window, a rustle on the balcony near him, the ever-present feeling of eyes on him.

Damian doesn't mind, he realizes. He takes no issue with your hawk-like gaze trained on him from a vantage point no one else can find. In a way, it makes him feel better. You're not here, in front of him, where he can keep you safe - but if you're around, then you must be okay. It soothes something in him - something new and foreign that pleads with him and demands he take care of you. It's an unfamiliar feeling, one that trips him up and knocks him off balance. He has a hard time placing the moment he stopped being possessive of you as his enemy and started becoming protective of you as his… well, he doesn't even really know yet.

He does mind when a girl his age bumps into him at the gala, a glass of something sparkling in her hand as she giggles and promises that it was an accident, her hand finding itself placed on his chest. And he minds even more when, amidst his attempts to escape the sudden intrusion on his train of thought he suddenly… can't find you or feel you anywhere. He removes the girl's hands quickly, excusing himself and slipping out, away from the noise and the politeness and the showiness of it all.

"You cut your party short," you say quietly, not turning to look at where Damian's climbed onto the roof of the Manor behind you, dress shirt ruffled and jacket unbuttoned. You don't need to turn to know he's there, silent as he is. You always know.

"It's not my party. I made my appearance," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and staring at you intently. You keep your gaze trained up, staring at the night sky as you sit stiffly, back straight and shoulders back.

"She means nothing to me," Damian says firmly when you remain silent. You tense at his words. "I don't even know who she was."

"...It's fine," you say stubbornly. Damian sighs. Silence covers the two of you, the weight of it bearing down on the uneasiness - the stubbornness and the frustration of you both. Damian shifts, finding himself unsure, once again. You had always been better at this than him - always been more sure of yourself when it came to mind games. He finds himself wishing suddenly that he had a sword in his hands - it was always easier to fight you like that.

"You're… jealous," he says slowly, like he's trying to figure out where you stand in the situation. You snap your head around to look at him and he winces internally. Wrong guess, he thinks.

"I'm not," you respond stubbornly and he thinks briefly that this isn't the tact he's used to seeing you use in verbal sparring matches. He's not sure if it soothes or stresses him that he seems to unarm you the same way you so effortlessly unarm him.

"We were apart for years, Damian," you continue quietly, looking away from him pointedly. "And… we were never actually together. And we were so young when you left the League. And…" you trail off, eyes shifting as you seemingly search for the right words.

"And…?" he prompts patiently. You sigh, slumping over ever so slightly, cracking your perfect posture for just a moment. Damian wonders if anyone else has ever seen you like this or if he's an exception - then kicks himself mentally for focusing on something like that right now.

"You came to Gotham for a second chance - a new life. I don't expect that you sat here waiting for me… I don't expect that there was never anyone else," you finish glumly, still pointedly looking anywhere but Damian as you speak. He makes a strange sound at your words, a strangled sort of panicked noise at the idea that you're presenting to him.

He turns suddenly, facing you completely as he reaches out, hands outstretching towards you so fast and determinedly that you jerk back, years of the two of you on opposite sides of a bloody fight flashing in front of your eyes. But there's no fight in Damian tonight. There's no violence in the way he cups your cheeks tenderly in his hands, pulling himself forward to press a kiss to your lips.

Your own surprised sound leaves your throat at the action, your hands reaching up to wrap around Damian's wrists as he kisses you. Maybe you both expect for you to pull him away, but you find your fingers wrapping around the delicate bones of his wrists and keeping him there, pressed against you.

By the time the two of you part, you're both gasping for breath and you find yourself half in Damian's lap, your chest heaving against his as his hands anchor you to him. He tips his head forward to touch his forehead to yours, leaning into you as you relax against him. A faint smile flits over his lips at the way you sag against his chest, letting the tension you've lived with for so long slip ever so slightly off your shoulders.

Eventually, he brings a hand to cup your cheek again, firmly this time, moving just enough to look at you. You're close still - close enough that you can feel his lips brush against yours as he talks and you can't help but notice the way his heart beats against his chest and into yours.

"It was always you," he says in that voice that you know is reserved for you - that voice that's gentle and loving and full of so much emotion that it nearly wavers. "There was never anyone else - not even in my thoughts. Certainly not pressed up against me like this."

You huff at his words, your cheeks beginning to feel hot as you pull away from him just enough to let your head fall to his shoulder, your face hidden from him. He lets you, thankfully, humming in contentment and just a touch of smugness as he pulls you closer to him, your weight a welcoming blanket.

"I think…" you begin, pulling your face away from his neck to look at him again. "I think this may have been inevitable. I think we… might have been inevitable." Damian grins at your words, his smile flashing in a way that makes your stomach swoop.

"I think you're right," he says firmly. Sounds of the gala float up towards the two of you as you sit together, leaning against each other. "I was, by the way," he continues. You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"I was waiting for you. And I would again, if I needed to. Until the end of my days." Damian says it so simply, so matter-of-factly, and something in your brain feels fuzzy because of it.

"Well… I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long," you respond gently, a smile passing across your lips quickly. Damian's returning smile is just as small - just as shy. His voice, in his response, is soft in a way that blankets you.

"You don't need to apologize. Your mistakes are not sins to me and your missteps do not demand penance. You will never have to ask for my forgiveness because it will always be given… without question, without hesitation, without uncertainty. It's… inevitable."

You laugh at his words and Damian feels his heart soar.

"Yes," you agree. "I suppose it is."

#smsn.writes #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne robin #robin x reader #robin x you #robin imagine

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dre6ming · 1 month ago

Text

Little bean - the delicate beginning rush series

Read the whole series HERE

Pairing: Austin butler x fem reader actress/singer

Warning: smut 18+ , descriptive sexual content, fluff

Plot: expecting your first baby with Austin, you throw a gender reveal party, inviting all your close friends

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: in the timeline of my story Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn get back together and are married, so deal with it. Also a cute cameo from Hugh Jackman himself.

More of my work- Masterlist

"Hey there bean!" Austin sighs against my swollen tummy, spreading his fingers over the stretched out skin. I groan feeling the baby instantly wake at the sound of Austin's voice. It's way too early in the morning and I was planning to sleep until late in the afternoon, so it's a little annoying that Austin could not wait until later to start conversations with our baby. "Hey mama!" He says excitedly, kissing my belly, before sliding up to catch my lips in a warm wet kiss. I breathe into his mouth and tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling at the roots, making him moan. "I wanted to sleep some more!" I argue, turning my head to the side to avoid his lips teasing him. " 'm sorry I just love seeing you like this.." Austin explains, looking down at my stomach, blinking slowly, his hand drawing circles on my bare skin. My heart feels heavy with love, looking at him treat the small human that's cooking in my body as a treasure no money could buy. "Make love to me Aus!" I beg, arching my back, pulling him close to me, bathing in the warmth of his figure.

"Anything for you my darling" Austin sighs moving his hand down my belly and below the waist band of my pj pants, moaning when is fingers make contact with the sleek gathering in between my legs. When I became pregnant I had the fear that maybe he won't find me as sexy as he used to, that I'll grow as big as a stuffed turkey and he'll think of me as repulsive. I know it's stupid that I ever thought those things, considering it's Austin that we're talking about, but I couldn't shake the anxiety off of me.

His lips bring me back to reality, soft and tender, kissing me and swallowing every moan and whimper. I caress is bare back, sliding my hands up to tangle in his hair, scratching at his scalp, making him shake, his hips pushing against my side, giving me a good feel of his erection.

Austin is quick to work me out of my clothes and get on top of me, entering me in one move. "You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen in my life." He confesses, leaning over my belly to kiss my forehead as he starts to move. "You're gonna be the best dad Austin!" I tell him truthfully, cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing over his flushed skin. He starts moving slowly and the angle as me rolling my eyes in the back of my head as he hits that spongy spot inside me. "Fuck, this is so good!" I moan digging my fingers into his biceps, leaving crescent moon indents.

"Fuck honey y/n I'm so close!" His hand moves between us to touch my clit, as his moves speed up a little. I feel pleasure taking over me, warming my whole body, coming in a wave from head to toe. "I'm -" I don't get to finish the sentence as my orgasm hits me and I squeeze around him, feeling him twitch inside me, warm ropes of cum coating my velvety walls. "Shit!" Austin exclaims, his moves coming to a halt as he starts to pepper kisses on my face, neck and everywhere his lips can touch.

I start to giggle and soon enough it turns into a full laugh as he gets up to go to the bathroom, coming back with a wet washcloth to wipe me. "What are you laughing about?" He asks smiling for ear to ear. "Remember after I told you I was pregnant, that you were scared of having sex?" I can't control my laughter and soon enough he joins in. "I really thought I would shake the baby too much or maybe poke her, don't laugh" he argues, settling back in bed, wrapping me in his arms.

"Her? How do you know? You didn't peek did you?" I was really hoping Austin didn't just ruin my surprise, we are supposed to have some of our closest friends come over for a gender reveal party tonight and the only person who knows the gender is Roxanne, who's supposed to think of an original way of revealing it to us. "I didn't, but I have a feeling." I hum , cuddling closer to him. "A feeling? And what shall we name her if she's a girl?" I ask, biting my lip. "Well in your list of names I did peek, I liked Manon, means light right?" I look at him in awe, brushing some strands of hair out of his face. "What?" He asks at my dumbfounded face. "Manon is my favorite too, I'd like a little girl with your hair and my eyes running around." I dream and can already picture it so clearly. "Well we have a party to put together before that, Tay should be here with Joe, in.." he looks over at the clock on the nightstand "30 minutes"

———————————————————

"Ok sit down mama, you need to rest, you're seven months pregnant for gods sake!" Taylor scolds me, pushing on my shoulders to get me to sit down in the chair as she bosses around Joe and Austin. "So you really don't know what Roxy's got planned?" I ask for like the millionth time. "No and even if I did, I would not tell you." Her eyes look very stern and I know I shouldn’t push any further, but I'm bored and curious. The bell rings and I get up excitedly to open the door before she can. "I got it!" I shout

"Timmy!" I scream and hug him close, he had told me that he wasn't gonna make it, due to filming schedule. "Surprise!" He laughs hugging me. "And how's my nephew or niece?" He asks rubbing my tummy. "Very jumpy, I have to pee, every five minutes." I half joke. "Hey, guys!" Blake and Ryan show up at the door, right behind Timmy. "Blake , Ryan, hi guys, no kids today?" I ask seeing as they are alone. Having known them for so long, meeting them right after they had their last baby, it was like boot camp for motherhood. "Well the older ones had parties of their own and grandparents are visiting so Inez and Olin wanted to stay with them." Blake explains, hugging me tight, kissing me on the cheek.

"Are we the first to get here?" Ryan asks. "No, Tay and Joe are here already, getting the place ready with Austin, Timmy just beat you here by a minute." I tell them, inviting them all in.

After them the rest of the people start coming in slowly, Austin's dad, his sister and her family, Hugh and his girlfriend, my mom, Billie and Finneas with his girlfriend, Pedro and his sister, Jack and Margret, Aaron and his wife, James Austin's friend. The small LA house filled up pretty quickly with some of our dearest friends and family.

"Where are Roxy and Joshua?" I ask Austin frustrated that half of the party has passed and they had yet to show up. Before he can answer, Hugh approaches us with a big smile. He became like a good father figure to me after playing alongside him in Deadpool and Wolverine, but that bind only became stronger a few years later when we did a movie together, playing father and daughter, a movie for which we both received Oscar's, his first and my third. "Hugh!" I say wrapping my arms around his neck, standing on my tippy toes. "My god you look so happy and healthy, I'm so proud of you y/n. You too Austin, you make such a good team!"

Before I get to respond to his beautiful comment, the doors to the back yard open and Roxanne comes through them. "Come people, come and watch magic!" She dramatically smiles turning around, motioning for us all to follow her to the pool. In the back yard I instantly start laughing when I see, Joshua hanging over a fish tank. "Behold, each of you will draw a stick and the lucky one to draw the short stick, gets to sink Joshua, who will turn the color of the specific gender of our million dollar baby."

We all laugh, going around each drawing a stick then excitedly looking around to see who gets the short one. "It's me!" Taylor says, going over to push the button making Joshua fall in the fish tank, instantly going pink. My eyes fill with water as my heart leaps in my chest with joy. Austin picks me up, spinning me around. "I told you!" He says proudly, kissing me, making space for our friends that come to congratulate us.

Later we are sat at the table, eating cake, laughing, when Joshua enters the room, still stained pink. "Um Roxy are you sure this dye is supposed to be washable?" He asks, concern clear on his face. "Uhm, no... I never said washable, I said it will wash away.... Eventually." She says dropping her head. Laughter erupts around the room and I look around, feeling so safe and happy in the family that I made.

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #baz luhrmann elvis #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fans #hugh jackman #ryan reynolds #blake lively #taylor swift #joe alwyn #billie eilish #timothee chalamet big brother #timothee chamalet #pedro pascal

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siriuslystyle1989 · 5 months ago

Text

Hard Liquor Mixed With A Bit Of Intellect (Part 2)

series masterlist misc masterlist

Modern!Azriel x fem!reader

Ever since that fated night, Y/n and Azriel became seemingly inseparable.

In Y/n's eyes, the stars had aligned at the right time as she began to believe the two were destined to meet.

It had been around four months since that night at the club and neither of them had been back, as much as Cassian had begged Azriel he refused, being too infatuated with Y/n's presence and wanting to be with her as much as humanly possible.

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

Azriel found himself slumped down on Rhys' velvet sofa, largely uncomfortable but loudly implying the man's wealth.

Cassian bounded through the room and flung himself next to Azriel, clasping a small almond from the coffee table in front of them, throwing it in the air and catching it in his mouth.

Azriel rolled his eyes.

Feyre, looking slightly worn out, yet still beautiful, sat across from them on a similar piece of furniture, bouncing her son, Nyx, on her knee, waiting for her husband to join them.

As if on queue, Rhysand waltzed in, in his usual blasé manner, plopping down next to his wife, swinging his ankle up onto his knee and his arm behind Feyre.

"Haven't seen you in a while." Rhys commented, signalling towards Azriel.

"I've been busy." Azriel shrugged back. It's not that he did not want his friends to know about Y/n, he just didn't want to push her into doing anything she might be uncomfortable with like... meeting his family, for instance.

Cassian smiled at him, a big cheesy grin that could only mean trouble.

He slammed his hand down onto Azriels thigh and squeezed.

"I think little Azzie has a ladyyyyyyy."

Azriel felt himself blush slightly, not enjoying the attention.

"Really, who?" Feyre questioned, joining in the conversation.

"No, I don't know why-"

"Let me guess," Cassian interrupted, his grin seemingly widening. "The pretty girl from the club?"

"What? That was ages ago." He replied trying to deter the conversation. He really should just tell them.

"You went to the club without me?" Rhys added with false betrayal lacing his tone.

"Not my fault you're suddenly boring 'Papa bear'." Cassian replied as Rhys gave him the finger.

"We went about four months ago." Azriel spoke, looking at Rhys.

"Yeah and Az spent the entire time sulking on his own or talking to this girl, then they left and-"

"So are you..." Feyre asked as Azriel flung his head into his hands.

"Her name is Y/n." He said finally, interrupting the interrogation. "And yeah we're together, we have been for a while now."

The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop. Unfortunately, that silence was broken by Cassian snorting.

"What?" Azriel whipped his head around to look at the burly man.

"Told you, looks like I'm $20 richer." Cassian looked at Rhys as he rolled his eyes.

"You made bets on me?" Azriel looked between the two men in disbelief.

"Well we knew something was up with you, it was just what, exactly, we didn't know." Rhys shrugged, grabbing the money from his leather wallet and passing it to Cassian who dramatically kissed the bill.

"You're coming to dinner with us all next week?" Feyre spoke up sending Azriel a sympathetic glance. Azriel nodded, their inner circle tended to have dinner at Rhys' at least once a week. "You should ask your- Y/n, to join us. My sisters will be there too."

"Yeah, I'll have to ask her but I'll check and let you know." Azriel smiled at Feyre.

"Your sisters are going to be there?" Cassian asked to which Feyre nodded.

"The scary one?"

Feyre chuckled

"Nesta? Yes, she will be there."

"Unfortunately." Rhys coughed into his hand as his wife lightly hit his arm.

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

Walking down the lane of apartment blocks on the other side of town, Azriel made his way to Y/n.

Knocking on the wooden door, he almost melted as she opened it. Her hair thrown up haphazardly and secured by a claw clip, she wore a baggy t-shirt down to her knees.

"Hi lovely."

"Hi Az." She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Following her inside, he made himself comfortable on her couch, eyeing the stack of paper and books on her desk.

"You've been studying?"

She nodded settling herself in between his legs, cuddling up to his chest.

"How were your friends?" She asked looking up at him.

"Good" he smiled "I told them about you." he spoke, stroking her hair.

"You did?" She asked with a hint of surprise.

"Yeah, and they asked if you wanted to go have dinner with them. You know, to meet them. Of course, if you don't want to or it's too soon that's fine but-"

Y/n cut him off, smiling up at him "Az, I would love to."

He bent down and kissed her gently on the lips.

"It's a date."

A/N: I'm so excited to write this series. I can't wait for the inner circle to meet Y/n!!

P.S. let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!!

Taglist: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

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weemssapphic · 11 months ago

Text

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 17

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Larissa Weems x fem!reader

summary: you finally get a chance to paint Larissa (smut ensues).

words: ~ 3.1k | ao3 link in title

A/N: once again thank you to @afeatherformills for all of the planning and beta-ing, and to my gf as well. i drive both of them crazy and am eternally grateful that they haven't yet told me to stick this fic where the sun don't shine :')

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That Saturday you were deep in thought as you navigated the halls of Nevermore, making your way to Larissa’s office. So deep in thought that you hardly noticed Enid walking past you.

“Hey!”

Your head snapped up and you looked around for the source of the voice. Finding it, your face softened and you stepped towards the blonde. “Enid. You okay?”

She hesitated for a moment, her face falling a bit. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks for convincing Weems not to expel us.”

You laughed. “I didn’t have to convince her of anything. Is she really that stern?”

Enid’s lips curled up into a smile. “Sometimes. She can be really cool, but sometimes she’s a bit scary.”

“I’m sure it’s just because she cares,” you replied - truth be told you’d seen Larissa’s ‘scary’ side in action when dealing Wednesday, and you could certainly understand Enid’s point. But as long as Larissa’s anger wasn’t directed at you, you thought your girlfriend was kind of hot when she was angry - a fact you decided to keep to yourself.

“Maybe.” Enid shrugged. “Say hi to Weems for me.”

“Sure,” you replied, feeling yourself blush. As you were about to say goodbye, you were struck with an idea. “Wait.”

You reached into your bag, with Enid watching you curiously as you pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a random page, scribbling your number on it and tearing it out.

“Here. If you guys are in trouble again, you should have someone to call.” She took the paper with a shy smile. “I’m never going back out there again. But… thanks.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she entered your number and shot you a text. “Now you have mine, too.”

“Thanks. Stay safe, Enid,” you teased gently, earning yourself a giggle from the young girl.

~~~

“Come in,” called Larissa’s smooth voice as you knocked on her office door minutes later.

You did as you were told, closing and locking the door behind you. The sound of the lock clicking was not lost on Larissa, who looked up from her laptop with a smirk plastered on her face.

“Hello, darling,” she purred, her fingers pausing in their frantic typing as she waited for you to cross the room, drop the large canvas bag you were holding, and give her a kiss. “Pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips as she pulled you onto her lap. Deepening the kiss, she flicked her tongue against yours, drawing a breathy moan from your throat which she swallowed eagerly. Her hands came to rest on your thighs, rubbing circles overtop your trousers as her breathing became more shallow.

You chuckled into the kiss, pulling back reluctantly - Larissa let out a little whine, pouting slightly as she stilled her hands in their movements.

“Rissa…” you whined playfully, wrapping her arms around her neck. “I wanted to paint you while we still have some natural sunlight.”

“Mmm, I know, I know.” Larissa sighed, resting her forehead against yours and sliding her hands up to your waist. “Just tell me what you want from me, I’m all yours today.”

“Thank you.” You smirked, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering in her ear - you didn’t miss the shiver that ran down her spine as your warm breath hit the side of her neck. “I actually had an idea for what I wanted to do, may I ask you to accompany me to your bedroom?”

Larissa threw her head back as she laughed, squeezing your waist. When her laughter died down and she locked eyes with you once more, you were met with amusement and desire in equal measure. “Lead the way,” she replied with a smirk as you slid off her lap and held a hand out for her to take, grabbing your bag with the other hand.

She placed her palm in your own and stood, following you to her quarters and straight into her bedroom. “And what will you have me do in here?”

“Well I noticed that the light that comes in here in the early afternoon would be perfect for painting you.” You placed the bag you were carrying at the foot of the bed and looked around the room, your eyes falling to Larissa’s vanity. “Can I move this?”

Larissa chuckled, eyeing you curiously. “That’s fine…” She helped you clear it and drag it to the end of the bed, then sat down at the edge of the bed, kicking her heels off and watching you set up your tabletop easel, a canvas, and your paints. “And how will you have me pose? Would you like me naked in my bed?” she asked playfully.

“You know I would never object to having you naked in your bed,” you teased back, watching Larissa blush, her lips curling up into a shy smile as her gaze dropped to her lap. Once you were satisfied with your set-up, you stepped in front of Larissa, placing a finger underneath her chin and lifting it until her gaze met yours. “I was thinking we could get rid of some of these clothes though…”

You gave Larissa’s collar a playful tug, receiving an eye-roll and a fake-annoyed huff in return. With a soft smirk playing on her lips, she undid the belt of her dress, then the top buttons, then tugged it over her head, dropping it onto the floor.

“This too.” You snapped the strap of her bra - she reached behind herself, unhooking her bra and tossing it onto the dress.

“And let me help you with these.” You hooked your fingers under the waistband of her underwear, never breaking eye contact as you dragged them down her legs. You could see her lips part, her tongue darting out to wet them as she spread her legs open for you. When you dropped the underwear to the floor and stood again, you found yourself standing in between her thighs. Larissa’s hands came to rest on your hips, her eyelashes fluttering as her gaze flicked down your body.

“You know it’s more than a little unfair that you’re still fully clothed, darling,” she husked, watching you with doe eyes.

“Yeah? I can change that.” You stripped yourself of your own clothing under Larissa’s hungry gaze, tossing the garments onto the growing pile. “This better?”

“A little.” Larissa bit her lip. “I know something else that could help.” You raised an eyebrow as Larissa stood from the bed, towering over you as she straightened to her full height. Grabbing hold of your waist, she spun you around and pushed you back onto the bed before crawling on top of you and looking down at you. “Much better,” she purred.

Smirking, you reached down to grab the backs of her thighs. “If you want to be on top so bad you only have to ask,” you teased. “You know what I’ve been wanting to try?”

“Hmm?”

“Having you sit on my face.” You gave the backs of her thighs an insistent tug. “Interested?”

Larissa let out a little groan, leaning down to capture your lips in a lustful kiss.

“Is that a yes?”

You couldn’t help but grin as Larissa rolled her eyes, shifting so that her bare pussy was hovering over your face, her plush thighs bracketing your head. “Yes, that is a yes, darling.” Her entrance glistened with her arousal, the scent of which was already beginning to drive you mad. You wrapped your arms around her thighs, pressing soft kisses to her skin that caused her to let out little whimpers.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you breathed - she began to lower herself onto your waiting tongue, which immediately traced a path up her slit. “Fuck, you taste amazing.”

Larissa’s hips found a good rhythm, rolling against your face and matching the pace of your tongue as it circled her throbbing clit. Loud, breathy moans fell from her lips as she cupped her own breasts and rubbed her palms roughly over her nipples. From this angle it was hard to see her face as she tilted her head back, losing herself in pleasure, so you focused on the sounds of her moans and the lewd noises of your tongue against her wet cunt, on the feeling of her smooth thighs under your hands, on the sight of her tits bouncing slightly with every buck of her hips.

“Mmm you look so good touching yourself like that,” you moaned against her pussy, allowing your tongue to explore her folds before slipping it into her entrance. Her walls clenched around you and her hips stuttered slightly in their movements as she stammered out a breathy reply.

“Y-you feel so good…”

“Look at me,” you commanded, waiting until Larissa’s eyes - dark and hooded - were on you before thrusting your tongue into her hole, as deep as you could. You could see her cheeks flush and her breathing falter for a moment as she adjusted to having your tongue inside of her. You groaned as you watched her watch you, as she rolled her own nipples between her fingers while you fucked her.

As she bucked her hips against your face you ran your tongue back up her slit, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking feverishly. Larissa’s movements became more and more erratic, her moans growing in volume as you found just the right pressure to bring her over the edge.

“I’m s-so cl- mmh- close, I can’t - shit-” Larissa’s voice was hoarse as her thighs began to tremble around your head - you could tell she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up much longer. You moaned against her clit, tightening your hold on her thighs in encouragement. Larissa fell forward, catching herself on the headboard and crying out in pleasure as she came, her juices coating your tongue and dripping down your chin.

You continued to lap at her pussy, cleaning her up and simultaneously savoring the taste of her. As you felt her thighs shift slightly beside your head, you helped her swing one leg back over your body so that she could lie beside you, breathing heavily.

You pushed her back onto the bed and kissed her eagerly, swallowing her moans as she sucked her arousal off your tongue. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of her lipstick smeared up to her nose.

“Wait here.” Pushing yourself off the bed, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, getting a makeup wipe and a damp washcloth in the process. Catching sight of Larissa’s bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, you slipped it on, taking a moment to revel in its softness before stopping by the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water.

Returning to the bed, you found Larissa watching you with an amused grin on her face, her eyes dropping to the makeup wipe. “You’re still planning on painting me, aren’t you?” she said with a chuckle.

“Yep - now drink some water and then hold still.” Larissa did as she was told, humor dancing in her eyes as you cleaned her up - first her thighs and cunt, then the bottom half of her face. “Can I redo your lipstick?”

Larissa blushed and nodded. “It’s in the drawer of the vanity.”

You took your time to reapply her lipstick, careful to get the edges just right. Larissa was a perfect model for you, holding perfectly still and watching you with hooded eyes. You unpinned her hair, arranging her curls over her shoulders until they hung just right, before moving onto the rest of your “scene” - adjusting the sheets until they were draped over Larissa’s body, revealing the tops of her breasts and clinging to her curves. The early afternoon sun filtered in through the window just how you had envisioned, giving you enough natural light to be able to work properly.

She was an absolute vision, the sun illuminating her blonde curls like a halo, kissing the tip of her nose and giving her a healthy glow. Mascara-coated lashes fluttered a bit against her cheeks when the sun got too bright for her eyes, almost pale blue in this light. You laughed and told her to move her head back a bit, an instruction which she happily complied with.

Sitting down at your easel, you wasted no time in beginning to paint - it was a portrait you’d envisioned painting time and time again, and you were thrilled to finally get the chance. There was something about the shapeshifter in this light, with a post-sex glow about her, that made the moment so special to you.

“You could’ve been a model, you know?” you teased, your heart melting at the pink hue that immediately rose in Larissa’s cheeks. Her lips stretched up into a wide smile that made her laugh lines more prominent and caused her eyes to crinkle at the outer corners - all of the little lines that gave away her age only made her more beautiful to you, stealing the breath right from your lungs.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry, and she shifted underneath the sheets, cocking her head to the side - something that you immediately reprimanded her for, shooing her back into position.

“I’m serious though. Did you always want to become a principal?” You eyed Larissa as her expression turned thoughtful.

“Not always. What I did want, even in school, was to become a teacher. I’ve always loved working with children, even as a teenager I tutored younger students. But what these kids really need, as outcasts, is someone to advocate for them, and I can do so much more in my role as principal than as a teacher.”

Larissa’s passion for her job never failed to bring a smile to your face, and you glanced over at her between strokes of your paintbrush. “Do you miss teaching?”

“Sometimes…” Larissa’s smile turned pensive, a little sad. “I felt more connected to my students when I taught them directly every day.”

“You really seem to care for them, you know? Like they’re your own.”

“I do… When you get to watch them grow every day over years, they start to feel like family. I’ve always wanted my own…” she trailed off, her expression wistful. A long silence hung in the air and suddenly, Larissa’s cheeks turned red, her gaze dropping to her hands as she began to fidget. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She seemed unable to meet your gaze and you cocked your head to the side - the nervous energy radiating off of her was almost palpable. You set the brush down to give her your full attention.

“Why not?”

Larissa’s blush only deepend, and she sighed. “I’m getting too old for that, anyway. I turn 50 next year, that part of my life has long passed.”

“You could still have that,” you argued - with me, you wanted to add, but you didn’t.

Larissa scoffed, waving a hand in front of her face to distract from her (unwarranted) embarrassment. “You’re young - you’ll learn that you can’t have everything you want in life, and that’s alright. My students are enough for me.”

As much as you wanted to argue with her, you remained silent, mulling over her words in your head. The thought of Larissa settling, giving up on her dreams and desires due to something as stupid as age, broke your heart. You wanted kids, too - maybe not right this second, while you were still in college, but you could see yourself in a few years, chasing a blue-eyed, platinum-blonde-haired toddler around the home you’d share with Larissa.

“I don’t think you should give up your desires so easily,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Larissa.

Larissa’s eyes darted to meet yours for only a moment before looking away again. She seemed deep in thought, her brow furrowed a bit. Shaking her head gently, she rolled her shoulders back and let out a deep breath, plastering a smile onto her face - it was neither a genuine smile nor a fake one, but rather something in between.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” you whispered gently.

“You didn’t upset me, my love, that I can assure you,” she whispered back with equal tenderness.

Standing from your seat you rounded the vanity and stepped up to the bed, leaning over Larissa to cup her cheek and kiss her. When you pulled away, her smile was considerably more relaxed, the lines between her eyebrows nearly gone.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and painting. Occasionally you’d catch Larissa giving you a once-over, but she waved it off every time. Not wanting to push her again, you ignored it and allowed her to steer the conversation.

Larissa mentioned Mayor Walker’s funeral the following day and you told her you’d be there, as Robin’s family had been quite close to the mayor and his family. When you asked if Larissa would mind you saying hi to her if they saw each other, she chuckled.

“Darling, I think the secret is out - if Enid knows about us, everyone at this school does.”

You blushed a little at that, but Larissa reassured you that it was alright, she’d love to see you - that small fact made your heart flutter, and you ducked your head behind the canvas to stop Larissa from seeing how red you’d gotten as you added a few final touches to the painting.

“There.” You smiled proudly as you looked between the painting and Larissa. “All done - well, not done done. I need to add some details, and I’ll need to finish parts of the background. But your part is done, you don’t need to sit here while I do that.”

Larissa sat up to stretch, the sheets falling off her body to reveal her rosy nipples and the swell of her stomach. She smiled softly as she caught you staring at her. “Put that paintbrush down and come here,” she cooed.

You did as you were told, getting up and going to crawl towards her on the bed. She gave your legs a tug, signaling for you to straddle her. Her fingers came to the tie of your robe, giving it a gentle tug and then pushing the robe off your shoulders. She leaned in to kiss you, her bare chest pressing against your own in a way that made your whole body shiver.

Smirking against your lips, she wound her fingers into your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “How about you let me show you how much I appreciate you working so hard for me this afternoon, hm?” Her words drew a moan from your throat and you allowed her to push you onto your back and have her way with you, kissing her way down your body and eating you out as if you were her last meal until the both of you were absolutely spent.

Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar @giogwensversion

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

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madelynraemunson · 10 months ago

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 019: The Piggyback

If you had the chance to do it over again with Eddie — and DO IT RIGHT — would you?

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020* * = somewhat smut , ** = smut

CW: hospital setting, dialogue heavy, uncertainty, fluff, talks of blood/broken bones/etc., car accident implications

word count: 2.5k words

“I’ll pick up these broken pieces ‘til I’m bleeding, if that’ll make it right.”

♡

Hawkins Memorial Hospital reeks of bleach wipes and bitter tears.

“Eddie…” Dustin wails. “No no no, noooo. Eddie…”

You’re sitting on the floor of the nurses station with Robin, Steve, and Nancy while the ‘kiddos’ occupy the waiting chairs. Surely, it's got to be unsanitary, but contracting germs off the floor of the ICU were the least of your concerns.

Your eyes follow Wayne as he helplessly wheels around, talking to anyone who would lend him an ear... anyone who would possibly know anything about his nephew’s condition.

“And my nephew — Eddie — he's self-employed,” Wayne continues to tell them.

Wheeling…wheeling…wheeling…

“But the Program he’s with allows him to go through Scott Clarke. You know Scott Clarke Insurance? It’s S-c-o-t-t, C-l-a-r-k-e… I’m through them too…”

But the able-bodied personnel are too fast for old Wayne, walking at a speed about 5mph while his frail fingers can only allow him up to 2 and a half. Just like the liters of oxygen he is on.

“Does he have a case manager assigned to him yet?” Wayne wonders. “If so I would like their name, please.”

Eventually Wayne’s voice fades the further away he gets. And just so you don't wallow in your misery, you go to your phone to see if anyone else has been reaching out to you for updates.

Justice (Hellfire)

Omg just heard the news! Hey girlie, is Eddie ok??? Can we come see him yet??

Just as you expected. Annoyed, you respond.

Girl fuck you

Suddenly a hand squeezes your kneecap. You didn't realize how aggressively you were tapping your feet until Max stops you.

“Doing okay, sis?”

“Yeah I'm just...” you sigh. “…going through all the emotions I guess. And in a fucked up way, I'm kinda convinced this is all my fault."

“You're a dumbass," she scowls at you. "How could you have possibly seen this coming? This was not in anyone’s control."

“I broke the rule,” is all you say. “We never go to bed angry.”

The odds have always been against you. You would think you knew that by now. It was probably why you spent all morning beating yourself up; because you knew that if you did, there's a huge possibility that Eddie would pull through. The Universe is twisted like that.

Suddenly, a pair of white coats are seen coming out of Eddie's room. Everybody in the party immediately stands, like it's some formation exercise at a bootcamp of sorts. Wayne eventually circles back as well, gazing up at Dr. Owens with hopeful eyes.

“Eddie is going to be okay,” Owens concludes. “You can all breathe now.”

The room fills with bone-weary, but nonetheless celebratory cheers. Owens and Eddie's nurse, Nurse Patty allows everybody to hug one another in relief. Eddie's doctor goes to speak again when the clamor dies down.

“But he did have to undergo emergency surgery,” Dr. Owens adds. “And he lost a lot of blood, so we have him on additional transfusions, as well as an antibiotic for an infection caused by his wounds. The plan for him is to recover, hopefully get him up with therapy when the time is right, and then he can get out of here.”

“Can we see him?” your voice cracks.

“That is up to him," the doctor responds. "But for now, what the young man told me is that he wants chocolate pudding... and to see his Uncle and girlfriend."

You and Wayne waste no time. Unlocking the brakes of his wheelchair, you lug Eddie's uncle into ICU room #010, unsure of what is to greet you behind the curtains.

The room is littered with juice and jello, laced by an overpowering bleach-esque fragrance that most likely was there to mask the innate smell of blood and other bodily fluids.

Beep, beep, beep, goes the familiar IV machine. And funny enough, Eddie has his TV on, blasting South Park on full volume, exactly the way it normally would be playing at the Harrington-Munson estate.

"…tell everyone the truth about whose fault this is! I didn't do anything!" ... "...you KNEW about the prank, you could've stopped it at any time, but you didn't say a word. SILENCE IS VIOLENCE!"

And there is Eddie, dressed in a mesh-fabric gauze bandana, a worn-out beige hospital gown, with matching grippy socks. His entire lower lip is busted, left arm in a cast, both of his heels elevated with blood-saturated pillows. And his hair... you didn't even want to think about the matting. But that is ground to be covered much later.

When Eddie sees the two of you, he only utters one sentence:

“Does this mean I finally get that motorcycle?”

“You fucking idiot!” you wail going in to hug him.

Eddie chuckles solemnly as you completely fall into his embrace, soaking his gown with your salty tears.

"I thought we lost you, Eddie,” you whisper in his ear as you sniff your tears away. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if we did...knowing what I said."

He strokes your hair. "You have every right to be mad at me. I've been such a shitty boyfriend to you."

“I second that,” Wayne huffs, crossing his arms. “The idiot part, I mean… but I’m glad you’re okay, son.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles. “I knew those Eddie Stops would catch up to me one day.”

Eventually, the rest of the party spills in, starting with the batallion of younger Hellfire boys who were inconsolable all morning, absolutely petrified of losing their role-model.

"Jesus,” Dustin breathes. “We thought you were a-goner!”

"Hey guys, good to see ya," Eddie grins, soaking up every bit of attention from his little minions as they all pile on top of him. Suddenly, he flinches. "Hey hey hey, watch my IVs! I've got an important med running through that piggyback."

"Right, sorry," they all utter in unison as they separate themselves from him.

Steve is next in line to give Eddie a hug, followed by Robin, and Nancy, and soon Jonathan. Chrissy and Argyle are the next people to trail in, with Henry and Nina at their tail. Then, the Corroded Coffin boys soon after.

"Eddie, oh my god!" Chrissy cries. "Don't you ever scare any of us like that again!"

"Good to see ya, Chris," Eddie smiles, giving her a one-armed hug. "Hey Neens! Creel! Villalobos. Boys.”

"So not cool man," Argyle shakes his head. "So not cool. We were worried sick for you."

As you all iron out the details, it is discovered that Eddie got into the accident shortly after leaving your place. He, in fact did, pull an Eddie Stop, failing to see the car coming at him from his left side, which then resulted in him getting T-boned. The other driver was okay. In fact, he was the one who called the ambulance for him.

"How much longer until you're discharged?" Nancy asks.

"I'm not too sure," Eddie sighs. "Hopefully in a few weeks."

He fails to sit up completely, wincing once again when his pain drags him down. Everybody nearly rushes to his aid, tenderly lowering Eddie back onto the bed while encouraging him to take it easy.

"Don't even worry about it, Eds," Lucas assures him. "We can hold down the fort."

"Oh that's reassuring," Eddie mutters sarcastically, shaking his head in discontent.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing!"

---

You decide to stay with Eddie for the afternoon while everyone else goes home. A couple others stay behind as well, so you all take turns alternating, helping the nurses with their care and making sure Eddie isn't alone when a specialist from his team comes to see him.

But for now, it's just you and him, cuddled up in his rather stiff hospital bed, watching TV to pass time by.

"It feels weird sitting in place for once," he comments. "My body isn't used to laying down for a long period of time."

"Constantly in fight or flight, huh?" you tut. "Always on the go..."

Eddie whistles. "God, you have no idea..."

"Nah, I do," you insist, grabbing his hand to kiss it. "Our flights just look a lil different is all."

Suddenly, your phone rings again, causing both you and Eddie to jolt in shock. This time, it's your FaceTime ringtone... and on the other line, is Kassidy, quite possibly accompanied by the other Hellfire Girls.

"Jesus H. Christ," you mumble. "They've been spamming me all morning. Probably just wanna know how you're doing."

"Answer it," Eddie encourages you sharply. His tone is rather gruff, and urgent. "I need to talk to them."

Because you're nice enough to allow the girls the luxury of knowing their lord and savior is alive, you answer the call and hand your phone to Eddie. There's a slight pause before the call is connected.

"Hi," is all Eddie says.

"Eddie! OMG!" the girls squeal through the other line, of course all while failing to acknowledge you — the person whose number they called in the first place. "Are you okay?!"

"Yes girls, I'm fine..." he sighs. "How's Hellfire? Everyone holding down the fort?"

"Of course, just like we do best," Kassidy responds. "We just miss you, Eddie. What happened?"

"Got T-boned."

"OMG, whose fault was it?"

"Mine," he seems relatively short with them.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm in a little bit of pain. But I got some pain meds to help me."

"Thank God!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hospital walls, Nina and Chrissy stare at each other in bewilderment, a look that is naturally followed by one of disgust.

"Oh I know damn well..." Nina shakes her head.

"Stupid ass bitches," Chrissy adds.

Being the nosy girls they are, Nina and Chrissy crane their heads over into the room, eavesdropping on the FaceTime conversation between Eddie and the Hellfire Girls.

"Oh Eddie," Emmy pouts. "We're so glad that you're doing okay."

"Yeah, Eddie!" Lady chirps. "When do you think you'll be released?"

"Hopefully I'll be out in about two weeks," Eddie responds. "But I'll stay at home for a bit before coming back. You won't even know I'm gone."

The girls cheer obnoxiously on the other line. You try to act indifferent towards everything for Eddie's sake, but it's hard for you to feign something that so evidently isn't true.

Eddie senses it. And what he says next to the girls takes you by surprise.

"...But," Eddie says. "In that same amount of time, I expect your lockers to be cleared... as well as your side of the dressing room."

There's a brief silence while the girls try to piece together what Eddie means by that. Because surely it doesn't mean what they initially thought it meant.

"Why? Are we getting moved?"

"No, you're all getting terminated."

So it was exactly what they thought it meant.

"Wh-what? Why?!"

"What do you mean why?" Eddie demands.

He begins to list off everything they have done wrong, all of which they pretended to be oblivious about until now.

"The final straw is calling my girlfriend's phone, non-stop, knowing that's the only way to get through to me," Eddie goes on. "And not even acknowledging her! And even if you did, you all have some damn nerve considering what you guys did at Hellfire."

"You don't even have proof of us damaging her property though!" Justice argues. "So for all we know, you're just accusing us of things, Eddie."

"That's funny," you speak up. "Who said anything about property damage?"

Caught in their own trap.

The MAIN reason Eddie couldn't fire the Hellfire Girls when they put sugar in your gas tank was because you didn't have any proof that they did it, therefore it wouldn't hold up well if the girls decided to sue for wrongful termination. Again, lots of legalities to come in to play.

The girls were smart though. Choosing to wreck your car because they knew it was parked in the security camera's blindspot. Essentially, after the damage was done, it would be your word against theirs. And there was only so much that Eddie could do with the "subtle jabs". But now that you have a confession, Eddie can work off of that.

"But Eddie!" Justice whines. "This is so unfair. We've known you, and been at Hellfire longer than she has."

"Two weeks," Eddie reiterates, still firm on his decision. "That's enough time for you ladies to figure out the next step. I wish you the best of luck."

The ending of the FaceTime call wasn't a pretty one. It mainly consisted of denying and bargaining, all of which Eddie did not have the energy to be receptive to.

You and Eddie continue to hash it out with the girls over the phone, all while Nina and Chrissy were twerking in celebration because it meant more money for them during tip outs. And most importantly, celebrating you getting the justice you deserve...along with the possibility of you coming back.

"That was something I should've done way long ago," Eddie sighs as he hands you your phone back. "I hate dealing with legal shit."

"I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible," you frown.

"And I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible to you," Eddie counters. "I really wish I could've done more for you. But up until now my hands were tied legally, honey. And financially."

"It was a sticky situation," you mutter. "But...I knew you had a favorite."

He kisses your forehead once more and you lean into him again, resting your head against his chest and wrapping your leg around his torso.

"Ow, ow, OW!" Eddie yelps.

"Sorry!"

You asunder again.

"You think you're gonna find enough dancers in time?" you ask him.

"We'll be okay four dancers short," Eddie assures you. "And besides, more tips for the other ladies when it comes down to tip-outs. They did Hellfire a favor."

Exactly what Chrissy and Nina were thinking.

"Speaking of Hellfire..." Eddie quips. "Does this mean you're coming back?"

"Only if I'm still welcome."

"Of course you are, babe," Eddie chuckles. "Everyone there loves you."

Your heart flutters at the forsaken "L" word, uttered with so much certainty and fondness.

"...including me," Eddie adds. "I love you, man."

You bite your lip to contain your excitement as you blush, giving Eddie a light punch across his chest.

"I love you too...man."

And as a way to poke fun at you, Eddie flashes you a "surf's up" sign with his non-crippled fingers. He puts on his most pretentious California accent possible, one he learned how to do from Argyle.

"Righteous...man."

And before it could get any more intimate, Chrissy makes her way into the room, reaching into her tote bag to give you something she's been holding onto since she arrived.

You watch as she unveils a familiar velvet garment — your cloak. She gives you a courtly bow as she hands it back over to you, symbolizing an end to your very brief retirement from Hellfire, and a permanent seat at The Party's table.

"You know Hargrove, I believe..." says Chrissy. "...that this is for you."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins @feral-pumpkin-energy @bl0ssomanddie

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otakubimbo · 11 months ago

Text

Checkmate.

MafiaBoss Sukuna x F!Reader

You had a routine. You had a life. You had plans. Is your association with someone you hate going to change everything for you?

Sticky: I was asked to make it into a series so this is the prequel to this! It will be an on going series. I don't know how many chapters yet.

UPDATED STICKY: hi yes, you may be seeing this thinking 'OB this definitely doesn't look like what you wrote before.' and you would be right, i hated it so i changed it. Sorry, love yall, bye T-T

masterlist

next chapter

The activity at the Zenin compound was raising suspicion from their enemies, especially their biggest one The King of Curses. The two yakuza families had been cordial for the most part through the decades, but lately, the hot-headed Naoya Zenin was pushing his way into the King of Curses territory and that would not do, not at all. So, on top of the brazen acts by the end of that family, the activity coming from the compound DAILY was raising all alarms for Ryomen Sukuna. And the activity? It was you, coming in and out the front gates of the compound almost daily, always bringing something with you, always leaving without anything. The biggest issue, no one had any information on you and yet you were casually coming in and out of the compound as if you were an important member of the Zenin’s. The King of Curses needed to know your role with them and how to use it to his advantage to get Naoya out of his hair for good.

That’s what led to one of the King of Curses disgruntled underlings following you around for the last two weeks. Nothing you did was of interest; you were actually quite boring. Your day consisted of leaving your condo with a bag of who knows what to the Zenin compound, spending a few hours there, and leaving to go to the park not far from the compound to play chess? With old people? It was strange, and then after that, you would leave after seemingly beating every old man who would sit with you and play to go to a café or library to work away at something on your computer.

Sukuna’s face was twisted into a scowl as he read over the report of your day.

“What the fuck is this?” His voice made the men under his command shrink into themselves and back down.

“Sir, that’s all we have. That’s all she does.” One of them spoke up not meeting Sukuna’s glare. The man before them flexes his fingers in an attempt to quell his rage from snapping either of their necks.

“Do you at least have a name; do you have anything?”

The silence from their lack of response was louder than anything they could have said. Sukuna crumbles the report in his hand, balling his fist and banging it against the sturdy wooden desk. He had to think of something. There had to be something he could think of because surprisingly enough despite how arrogant and boisterous Naoya was, the boy kept his circle tight and private. Nothing that the boy doesn’t want out, never gets out. You truly seemed nothing of interest but then no one and he knew NO ONE was allowed to freely walk in and out of that compound so casually without significance. Also, there was something about you that he couldn’t figure out and it was driving him almost insane. He had seen videos in the reports he was being sent of you and the way you walked and carried yourself had him in thought. In thought of what? He really didn’t know but he knew he needed to figure out what your connections with all of this were. Just before he was truly about to lose his temper, he did have an idea. After all, you were a woman so this should at least get a little information out of you.

“Bring me Fushiguro .”

Fushiguro, Toji Fushiguro, was one of Sukuna’s subordinates who would be considered a ‘ladies man’ and you were a lady. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. He would use Toji to sway you into giving up some type of information or at the very least gain a bit of your trust to get you here to interrogate that wouldn’t draw any suspicions from the Zenin’s. It was a good plan that has worked on more than one occasion. Well, that was what Sukuna assumed until Toji actually met you.

There you were, right on schedule, as usual, laughing at the older man who sat across from you. It seemed that you had been beating him at a round of chess and the old man was being grumpy about it. Toji walked up with his casual nonchalant attitude toward the bench you were sitting on.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Toji commented as he walked up to you. You look up at him, a slight scowl on your face that he wasn’t expecting. Women usually fawn over him always immediately, but you looked almost disgusted. The glares he was getting from the older men around you didn’t help his circumstance either.

“Did you need something?” Your tone is annoyed as you glare up at him. He chuckles at your hostility. That made you scowl even more; you really didn’t want to be bothered by this man especially one as seemingly cocky and self-assured as this one.

“I’ve seen you here at the park a few times and wanted to get your name.” He lied and he could tell you knew it was a lie by the way your eyes narrowed at him.

You roll your eyes, sighing going back to making a move on the board in front of you, “Well I haven’t seen you before so I would prefer not to acquaint myself with you.”

Toji could tell this was going to be a lost cause on his part. Sukuna was not going to be happy about this in the least bit but there wasn’t anything else he could do, your body language told him everything he needed to know. He raised his hands in defeat and apologized for bothering you, heading back to the car parked around the corner. If Toji was a man who didn’t value his life, he would tell the King that he should give up on seeing what you know unless he just wanted to kidnap and torture you. You didn’t seem like the kind of girl to just give in to anything easily, and these soft plans would be a waste of everyone’s time. But Toji was a man who did value his life at least a little, so he just planned to tell him exactly what happened and that you weren’t interested in speaking to him in the least bit.

Sukuna was frustrated with Tojis report, he couldn’t help but shoot one of the lackeys he had in the room. He didn’t kill him, maybe, but this was getting on his nerves quickly. The King’s attempt at trying to be subtle for once was getting him nowhere and it was pissing him off.

You knew you had been being watched for weeks now; it was almost obvious with the way that the same men kept appearing around the same time every day. They weren’t really good at this, it seemed to you. It didn’t concern you that much though, you understood why you may have been followed but you didn’t have any information of value. Naoya allowed you into the Zenin compound and he was never shy about what he did for a living or the type of man that he was. He didn’t value you as a person, so he allowed you to go and come as you pleased, which you were grateful for. He was a man who such self-assurance, such bravado, such misogyny that he didn’t find any value in hiding anything from you or your cousin that he made his wife. Your cousin, more of a sister to you than anything, was unfortunately the now wife of Naoya Zenin and the only reason you would EVER visit his compound. You hated every single second you spent in that space, but you did it for your cousin. She was trapped in these walls and unable to go anywhere unless it was with the end of the clan himself. The only thing that man allowed was for you to see her and you took that, making it almost your job to visit her every day in order to keep her sanity. You would bring her breakfast, books, snacks, or whatever you have found that could make sure she felt connected with the outside world and connected with something else besides the Zenin’s.

Every day you had almost the same schedule, visiting your cousin for a few hours, discussing the past day’s events and anything that you had brought over. Then you would go over to this beautiful park and play chess with the elders there, they adored you so much even if you beat them every time. After that, you would go off to either the library, a café, or anywhere that you could get back to work on your dissertation. That was the reason you had so much time to visit your cousin and make sure she was alright; you were working on your dissertation and that was the only thing that truly required your focus. You came from a wealthy family that was similar to the zenin’s in the way that there was no value to a woman besides being a bride. Luckily for you, your parents had agreed to allow you to finish any education before marrying you off just like your cousin. Which is why you are currently working on your Ph.D. in comparative literature. You had hoped to continue down the path of education hoping that if you elongate your studies, your parents will focus more on your brothers and forget about you. You hoped.

It had been a while since you had been followed and since your last encounter with that handsome but strange man who attempted to flirt with you for whatever reason that you completely forgot about those interactions. This is why the confusion on your face was felt by the elders that you usually play chess with as you walk to your park in the spot where you play to see them laughing and playing with someone else who isn’t you. It took you WEEKS to have them allow you to play and now here sat a man in YOUR spot playing with them as they laugh and smile at the man.

There in your place sat a man you knew you had never seen before. There sat the King of Curses himself, Ryomen Sukuna.

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corvusphilia · 4 months ago

Note

I see alot of either bratty (reader) bit can I request sweet reader who doesn't like saying no to their bf because they truely love their lover

(could be gn or female if you don't mind a little spice)

And tries to be perfect and always smiling to be happy, but when something happens [idk maybe unsolicited attention or just having a shitty day] (reader) seems to be more forceful with being happy, so our boys try to pry it out of them to comfort them and tell them they don't need to be a model lover, cause they love them for them

Oikawa, tetsuro, Tsukishima (maybe anyone else you like too)

★ "I WANT YOU TO BE REAL WITH ME"

୨ৎ featuring: tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, kei tsukishima

୨ৎ notes: anon get out of my head this is literally me

★ TOORU OIKAWA ?!

Lucky for you Anon, you picked three of the most observant boys in the series. Oikawa however is the type to realize something is off, but he doesn't want to pressure you to tell him what it is, so he just settles for pampering you the rest of the day.

The main tell for him is your eyes. They're not shining the way they usually do. So if princess treatment doesn't make you feel better, he'll pull you to the side, the softest look on his face as he moves a strand of hair away from your face, "What's wrong, pretty?"

You try to shrug him off and say everything's fine, but the look on his face is just... so tender and full of love and worry that it just breaks you. He hugs you as soon as you start to tear up, gently rubbing circles on your back until you calm down enough to speak.

He feels like it's his fault when you tell him you just want to be a good partner for him. Like he himself wasn't doing a good job as a boyfriend if you didn't feel like you could be yourself around him, flaws and all.

"Listen to me," He starts, soft but firm, taking your hands in his and squeezing a little. "I didn't fall in love with you for who you pretend to be. I fell in love with you for who you are. If that includes tears and fights and bad days, so be it." He pauses for a second, pressing his forehead against yours, "I want you to know you can rely on me as well, okay? No matter what. I'll always be here for you, cutie."

★ KUROO TETSURO ?!

As mentioned, he definitely knows something is off just from your body language alone. Unlike Oikawa, he asks immediately. Not in a forceful way or anything, just a small "Everything alright?" to make sure.

While he was fairly certain you weren't doing that great, he's more than 100% sure when you try to reassure him it is. He knows your tone, how you normally speak — and this is not it. But he doesn't want to come off as pushy, so he kind of... experiments throughout the day, trying to figure out the problem without you having to tell him.

He realizes it when he stares at you and you don't notice him there. You just look so... defeated. Then, when you glance back at him, you immediately force a smile when your eyes meet. Then it clicked in his head. Has he ever actually seen you upset before? Or even listened to you vent about anything? No. No, he hasn't.

"You know you don't have to be happy all the time, right?" He says out of the blue. "I mean, it's not even possible to do that, anyway. You're gonna have your down moments sooner or later. And I'd rather you be honest with me when that happens." He says like it's the most obvious thing, which it kind of is, but not in a condescending manner.

He then wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you a bit closer as his voice gets a little softer and less matter-of-factly. "... If there's something bothering you, I want to help. But I can't do that if you just pretend everything is fine all the time. It's going to come crashing down on you eventually, and I really don't want you to have to deal with it by yourself." He then smiles and continues. "That's what boyfriends are for, right?"

★ TSUKISHIMA KEI ?!

He can also definitely see it, but he'd rather just pretend he didn't notice anything. If it was serious, you would tell him. That's what he thought, anyway. Not like he's one to talk to begin with, dude would rather swallow a razorblade than his pride and ask for help. His main flaw when it comes to dating is being aware that communication is key, but refusing to do it himself while still expecting it from his partner.

He does get more and more antsy when he notices your mood isn't improving — quite the opposite. And he almost feels offended at the fake smiles you keep throwing at him. He knows you better than that — you should know that already. He knows he should intervene, but he's also aware of the fact that he sucks ass at comforting people. But then again, enough is enough.

"Would you stop that?" He snaps. You just look confused and ask what he means, and he scoffs. "Do you think I'm stupid? You don't actually mean a single smile you keep showing me. If you have something on your mind, then say it." Okay, that sounded way too harsh even for him. He sighs and softens his tone. "I know you. I can tell when you're not actually happy. Trying to pretend you are is a pain for both you and me. So just spit it out. What's wrong?" He waits for a few seconds, just looking at you while you gather your thoughts before he adds. "... I may suck at showing it, but I care about you. So... Stop being a dummy and let me try to help you."

thanks for reading!

#୨ৎ — writings .#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #headcanons #kuroo tetsuro x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tsukishima kei x reader

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its-all-stardust · 1 year ago

Text

Sugar || 1

Masterlist || Part Two

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Author's note: hello and welcome to the most unoriginal title ever. this was originally intended to be a oneshot, but just as I was about to finish what ended up being this first part, I realized that would be impossible (unless I wanted an insanely long oneshot, which i did not). to be honest, i don't have a real plan for this series. i don't expect it to be very long, and there may be some Marc/Reader in the future, but for now, this is just about our boy Steven.

Series note: Set before the events of the Moon Knight series. I haven't decided yet if this is going to be following canon in regards to the powers/Avatar aspect but I'll let you know whenever I decide. Steven is still an alter, Marc still has DID, and assume Marc and Jake are around and know what Steven is getting up to.

It’s not like you were looking for someone when you visited the museum that day. Typically, when you do look for a new baby, you go through the regular channels. Word of mouth, the specific sites—the free ones and the paid ones. You’ve never just seen someone out in the world and thought Them.

It just wasn’t something that was done. It wasn’t something that you do. There’s no way to vet someone you met in person, and you don’t conveniently have all their personal details laid out in a neat format sent directly to you with the results of their background check.

You always thought picking someone you met randomly was a bad idea despite the fact that you haven’t exactly heard horror stories from others in these circles. You suppose it comes to the arrangement being based on trust. And you don’t exactly trust most people.

That is until you laid eyes on Steven, the slightly mousy yet also impertinent gift shop clerk.

You walked into the gift shop looking for a bottle of water. You had spent the last couple of hours wandering the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and needed a break before walking through the rest of the exhibits on display. You don’t know when you’ll next make it to the National Art Gallery, so you figured you’d make a day of it since you didn’t have any meetings to attend or calls to make.

You aren’t exactly impressed with the man when you first walk in. In an attempt to help another customer, he bumped into one of the displays and knocked down some of the figurines, smashing them on the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, falling to his knees to start cleaning up his mess while the woman he was speaking to takes her child by the arm and steps away. But then he seems to change his mind and stands again. Looking over the display, he grabs one of the surviving figurines. “Here, this one’s perfectly fine.”

“That’s okay. I think he changed his mind,” the woman says, gesturing to her son. She then quickly leaves the shop without buying anything.

The man sighs, his shoulders dropping as he sets the figurine down and mutters himself. He then walks away from the mess on the floor to the back room.

When he’s out of sight, you step up to the display. Broken pieces of several figurines depicting a bird of some sort stare up at you helplessly.

You pick up one that appears intact, examining it. Although you just came from the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, you can’t tell which god the white plaster bird is meant to be. To you, it’s simply a bird of prey; its sharp beak and talons give it away, but it lacks any particular godly features.

Finding no fault other than that it’s a rather generic figurine, you set it back on the display with the other surviving merchandise. You’re about to pick up another from the floor, hoping to make the clerk’s job a little easier, when a voice stops you.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that.” It’s the clerk, having returned with a broom and dustpan in hand without you noticing.

“Thought you could use a hand, is all,” you say, smiling at him as you step away from the pile of broken figurines.

The man stares at you for a moment, frozen, giving you time to study him.

Curly hair falling over his forehead, large, dark eyes, clean-shaven, and baggy clothes that don’t quite fit him properly.

Your eyes catch his name tag.

Steven.

All of a sudden, the man—Steven seems to flinch. You see a slight flush to his cheeks before he tilts his head down, hiding his face from view.

“Sorry,” he says as he starts to sweep up bits of several birds, though you’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. “Let me just clean this up, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say as you wander away to look at the other souvenirs on display. You keep glancing at Steven, though, finding your interest piqued by him.

“Make a mess again, Stevie?” a woman calls as she walks into the shop.

“You know that’s not my name, Donna,” he says as the woman walks past him into the back room. He follows, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

Steven comes back quickly, now missing the broom and dustpan, and when he spots you, the tension drains out of him, if only slightly.

“Sorry about that. Do you need help with anything?” He steps close to you, though still far enough away to maintain a respectful distance.

You just need your water, and you’ll be back out in the museum in no time. With your tight schedule, you shouldn’t waste a minute if you want to actually enjoy all the exhibits. But something in you, something about Steven, makes you stay.

“Actually, I wanted to ask,” you start as you lead Steven back to the display of figurines. “Who is this even supposed to be? It doesn’t look like one of the gods.” You point to the birds he knocked down.

“Horus, if you can believe it.” He scoffs as if personally offended. “Honestly, I wouldn’t look for anything in this shop to be all that accurate,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“The gift shop in a popular museum can’t even be bothered to pay for accuracy?” you ask, even though you’re not surprised. The best way for businesses to make quick profit is to sell cheap products for far more than they’re worth.

Steven steps closer, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

“My manager, Donna.” He gestures toward the backroom with a jerk of his head. “She’s in charge of ordering everything. When I saw she had picked out these, I tried telling her how inaccurate they were, that nobody would know who it was and have no reason to buy them. All she said was, ‘Nobody’s going to care, Stevie.’” He raises the pitch of his voice, a mocking impression of the woman in the other room.

“But you care.” It’s easy to see how much he does. Not everyone would get so worked up over an overpriced souvenir at a museum gift shop.

“Of course I do!” Steven says emphatically. “It’s why I work here. Well, not here here. Can’t say the gift shop is my favorite, but the museum—” He suddenly stops, cutting himself off as he stares at you.

You would think you’ve done something wrong, except all you’ve done is smile at him, the expression still on your face even now. Then you notice Steven is flushed again, and you can’t help but be pleased at the sight.

“Sorry, I’m just talking your ear off. You should have stopped me,” Steven says with an awkward laugh.

“I don’t mind listening to you speak.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Usually, you’re in better control of yourself, your words. You have to be.

Thankfully, Steven doesn’t find your honesty off-putting as some others have. He laughs again, this time with disbelief and a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re just saying that,” he says.

“You’re getting paid to sell things, Stevie, not to stand around flapping your lips,” Donna says as she walks out of the backroom, a box of merchandise in her arms to restock one of the shelves lining the walls.

“But I am getting paid to be nice to the customers, yeah?” Steven replies. Donna only rolls her eyes, a look he copies when she turns in the other direction.

You like seeing that he isn’t cowed by his frankly rude manager, even if he can’t exactly square up to her, not without likely risking his job.

What’s he like outside the gift shop when he doesn’t have to hold back? When he can say what he wants without being afraid of offending someone?

You push the thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking like that. Thoughts along those lines should be reserved for people you’ve properly vetted.

“Sorry about her. She’s…” Steven whispers, trailing off when he can’t find anything charitable to say.

“A bitch?” you supply. You don’t have to worry about offending Donna.

“Keep your voice down!” he half-heartedly scolds, placing a hand on your arm as he tries to suppress a grin. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I’d rather not get caught, thank you.”

You’re about to say something else when Steven’s face falls, horror replacing the glee. He quickly snatches his hand away, stepping back as he realizes how close he is to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He gestures to your arm but quickly drops his hand as if afraid he’ll touch you again.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I didn’t mind.” You would have minded if it had been any other man, but Steven…

Stop it.

“You’re sure?” he asks tentatively, looking like a puppy about to be told he’s a good boy, eyes lit up hopefully.

You can feel yourself starting to burn with an overwhelming want.

“Absolutely,” you say, and Steven sighs in palpable relief.

“Oh, good. Still sorry, though. For not thinking and all.”

And though you tried to deny it, you can’t stop thinking that Steven…could be fun. Something alights in you the more you look at him. The different sides you’ve already seen. His helpfulness, his genuine interest, and knowledge about the place he works. The roll of his eyes and complaints about a manager. A man who’ll snark back, but only just enough to keep from getting into trouble. How he spoke to you as if you were friends before the slight mortification hit, and he realized the two of you are nothing but strangers.

You recognize something in him, and it makes you want him. Want to lavish him with affection and praise and gifts. Want him to give that same affection back to you. You want him on your arm. You want to play with him, see what makes him tick.

You want to give him all you’ve never had.

You shouldn’t think about him like this, not when you don’t know anything about him.

But you know enough. Enough to intrigue you. And he intrigues you more than any of the others you’ve been with. None of them have sparked this deep desire, not so instantaneously, not until they worked out exactly what you wanted and played that role. They weren’t like this naturally.

They weren’t like you.

But it has to be a no. You can’t. You have rules.

And yet…

You glance at your watch, the thin band flashing gold on your wrist, the crystal face sparkling up at you in the light.

“I have to get going,” you say regretfully, and Steven looks slightly disappointed. You want to keep talking to him and wipe that look from his face. You have to force yourself to take a step back.

“But I’ll see you around, Stevie.” You’re practically possessed as the nickname rolls from your lips, even though you know, based on his interaction with Donna, that he doesn’t like it.

You just need to see that fire. Need to know what it’s like when it’s directed at you.

“It’s Steven, actually,” he corrects with a slight annoyance that he tries to cover with a smile. He even taps his name tag a little more forcefully than he needs to, as if to make sure you get the point. He may like you well enough to have a chat, but he won’t put up with things that displease him, either.

Oh, he will be so much fun.

You try to smile sweetly at him, but it feels more like a predatory grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. See you around, Steven.”

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #x reader #sugar series

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sunkissedscribbles · 6 months ago

Text

Prejudiced - Chapter One

this is only a part of the series, the next chapters can be found here

a/n: hey lovelies! i’m starting this ff called ‘prejudiced’ and am gonna be posting the chapters here, as well as on wattpad (more info on my page). i only made a minor change compared to wattpad because i’m going to be merging 2-3 wattpad chapters when posting here. so, here is the first one, i hope you’ll like it!!

word count: 3478

tw: my bad writing.

summary: cassie and mattheo bonding

next chapter>

dividers by @chachachannah

Empty and half-empty bottles of firewhisky all over the place; on tables, under the chairs and the sofas, and loud music — this is how the Gryffindors celebrate a win against any of the other Quidditch teams of Hogwarts. These are the only nights we are "allowed" to stay up late, celebrating and drinking as if we were in a pub. More like, this is the only occasion the teachers don't bother to send us ruthlessly to bed.

The smell of alcohol in the air is sickening and I feel a little bit dizzy as there is no air left in the common room. I get up from the floor where we are sitting in a circle, playing the most cliché game ever; truth or dare, then head toward the portrait hole.

As the portrait shuts behind me, I no longer hear the people who are partying in the common room, nor do I hear the music that is playing in there. For a few moments, the sudden silence is deafening and my ears need a few seconds to recover from the internal beeping in my head.

Now it's silent.

There's not a sound except for the quiet snickering coming from the portraits and for my breathing. The castle is still and as always, it feels like someone's or something's watching me. But I know that's not true as long as I don't spot Mrs Norris. I turn around to see if she's there but as I make sure not a soul is here to catch me sneaking out of the common room at this ungodly hour, I make my way towards the Astronomy Tower, hoping to find peace and some fresh air there.

The noise was too much for me in the common room, the too many people made the air hard to breathe for me, and I started to feel like I didn't occupy my own body, as if I was watching my life and actions from outside my body. It happens quite often, my senses get overwhelmed, and all the impulses I got in the past hour made me a little sleepy and disassociated, that's why I decided to hunt for some peace and air.

As I reach the top level of the tower, I stop for a moment. I can see someone smoking by the railing. How did I not notice the smell of smoke when coming up here? I tend to zone out; I can't even recall my way here and it's so weird when I think about it.

From behind, I can't exactly tell who I'm looking at other than figuring out it's a boy and I'd leave as he must be looking for some alone time if he's here this late, without company but he turns around to see who's interrupting his me-time.

Do boys even have me-time?

It's Mattheo Riddle. My eyes meet his dark brown ones that reflect the moon's bright shine. He stiffens in his whole body as he locks his gaze with mine, the cigarette he was smoking already by his foot, stomped on and I can see his features harden, his hands clenching into fists warningly like he was about to throw punches without hesitation if needed. He probably would, though — he's the kind to get his hands dirty the Muggle way.

I feel sorry for him as I realize only being in someone's company whom he hasn't really talked to before is enough to make him go defensive in a split second. I have honestly always felt a kind of sympathy for him for being instantly prejudiced against by everyone only because of his father. I got judged too, but he for sure has it worse.

I recall the moment from earlier today when Fred and George played a prank on him. I hadn't seen what happened or what the prank was and only got to know anything had happened at all when getting ready for the match. Those two are one year ahead of me and have been my best friends since my first year at Hogwarts. As soon as I overheard they did something to Mattheo that he hadn't even deserved, I scolded them instantly and reminded them how similar my situation is to his; being prejudiced and judged by everyone when learning your surname. They always think of the worst things when they learn I'm a Black-descendant.

For a second, I get quite bold and without even approaching Mattheo, I look into his eyes.

"I want to apologize in the name of Fred and George for what they did today. I know you didn't deserve it and now they know it too." I tell him, not frightened by him a slight bit like other students would be.

"Why would you do that?" he barks back, his tone harsh and incredulous.

"Because those gits are too proud to apologize themselves. The perfect stereotype of a Gryffindor, I guess," I offer him a light smile as I shrug.

He seems cold as ice and it would probably be the best option to leave him alone but staying here is so tempting and I'm willing to earn at least the smallest of smiles from him. There is something in him, in his presence that makes me want to stay here.

I approach and join him leaning on the railing with my forearms as I look up at the sky.

"I thought the sky wasn't so cloudy tonight." I try to engage in small talk with him, getting him to say something but the ice he got himself locked into seems unbreakable.

I must admit we both are in our fourth year at Hogwarts so we are classmates but have talked probably once or twice before; we have never really got the chance to. I have always wanted to talk to him and maybe become friends but he seemed way out of my league; we aren't in the same caste, in spite of having mutual friends. He's the reserved, cold Slytherin boy, Riddle heir whereas I'm a rather cheerful Gryffindor — quite an annoying one, I must admit. But I have always set my hopes high and this moment seems like the perfect chance to try to break the ice. To see what's under that cold gaze, ruthless and mean facial expression. Because from what I've seen so far, he's almost stoic, restrained in a way of keeping any emotions under control — except for his anger. This boy clearly has problems with keeping his temper in check; but don't all who've grown up into families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?

"You come here often? Haven't seen you here yet." I try to talk to him again and to my biggest surprise, he does answer.

"We don't have to talk. We are only at the same place by pure accident."

His tone is snarky, clearly not in the mood to chat with me but yet again, I am determined.

"You know, you're not the only one with a troubled family line." I turn my head in his direction, my tone somewhat low and serious.

I catch him off guard with this statement and the sudden change in the subject, I can tell that just by how his gaze softens for a moment, losing his indifferent, stern look for a slight second before regaining his will over his expressions.

But as he doesn't reply with anything, I keep on going.

"I get prejudiced a lot too."

"Doesn't seem to affect you," he mumbles under his breath.

"Not a hard thing to cope with," I shrug — it's a lie.

"Easy to say if you're in Gryffindor," he huffs, becoming defensive once again.

"Those are just stereotypes." I brush it off with a bitter undertone to which my shoulders visibly tense up. "I could be in Hufflepuff and be a Death Eater as well. Your house doesn't define you. Slytherins can be good people too. They are just misunderstood."

He thinks about what I have just said. His gaze slowly but surely softens a little.

He lets out a small, bitter laugh that's barely more than the air he blew out through his nose.

"But isn't being in Slytherin in my case a bit..."

"Sinister?" I ask. He nods. "I guess it sounds that a little bit, yeah. But it's up to you what you do with it. I mean, isn't being in Gryffindor as a Black a little..."

"Ridiculous?" now he asks and I nod. "It is. Not ordinary for a Black to go against their family's will."

"My family can suck it," I say straightforwardly. "They are just people who think a big dynasty makes them greater than the rest of the world's population with inbreeding and following the same old-fashioned pureblood-maniac views."

He looks at me, a little taken aback by my bluntness but the side of his lips curl up into a small smirk. This is what I call progress.

"The black sheep of the family, are you then?"

"Could say so," I shrug with a sly smile that's my body's natural reaction to seeing someone smile at me. Plus, I'm happy I've got him to talk to me. I'm making history tonight. "What about you?"

"Me? I thought you know who I am," he smirks humourlessly; I can see a hint of bitterness and pain in his eyes.

"I know who your biological father is but that's only blood, isn't it? That doesn't define you," I smile, trying to enlighten his mood with a sympathetic facial expression.

He bites his bottom lip as he lets out a little chuckle, but again, a humourless one.

"I know you have heard the rumours. Last year, everyone thought I opened the Chamber of Secrets. I'm bloody sick of them thinking they know me only because I'm the heir to the Dark Lord. They think I'm untrustworthy and will stab them in the back as soon as they turn around. And the Slytherins that are Death Eaters' children? They expect me to lead them, they want me to be the next Voldemort now that he's gone," he turns his head facing away from me for a moment, biting his lip again before sighing and looking back at me. "I just want to be normal for once, y'know."

I nod with understanding shining in my eyes. I've been through this too and I'm glad he opened up at least this much; to not become defensive at my every look and word and telling me he's had enough of the judgemental people he's had to face in his life.

I also remember last year, when people were convinced he was the one to open the chamber under the castle's basement until they'd seen and heard Harry interact with the snake summoned by Draco during the duelling lesson.

"Thank you," I say.

He looks at me, confused, "What?"

"You were honest," I smile lightly but genuinely, and to this gesture, his eyes light up a bit but I'm not sure if he's aware of that. "But you didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

A small smirk, that could have easily been missed, appears on his face, "You'll have to figure it out."

The next few days go by with only a slight difference to how it has been before. Due to the amount I have to study, I don't even seem to balance my study time and my free time and I feel like I'm going absolutely insane.

But that is not the difference I'm talking about.

The contrast is, that we always say hi to each other with Mattheo in class and when walking by each other. I know it's not much but I'm just glad we are actually going somewhere and small progress is still progress, isn't it?

Currently, I'm studying in the library, writing my essay for Astronomy class but I just don't seem to be able to force myself to concentrate anymore so I quickly decide to get some fresh air and head to the Astronomy Tower instead. And, listening to Lavender gossiping only a few tables away from me also bothered me so I am glad for a good reason to escape the four walls of the castle too.

I'm pleased to see there's no one up in the tower so I sit down with my back against a large column, and opening my books, I start to finish my essay about myths that have something to do with astronomy. For this topic, I chose the myth of how Perseus saved Andromeda and of course, the antecedents of it; how and why she got on that rock which was her parents' fault — Cassiopeia and Cepheus. Is it egocentric to tell the myth of the woman I got my name after? Those bloody Blacks and their favouritism over fucked up names!

I could've just written about Hercules and include Leo, Taurus, and Hydra. Or could've just put the main focus on Medusa. Screw it...

I get lost in my thoughts somewhere in the middle of a sentence whilst staring up at the sky with my head tilted back against the column. I am completely at ease, zoned out, so much so that I don't even notice the footsteps approaching me, only when I hear someone call my name.

"Black?" Mattheo's voice shakes me out of my thoughts as he looks down at me.

"Hiya, Mattheo," I smile up at him before he sits beside me, looking curiously at the parchment in my hand.

"Whatcha doing?"

"My essay for Astronomy. You done it already?"

"Didn't even know there was anything to do," he shrugs it off nonchalantly. "What's the topic?"

"Myths that have something to do with astronomy."

"You chose Cassiopeia, I suppose?" he looks at me softly, and I nod. I love to see how he let down his shield a little bit already. But I can't get over the fact he knows about the myth. He smiles as he notices the confused look on my face. "You got your name after her?"

"I did. Most members of 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black' have their names after objects in the sky. My cousin's got his name after Draco, the dragon. He's a year younger than us."

"Yeah, I know him. He's annoying," he nods and I chuckle at his statement.

We stay silent for a little while, processing the things said between us. My mind is racing, just as usual. Now that I think about it, I think it's unique and a great tradition to name your kids after such things as stars, galaxies, and constellations but I would've preferred a name that's not after a cruel woman like Cassiopeia; I know it wasn't her choice to sacrifice her daughter but if I were her, I'd rather jump into the mouth of the Cetus myself than doing that to my child. But still, I must agree with the fact that my name is beautiful and the meaning of it suits me pretty well; she, who chooses to excel.

"Do you know what your name means?" I ask out of thin air as I shake myself out of my thoughts.

Mattheo looks at me with a confused look on his face; I really did catch him off guard with this question. Me and my impulsivity (and my rushing thoughts), I guess.

"I-I don't know? Never thought about looking it up. Never really cared. Why?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking," I smile lightly, shaking my head, thinking about it. "Could be either the Hebrew or Italian version to the English Matthew which means 'gift of God,'" I squint my eyes slightly while thinking.

He furrows his brows slightly at my explanation and he looks up at the sky. It's becoming darker and darker outside and I can see a bright star already. Must be Sirius, judging by how we are already in February.

I then remember the rumour of Sirius Black being in Hogwarts. How would that even be possible? I mean-

"What is the meaning of your name?" he asks me after a few seconds, interrupting my train of thought.

"She, who chooses to excel," I answer without thinking. The sides of his lips curl into a little smirk.

"Fits you," is all he says. A small smile creeps upon my lips.

We don't talk much more for a long time and I go back to finish the sentence that I stopped writing in the middle, now really intending to finish the essay.

After a few minutes of simply staring at the sky, Mattheo gets up from beside me and walks to the railing, grabbing his pack of cigs. I don't even need to look up to know what he's about to do. His fag is already between his lips but doesn't seem to have a lighter on him, I assume by how he's looking into all of his pockets.

"I think it's a sign to stop damaging yourself, especially at fourteen," I comment in a rather annoyed tone. One thing I could never bear is people smoking around me. They really don't care about the consequences of it, do they?

"Live fast, die pretty," he shrugs. "Plus, I'm fifteen."

I roll my eyes with a little smirk.

"What difference does it make?" I ask but as soon as I say it out loud, a song with the same title starts playing in my head and I can't help but think "What's wrong with me when this happens?" Because it happens a lot.

"Got no light, anyway."

"You've got a wand, dumbass," I chuckle.

He rolls his eyes and pretends to be annoyed as he pulls out his wand from the pocket of his jeans. I look up at him from the bottom of the column with my almost-finished essay in hand; he's wearing a white short-sleeve with a black long-sleeve under it, blue jeans, and his black Converse. We have matching shoes, I think as I look at my feet. I can't hold back a small smile at this coincidence but I can't seem to manage to make up a good reason as to why this triggers such a reaction in me — honestly, I don't even really care.

From the corner of my eye, I sense him looking at me right after I get back to my homework. These are my very last sentences before finishing the essay, now for real, and I can't help but notice how my butt hurts by now; I've been sitting here for almost an hour by this time.

Stretching out and cracking my neck, I get up and walk up to the railing, leaning on it with my forearms next to the boy. The light wind plays with my brown hair as I look down at the water. I shift my gaze up at the sky, admiring the stars that are barely noticeable just yet.

He looks at my face and I don't look at him until I pop out the question that's been bothering me for a while now. "Do you think we have a choice on who we'll be? Like, our kind?"

"Our kind?"

I nod. "Those who come from troubled families and families with great past. Do you think we'll ever be able to just... live a normal life without people thinking we'll bring destruction?"

He thinks for a moment before answering, "I thought you said you'd shown people your family doesn't define you?"

"That's never enough," now it's my turn to let out a bitter laugh. "I could do anything to prove them wrong, they expect me to show up with a Dark Mark one day and cause people's deaths. Just because I came from a pureblood-maniac family with views that support Voldemort even after his fall, even if no Blacks have raised me, even with dancing on the edge of getting disowned, that's not enough."

"No Blacks have raised you?" he asks. I hope that's not the only thing that he caught from what I've said though.

"Dad died shortly after I was born. Grandparents dead, uncle in Azkaban. I mean... he was. Mum has raised me on her own-"

"So Sirius Black really is your uncle," he realizes before stomping on his cigarette and I nod.

"His brother was my father," I answer shortly. "People say I must've helped him escape behind my back."

"Yea, I've heard. So did you?" he asks with a sly smirk to enlighten the mood.

"Shut up, Riddle," I nudge him with my elbow with a grateful, easy laugh. It feels natural to talk to him this openly, for some reason.

"Make me, Black," he leans closer with a grin and I roll my eyes before turning my head to face the sky again. He seems like he's getting comfortable around me by the second which makes me quite... happy.

thank you for reading the first chapter! i intend to release chapters every wednesday. comment if you'd like to be tagged<3

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