#i need to hit that threshold where i hate myself enough that i can rest

[kaisollisto]

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 14

I walk through the threshold to my bedroom and let out the breath I’ve been holding since I walked off the flight field. I feel claustrophobic, stuck somewhere tight and oppressive within my own mind.

I pull my arms out of the harness belted at my waist and throw it onto the desk with a clatter as sheathed daggers hit wood.

My head is swimming, and I have to brace my hands on the chair at my desk to keep from sagging to the floor.

I suck in breath after breath, and hang my head, exhaustion permeating every inch of my body.

There’s a throbbing in my temples and I'm overwhelmed by every one of my compounding responsibilities. My people, my city, my dragon, and now my—Violet.

Just Violet.

The kiss I witnessed between Violet and Dain has me reeling. I hate the way he touched her, held her, and spoke to her like he hasn’t spent the last few months gaslighting her. Demeaning her. Using every tool in his arsenal to make her believe she couldn’t make it as a rider.

There’s a loud pounding on my door, knocking me out of my stupor, and I straighten up, reaching for the handle to open it before they resort to breaking down the door.

Impatient bastards.

Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, Quinn, Heaton, Emery, and a few others march in.

I stand in silence as they settle into the various seats in the spacious room.

“I know we’ve all had a long day, but this couldn’t wait.” I pause and close my eyes, rubbing my temples with my thumb and forefinger, gathering my thoughts.

Exhaustion has become a weight on my shoulders, growing heavier as the night drags on, but there are things that must be arranged before I can escape into the darkness of sleep.

“You all should now be aware that Violet has bonded Tairn, and this means a few things. She and I are now tied to each other in every way that matters. She has a direct line to my thoughts, should she get past my mental barriers, and the threats on her life are a danger to us both. Violet is target number one, especially as she and Tairn’s bond is so new. The unbonded will spend the coming weeks attempting to steal Tairn from her. This poses a threat to the safety of myself and my dragon.” I pause, grief hitting me as memories of that final showdown run through me.

“Nolan dying nearly killed Tairn. And If Tairn dies, Sgaeyl will follow.”

I don’t need to finish the thought for everyone to understand what happens next.

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy.

A rider without their dragon is dead.

The first, and most important part of the Rider’s Codex

There’s a beat of silence before Garrick stands from his seat, “So we protect her.” His eyes are hard, determined. There’s a glimmer of caution in his gaze too though, and I know where his mind is going.

My rapidly slipping control around Sorrengail.

At the back of the room, Imogen’s face has gone pale with panic, but she raises her chin, squaring her shoulders as she addresses me, “Tell us what we need to do, Xaden.” There’s a collective murmur of agreement as the rest of the room nod their heads.

My reliable, steadfast crew. Ready to defend this woman they hate without question in order to protect one of their own.

To protect me.

“Okay.” I breathe, swinging my desk chair around to face them and taking a seat. “Your job now is to stay close to her, make people think twice about attacking her knowing the company she keeps.”

I nod my head at Imogen, “She needs to be able to protect herself, and thus far her training is…lacking.”

She snorts, “Should be easy, especially since I’m not trying to get into her pants” Sarcasm dripping off of every word, and the crew snickers at the not so subtle jab at Aetos.

“Start her on weights,” I order and Imogen nods once. “Her body is weak at the joints. It won’t make the pain go away, but we can at least help her build enough muscle to avoid injury. Everything else can be worked around as needed. For now, your only job is to be at her back, help her learn to protect her front, and help keep me alive.”

“And what about Brennan?” Bodhi asks softly.

I lean forward and prop my forearms on my knees, lacing my fingers together as I look each of them in the eye, “None of you are to utter a single word. He does not exist as far as anyone here is concerned. He is dead and buried. You are to say nothing about the resistance, about Athebyne, any of it.” Everyone nods gravely.

“You’re dismissed,” I say, drawing the meeting to a close with a wave of my hand. “Go blow off some steam, it’s been a long day.”

I stand, opening the door and the crew file out in silence, Garrick pausing by the threshold, “I didn’t say anything to Liam–”

“Good. I’ll tell him myself; he deserves a night.” Garrick is my second for a reason. Sometimes, it feels like he lives inside my head. “We’ve got you brother.” He claps me on the back.

I nod, giving him a small smile. “I know. Now get out of here. Go sleep, or find someone pretty, whatever is going to keep you from being the grouchiest mother fucker in the morning”

He laughed and strides out.

The room is empty save for the redheaded woman sitting on my desk, hands braced on the edge, swinging her feet.

I raise my eyebrows at her, giving her an exasperated look.

“Orla.” I say simply, closing the door and twisting the lock before walking over to her.

She gives me a small lopsided smile and tilts her head, her long copper hair sliding over her shoulder. “Xaden.” Her tone is teasing but soft.

She chews on her lip, looking up at me, studying my face. “I was just going to offer my company and maybe a distraction. If you need it.” She says it matter-of-factly, a genuine offer for sex, for a bit of release from the day, and nothing else.

Orla and I were in the same squad our first-year, and while the physical attraction was instant, we mostly skirted around each other until the end of our second-year.

It’s never been anything other than sex. She more or less holds the same sentiments about love and relationships that I do. They’re messy. A fast track to getting you killed. So it’s worked, this arrangement of ours. And it's comfortable, a friendship and an intimacy without pain or fear. Pleasure and release for us both.

Orla reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, stepping in between her legs until I’m surrounded by her body.

Her thumb rubs a small circle on the back of my hand, and she tilts her head up to look up at me, our lips close enough to share breath

Fragments of the day flash through my mind. Jack charging toward Violet, sword raised. The fear as Tynan circled her, blood splattered in the grass, coating her hands. Violet and Dain hand in hand, their bodies pressed together, his mouth moving against hers

I grit my teeth against that last image of the way Dain touched her face as he kissed her, a searing rage traveling up my spine at the potential violation.

I can still see Violet’s face as I slip my hand under the thin fabric of Orla’s shirt, digging my fingers into her skin as I grasp her bare waist.

She hooks her fingers into my belt loops and pulls me closer until our bodies are flush, every one of her curves pressed against me.

I bow my head, pressing my mouth against her neck, and trail a line of kisses up the curve of her jaw.

She lets out a small sigh, and I bite down on the sensitive skin between her neck and ear, making her gasp in pain and pleasure.

We’ve been doing this for long enough that we know what the other one likes, what gets a reaction out of our bodies, and I love the sounds she makes under my teeth, my hands, my body.

I suck on her skin, soothing the sting of that bite with my tongue.

My cock hardens as she grinds against me, my hand traveling up to cup her breast, thumb stroking her nipple in a long, languid movement.

Orla’s soft moan fills the room, and my hand tightens on her waist. She arches her back, bracing her arms behind her as she stretches up to meet my lips.

Before she can pull me in I lean away from her and cup her chin, my thumb dragging across her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open. She whines, frustrated by my teasing, and I let out a soft chuckle at Orla’s increasing impatience.

This is the part I love. The anticipation and need that grows with every second we spend playing.

She opens easily for me, and I move my hand to cup the back of her neck, twining my fingers through her hair and pulling with a gentle tug, forcing her head back. She hisses, and I swallow the sound as my lips connect with hers, the kiss urgent and needy. My other hand moves to cup her ass, pulling her into me and she grinds against me, harder and my hips push into her at the sensation.

Orla’s hands are warm as they glide under my shirt, and I moan into her mouth as they travel lower, toying with the waistband of my flight leathers.

My hips roll against her palm, and she moves lower, her hand now firmly tucked into the front of my pants, and I open my mouth to say something, to murmur her name.

Violet’s name.

Without warning my body has become a live wire, short-circuiting at the name hanging on my lips, moments away from being spoken.

I release my hold on Orla and step back, breaking the kiss.

My eyes are wide with shock as they land on her face, and I look down at the floor before I can read her expression.

Fuck.

“Xaden.” I hear Orla say warily.

It feels like I’m underwater, struggling to breathe as I realize what thinking Violet’s name, wanting to call out to her in that moment, might mean.

“Hey! Riorson!” Orla snaps her fingers at me, and my eyes dart up to meet hers.

There’s something clear and bright in her face as she studies me. A kind of bald understanding that makes me flinch.

“Riorson.” Orla pauses, hands out in front of her. A person trying to calm a wild animal. “You’re okay. You’re fine alright?”

When I don’t say anything she hops off the desk and grabs my hand, squeezing softly, and there’s nothing sexual in the touch, just a kind of gentle understanding. Like she can hear the echo of the word that almost slipped from my lips.

I look down at her, clearing my throat. “Im sorry, I–”

“Don’t do that Xaden.” She shakes her head. “I’m not someone you need to apologize to. Not for this.”

She lets go of me and I run shaking hands through my hair looking up at the ceiling. It takes me a few tries to swallow the lump in my throat.

My gaze drifts back down to Orla, who’s just silently looking at me.

I press my lips together in a thin line. “I’m so fucked” I whisper, my body slumping as the weight I’ve been carrying around threatens to crush me.

I’ve always felt comfortable around Orla; she keeps things to herself, and she’s got a conviction about her that I respect. An honesty that makes me trust her in a way very few do.

Still, I’ve never spoken to her quite so frankly, never been vulnerable in this way. Never been this vulnerable with anyone.

She moves toward me and reaches up on her tiptoes to cup my face in both hands. “You are not fucked Xaden.” There’s pure honesty in her words. “Things have changed rapidly, in a way that could compromise us all, but you’re not fucked.”

“I–it’s not just that, it’s– Violet” I stumble. Gods I can’t even get a sentence out. Can’t get my thoughts together.

Orla smiles knowingly, “I know, but I don’t think we need to talk about that. You’ll figure it out”

I offer her a small, grim smile in return.

“I can stay if you don’t want to be alone. Or if you want to come with me to the flight field…I want to be with *Faireachail while it’s quiet before everything gets crazy again.”

My friends are better to me than I’ll ever deserve.

I shake my head. “No, no I need to sleep.”

She walks to the door. “Orla?” I say as her hand grabs the knob.

“Yea?” She turns to look at me.

“Thank you. You’re kinder than I deserve.”

She looks at me with a sad smile, “No I’m not Xaden.” And she walks out into the hallway, the door closing behind her with a click.

[p33paw]

broken contract

zhongli x f!reader

summary | breaking a promise to zhongli, and paying the price with spread legs (pwp, thigh riding, cockwarming, overstimulation, praise kink, sir kink, degrading kink)

warnings | nsfw

word count | ~10k

links | ao3

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

But— Beidou is only in town for the day, a short stop sandwiched between two several month long expeditions spent sailing the sea, too far away for contact. We settled to meet at the Third-Round Knockout. Her, me, a table of food, and all morning to talk before she visits the other people she cares about. We each got a single drink to toast with, then one became two, two became three, and... well...

I might be drunk in the middle of the day.

"Zhongli is going to kill me—" I groan, planting my head into my arms, leaning into the table.

I was supposed to meet with him today as well, as soon as Beidou's left. I can feel the heat on my flushed face where it connects with my skin. I'm drunk. He hates when I drink, enough that he told me to never drink before I see him.

Beidou grunts, and I hear the creak of her chair as she leans back in it.

"What's with you and that old man?" She asks, followed by the thud of her empty glass hitting the table. She calls for another round, and I groan again, tilting my head up to look at her.

"Wha'd'you mean?" I ask, pouting my lower lip out.

Beidou squints at me, then lifts her hands to gesture.

"Are you—" She holds her tongue with her teeth, a look of concentration knitting her brow. She forms her index finger and thumb on one hand into a circle, then pushes her other pointer finger out, jamming it into the circle she created. "—y'know."

As she continues to thrust her finger into the space created by her hand, the waiter approaches, dropping two new drinks in front of us. Beidou doesn't notice, but she's shot a dirty look.

I squint at her, knowing exactly what she's asking, but refusing to answer truthfully.

"No?" I sit all the way up, batting my eyelashes to antagonize her. "What are you talking about?" As I finish speaking, I lift my new drink, sipping it to keep my buzz if this is the conversation we're having.

Beidou blinks back, a delirious and gullible look in her eyes.

"Are you gonna go have sex with him?" She asks, point blank.

I choke on my drink, not expecting to hear the question. I have to take a moment to steady myself, eyes flicking up to Beidou as she crosses her arms and stares me down.

"I— I—" I blink, stumbling over my words, trying to collect my thoughts. I settle for a jab back, looking at Beidou with as much courage as I can muster. "Are you gonna go have sex with Ningguang?" I ask.

Beidou's brows tick in, a no less severe expression on her face. "Of course." She says, just as brash. "Now answer my question."

I falter, pursing my lips. Damn, I thought that would buy me more time.

"I'm—" I start, trying to look up and meet her eyes. I end up shying away from her severe stare, hiding in my drink. "Yes." I admit, no way around it. "We are... involved."

"Involved?" Asks Beidou, leaning in, "Like more than just having sex?"

I suck my lower lip in, hesitant to talk about it. This is something that happened recently, more than a month after Beidou last left Liyue Harbor. My hands instinctively come together, my fingers resting on a bracelet that was a gift from Zhongli. He called it the contract of what we have between us, the guarantee of the promises we've made each other, and the reminder than I belong to him. There's no official title, but...

"A lot more than just sex." I say.

Beidou 'oohs', leaning in even closer.

Before she can get another word out, the door to the tavern swings open with a slam. Beidou and I both crane our necks to look. Standing in the entryway, tall, elegant and beautiful, is lady Ningguang. Her eyes are locked to Beidou though, and intimidating enough that I find myself faltering.

She walks in, tailed by two guards.

"You're in trouble now—" I whisper back, trying to make myself look at small as possible.

Beidou shoots me a glare of her own, before pulling her face into a wide smile, staring at Ningguang as she approaches.

"Hey—y my beautiful flower, has anyone told you how lovely and gentle and beautiful and intelligent and—" Beidou starts, interrupted by Ningguang.

"I've been waiting for hours." Ningguang says, voice severe, barely flicking her eyes over to me. She gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment and I blink back in surprise.

Beidou squints at her. "I— told you I'd finish lunch at twelve." She says as looks over to me. "My friends are just as important to me—"

Ningguang immediately reaches to her side, pulling a pocket watch from a chain where it's fastened. She flips it open, pushing it forward, directly toward Beidou. Beidou leans in, lifting her brows as she reads the time, surprise clear in her expression.

"Now what does that say?" Ningguang asks, staring Beidou down.

Beidou swallows, eyes flicking up to stare at the other woman. "Two-oh-six." She says, lifting her drink, finishing it in a single swig, dropping the empty glass to the table, then slowly starting to stand.

Shit. I promised Zhongli I'd be done by noon, myself.

Beidou turns to me once standing, reaching a hand over to clasp my shoulder. "I'm glad to have seen you," She starts, "If my next adventure finds me dead—" She nervously glances toward Ningguang, "Know that you were my greatest friend." At that, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out and slamming down a satchel of mora that is certainly— more than enough to pay our tab. She turns, walking away from the table.

Ningguang smiles, small, watching Beidou approach her, before turning her gaze to me. "I'm sorry for interrupting—" She says, lifting her hands together, looking apologetic. "I'm sure you understand?"

I nod, giving her a reassuring smile of my own. "I had plenty of time with her." I say back, waving her off.

I lift to my feet to stand and leave as well, met with a head rush that makes me waver. I have to shoot my hands out to the table to steady myself, coming into the realization that I drank much more than I should have.

A hand darts forward, landing on my arm, holding me steady.

"Are you alright?" I hear Ningguang ask, much closer than before.

I nod, slowly blinking, trying to focus my eyes, batting her away.

"I'm fine— just a bit—" As I try to step away, I stumble, barely catching myself on another table. "—drunk." I sigh out, then look up to Beidou to glare. "I hate you." I bite out. I always try to drink as much as her, and, inevitably, end up far drunker.

Beidou gives me a toothy grin, shrugging. "Learn to hold your liquor." She says.

Still next to me, Ningguang turns to glare at Beidou, until the smile slips from her face. She looks to the side, sheepish.

"You're in no condition to get home alone." Ningguang says, lifting her hand and snapping her fingers together.

One of the two guards steps forward, at attention, walking up next to us.

"Assure that she arrives home safely." She says, voice stern, before turning back to meet my eyes again. "If you tell him where you live he'll get you home. Let me know if there are any problems." She says, then steps away before I can protest, back to Beidou's side.

Together, the two turn, walking for the exit. Beidou looks back, giving me another wave as she's ushered away, until the door swings shut behind them, and I'm alone with the guard.

"Where do you live, ma'am?" He asks.

I look up at him, feeling sheepish. I'm drunk, that doesn't mean a need a guard to walk me home.

"You can— leave me." I start. "I'm more than capable of getting home, I'm not sure why Lady Ningguang even—" I take the first step forward, lose my footing, and fall over face first, collapsing to the ground.

I groan, collecting myself and sitting up, blowing a stressed breath. Maybe it's good Beidou's only home a few days a year, she'd drink me into an early death otherwise.

The guard's hands land on me this time, helping me to stand. I let him, but once I'm up, the hands don't come off. Instead, I'm lifted up into his arms, until he's carrying me.

"Just tell me where to go." The guard starts, looking embarrassed for me. "Ma'am."

I huff a sigh with half a mind to struggle to get out of his hold— but— realize it isn't worth it. I would probably just fall on my ass if I attempted to walk anywhere, this is likely for the best.

Now, I have to consider my options. Fake sick and abandon my plans with Zhongli because I'm in no state to meet him, or—

Zhongli's address spills from my mouth, something selfish and needy rearing in my chest. I want to see him, I don't care how much trouble I'll be in once he sees my current state.

The guard nods, walking forward with me in his arms. It's foreign to exit a bar belligerently drunk and see it's still the middle of the day. The outside is busy with working people despite the clouds in the sky and the threat of rain looming above them.

I hide my face in my own shoulder, embarrassed as the guard strides forward, down the streets, deeper into the city, carrying me to where Zhongli lives. The closer we approach, the more nervous I get, mind racing at how he might react to the mistake I've made.

I really shouldn't be drunk.

My stomach twists as I spot Zhongli's home, and consider my current position. I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is— I don't need him to see me in another man's arms. I lift my hand, tapping the shoulder of the guard, signaling to be let down. The guard listens, lowering me to my feet. I have to take a second to balance myself, but finally find my bearings, walking forward to close what feels like an immeasurable distance between me and Zhongli.

I approach his threshold, but before I can knock, the door opens. Zhongli stands in the entryway, his eyes flicking between me and the guard at my back, his expression set.

"Didn't we agree you'd arrive by noon?" He asks, finally staring at just me.

I nod, then stumble toward him. He receives me in his arms, holding me tight as I bury myself in his chest. His arms feel massive as they wrap me, cradling me like I'm something fragile. I drag in an inhale, breathing in the scent of clear spring and mountain air that seems ever present on him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, softer.

I tilt my head back to look at him, and see his face is knit with concern. I nod, staring up at him through my lashes.

"I'm— f-fine." I slur out, then watch as Zhongli's brow ticks in.

There's a drop in my stomach as it happens, knowing he's become aware of what's made me late. He looks away from me, up to the guard.

"Thank you." He says, voice firm, before guiding me into his house.

"I'm sorry—" I try to start, keeping pressed to his side, my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.

Zhongli closes the door, soft, careful, before turning to look at me again.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" He asks, disappointment clear in his voice.

I nod, moving my hands against his abdomen. I keep touching, grabbing, pawing at him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, lifting my hand to his chest. "Can I make it up to you? I—"

Zhongli catches me at the wrist, holding my hands still. He sighs, then walks away without another word. I stay in place, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist, restlessness and guilt twisting my stomach, as I wait, I hear water start to run.

He reappears, walking straight for me. He lands his hands on me in silence, lifting me into his arms. I curl my fingers into his shoulder, holding tight as he carries me to the bathroom. I look around, noting that the bath is running, filling with water.

I'm carefully lowered to my feet, then Zhongli steps back, creating distance, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks right at me.

"Do you need help undressing?" He asks.

I shake my head no, stumbling over my own feet as I grab the hem of my dress, lifting it up and off. It falls to the floor with a thump. Standing in my undergarments, I can feel Zhongli's eyes on me, burning me in the way they flick across my body, studying me. I embarrass, shoving my panties down and off as quickly as I can, shedding my bra even faster, then standing nude with my arms wrapped around my core.

"It's ready for you." Zhongli says next, the sound of water flowing cut short.

I look up to meet his eyes, finding them locked to my body, searching the expanse of it. I carefully step forward, until I'm directly in front of him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, feeling small, watching as his steady gaze locks back to my face.

"It's okay." He says. "We can talk about it later."

I nod, tight, still in my own head. I almost want him to be mad, to express the upset I see clear on his face so that the guilt in my stomach settles. Instead, his words and actions are measured with restraint.

I look away from him toward the bath. It's drawn high, shimmering with soap. I lift my leg, stepping in, until I'm standing in the water. Then, I lower myself in, sinking into the warm feeling that envelops my body.

I glance back over to Zhongli, watching as he walks to the door, sheds his jacket, and hangs it. From there, he turns, walking back toward the bath, removing his gloves, unpinning his cufflinks, slipping them both into his pocket. He carefully rolls his sleeves up his forearms, one at a time.

My heart jumps to my throat as he reveals his arms, thick with muscle and defined veins like his hands, a light ghosting of hair that covers the entire limb. He kneels next to the tub, lifting a bottle of soap. He pours the soap into his hands, then pushes those hands forward, landing them on my body.

"I'm sorry." I repeat, voice as small as I can make it, searching the hard line of his unwavering expression.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, piercing in the way they look at me. He slides his soaped hand against my skin, over my chest, up to my neck. He rests there, caressing with his thumb, keeping his eyes on me.

"You reek of alcohol." He says, voice low and gentle. "Didn't you promise to never drink before seeing me?"

I duck my head, heart jumping to my throat. I nod, tight. "Yes." I breathe out, blinking down to watch my hands curl around each other underneath the water. "I'm sorry." I repeat.

Zhongli says no more, but continues to move his hands. He drags them along me with purpose, washing every square inch of my body in silence, before he's up, grabbing a toothbrush from his counter. He kneels back down, holding the brush, staring at me.

"Can you open your mouth for me?" He coaxes.

I swallow around my tongue, but do, just parting my lips.

Zhongli's free hand comes up, cupping my face. His thumb forces between my lips, pressing to my bottom row of teeth. He opens my mouth, pulling his thumb back, only to dig his fingers into my cheeks, holding my face in place. He moves forward with the toothbrush, pushing it into my mouth, watching it go in, all while I search his face.

He starts to move, brushing the caps of my teeth, moving the brush in and out of my mouth, dragging it against my lips. I find my eyes fluttering shut, embarrassment overwhelming me.

All of this is because I couldn't control myself, and now, I have to be cared for. He finishes brushing my teeth, allows me to rinse, then pulls the plug from the bath. He stands up, finds a towel, dries his hands on it, and brings it to me.

"Will you be okay on your own for a moment?" He asks, waiting until I nod in confirmation to stand up and walk away.

Once he's gone, I lift my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I wait in the bath while the water drains, consumed with upset. I just want him to kiss me the way he always does, hold me tight, and make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. Instead, I'm helpless as he picks up the pieces of me.

There's a small tremble in my core as I stand up. It's a sinking feeling that acknowledges my fault, a repeated reminder that I'm the one who fucked up and crossed the boundaries we set.

I reach for the towel that Zhongli used, dry off with it, then walk out of the bathroom. I go straight for his bedroom, finding pajamas already laid out for me on the bed. It's a top and bottom set, silken, too large, I lift the buttoned top, slipping it over my head without unbuttoning anything. The hem falls past the middle of my thigh, wearing more like a dress than anything else. I don't bother with the pants.

I poke my fingers from the oversized sleeves, curling them into the fabric at the collar of the shirt, lifting it to my face. I breathe in, finding it rich with the scent that lingers on Zhongli. I nearly buckle, eyes fluttering shut as I breathe it in, grounding myself in it.

When I open my eyes again, reality comes crashing back.

I walk out of the bedroom, eyes peeled for Zhongli. I find him in his kitchen, dropping a mixture of leaves into a pot of still water that sits on a low flame. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbow, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he uses them.

I make a noise, watching him, wishing his hands were on me. He glances back.

"You should lay down until the tea is done." He says, quiet.

Though I know it's for the best, I refuse to listen. I shake my head no, walking toward him with uncertainty.

"I don't—" I start, taking a ragged breath. "Are you angry? I don't want you to be upset with me— please, I—" I falter as Zhongli pauses his movement. "Please." I repeat, begging, breathier than last time.

Pin prick tears collect at the corners of my eyes, desperation for reassurance fueling my courage.

Finally, Zhongli turns and approaches me, his expression strained. He lands one hand on my waist, sliding it up my side. His other cups my chin, gentler than I expect, running his thumb along my bottom lip to my cheek.

"Go lay down." He repeats, his face relaxing into something kinder, more familiar. "You'll feel better if you lay down."

I whine, wrapping my arms around him tighter, hesitant to let go now that I've got some of the attention I desperately wanted.

"Do you hate me now?" I ask, voice small.

Zhongli's brows lift, his hand traveling higher to thumb the tear from my eye. He moves in closer, holding eye contact with me.

"Of course not." He says, quiet, holding my face steady to lean in and press a chaste kiss to my lips. "I am upset." He says, his breath warm against my lips, tightening his hand on my waist to pull me closer. "But we can wait to address it when you're sober." He presses another kiss.

Though the words are severe, it's a relief. I press into his lips with all of my might, digging my fingers into his shoulders, steadying myself. He can still love me the same, despite my mistakes.

Zhongli pulls back from the kiss with a soft noise, quickly turning to attend to the pot. I finally relax, moving with him, keeping myself pressed against his broad back, my arms looping his waist.

"You're too kind to me." I mumble, muffled by his shirt.

Maybe it's the drive of the alcohol, or the way his hands felt when he ran them along my body as he washed me, or maybe even just his kindness, but I find myself craving intimacy. I carefully drag my hands down his abdomen, grazing my fingers against the fabric of his shirt, until I reach his belt. There, I move carefully, working my fingers to lift the clasp, my other hand dragging down across his lap as I hold my breath.

Zhongli goes still beneath my palms. I move slower, glacially, pressing against his belt. I don't make it far before his hand covers my own, stilling my movement.

"No." He says, voice low and soft. "Not while you're drunk."

I whine, pressing against his back. "But I want to—" I pout.

Zhongli turns to face me, an unfamiliar stern look on his face. "No." He repeats, just as he lands his hands on me and lifts me into his arms.

I'm helplessly carried to his bedroom, then, unceremoniously dumped onto his bed.

"Rest until the tea is done." Zhongli says, an order, before leaning in and pressing a parting kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back when it's ready." He says, then pulls back.

I puff my cheeks out, pouting, but refrain from protest. Zhongli turns, walking back out of the room, leaving me alone. I decide to settle, admitting that he's right, I should lay down. I wrap myself in a comforter, burying my face in his pillows, and let my eyes shut. I find myself relaxing, mind filled with memories of us in this bed together, and how safe I feel here, until I slip into sleep.

***

I open my eyes, disoriented, watching Zhongli's back retreat from the room. I blink slowly, sitting up, lifting my hands to rub my eyes. I must've fallen asleep, and, I glance out a window, noting the setting sun in the sky, it must've been for hours.

I take in my surroundings, noticing that to my side is a cup of tea on a plate, billowing a soft cloud of steam. I steady myself before reaching for it, then lift it to drink. It tastes floral, minty, bright against my desensitized tongue.

I blink again, trying to focus my eyes as I recollect the events of the day. I notice a slight ache in my head, and remember the fact that I was drunk.

Embarrassment heats my face, the automatic memory of Zhongli's disappointment in me springing to the forefront. I hide in the cup of tea, willing myself to forget.

It's a useless effort.

Though, as memories come back in, I come to a conclusion: I owe Zhongli my thanks, and maybe another apology.

I tilt the cup of tea back, finishing it despite its temperature, then set the empty cup down on it's plate. I lift from bed, stumbling out to the living area, searching for what I want. I find him lounging, a book open in his hands. He hardly glances up at me, brows raised.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

I ignore the question, striding right for him. I plant a hand on his shoulder, swing my leg over his lap, then crawl on top of him, forcing my way into his hold. His arms come back together behind my back, keeping his book steady.

"Better." I finally mumble, once I'm in his lap.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I'm better." I mumble, pressing my face into his neck, taking care to breathe in a way he can feel. "Thanks to you."

Close like this, I find the same feeling from earlier, a desire for his hands on me, running along my body, the desire to be wanted. I tilt in closer, arching my spine to press our bodies flush. I land a hand on his chest, and slowly drag it down his abdomen.

"Is that so?" Zhongli asks back, voice low, breathy.

I nod into his neck. "You took care of me..." I continue, dragging my hand lower with my goal in mind, resting my fingertips against his belt. "Now I want to take care of you—" My hand ghosts lower, until I'm resting my palm flat against where his cock sits.

I only make it that far before Zhongli's hand covers mine, stopping my movement, pulling it back. I tilt my head back, looking at him with a confused pout. This is the second time he's stopped me. His face is calm, neutral other than the slight uptick in the corner of his lips, his lowered eyes flicking down my face in a controlled way.

"You can't have everything you want." He says, voice low enough my stomach tightens.

He drops my hand from his hold, lifting his own hand to brush my hair from my face. He grazes his fingers against my cheek, holding his eyes on me until I falter, tucking my chin down, embarrassment burning my skin.

He immediately catches my chin, tilting my face back up.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" He says, then sighs, pressing his thumb to my lower lip. "You disobeyed our contract, broke my trust and—" His eyes flick across my face, calculating. "—you need to be punished for it."

I swallow, retracting my hands to myself, curling them in the loose fabric of the shirt I'm wearing, unable to look at up at him. This isn't what I expected, but—

"I'm sorry." I mumble, tilting my hips to press against his lap, keeping my legs spread. "You can—"

"No." Zhongli says as his other hand drops to my hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold me in place. "What kind of discipline is that?" He asks. "Giving you exactly what you want—" He leans in toward me, until his lips hover next to mine. "Exactly what you're desperate for—" His hand slides up my side, to the bottom of my ribs. "—aren't you?"

I whine, nodding, breaking my thin restraint to roll my hips, pressing our bodies together as close as I can without him being inside of me.

"Please—" I breathe out, not above begging.

Zhongli's hands both drop to my hips, stilling my movement. He handles me with his firm grip, until I'm forced off of his lap. He moves my hips into place, sitting me down on his thigh. He holds me there, his expression relaxed as he stares me down.

"Why don't you show me? Show me how desperate you are." He says.

His leg lifts, pressing against everything bare between my legs, giving a moment of pressure. I nearly buckle, relief and arousal curling in my stomach as I finally feel him stimulate me. Then, he stops. I buck my hips, grinding myself against his thigh, chasing to find the same pressure again.

"That's it—" He coaxes out. "Just like that."

I warm under the praise, looking up at him through my lashes, continuing to move my hips, fucking myself against his clothed thigh. All I have the mind to do is roll my hips, my breaths coming out heavier, cut only by soft moans, the pressure between my legs from my movement enough to stimulate my clit.

"Such a pretty sight—" Zhongli continues, watching me. "—getting yourself off on my thigh." At that, his thigh lifts again, the pressure enough to pull another whine from my throat

His lips twitch to smile as he hears it, his thumbs hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up, just barely, not far enough to expose more than my thighs. He lifts his leg again, pressing until I gasp, clenching around his thigh with my own.

He relaxes his leg as I whimper, leaning in toward him. My hips buck, grinding at a more rapid pace, arousal burning low in my abdomen. I whine, lifting one hand to his bicep, curling my fingers around it, holding on to steady myself.

Zhongli tilts his chin back, watching me through half-lidded eyes.

"I bet you can cum just from my thigh, can't you?" He asks.

I nod, swallowing around my tongue, struggling to keep my eyes open as I roll against his thigh in a rhythm, fighting to stimulate my clit, everything between my legs dripping wet as it slides together.

"Pathetic little girl." Zhongli sighs out. "Undisciplined, so easy to make finish." He lifts a hand, sliding it up my thigh, until he's holding my waist with the shirt hitched up around his wrist.

He exposes me with the motion, his eyes turning down to watch me grind myself against his thigh with short desperate movements.

"I bet you feel good, don't you?" He asks, briefly flicking his eyes back up to my face. "Do you want something?"

I whimper, nodding, the movement of my hips losing rhythm, unevenly jerking against his thigh.

"Use your words." He says back.

"Please— please— let me cum— let me— let me cum—" I breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as I chase the pleasure.

"Not yet. Keep going." Zhongli says back. "I want to hear you keep begging... those little noises you let out when you're desperate."

I blink my eyes back open, searching his face as I nod. Though his expression remains calm, there's a flush collecting on his cheeks. And, when I look down, I see his cock is standing to attention, the fabric of his pants tight around the length. I whimper out another moan, twisting my hand in the fabric of his shirt on his bicep, changing the pace of my hips to move faster, the pleasure drawing me in.

Zhongli lets out a noise, holding my hip tighter to slow my movement. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my neck, the warmth of his mouth catching my heart in my throat as his lips continue, brushing along my jaw, until he reaches my ear.

"I can tell what you want." He says, voice low. "You always spread your legs for me, beg me to fuck you, like you deserve it." He moves in closer, nipping my earlobe. "Slow down." He demands.

I'm quick to listen, changing the movement of my hips to slow, intentional rolls, careful to stimulate everything between my legs with each movement. He lifts his leg between mine, pressuring until I whimper, arching my back to move with him.

"Such a pretty noise." Zhongli sighs out, relaxing his leg and leaning back again to watch me. "You can be such a good girl when you listen to me."

My eyes flutter shut, heat warming my chest as I bloom from the praise. I move my hips with intent, pleasure at the forefront of my mind.

"Please—" I beg again. "Let me cum, please sir—" The honorific slips off my tongue, followed by a breathless moan.

Zhongli responds with a pleased noise, his hands tensing on my hips.

"Go ahead." He finally assents. "Ruin yourself with nothing but my thigh. Let me see it."

Permission is all it takes, my entire body rocking as I roll against his thigh the final few times, crashing into an orgasm that grips my muscles tight enough I tremble.

I lift from his knee with a broken moan, tilting forward, arching my back as I succumb to my climax.

As I still tremble, coming down from the high, my breathes panted, Zhongli releases my hip, moving to press his hand between my legs. His other hand hooks into the fabric of my shirt, pulling it above my navel, displaying my body to him. His fingers slide against my pussy, eased by the collecting slick. They feel blunt, spreading me open, then—

I gasp as his fingers press to my clit. My still cum sensitive pussy flutters, gripping on air. My body is torn between pressing into it, or jerking away in over-sensitivity. My thighs twitch, abdomen held tight enough to hurt.

"Look at you." Zhongli sighs out, his eyes locked between my legs. "Such a mess just from riding my thigh— spread open like that's all you're good for." He moves his fingers, gently pressing his index and middle to circle my clit, playing with me despite the way I twitch in oversensitivity.

"You're beautiful like this." He breathes. "I can't imagine how beautiful you'll look when I'm inside of you." He says, then finally retracts his hands, landing them both on his belt as he carefully works to unbuckle and open it.

His fingers move quick, intentional, knowledgeable in the way he undoes the clasp. He doesn't go further than that, instead lifting his hand to catch my wrist, pulling it toward his lap. I whine, taking control back as my hand is guided, fumbling to push into his undergarments, wrapping my hand around his cock. He lifts his hips, helping me adjust further, until his cock is free, flushed red with blood, painfully hard, resting against his stomach, exposed.

My stomach tightens just looking at Zhongli's cock. I'm up before I realize I am, sinking to the ground on my knees, directly between his legs. He watches me with a relaxed smile, his eyes half lidded. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, steadying it as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek, helping me guide in. I push my tongue out, making contact with the head of his cock first. I lap at the slit, the taste of his skin salty on my tongue.

Zhongli's stomach twitches, his cock pulsing in my hand as I finally stimulate him back. I lower my eyes, staring only at his cock, then lean all the way in, taking him into my mouth with a soft moan.

I hear a breathy noise from above me, quiet, and force myself to take his cock deeper, feeling it throb against my tongue.

"Perfect— such a perfect girl—" Zhongli praises, running his fingers through my hair, petting me before he grips again, holding tight. "You know just how to make me feel good— so pretty with my cock down your throat—" He moans again as my mouth tightens. I fight to relax my throat, desperate to take him deeper.

I rock my hips against nothing, like I'm still sat on Zhongli's thigh, moans high in my throat vibrating around his cock. I can feel the arousal between my legs, cascading down my thighs, creating even more of a mess as I move my mouth on his cock, sloppy, focused only on making him feel good as I move my head.

I'm doing well if the constant low moans from Zhongli mean anything.

"Just like that—" He continues to praise. "So good—"

I flutter my eyes shut, forcing myself to take him into my throat again, curling my tongue along the shaft of his cock to follow a vein. His cock throbs against my tongue, his abdomen twitching above me. It lasts for only a moment before a hand lands in my hair, holding tight, pulling me off.

I look at Zhongli with a pout, noticing he looks fucked out of his mind, slowly blinking back at me. I move forward, pushing my tongue out, leaning in open mouthed, desperate for the taste of cum down my throat.

I look up at Zhongli through my lashes, begging with my eyes.

He huffs, blinking down at me. "Not yet." He says. "You don't deserve it yet."

Before I can protest, he releases me, moving his hands back to relax on his thighs.

"Up." He demands.

I nod, swallowing around my nerves, lifting back to my feet on unsteady legs. Zhongli's eyes flick down to my thighs, the slick coating them, glinting in the lowlight. His hands move toward me again, landing on my hips, tugging me closer between his legs. Once he's satisfied with my position, he lifts his hands to unbutton the shirt I'm wearing.

He does each button slowly, intentionally, revealing a new line of skin down my chest, down my stomach, following it with his eyes, until he opens the shirt, putting my body fully on display. I fight to not shy away as he drags his eyes along me, his jaw tensing in restraint.

He doesn't hold for long.

Zhongli's arms wrap my waist, pulling me even closer as he leans in, landing his lips on my stomach. His breath is hot as he drags his mouth across my abdomen, pressing a kiss when he sees fit.

I lift my arms, curling them around his shoulders to cradle his head, one of my knees lifting to rest on his thigh. He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, tight, holding me in place. He drops the other, pushing his hand back between my legs. This time, he has a goal in mind, his rough fingers sliding against the soft skin of my pussy just to wet them, before pushing them further back, until the pads of his fingers just rest at my entrance.

I pull in a sharp breath, my legs tensing in anticipation for him to finally be inside of me, even if it's just his fingers. His mouth moves again, up my ribs, to my chest, his breath hot against my breast, his tongue pushing out to lap at my nipple just as— ah.

I gasp, my body tensing as Zhongli's fingers finally push in, two sinking into me, stretching me out as he curls them up, petting my insides. He distracts me by rolling my nipple with his teeth, a pleased noise low in his throat as I react, arching toward his stimulation, melting into his control.

His fingers are slow, careful to not hurt me as he pumps them in and out of me. I flutter my pussy, gripping down, desperate to feel him deeper. I lift my hands, carding them into his hair to hold tight, still cradling his head as he moves his mouth of my breast up to my collar, scraping with his teeth.

I feel the pressure of another finger resting at my entrance and tense my thighs, already stretched tight. His lips move higher, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck as the only warning I get before the third finger pushes in, pulling a whimper from low in my throat.

Zhongli keeps his stimulation gentle, darting his tongue out to drag it up the tendon of my neck, sinking his fingers back into me, stretching me with the taper of his fingers' girth. I tug his hair tight, tight enough to pull him from my neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and look at me. His expression is dark, unsated, desire apparent. I take panted breaths, staring back down at him as I milk his fingers.

"Please—" I breathe out. "Please, sir."

It's all it takes, the corner of Zhongli's lips twitching to smile as he pulls his fingers out of me, dragging a wave of slick with them. I tilt my head down to watch as he leads that hand to his lap, wrapping it around his cock, pumping and wetting the length.

His hand on my waist drops down my hip, guiding me to turn my back to him. He holds tight, lifting and handling me until I'm spread on his lap, my knees planted to either side of his, his mouth pressed to my shoulder. He wraps my waist from behind, holding me in place to his chest.

His other hand stays on his cock, guiding to press the head of it to my pussy. He slides against me, dragging the tip through everything sensitive, before lining up with my entrance. He holds his cock steady, kissing along the length of my shoulder, to my neck, waiting with his lips pressed to my ear.

"Go ahead." He breathes out. "Take it."

I swallow, nodding, looking down my abdomen, staring at his cock where it connects with me. I lift my hands, curling them around the arm he's wrapped my waist with, digging in with my nails to hold tight as I shift my hips, sinking down on his cock. I feel his stomach tighten against my back, a jagged breath escaping his lips as I finally envelop him, lowering onto his cock until I'm resting in his lap, our bodies fully connected.

I only pause for a moment, small moans slipping from my mouth as I adjust to finally being stretched on his cock. I can't help but move, lifting my knees to bounce in his lap, fucking myself.

Zhongli's sucks in a breath once I move, sharp, tightening the hand he has on my waist to hold me in place.

"Not yet." He says, voice low, restrained. "You don't deserve it yet. Sit." He demands.

I whine, fluttering my pussy along the length of his cock, just barely shifting my hips to keep stimulated.

"Please—" I beg again, desperate to move.

"No." He says back, firm in his resolve. "I want to see how desperate you can get—" His free hand drops between my legs, sliding against my pussy to explore where I'm stretched on his cock.

"Keep begging." He sighs out, dragging his fingers to my clit, evenly pressuring.

"Please, I— ah—" I draw in a sharp breath as his mouth continues to move against my shoulder, tightening down on the skin, sucking to bruise.

I whine as he loosens his mouth, dragging his tongue along the mark to soothe it, then moves higher, sucking another.

"I—I—" I swallow around my noises, hips fighting to move as Zhongli keeps me held in place. "I want you to feel good— please—" I manage to gasp out. "Let me— let me make you feel good—"

Zhongli makes a noise, low, that rumbles his chest where it's pressed to my back. He moves his arm from my waist up, dragging his fingers into my soft skin that gives under his touch, up to my neck. He circles my neck with his hand, his palm flat to my throat. His chin hooks over my shoulder, tilting down so he can watch the muscles of my abdomen tense, his fingers still playing between my legs. The hand on my throat tightens, holding me still, until there's a fuzz in my brain, intoxicating in the way he's controlling me.

"I do feel good." He breathes out. "—watching you like this— trembling little thing—" He squeezes the sides of my throat tight, speeding his fingers to a stutter against my clit.

I whimper, entire body pulling tight enough to shake, being forced toward another orgasm quicker than I can handle.

"You can't even control yourself— all those noises— you're so reactive." He tapers off, voice low.

He slows his fingers to more intentional strokes, dragging my orgasm out of me. I shout, eyes rolling back as the feeling overtakes. I dig into his arms with my nails, shaking through it as I cum in waves. It pulses through my abdomen, making me tighten on his cock. He goes until it's too much, continuing to pet my clit even as my hips jerk, whines constant in my throat, body arching away from the stimulation in oversensitivity.

"Please— sir—" I beg again, whining as tears collect in my eyes.

"You should see yourself—" He continues speaking, unfazed despite the way his fingers finally move from my clit, dragging up to rest his palm flat to my twitching abdomen.

I swallow, fighting to open my eyes, head rolling back, thoughts fuzzy.

"I want—" I start, mumbling. "I want to make you feel good— please fuck me—" I beg.

Zhongli huffs a laugh against my back. "So," he starts, soft, "You want—" His hips adjust, his arm steadying me as he finally snaps his hips up, fucking into me once.

It pulls a guttural moan from my throat, my mentality lost as I melt in his hands.

"—this?" He asks, rocking his hips against my ass before pulling back and snapping them again.

I whimper, managing to nod despite the way my head rolls back.

"Yeah— yes—" I mewl out, completely pliant in his hands.

Zhongli hums in consideration, tightening his grip on my hips to hold me still, then finally fucks himself into me, rolling his hips in a rhythm. The room fills with the sound of our skin connecting, my wanton moans a constant that he meets with heavy breaths of his own, unwavering as he fucks himself up into my lax body.

His endurance might be the death of me, his thrusts never stopping as I bounce in his lap from the force he's using to fuck into me, nearly just along for the ride, holding on tight.

I try to last, but don't make it long before the threat of an orgasm builds again, low in my abdomen.

"I'm—" I whimper out, thighs tensing where they bracket him, before crashing into another orgasm.

It rips through my body, hard enough to hurt, every muscle feeling exhausted, weak. Zhongli's hips never slow. Instead, he fucks into me harder, even as I feel myself cry out, face wet from tears and saliva, digging my nails into his arm deep enough to draw blood.

"Please— please— Zhongli—" I whine, tapping his arm, begging for a moment of mercy.

"Pathetic." Zhongli sighs out from behind me, though, he slows his hips to a stop, holding my stomach as I fight to catch my breath.

I try to relax, fluttering around the length of his cock buried inside of me. I realize, sitting down, his lap is soaked. I must have—

"What a messy thing." Zhongli observes first, rocking his hips against me.

"I'm sorry." I whimper out, flexing my numb fingers, trying to get a handle on myself. "I keep— I— it hurts— it's— I'm sorry."

"We can stop." He says, voice finally soft. "If that's what you want."

I'm quick to shake my head, refusing to finish until he's cum, until I've pleased him. I lift my own hips, fighting the ache in my thighs to ride, rolling back into his lap.

Zhongli hums, pleased, pressing his lips to my shoulder. "Good girl." He breathes out. "That's why you're mine."

I nod, moans high, whined, fighting my own body to ride his cock. I move in rough, jerky motions, lifting as far out of his lap as I can manage, sure to drag the full length of his cock out until the head catches my entrance, then sink back down.

I'm encouraged by the noises that start to slip from Zhongli, low, exhaled moans that come in tandem with each bounce. I steady myself, arching my back to ride with as much fervor as I can muster, colliding with his lap as I bounce.

Zhongli's hands begin to tense, his moans more frequent, his stomach tight against my back. It's almost a relief when his hips snap up, colliding into my movement, his cock jerking to flood warmth low in my belly as he exhales a shuddered moan against my shoulder, throbbing inside of me.

Shaking, I lift to my knees, only for Zhongli to pull me right back into place.

"I'm not done with you." He says, voice steady. "You're staying right here. I'll use you again when I feel like it."

I whimper, nodding. I can feel myself throbbing, milking his cock that remains buried inside of me, the mess between us growing.

Zhongli settles back, one arm still looping my waist, the other reaching to his side, lifting the book he was reading earlier.

It's humiliating, crumbling back to lean into his chest, eyes barely staying open, watching as he occupies himself by reading, all while his softening cock is buried inside of me, twitching every time I clench. Though, the break is needed, pain from oversensitivity fading.

He doesn't let me rest much, occasionally pausing only to fuck up into me, his cock growing increasingly hard as the time ticks on, until he's fully erect, rocking against me again. Though, he doesn't seem to react to it, instead continuing to read even as he tilts his hips hard enough noises slip from my throat.

Zhongli holds, unmoving, unwavering, keeping me split open on his cock until I'm throbbing, arousal low in my abdomen demanding I be fucked again. I squirm in his lap, clenching down, desperate for him to react, hold my hips, take what's his.

Instead, he reads his book like he doesn't feel it, feel me pulsing around his cock buried inside of me, cum and slick dripping from my thighs, my stomach warm where he's filled me.

Every movement becomes torture, every breath forcing his cock to move inside of me, teasing in the way it drags along everything sensitive. He continues to let his hips twitch, fucking his cock up into me with no real intent other than to make me whimper.

I only make it so long before I break, tilting my own hips, carefully lifting my knees to bounce in his lap in short, careful motions.

Zhongli notices.

"Did I give you permission?" He asks, voice low, freezing me in place.

I whine, shaking my head.

"N-no—" I mumble out.

Zhongli sighs, lifting his hands, slowly, carefully marking his page and setting the book down. His arm wraps my legs under my knees, lifting and holding them to my chest. His other wraps my waist, holding me in place, then, he stands, still inside of me, carrying me to his bedroom.

He releases me onto his bed on my stomach, keeping his cock locked inside. He presses a hand to the center of my upper back, holding me in place, then finally shifts his hips, pulling his cock out. I whine, clenching on air, feeling the cum-slick mixture pulse from my abused pussy, drooling out, across my clit and out onto the sheets.

Zhongli lets out a low noise at the sight, pressing his hand firmly against my back, before finally stepping away.

I whine once out of contact with him, shifting to flip to my back, look at him carefully slipping out of his clothes. He peels them off, layer by layer, until he's nude, then finally comes back to pay me attention. I lift my knees, keeping my thighs held together, watching as he watches me.

"You need to learn to obey me—" He sighs as he approaches, landing his hands on my thighs, pulling them apart. "You can't get out of trouble just by spreading your legs open and being my whore, no matter how much favor it wins you."

He digs into the soft flesh with his fingers, glancing down between my legs as he slots his cock against my pussy, sliding against it. His fingers hook into the shirt I still have on, roughly jerking the fabric to tear it off my body, until we're both nude.

Zhongli's hips roll, dragging his cock along everything sensitive while he stares at me, a mess in his sheets, twisting my hands and panting, begging for more.

"No one wants a disobedient girl—" He sighs out, shifting his hands up to my hips and holding on tight. He tugs, dragging me down the sheets until my ass hangs over the edge of his bed. He stands between my thighs, leaning in toward me, holding my spread legs upright.

"I'm— sorry—" I choke out again. "I'm sorry, sir."

Zhongli inhales, slow, restrained, staring down at my face. He shifts his hips back, until just the tip of his cock is pressed to me. He moves his hand until he can wrap the base, guiding it lower between my legs until the head rests just at my entrance.

"Beg." He says, low.

I whimper, nodding, a repeated 'please' spilling from my mouth like breath. I rock my hips, feeling the head of his cock catch as it slides against my pussy, desperation taking over the way I lift my hips, until I'm begging with my body, too.

Zhongli slips into a pleased smile, watching me break beneath him, until his hands tighten on my body again, holding me in place.

"You're such a good girl when you listen." He praises, then finally shifts in, pushing his cock inside of me.

I gasp as I feel him enter, eyes rolling back, scrambling to wrap his hips with my legs. My hands lift to my chest, curling there.

I brace as Zhongli drags his cock out, just in time for him to snap his hips forward, fucking into me hard enough I drag up the sheets. There's no mercy in his pace, the snap of his hips rough, colliding into me as he grips my thighs, trying to hold me in place.

I moan with each thrust, pulsing in tandem with the drag of his cock inside of me. I know I look like a mess, but I'm not present enough to care, instead focused on panting through my breaths as he fucks himself into me, the sound of our skin connecting filling the room.

The drag of his cock is perfect, stimulating everything inside of me, keeping me stretched open. I keep moaning, desperate, held tilted back, barely present enough to watch Zhongli fuck himself into me through my lashes.

I have to tilt my chin back, guttural moans carving my throat, entire body pulling tight as Zhongli fucks me like it's nothing. An ache starts in my core, forcing me to grip harder on his cock. It's a familiar tension in my muscles, dragging me closer to an orgasm, his cock pounding against every sensitive spot.

"I'm— I can't—" I sigh out, turning my face into my shoulder through my whimpered moans.

"Already?" Zhongli asks, never slowing the roll of his hips. "Pathetic mewling thing—" He moans himself, guiding his hand to wrap my throat, loosely holding it, digging his other hand into my thigh.

I whimper through my moan, too embarrassed to look at him, the roll of an orgasm building low in my stomach, close enough to hurt.

"I'm—" I manage to whimper out, before cascading into an orgasm, pussy fluttering around the length of Zhongli's cock.

"So quick." He chastises, seemingly unaffected.

I can feel my body trembling with the effort, it takes to be fucked, constant mewled moans spilling from my throat. I feel messy, used, my hands curling against my chest as he continues to fuck into me. The drag of his cock overstimulates, my cum sensitive pussy making me desperate enough that my thighs fight to close, preserve what's between them.

Zhongli refuses it, dropping both hands to hold my thighs tight, keeping me spread.

"No." He chastises, breathless. "You'll take it until I'm done."

I mewl out, desperate, darting both of my hands down to hold his forearms, digging in with my nails, jerking my hips as his movement never stops.

"Please—" I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for at this point, shaking with the effort, head rolling back on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir— please— please— it hurts— I'm sorry—"

I look up to Zhongli, pleading with my eyes. It takes a moment, but his expression finally softens, his thrusts slowing until he's resting with his hips flush to my ass, I continue to tremble, clenching around his paused cock. I jump as his hand connects to my chest, his rough skin tenderly dragging down my ribs and abdomen.

He goes to my own hands, prying them from his arms, lifting them until they're above my head. He slots his hand against mine, threading our fingers together, squeezing tight. The motion grounds me, preparing me for when hips rock, gently stimulating me with his cock again.

"You can do it." Zhongli sighs out, rocking himself into me, carefully moving his hips. "Just keep taking my cock like my good girl." He squeezes my hand with his as he talks, tilting his hips back to drag the full length of his cock out of me before fucking it back in.

"You're perfect—" He praises, even as my eyes roll back, "Such a— such a good girl."

I warm under the praise, blinking up at Zhongli as I come back to my body, stretched open on his cock.

"I'm—" I mumble out, disoriented.

He holds me tighter, leaning in to catch my lips. He exhales against them before we meet, kissing me with an even pressure. I arch into it, heart thumping as I warm from the affection.

Zhongli pulls back, hovering his lips next to mine as he speaks.

"You can do it—" He breathes out. "That's my girl."

I tilt my head back, eyes fluttering shut as I relax against the mattress. The drag of his cock in and out of me continues, gentler than before. He rolls his hips against me, breathy moans of his own escaping, a relaxed look on his face.

Zhongli squeezes my hand tight, a grounding motion, before his hips speed, chasing. I lift my shaking legs, wrapping his hips and holding on for the ride, my lax body dragging up the sheets, until, finally, his thrusts lose rhythm again, stuttered movement matching the moaned noises from low in his throat. I watch his face, until his expression breaks, the surrender of ecstasy taking over. There's a catch in his breath, noises low in his throat all warning whats to come.

I flutter around his pulsing cock as it finally jerks, flooding my stomach, his hand holding mine tight enough to hurt.

He watches my face as he cums, looking relaxed, before coming down, meeting my lips with his hips resting flush to my ass. I'm kissed hard enough my head tilts back into the sheets, trembling body otherwise pliant in his hands. He handles me up the bed, to the center, carefully to stay inside of me. I sigh as he relaxes, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, coming down from the high as our bodies continue to rock together, no real chase for pleasure in the movement, just a desire for closeness.

"I'm proud—" Zhongli starts, pressing another kiss to my lips. "—so proud to call you mine."

I muster just enough energy to smile, lifting my hands to thread them into his hair and hold him against my lips a moment longer, before I fully collapse, exhausted.

Looking up at Zhongli, wrapped in his arms, I watch his face soften. The severity of his expression eases, tension melting from him, until he finally seems relaxed.

"I'm sorry." I mumble again, quiet. "I'm sorry for breaking the contract."

Zhongli smiles, soft, bringing a hand up to cup my face, running his thumb along my cheek.

"I forgive you." He says. "It was a mistake."

His hand lifts from my face, grabbing one of my hands at the wrist. He places it above my head, curling his fingers around the bracelet he gave me to signal our bond.

"If you choose to do it again... I won't hesitate to remind you that you belong to me." He says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips.

I nod, eyes barely open, body sinking into the exhaustion that envelops it, finally feeling settled with the spoken forgiveness.

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

—but, if it means getting punished like this...

I might repeat the mistake.

[shorkbrian]

Cottgecore

Prelude - This is all @dearestdynamight ‘s fault okay I take no responsibility for the horny..... or do I? aha Sorry I said I’d write a drabble but it turned into a one shot whoops

Pairing - Yandere Bakugou Katsuki X Fem Reader

Warnings - NSFW, noncon, predator/prey dynamics, unsafe sex, 

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/3R8PKPTPgHApBhCt3NUJ0q?si=uLON1Rw_RHaEpH2WaCfYBA (This music has a great runnin tempo/ it made me think of heartbeats skippin like outta fear so)

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

“Alright-” Bakugou has you by the arm, dragging you past the threshold of the cabin he keeps you in.

You’re scared. Sometimes he lets you outside, to feel the sunshine and the nice breeze, to go for a walk down to the creek, hiding his smile as you gawk at all the pretty flowers.

But he seems... agitated today. Restless.

“-Here’s how this is gonna go.” He shoves you down the front steps, and you barely catch yourself from falling, turning to look at the blonde while he sits himself down on the top step, legs stretching out. “I’ll give you hm, five minutes -  got that? You got five minutes to fuckin’ run, and then I let myself loose.”

“Wh-what?” You’re not understanding, hands anxiously twisting at each other. There’s a predatory look in Bakugou’s eyes.

“We’re gonna play tag. I’m fuckin’ bored and I wanna get a nice little workout in. Chasing your pretty little ass through the forest should be enough to get my blood pumping.” Is his simple explanation.

He’s letting you run?

You don’t dare to hope for a second that you’ll actually be able to get away, escape from the monster of a man that’s lounging on the steps in front of you. 

He’s hurt you, abused you, kept you locked away from society, far enough that no one’s able to hear when you scream every time Bakugou fucks you.  

“I..... I don’t want to play.” Your bottom lip quivers, but you can’t tell if you’re going to cry out of frustration or nervousness. You can’t believe that you’re nothing more than a toy to Bakugou, something he can play with when he’s bored, keep tucked away in the dark when he has better things to do.

Bakugou leans back, rests on an elbow, lets his crimson eyes rake up your form before they reach your gaze. “Yeah? You don’t wanna play? Is that cause you know you’ll fuckin’ lose? I bet you’ll cry like a little bitch when I catch you.”

There’s nothing that you want to say to him. He’s trying to egg you on, but you won’t fall for his mean tricks.

“Fucking fine.” He shifts, smug smile appearing. “Time starts now. I don’t care if you don’t run, but know that I don’t have any qualms about fuckin’ you right here after your five minutes are up.” His gaze his burning into you.

At least if you run, you won’t just be sitting here, waiting as Katsuki counts down the minutes.

You take off, down towards the creek behind the cabin, grateful that Bakugou let you keep your sneakers when he had first dragged you here, all those months ago.

They’re practically falling apart, squishing through the mud by the creek, and you almost lose your footing, scrambling to right yourself, splash across to the other side.

It doesn’t matter that your shoes are all wet now, that the bottom of your dress is dripping. Truthfully, you hate the dresses Katsuki brings home for you to wear. Hate that they’re clothes you’d love under normal circumstances, flowy dresses and cute patterns, fitting in so nicely to a cottage core aesthetic.

Branches snap underfoot as you crash through the brush, panting, focused on one thing and one thing only; getting as far away as you could, as fast as you can.

You don’t want to think about what’s going to happen when if Katsuki catches you, this twisted little game of tag he wants to play. You want to scream, this isn’t even how you play tag, he’s just using it as an excuse to hunt you down, to take pleasure out of your fear.

Moving too close to a tree had you yelping as your shoulder collided, the rough bark scratching up your skin, tearing your dress. No matter, you just needed to keep going, keep running, keep moving.

It was starting to hurt to breathe, lifting your legs was tiring, burning. You’d never been much of a runner, and being kept under lock and key at Bakugou’s cabin hadn’t exactly done wonders for your endurance.

You found yourself cursing that fact as a loud shout rang through the forest, words indiscernible. But you knew it was the blonde, could recognize raspy, manic voice that comprised the shout.

Five minutes was up.

Wheezing now, you pushed on. You briefly considered hiding, but quickly discarded that idea. Bakugou could track you, and you didn’t have enough time. You would have to worry that he’d be even rougher when if he caught you, hiding instead of running like he had wanted.

No time to rest, but you wanted to, lungs burning. You had a stitch in your side, your shoulder hurt from scraping against the tree, and your mouth was dry, throat parched.

It wasn’t long before you began to hear noises behind you, brush crashing, branches snapping, pleased laughter. You knew Bakugou was toying with you, knew that he could track you silently if he so chose. But no, he wanted you to know that he was coming, chasing you down, relentless.

It hurt to push your legs faster, muscles fatigued, cramping. Your left calf seized up, and you held in a shriek, pleading, begging your body to keep moving as you limped on, hurriedly dragging your cramping leg, refusing to stop.

“Keep on runnin’, I’ve almost fucking got you!” Bakugou crowed, and you spared a glance behind you, thankfully seeing nothing but an empty forest behind you. It meant you still had time.

But not enough time.

With a start, you realized the noises behind you had stopped, which meant that Katsuki was beginning to actually hunt, silent and ruthless.

You don’t know where he is now, nothing left to do but urge your body forward still, exhausted and terrified.

Then a weight’s pushing against your back, and you’re hitting the dirt, tackled by Bakugou, pinned down.

“I knew I’d fuckin’ get you.” He whispers to you, breath coming out in proud, ragged pants.

You whimper into the dirt, body already aching, your own breath knocked completely out of your chest because of the way the male had tackled you. You hurt all over, and now you were dirty, and Bakugou wouldn’t get off.

“Goddamn, you gave me a run for my money there. Didn’t think you’d be that fuckin’ fast, Jesus Christ.” You can tell he’s almost proud of you, proud of his ability to choose a partner.

He pushes his weight off of you, rising to his knees, and you quickly try to follow him, not fond of being splayed out on the ground underneath him.

But Bakugou doesn’t let you get far.

You’ve gathered your legs underneath you, pushing up off the ground, but the man curls a hand around your hip, the other gripping at your uninjured shoulder. You don’t even have time to draw in a breath to ask him what he was doing before he’s shoving your face back in the dirt, lifting your hips.

“Bakugou, wait!” You screeched, hands fumbling backwards as you try to grab at him, push him off you.

The man just laughs, loud and rough, shuffles closer so he can push his crotch against your ass, let you feel the sizable bulge he’s sporting. “What’s wrong princess? I won fair n’d square, now let me take my fuckin’ prize.”

A part of you knew, knew that this is how things would end. But you had wanted to believe, had hoped that it’d be different. 

“Please, wait, not here-not out here.” You choked, feeling him shift the fabric of your dress up over your ass, just enough so that he could tug at the fabric of your panties, snap the edges against your skin.

“N’d why the fuck not? ‘S not like anybody’ll hear you when you start screamin’.” The reality behind his words made your stomach curl, legs trembling as Katsuki snickered.

“Look at you, shakin’ like a scared little deer.”

Your panties get tugged down to your knees, and you hear the slight squish of Bakugou gathering his saliva in his mouth seconds before you hear him spit, seconds before you feel the glob of wet land on one of your cheeks.

Fingers swipe through the mess, before trailing down to your pussy, spreading Bakugou’s spit against your folds.

He apparently isn’t satisfied with that though, because you can feel him shifting, right before he grips a cheek in each hand and spreads you wide, pulls your hips backwards at the same time so you’re angled just right.

Just right for his spit to land directly on your cunt this time.

“S-stop it, please-” You shudder, giving up on trying to push him off. It’s never worked for you in the past, and you’re tired from running, sweaty body yearning to go limp.

A finger enters you, too soon, with not enough spit to ease its way. You yelp at the burning stretch, but Bakugou snarls at you too shut up, take what he’s given’ you as he slaps your ass.

You can feel the burn of his gaze as he watches your flesh jiggle from the force of his slap. 

He works fast, doesn’t have enough patience to go slow, to open you up properly for him. The mans riled up from the chase, full of adrenaline that has no where to go, and he wants to hammer away at your little body until you break. Bakugou knows he can build you back up again when you do.

It’s alarming when you feel fingers pull free, feel the hot, spongy head of a dick pressing up against your entrance. You aren’t ready, nowhere near wet enough. “Bakugou-Bakugou wait, wait! Bakug-oh!!” The scream that leaves your mouth is loud enough to startle birds, cause them to rise from their resting places in the trees.

Bakugou laughs a little at that, the sound quickly tapering off into a groan as he works his cock deeper into you, wiggling his hips from side to side so he can fully seat himself into your cunt, balls snug up against your clit.

“Yeah, go ahead and scream princess, lemme hear you.” He encourages, pulling out just an inch or two so he can slam back in, hear you sob, watch your shoulder shake. with each heaving breath.

He’s fucking you into the dirt like an animal, feral and uncontrolled, wild. You barely have the coordination to try and protect your face with your forearms, keep your sensitive skin from being scraped raw on the ground.

You can’t protect your knees though, or the places that Katsuki holds you from, his grip too tight, blunt nails pressing so deep into your flesh that they draw blood, the pressure biting.

It’s impossible to hold back your noises, tearful, fearful screams reverberating into the forest, choked off as you’re rocked back and forth by vicious thrusts.

The man moves easily, fucks you with the strength of a stallion, growling out your name, letting out throaty groans as he chases his release.

And it hurts, so much, your body battered and becoming scratched and bruised; it hurts so much. Until heat pools in your gut, Katsuki hitting a special spot inside you. It makes your toes curl in your sneakers, has the slide of his cock going just a bit easier as you get that much wetter.

“Unh, n-no-ooh, please, ah! Please, ohh, Bak-Bakug-” You can’t even finish your sentence, not with the blonde reaching around, hand creeping across your stomach, down to where his balls keep smacking against your skin so he can rub tight little circles around your clit.

“Fuck-fuck yeah princess, there we go. Feelin’ good now? Shit, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight.”

You hated his voice, hated how deep and raspy it was, how his gruff moans of pleasure made your stomach jolt with arousal.

“You tryin’ t’ milk my cock or somethin’? You want my cum that fucking bad?” The man pounding you into the dirt laughed, changing his posture so that he was curled over you, chest pressed to your back.

His hips rabbited into you, and you sobbed freely at the sensation, at his horrible fingers that wouldn’t stop drawing shapes on your little clit, making you feel hot and too close to cumming.

“No, no, no-” You whimpered, trying to hold back your orgasm, but it was too little, too late.

Bakugou’s hips stuttered as you gushed around his cock, barely managing three more full thrusts before burying himself deep, cock twitching inside of you, spurting out his warm cum.

Disgusting.

You were too tired, too spent to care how long the two of you spent on the ground, regaining your breath.

When Bakugou peeled himself away from your body, soft cock slipping easily from your warmth, you couldn’t help but cringe at the wetness that spilled against your thigh, no longer plugged in your cunt.

“That was real fucking good.”

Yeah, maybe for him.

Your panties were pulled back up, Bakugou smoothing them down before flipping your dress back into place as he rose to his feet.

He urged you up, supporting most of your weight as he easily tugged you upright. “Knew you’d be too much of a baby to walk back.” He grouched as your knees trembled, almost sending you crashing back to the ground if not for his firm arm around your waist, holding you up.

The next second, you were being lifted into the air, easily swung up into Katsuki’s arms, carried bridal style.

You felt his eyes on you, scanning over your face, your arms, your legs. Cataloging the various scratches and bruises marring your form. “You look like shit.”

You didn’t have a smart retort, just rested your head against his chest, grateful that he wasn’t making you walk, legs weak and jelly-like.

Your throat hurt from screaming.

Bakugou took you home, back to his cabin, to the cottage core life that you’d think was perfect... if only he wasn’t in it.

[forsakenmis]

Calming her down

Title: Calming her down Pairing: top!Wanda Maximoff x female!reader Rating: 18+ Incredibly NSFW Warnings: Dark Wanda, kind of non-con, strap on, fingering, mummy kink, post-WV finale so spoilers if you haven’t seen it. also i haven’t editted it so beware grammar and spelling mistakes. Word count:  4215 words

It had taken far too long to track her down. Why they asked you to do it, you weren’t really sure. It’s not as if you and Wanda ever really talked, or even made eye contact, during the years as an avenger. Yet you were given the task of pulling her back onto the rails, rails she’s apparently veered pretty badly. You really think Doctor Strange, the Gandalf of wizards, would be a lot better at handling her than you would be. Or even Clint, the guy who was her mentor. But no-no one wanted to reach out to her, even though they spent years arguing that she needed to be supervised. You could go on for days how you being the person being sent is the most ridiculous idea they could have had.

You weren’t even a super, or an avenger, you started off as a shield agent who was then thrown into Stark Industries as Tony’s intern. Fury wanted an in and you were that in. Then everything went bottoms up and you became a slightly more valuable member of the group. Support, really.

After the snap, you just wanted a stable life. A normal life. By the time they contacted you to do this, you’d applied to a college. No, a university. In Australia, which was far, far away from New York. The briefing was simple. Wanda, left to her own devices in her time of need, went to try to handle her own grief after stealing Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. You were being asked to go try to talk some sense into her. Then, within the week of you repeatedly saying no, it turned out the head of S.W.O.R.D. was a bastard which you could have seen coming from a mile away, and Wanda was god knows where.

They promised you they’d leave you alone after this.

So you said yes.

What could go wrong?

You were still asking herself that three weeks later when you were sitting there still trying to find out where exactly she went. Wanda wasn’t going to be easy to find, especially considering she didn’t want to be found but you did it. It was four in the morning when you finally narrowed down a list of ten possible locations that she could be in. You were too tired to even crack a smile, you fell back onto your bed to sleep.

Your celebration was sleep for by the next morning, you were trekking across the world and came to the outskirts of a property with the view of the mountains. Pretty, sure, but you didn’t think Wanda was here for the view.

It was eerily quiet when you walked up to the door. That type of quiet they put into horror movies before they pulled out a jump scare. You didn’t trust it. Then again-not that there was anything around to make noise. Wanda could be asleep, as maybe all this isolation has meant she’s forsaken a body clock.

Still-you trusted it as much as you could lift Mjollnir and you couldn’t even make it shift.

The curtains were closed, you couldn’t see anything as you walked up the two steps and you had to stop your hand from hovering over your handgun. It would have been more of a self assurance. You couldn’t dream of winning against Wanda in a fight, both of you would be aware of that, but you couldn’t exactly imagine she’d be that trusting of you if you walked in holding a gun. So you fiddled with the watch around your wrist, it was a gift from Tony years ago.

You could have brought reinforcement, sure, but that seemed like a moot point considering you were trying to gain her trust, somewhat. The reinforcement would have been S.W.O-oh whatever, sword, you don’t have the time for formality. And sword made such a huge mess of it the first time round so you didn’t think they were going to help this time round. You tried calling Clint, but he was busy, apparently. Too busy to pick up your calls.

This was definitely a suicide mission.

You knocked three times with the back of your knuckles and listened, trying to hear any hint of movement.

Nothing.

You knocked again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Not even a creak.

Maybe she was asleep or maybe, dare you say it, had gotten it wrong. God, you’d hate for some old man to swing the door open.

Your hand dropped to the handle, going to test the lock, but then it swung open and if it wasn’t for your own instincts, you would have stumbled forward.

Wanda.

Your eyes slammed onto her face and, for the first time in years, you fumbled. She looked different, way too different for your liking, she looked older since Tony’s funeral. Mature. More confident in herself. You could think of a different million ways to describe her in that split second.

She’d always been pretty before but this Wanda was…gorgeous. This Wanda could also read minds.

You cut your thoughts short and took in a slight breath. Wanda wasn’t saying anything and her only acknowledgement was the slight hook of her brow.

“Wanda,” you began before forcing a smile onto yourself, “long time no see.”

“So they sent you, of all people,” Wanda remarked and you made a face. Sure-she was right but that was, quite frankly, rude.

“They suggested I come and I wanted to come,” you lied, “to see how you were doing...okay, look, I know we never talked. Or interacted. I know that. I was probably not the most open to you as I could have been.” Wanda was continuing to stare at you. She was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. A shirt that arguably was one size too small for her. You weren’t really sure what to say, if you were honest, you’d spent so much time trying to find her, tracking her down like a puzzle, that you forgot to plan for this interaction.

“But I like to think we were on good terms,” you continued. Worst thing she could do was close the door in your face and you were more than happy to camp outside. “Enough that you’ll hear me out. I heard about your book, the darkhold–” That’s when you got a reaction out of her. Her eyes narrowed, growing even colder, and you could see her grip tightening on the door. “–we need to talk. Please-just let me in. I’m not going to fight you. We both know I can’t do that.”

You were keeping your thoughts clear. You didn’t want her reading you.

After a second, Wanda swung the door open wider and let you in.  

Your eyes scanned the room the moment you entered the threshold, looking for all the exits, before you turned back to Wanda. Wanda, who had closed the door, and had started walking towards you, close enough that you took a step back but found yourself hitting the back of a table.

Now that she was right up in your personal space, close enough that you could smell the soap she was using. Your heart was beating now.

“So you came for the book?” She asked, staring down at you. She was only a couple of inches taller than you but it may as well have been more.

“No, I came here to help you. And I know that book isn’t helping you, no matter how much you think it is. Wanda, that book is dangerous,” you said, gaining enough courage that you pushed yourself off the table to step forward, getting into Wanda’s space just as she was in yours.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wanda remarked but she didn’t move. “You’re as bullheaded as you used to be, never knowing when a fight was too big for you. I remember all those times Nat and Steve had to throw themselves on the line because you’d done something reckless.” “That’s rich coming from you.” “I could protect myself,” Wanda snapped back. “So where are they? The rest of them. The people that said they were my family. Were you all that they had?”

You clenched your teeth. Don’t say the truth. “They wanted a woman’s touch with it,” you lied. “There isn’t that many of us who were close to you back then anymore.”

It was really only Nat and maybe Pepper who were close to Wanda. Both were a little preoccupied as of right now (for different reasons) to come knocking on Wanda’s door.

“A woman’s touch?” Wanda echoed, saying it in a way that made you clench your teeth. It was a raspy whisper. “And what, may I ask, would that entail?”

With the way she said it, you were pretty sure that Wanda wasn’t meaning it in the same way you were. Albeit, your meaning was rather off as well. In that you had no idea what that would entail either.

Wanda must have realised this and took a step back. “I suggest you leave,” she said and you hesitated before shaking your head.

“I won’t do that,” you said and she frowned. “They asked me to calm you down–”

“Calm me down?” She repeated, pronouncing each syllable, and it was as if the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Calm me down.” Then she smirked and it made you roll back on your heels.

“As long as you have that book, yes,” you said, “how about this–I take the book and then I go. You’ll think more rational without it, Maximoff, you know that. Deep down. You’re smart, Wanda, smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for. Besides Vision–”

“Don’t say his name,” Wanda snarled and suddenly she was in front of you again, hand around your throat, “do you understand me? He doesn’t exist here, not with you around.”

You didn’t really know what she meant but you ran with it and nodded. Her hand was tight and your airway was becoming a little too blocked for your liking.

She stared down at you, her eyes hard and cold, but then they softened and her grip loosened but they still didn’t leave your skin.

“You know, I might have pursued you back then, if it wasn’t for him,” Wanda began and you blinked. What? “You were everything I liked in a girl. Besides your recklessness….and stubbornness...but I think I can deal with that pretty easily.”

“Wanda, I’m flattered, really, but how about we focus,” you said, carefully, deciding to take that with a grain of salt and then over analyse it at three in the morning. Like how could you be cock blocked by a bloody robot? “Just give me the book and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you–” “You can’t promise me that,” Wanda remarked before she dropped her hand to take a step back. Then she looked you up and down. “You said they wanted you to calm me down, right? How about I keep both you and the book.”

You would like to say you were able to fight back. Prevent Wanda from knocking you out. But you were gone by the time she finished her sentence.

----

When light streamed into your eyes, the first thing you registered was the soft pillow underneath your head. Then you felt the rest of the bed and your eyes sprung open.

Your legs were bent up and out, Wanda’s red mist wrapped around your ankles and knees to keep them up. Meanwhile, your wrists were stuck to the headboard. Then your eyes rested on….Wanda?

Transparent Wanda reading that bloody book. You swear to god-you’ll burn that book the moment you get your hands–

“You’ll do no such thing,” Wanda’s voice cut through your apparently rather loud thoughts. You turned your head, trying to find her, and there she was in the doorway, sipping a cup of tea, watching you. Then she kicked off it and moved into the room and slid the mug onto a table before coming to the bed. “Maybe I’ll let you hold it one day as I read it.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand, Wanda, let me go,” you whispered as you began to struggle, pulling on the restraints again and again, but they weren’t budging. Neither was Wanda.

“I don’t think I want to,” Wanda hummed as she pushed herself onto the bed, “you see, I lost everything. My brother, Vision, Nat, Steve, my two boys, then Vision again. I lose every single family I ever have. Maybe this time I’ll succeed. I’m trying to find them, you see, with the book. Find them and pull them out. We can live here, happy, away from everyone.”

“We’ve done this story before Wanda, it didn’t–” “This time will be different, I’ll be more powerful, I won’t mess up this time,” Wanda pressed as her hands went to your inner thighs, moving them up and down your clothed skin. “And, when it comes to you, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I don’t think I’ll let them see you. No, you can be my little secret. I stared at you for too many years, let you whore yourself out to other people. Not anymore.”

You drew your brows together. This couldn’t be happening.

“As you said, you’re meant to calm me down, right? Meant to pull me off some edge because everyone else was just too busy,” Wanda said as she positioned herself between your legs, bending down to kiss your jawline. You throbbed and pulled on the red strands wrapped around your wrist, but to no avail. “But I can think of another edge you can get close to,” she whispered as she pulled away again.

“Wanda, what are you–”

Her fingers slid in between your thighs, pressing into your heat, and a sharp gasp left your mouth. She began to rub through your jeans, cupping your heat, and you tugged again. This time, the red scratched the watch around your wrist and suddenly your clothes had snapped into the red armour Tony had built you years ago. Protective armour that replaced whatever you were wearing in a nick of time.

Useful.

The shift was enough to push Wanda off you and she stared down at the red and black armour with a slight tilt of her head.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” She asked as her hands trailed down the cool metal. “Neat trick. Tony’s design, right?”

“Of course,” you responded after a moment, your chest rising up and down. There was no point in denying it-it was obviously Tony’s. Right down to the colours.

Wanda’s eyes turned red as the red mist circled around her hand as she lowered it back down. You flinched when you felt it slink in between the small crevices. The suit was meant to be protected against outside substances, able to go into water, but you supposed Tony didn’t exactly build it against Wanda.

“Wanda, you don’t–” “If you don’t be quiet, I’ll make you, do you understand me?” She hissed as she bucked her hand backwards and the suit around your hips ripped off you and tossed across the room. You whined as the cold air hit your bare skin, contrasting the building heat in between your legs.  

You were left with nothing but the top half and the pants that wrapped around your thigh. “Much better.”

With that, she went back to what she was doing before but this time there was nothing to prevent her from slipping her fingers through your slick folds, the tips of her nails teasing your entrance.

“Look at you, already so wet,” she cooed and you gritted your teeth. This really couldn’t be happening. This was a dream. She could control reality, this was just a dream. “This isn’t me in your head, sweetheart, trust me–I would have cut the foreplay if I was creating this.”

She continued to massage your heat and it took you everything you had not to moan.

“Why are you…” you tried saying but you were cut short, once again, when her fingers found your hooded clit, using the tips of her nails to start playing with it. You bucked your hips instinctively and she chuckled.

“You said you wanted to help me, right?” Wanda asked and the building heat was beginning to become a little too much. “So how about this, sweetheart, you help mummy out by becoming mummy’s little stress reliever.”

Two fingers suddenly plunged into your entrance and your back arched. At least your clit got a little bit of a break but it wasn’t long until her palm began to grind against it as she thrusted the fingers into your tight entrance. Each thrust expanded your walls, letting her in even deeper, your own arousal making her movements slick and quick.

“Wand-” you began to moan but it morphed into a sharp yelp when she pulled her fingers out to slap your cunt.

“You’re a smart girl, sweetheart, it’s how you got around Tony for so long. I think you know exactly what you want to be calling me,” she said and suddenly she was back down so that her face was only inches away from yours and her fingers slid back inside of you.

Unlike last time, though, it wasn’t rough and sharp. Her fingers were slow as they moved inside of you, curling at the tips, scratching your walls. Exploring. She was exploring you and you could do nothing but whimper and moan.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you would. Look at you, already so wet and submissive for me,” she whispered, scattering kisses down your jawline as she reached your ear to nibble on your earlobe. “I’ll keep you in here for as long as I need you. Ride your pretty little mouth as I read that book, fill you up again and again until you’re passing out. All you have to do is be a good little girl.”

Heat was curling through your body, that buzzing sort of heat, that made your vision blur. Your teeth were clamped together. You wanted to moan, they were in your throat, but even when you opened your mouth, no sound came out. Just silent moans. The fingers moving inside of you had grabbed all your attention.

Then she scratched that little sweet spot and it was that that pushed out a moan that bounced around the room. Wanda laughed, hitting it again and again.

“Let your mummy hear your moans, sweetheart,” she said before she pulled back to kiss you on the mouth, biting hard on your lip so you wouldn’t even try to close your mouth and stop the tongue that slid into your mouth.

Your stomach was twisting into knots at this point and seemed like every other muscle seemed to be cramping. You were close to climax. Your walls clenched around Wanda’s fingers. Just a little bit–

You groaned when she peeled herself off you. You blinked up at her, looking through what seemed like tears, as you were denied that relief. Relief from the throbbing coming from your cunt.

“You want to cum, baby?” Wanda asked as she pulled off her shirt. Underneath was a simple black bra that was quickly disposed of. Your eyes, naturally, landed on her chest. A chest that, even under the circumstances, made you drool. Wanda’s clicking your fingers drew your eyes back up. “Eyes on mummy, sweetheart. God, you really are a little whore, aren’t you? Tell me-do you want to cum?” You pulled on your restraints just once more but all it seemed to do was to make it even tighter.

You nodded, jerkily.

“Use your words, sweetheart, I very clearly established you’re not mute,” Wanda remarked as her fingers went down to her jeans, fiddling with her button.

“Yes. Please, I want to,” you mumbled, knowing you won’t be coming back from this point. Then again-if she could make you feel like that again...maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Wanda tilted her head as she hummed, not having to move much to slap your sore cunt again and you jerked. “Say it politely and maybe I’ll consider it.” You scrunch your eyes shut and mewled when she began to knead your pulsating clit again. “M-mummy, please,” you whispered and her hands left your cunt. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt her lips on yours. Soft, gentle...loving.

“Good girl...that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked and you could hear the ruffling of her pants as she kicked them off. “Now...mummy’s going into your head, okay? I promise it won’t be long.” You began to struggle again but the warmth of her powers quickly washed over you. Your memories began playing the past three months. You tracking her down. Refusing back up.

Then she was out again.

“You really told no one where you were going? Almost as if you wanted this to happen,” She said as she shifted on top of you. Shifted that you felt something rub up against your entrance and you flinched. She...she was packing. “Of course I am, sweetheart, do you really think I wasn’t prepared for you? I knew you were coming from a mile away, honey.”

And with that, she pushed the strap inside of you, not bothering to wait for you to adjust until she was completely inside of you. You arched your back again, pressing into Wanda’s naked body, as the pain of being ripped open rushed through your body. You moaned and grunted as you grew adjusted to the width and length of Wanda.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Wanda murmured into your lips and suddenly your wrists were freed. But then her own hands came up to wrap around them to press them against the pillows herself. “I know you’ve taken bigger. Do you think we didn’t know? Didn’t know you and Nat were fucking every other night?” The comment drew you out, just for a moment, and you shook your head but all she did was pull back slightly to slam inside of you again.

“Don’t lie to me,” Wanda snarled, “tell me, tell me the truth. Use your words.”

It took only a few more thrusts of her strap filling you up again and again that the words began to spill out of your lips. “S-she found out. About my status as a shield status. Fuck,” you hissed out, barely able to hear your own words over the lude noises of Wanda beginning to pound into you. This wasn’t fair-you couldn’t dream of talking when she was fucking you like this.

“So you whored yourself out to her to make sure she kept her mouth shut,” Wanda said, finishing the sentence and you nodded jerkily. “You little slut. I bet you liked it too, just like how you like me pounding into you. But you’re mine now. Not hers. Not Tony’s. Mine. My little whore.”

She shifted upwards so that her chest was dangling above your face. “Suck your mommy's tit, baby, I saw you admire them before.”

It was a welcome change, you had to admit, to trying to formulate sentences and words around the moans and screams spilling out of your mouth. Your head leaned forward, closing the distance, so your mouth could wrap around her erect nipple and your walls clenched around her strap as you heard her moan.

Her hand moved to the top of your head, her nails scraping against your scalp as she interwove her fingers through your messy hair. Your tongue lapped at the small bud between your teeth and she began to move her hips in time with your tongue.

Your now free hand wrapped around her body so your nails were digging into her shoulder, drawing Wanda down even closer so you could take more of her tit into her mouth.

The same heat that had built before was coming back, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold on at this point.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby, just this once,” Wanda purred, hearing your thoughts, and it was all you needed, that confirmation, to come undone. Your walls clenched around the strap and you could feel Wanda slowing down as thrusting became just a tad more difficult and you screamed into her tits, careful not to clamp your jaw shut, as the orgasm rushed through you.

Even through it, she continued moving inside of you, and you almost felt like you could pass out.

“Good girl,” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I could get used to this. I’m going to keep you in here, do you hear me? Make you a good little whore for me to come home to.” They did say your mission was to help Wanda calm down.

[starks-hero]

What He Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Him

Pairing: Loki x Stark!Reader

Summary: You and Loki had been doing a fairly decent job at keeping your relationship a secret from the other members of the team, specifically your father. But what happens when word finally gets out?

Word Count: 4,480

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, angst

a/n: This gif, that is all

You had your music playing at full volume as you worked your way around the lab, your latest suit laid out on the table. It was almost finished and you were more than impressed with how it had turned out.

Grabbing one of the many tools strewn out on the tabletop, you got to work assuring each circuit was in place.

It was fair to say that whilst you were in one of your zones, you could easily get lost in your work. Which was probably the reasons you hadn't noticed Loki make his way into the lab.

You jumped slightly when two slender arms wrapped around your middle. “Loki,” you scolded, not taking your eyes away from your work. “I'm busy.”

He chuckled. “I can see that, dove,” he purred. “But I'm bored.”

“You're welcome to stay here as long as you stay out of my way,” you offered, smirking when Loki rose his hands innocently.

“You won't even know I'm here.”

You managed to steal five minutes of peace. And then Loki's ability to sit still and not cause trouble seemed to reach its end. He started simply, standing ridiculously close, running his hand along your side. Your frustrated sigh and visible struggle to focus on your suit only egged him on. He re-positioned himself behind you, hands resting on your hips and lips finding your neck.

When one of his hands began to trace down your stomach and towards the waistband of your jeans you drew the line.

“Loki, stop.” you chided urgently. “Not here.”

“Why not?” he asked, nipping at the exposed skin of your neck. “It's as good a place as any.”

“Someone could see,” you pressed on.

Loki’s kissing ceased but he didn't remove his arms from around you. If anything he held you tighter.

“And would that be such a bad thing?” he asked after a beat of silence. You sighed and turned in his arms, now facing the god. His eyes said it all, he wasn't hurt, but he was tired of keeping up this charade.

He hated having to wait till you were both alone to show his affection, having to settle for stolen kisses and subtle glances all in an attempt to keep your relationship a secret from the rest of the team. Loki was growing sick of it. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, mark you, to show everyone you belonged to him. He hated having to hide his feelings as if they weren’t acceptable.

“Loki, we've talked about this. If the team finds out, especially my dad, it'll cause nothing but trouble.” You frowned at Loki's defeated expression. “I want to tell them, I do. I love you and I want everyone to know that. But only when the time is right.”

Loki nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Slender fingers wrapping around your wrist and he placed a kiss to your hand. “As you wish, darling.”

Loki turned to leave but you gently grasped hold of his sleeve and tugged him back. “Where do you think you're going?”

Loki tilted his head. “You said-”

“I said I wasn't ready to tell them,” you clarified. “I never said anything about you leaving.”

A devilish smirked spread across Loki's lips as he stepped back towards you, hands grasping your waist. “Why of course, my dear.” He pushed you against the cool steel of the table. “How may I be of service to you?”

You pulled him into a hungry kiss and he practically moaned into your mouth. Grasping hold of your thighs, he hoisted you up onto the table and slotted himself snugly between your legs. Truth be told, this wasn't what you had in mind. You were serious when you said the lab wasn't a good place to start something but Loki was just too irresistible. His kisses trailed from your jaw down your neck and you couldn't help the whimper that left your lips as he sucked on the sweet spot just above your collar bone.

Your hand tangled in his raven hair and he laughed breathlessly against your skin as he pulled you closer to him. “That's it, pet.”

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat caused both of you to almost jump out of your skin. You turned towards the lab door and found a rather unimpressed Natasha standing in the threshold, arms crossed and glare seething into a certain god.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you hurriedly pushed Loki away and scrambled to your feet.

“Oh, no. Don't stop on my account,” Nat snarled and the venom in her tone was enough to send shivers down even Loki's spine.

“Nat! We were just-”

“Don't bullshit me, Y/N. You know it doesn't work,” Nat stated plainly and you swallowed. She was right, it was near impossible to successfully lie to her. “Does your father know?”

“No, no, no. Nat, you can't tell him,” you begged. “He'll kill us.”

Natasha scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at Loki, who was still standing sheepishly behind you. “He's lucky I haven't killed him myself.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. When it came down to it, he was a god and Nat was human. She probably couldn't do much damage to him. But she was certainly intimidating. Loki wasn't so much upset over the fact that you'd been caught, if anything Loki found it rather exciting. His only worry was how this situation would pan out for you. And your relationship.

“Natasha, please. You know how my dad overreacts.”

“I'm not sure I'd count ‘getting pissed that your daughter's dating a criminal’ as overreacting.”

You felt helpless. With Tony as your father, the team were the closest thing you had to family. Nat had always been important to you, she was an older sister, a cool aunt and in some cases, a understanding mother all rolled up into one. She wanted what was best for you, and you knew if that meant throwing Loki under the bus, she wouldn't hesitate.

Noticing your struggle, Loki decided to intervene.

“Agent Romanoff, if you'd allow us to explain. I-”

Nat turned to Loki with a glare that stopped the god mid-sentence. “I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Y/N.” She turned back to you. “Tell your dad.”

“What?!”

“Tell Tony about this.” She clarified, gesturing between you and Loki. “Or I will.”

“Nat,” you started but as she raised an eyebrow you knew she wasn't bluffing. She was dead serious.

“Okay, okay, fine. We'll tell him. But just not yet-” you hesitated. “Just give us a little more time to figure it all out.”

Natasha seemed unconvinced, to say the least, but when she noticed the genuine worry in your expression she backed off and her voice softened.

“Fine. But if he finds out beforehand, I had no idea about any of this,” she ordered. “And you,” Nat glanced at Loki who was still standing behind you. “Are on thin ice.”

Nat turned to leave, shooting one final glare Loki’s way. “Oh, and a bit of advice. Next time lock the goddamn door.”

You both sighed in temporary relief as the door slammed shut and you were left alone.

“Well, that went well,” Loki commented sarcastically, rubbing at his temple.

“And that was only Nat. How do you think the others are going to react?” You took a seat on the workbench and Loki joined you.

“Were you serious?” he asked. “About telling them? Telling him?”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I suppose we don't have much of a choice now, do we?” You murmured and Loki chuckled slightly.

“I suppose not.”

“You're enjoying this.” You growled as Loki’s mood seemed only slightly diminished by the situation you’d just been landed in.

“Yes, I find being threatened by a world-class assassin immensely enjoyable,” he noted nonchalantly. Loki sighed when the fear remained evident in your expression. He gently caught your wrist and pulled it away from your face, lacing your fingers as he did so. “Honestly, my dear. There's no need to worry. It will be fine.”

“You sound awfully sure.”

“That’s because I am,” Loki smirked, his tone reassuring and soft. He placed a harmless kiss against your cheek, but couldn’t resist the urge to continue down to your jaw.

His nose grazed your neck as his breath fanned out over your skin. His voice fell to a low whisper. “Now, what was it we were getting to before we were so rudely interrupted?”

You couldn’t help but laugh in slight disbelief. “You never learn, do you?”

Loki flicked his wrist as he began to plant kisses down your neck. “Do you take me for a fool?”

 You glanced at the labs' door to find the keypad had turned red. Locked. Smirking, Loki pushed you down and picked up where he'd left off.

It had been a little over a week since Natasha had found out about your relationship with Loki and thankfully, she hadn't said anything as of yet. She was giving you a generous amount of time to build up the courage to tell both your father and the rest of the team, but it was courage you were yet to find. The stress of the whole situation had been getting to you, something that was becoming more and more apparent to Loki.

In some desperate attempt to help you blow off a little steam, the god had dragged you down to the training hall. You and Loki often trained together, though since the beginning of your relationship, training seldom actually took place during your sessions.

But you needed it today, and after less than fifteen minutes of sparring, you could already feel some of the stress dissipating.

“Let's try that again,” Loki stated, helping you up from where you'd fallen back onto the training mat. He steadied you before pacing back a few steps as you both prepared for another round.

You made the first move, Loki easily blocking your strike. He caught your other arm as you tried to hit his shoulder and he only barely avoided a knee in the groin by spinning you around and catching you in a gentle headlock.

“Fighting dirty today are we, darling?” He purred in your ear and you smirked. Leaning forward, you used the momentum to throw Loki over your shoulder, straddling him to assure he stayed down.

“Problem with that?”

Loki chuckled, staring up at you. “Certainly not.” Throwing his leg over and shifting his weight, he threw you off of him and you landed on the floor beside him. He then took up his position on top of you. “Two can play at that game.”

He used his new vantage point to lean down and kiss your shoulder. “And I do enjoy it so very much.”

You turned your head to the side to grant Loki better access as he kissed up your neck, but your blood ran cold when you noticed a familiar figure standing dumbstruck at the halls entrance.

“Shit, Steve!” You pushed Loki off of you and for a moment he thought it was an attempted diversion until his own eyes locked with the captains. “Steve, wait!”

He was already turning to leave and you took off after him, Loki right behind you. You barely caught him before he reached the door. “Steve, hear us out, please.”

He turned to look at you with slight disappointment, his cheeks still tinted red with embarrassment given what he'd just walked in on. “Why didn't you tell us, Y/N?”

“I swear I was going to. I should have sooner and I'm sorry.” You rushed. “But please, Steve. You can't tell my dad, not yet.”

Steve hesitated. He'd taken you under his wing from day one and he'd be lying if he said he saw you as anything less than family. He didn't want to put you in a situation where he knew you'd face hardship. But he also didn't want to put his relationship with Tony on the line. He knew what that could lead to.

“I won't lie to Tony.”

“Then just don't say anything!” You tried. “Not saying anything technically isn't lying.”

Steve sighed, glancing between you both, his eyes lingering on Loki a moment longer. Loki seemed to have read the captains mind.

“Captain, I understand your concerns. But I can assure you my intentions are completely good-willed.”

Steve shook his head, questioning his sanity. “Does anyone else know?”

“Natasha, that's it.”

Steve seriously pondered the dilemma he was being faced with. Part of him wanted to march off and tell Tony, part of him wanted to strangle Loki for even putting his hands on you and the other part was still hung up on how upset you’d be if he chose either of the latter options.

“Alright,” Steve said after a moment of silence and relief flooded your expression. “But if your father asks-”

“I understand.” You nodded, still breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Steve.”

You counted your lucky stars as Steve left the training hall, the whole conversation having gone way better than you could have possibly imagined.

“You know, my dear,” Loki stated from behind you. “We really must stop picking the worst possible places in the compound to make out.”

You'd been peacefully working away in the lab, adding the finishing touches to the suit you'd been working on. A few more final touch-ups and a test run and it would be ready for missions.

The door slamming opened behind you immediately caught your attention as a severely pissed off Loki stormed in. His jaw was set and his hands were balled into fists. This couldn't be good.

“Loki, what's wrong?” you asked, rounding the table and approaching him. He was already pacing.

“Thor knows,” he growled and your heart stopped. “He was asking ridiculous questions about you and I and he knew I was lying.”

You inhaled sharply and did your best to avoid groaning in frustration, unable to grasp how Loki of all people had gotten caught out lying. “Loki, you're the god of lies.”

“And Thor's a persistent bastard!” He bit back.

You grappled with the little composure you had left and sighed. Loki was still clearly fretting and at least one of you had to start thinking straight.

“Okay, well what did he say?”

“That he wouldn't tell anyone,” Loki murmured, running his index finger along his top lip, something he often did when nervous.

“Alright then, what are we worried about? He said he wouldn't tell.”

Loki scoffed. “It's Thor! He struggles to keep the simplest of secrets, he's going to let it slip!” Loki took a seat and wrung his hands. “Your father is going to kill me.”

You stepped towards him and ran a comforting hand through his raven hair. He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head against your stomach.

“You're a god, Loki. I don't think he could kill you even if he wanted to.”

“He'll find a way,” Loki moped, tightening his hold on you.

You huffed at Loki's dramatic antiques as you continued to run your hand through his hair. One thing was now painfully clear, you needed to tell your dad. Before anyone else found out.

It was all planned out perfectly. The team was set to have dinner together in an attempt to bring some normality to your crazy lives, and you figured it would be the best time to break the new. You'd wait until everyone had finished eating and you and your dad were alone and then you'd tell him.

Not only did you think it would be better to have the conversation one on one, but Loki not being there also lessened the likely hood of your father trying to kill him if he didn't take the news kindly.

The only major challenge now was making it through the dinner itself without losing your nerve. Loki assured you that he'd be by your side right up until the moment he had to leave, and he meant it. Your father sat at the head of the table, because of course he did, and you sat to his right. Loki was seated beside you.

Most of the dinner passed as they usually did when the team ate together. Clint complained about the take out choice, Nat downed an impressive amount of wine whilst somehow remaining sober and a philosophical debate had broken out despite their being no indication as to what had started it.

For once, you and Loki remained silent, too nervous to offer any input should your worrisome tone give you away. You had spent most of the dinner toying with the food on your plate with your fork.

Loki's hand gently held yours beneath the table. It was risky, but no one had noticed and it was currently the only thing keeping you sane.

“You alright, kiddo?”

You glanced up to find your dad staring at you. He motioned to your untouched plate of food.

“You haven't touched your take out. It's your favourite.”

“Oh yeah, I- uh,” you stumbled over your own words and cursed yourself for being caught off guard. Most of the team were still chatting amongst themselves, but Steve and Natasha were now watching the exchange between you and Tony attentively. “I guess I'm just not that hungry.”

He seemed entirely unconvinced and leaned in slightly, away from the prying ears of the table. “You sure everything's alright?”

You gulped. Your father was no idiot and he knew something was eating away at you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Nat nodding her head and Steve smiling supportively. This was the perfect opportunity to bring it up and you decided it was now or never. “Well, actually-”

“Nice going, Clint!”

Both your heads snapped up to see that a knocked over wine bottle had stained both the end of the table and Bruce's white shirt.

“Hey! It's not my fault. Who even drinks this stuff anyway?!”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean, bird brain?” Sam yelled, possessively grabbing what was left in the overturned bottle and dunking it into his glass. Bucky hid his smile behind his bottle of beer.

Everyone else's attention had turned to Bruce, who seemed to be doing an excellent job at not hulking out and sending Clint through the nearest wall.

You bit your lip.

“Dad, is it alright if I leave? I'm not feeling up to eating right now.” You asked. Now clearly wasn't the best time to bring something up and you decided waiting till after everyone had turned it in for the night was probably best.

“Sure thing, sweet pea,” he smiled as you stood and pushed in your chair behind you. Loki followed you, rising to his feet.

“I think it's time I also take my leave.” No one paid much attention as Loki mimicked your actions and prepared to leave the table.

“Leaving already?” Wanda asked politely and you smiled back, already prepared to answer with ‘Yeah, I'm just tired.’

“Of course they are! I'm sure my brother and Y/N have much to do and discuss,” Thor smirked, winking and raising his glass to the both of you in a not so subtle way.

Silence fell over the entire table and you and Loki grew rigid. Natasha and Steve turned to glare at Thor, who lowered his glass, realising what exactly he'd just said.

“What?” Tony said, turning to Thor with a shocked expression. Loki quickly stepped in.

“I think my brother may have had a tad too much Asgardian ale, I-

“No, what did you say?” He asked again, voice raising. All eyes were now either on Tony, Loki or you.

Thor seemed to shrink into his seat, taking interest in the bottom of his cup as he attempted to backtrack and fix his mistake. But it was too late.

Your father's gaze turned to you and then Loki, who was cautiously standing behind you. 

“One chance.” He was livid. “You get one chance to tell me the truth.”

“Dad, can we not do this now,” you asked quietly.

“The truth, Y/N.” You couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen your father so angry. And as terrified as you were, you knew lying would only dig you a deeper hole.

“I was going to tell you,” you started, wincing as he ran a hand down his face. “I just didn't know how and then Nat told me I should just-”

Your father's glare turned to Natasha who choked on her wine at your words. You mentally grimaced as you realized what you'd just said.

“Oh, so you knew!” Tony yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Nat. He turned back to you. “You told Thor and Natasha before you told me!”

“I didn't tell her! She just sort of found out...” you fumbled and Tony laughed humorlessly.

“Did anybody else know besides Nat and point break?” he asked, addressing the whole table. Steve fidgeted awkwardly in his seat and Tony immediately singled him out.

“Steve.” He crossed his arms as he glared at the captain. “Something on your mind?”

Steve sighed. “Look, Tony I-”

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers.”

Steve nodded wordlessly and Tony bit the inside of his cheek, looking as though he was prepared to rip into each member of the team. You cowered back slightly and Loki stepped infront of you, shielding you from your fathers rage the best he could.

“Great! Awesome! Did anyone else know my daughter was dating a psychopath and just decided to keep that information to themselves?”

Everyone awkwardly shifted in their seats, some clearing there throats and others offering you sympathetic glances. Natasha mouthed a ‘sorry’ and Thor seemed to still be beating himself up for letting it slip in the first place.

Loki stepped forward. “Stark, I can assure you-”

“Zip it, Reindeer Games,” he warned and for once, Loki did as he was told. Tony pointed to you as if he were scolding a child.

“You are grounded,” he stated. “No more missions, no more lab privileges, nothing.”

You scoffed. “I'm not a kid!”

“Yes, you are! You're my kid.”

“Dad, will you please just listen to me.” You begged as you stepped towards your father in hopes of reasoning with him. He rose from his seat to meet you.

“No. This,” he gestured between you and Loki. “Ends now. End of discussion.”

You took a step back, feeling as though an arrow had hit you in the chest. Tears were brimming your eyes and you couldn't find it in you to meet anyone's gaze. Seeing how upset you'd become, Loki refused to bite his tongue any longer.

“Stark, with all due respect, I won't allow that. I understand your disdain for me and it's more than warranted but do not take that anger out on Y/N. You have no reason to trust me but I can assure you that my feelings towards your daughter and nothing but sincere and genuine.”

Loki's sudden statement seemed to have surprised Tony. He opened his mouth to argue but Loki didn't give him the chance as he continued.

“She has given me a second chance and I love her dearly for doing so. And I would never do anything to harm her. I love her unconditionally and all I ask is for a chance. Allow me to prove myself.”

Loki's speech had left you teary-eyed with a warmth spreading in your chest. A smile pulled at your lips as Loki turned to you. The genuine and loving look in his eyes spoke volumes and it took every ounce of control you possessed not to launch yourself into his arms then and there.

“Tony, I don't know about you but that seemed pretty convincing to me.” Nat voiced from the table and Thor immediately agreed.

“My brother may be the god of lies but he has spoken nothing but the truth tonight.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, offered Tony an encouraging nod. “All he's asking for is a chance, Tony.”

“It's pretty sweet if you ask me,” Bucky murmured from beside the captain, Sam and Wanda nodding in agreement.

Tony watched as the table seemed to take Loki's side and he battled with himself until his eyes landed on you. You were standing side by side with Loki, whilst he smiled at you in adoration. The glances you shared were nothing short of loving and Tony couldn't help but notice how genuine and mutual it truly was. Loki's hand was brushing against yours, desperate to grasp hold and comfort you but not wanting to overstep the line the tension had drawn.

Tony sighed as he realized what he had to do. You were his daughter, his everything. And he just wanted you to be happy. Even if it was with someone he didn’t initially approve of. 

“You love him?” he asked nonchalantly and you nodded.

“And you, Frosty,” Tony motioned to Loki who tried not to frown at the nickname. “You love her?”

Loki glanced at you, smiling softly. “Wholeheartedly.”

Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat as he watched the both of you, not completely ready to accept that you weren't a kid anymore.

“Well then, I guess that's that.” He smiled at you softly. “Leave it to you to fall for the God of mischief. You always were a troublemaker.” 

Your father pulled you into a hug, muttering a quiet ‘love you, sweet pea’, before pulling back to look at Loki.

“You hurt her,” he started and Loki cut him off with an amused chuckle.

“You'll kill me?” He guessed.

“Oh no, not just me. They'll kill you.” Tony smirked, pointing to the table full of avengers.

Loki nodded. “Understood.”

Nat sent you a wink and Steve and Thor smiled whilst the rest of the team seemed to congratulate you with supportive, and in some cases embarrassing, comments.

You and Loki smirked at each other, slowly turning to leave the dining room when your father's voice called you back.

“Woah, where do you two think you're going?” he asked. “Cats out of the bag now so no need to run off and hide. Sit.”

Seeing no point in arguing, you both took your seats, Loki holding your hand atop the table for everyone to see. Things quickly settled back into a comfortable conversation, you and Loki feeling freer than you had in months. The domesticity of it all was enough to make your heart burst.

“So,” Clint, who was slightly tipsy at this point, yelled. “When's the wedding?”

Tony turned red. “Don't push their luck, Barton.” He partially joked, glaring daggers at his teammate as the rest of the team laughed. As for you and Loki, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility.

tag list: @leftperfectionmoon @doozywoozy @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove​ @Kealohilani-tepise

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[drabbles-mc]

Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 008. healing

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: completed. | series masterlist

↩ chapter seven bonus | healing | at peace ↪

mia speaks:

We’re getting real close to the end, and I don’t think I’ll be ready to part with Atsumu just yet. But I’m super duper excited to start Stubborn. 

If it isn’t too much, please leave a little COMMENT on what you think of this piece or REBLOG if you like it! Thank you.

Rejection can be defined as an act of pushing someone or something away. It is also considered as something to be experienced on a large scale or small ways in everyday life. In the field of mental health care, rejection most frequently refers to the feelings of sadness, or grief people feel when they are not accepted by others. 

In Atsumu’s case, it was the latter. 

The moment he had decided to leave the party to seek you out, he was more or less, on edge. The fear of rejection was eating him out as he traveled back to Kanagawa, and even then as he stared at the hospital door that leads to Atsuhiro’s room where he assumes you’re most likely already in deep slumber from how late it is. However, that doesn’t stop him from his mission, eventually finding the courage to press his knuckles against the door to knock. 

A minute passed and there was still no answer, a part of him decided it was best to leave, so you can rest but wanting to give it another chance, he knocks on the door once more. The lack of response disappoints him but he diminishes it with a little light of hope, telling himself that you’re probably asleep and it was best to try later. As he was about to leave, the hospital door slides open and his gaze lands on your exhausted, surprised, features. 

He stares at you in adoration and before he could stop himself, the words slip out of his lips.  "I love you." 

Silence engulfs the two of you comfortably, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He wonders if his beating heart was loud enough for you to hear through the silence. He watches in anticipation how your features shift from confusion to something he couldn't quite recognize. For a second, he berates himself for blurting out such foolishness.

Was it horror? Pity? He couldn't possibly comprehend with his nerves on overdrive, about a handful of thoughts swimming in his mind. If only he knew your heart was beating against its constraints just as fast as his, or that you wanted to throw your arms around him and finally claim him as yours at that very moment. He calls out your name in a stutter to pull you out of your shocked trance, fighting his urge to step through the threshold and pull you into his arms. He holds back the words clawing their way out of his mouth, not wanting to overwhelm you with his sudden burst of emotions. But mostly because he was afraid.

Afraid of humiliation, and of rejection. He was afraid that his feelings for you were no longer reciprocated. Though, he wouldn't blame you. He would understand if he was too late. It had been six years after all, and you, out of the both of you, deserve way better than this. Better than him. 

However, a part of him wishes it were otherwise. He recalls the night he summoned the tiniest spark of courage to capture your lips with his own once more after so long. He doesn't regret his actions, because he realized things that night as your own lips move against his own. It was as if the missing puzzle piece had been rummaged through the piles of chaotic emotions and finally found its rightful place. 

It just felt right. 

If it weren’t for the ridiculous hounds of reporters that interrupted the night, he may have used that opportunity to win you over or at least have a proper talk with you since obviously there are still a lot of unfinished business between the two of you that need fixing for the sake of Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro. 

“What are you doing here?” he hears you question, snapping out of his own thoughts, his shoulders growing tense. 

He slips his hands into the pockets of his coat, wanting to hide his trembling fingers from your sight. “I know I should have reached out sooner, and there isn’t any way I could possibly excuse myself out of that. I’ve probably left you wondering again, and that’s the last thing I want.” 

“It’s the middle of the night, Atsumu.” you mutter underneath your breath, brows furrowing. “What were you doing up anyways?” 

He lifts his shoulders up into a timid shrug, “I was at a party. I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I went straight here. I know it’s late and I should have waited but it’s been days since we last spoke and I couldn’t take it anymore. I—I needed to see you.”

“I don’t know what to say…” you release a heavy sigh, shifting your gaze away from him as you feel your cheeks heat up from God knows what. Embarrassment? Flattery? God, you could only curse at yourself for feeling that way ever since the two of you shared that kiss. 

The corners of his mouth tug up to a small smile, “You don’t have to say anything, just hear me out.” As you give him a nod after lifting your head to meet his gaze once more, he’s hit with a sudden rush of confidence, wondering if this was finally his chance to spill the feelings that had been occupying his thoughts since the two of you reunited. 

It was a mixture of anger and hate the moment he had realized it was you, that was for sure, he’d been frustrated but the one thing that’s been bothering him was the thought of you disappearing again. This time, taking the kids, his sons that he had grown to adore, away from him. The very thought had been enough for him to lower his pride, and a good push from his twin brother. His brother’s words replaying his head. 

‘Quit your moping and win her over before I do.’ 

“I love you,” he repeats his earlier words; this time with confidence, arms extending out to reach out for your hands which somehow, surprisingly for the both of you, you oblige, letting his fingers lace with yours. “I’ve loved you as my best friend the very moment when we were kids when you laughed at me for tripping and having the ice cream slip from my hands and landing on our grumpy neighbor’s bald head. I think a part of me started loving you there and then when you pulled me up from the ground and dragged me laughing away to avoid us getting into trouble.” You stifle a laugh, your eyes scrunching up in amusement at the memory and he couldn’t help but let a Cheshire grin form on his own lips at the sight of your happiness, feeling a sudden surge of happiness bubble in his own chest. There and then, he realized that he truly adored you and that he’s missed you. Missed this. 

Missed the warmth that radiated from just your mere touch. 

“I’ve loved you since we started high school and I know I had a really shitty way in showing that, being so absorbed in volleyball and everything, I don't think I ever deserved you then,” he lets out a sigh, “I never deserved your care. Despite me lashing out because of my own frustrations, you pulled me back into reality just as Osamu could and looking back now, I had been so blessed. And I…” he trails off, tearing his gaze away from yours in shame and his heart skips a beat at your gesture, squeezing his hands in a form of reassurance, “I took it for granted. I realized it too late and…” 

He lets out a sob, lifting his head to meet yours once more and he lets the tears spill from the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he lowers himself down onto his knees and he watches your eyes widen as he gives your hands a squeeze of his own, “Let me prove it to you how sorry I am, please. I know I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve to be a part of Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro’s liv—” 

It almost seemed like time stood still for Atsumu as you drop down to your own knees in front of him, pulling your hands away from his grip, only for you to grip the fabric of his shirt beneath his coat between your fingers, pulling him closer to your body as you lower your head to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Despite the layering of clothes that protected his skin from the cold, he could feel the patch of wetness growing on his shoulder from the tears that flowed from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Atsumu. I’m sorry as well,” those words spill from your mouth, despite your words mixed with sobs and you trying to keep your voice to a whisper to not disturb the residence of the hospital on the floor, he could hear you loud and clear. “I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for leaving you when you needed me the most. I’m—” you cut yourself off with another sob. 

The sight of your vulnerable state was enough for Atsumu’s heart to clench in its confinement and slowly, his arms snake around your hips to pull you closer to his body. The both of you release a sigh from the warmth. You continue, “You deserve to be loved, Atsumu. You really do. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I’m sorry for depriving you of the chance to raise such wonderful sons. I—I’m sorry.” 

The cold hospital floor didn’t even bother the two of you. The warmth radiating off of each other’s embrace was enough. 

Home.

The blinding fluorescent lights almost stabs his eyes as he slowly flutters his eyelids open, a hiss escaping his lips from the sudden burst of light. He tries to shield his eyes from such torture by lifting his heavy arm only to let out a groan as a shriek echoes through the small room. Groggily, he turns his head towards the direction of the assault to his ears and blinks his eyelids a couple of times to adjust his sight. 

He suddenly wishes he hadn’t woken up right at this moment. 

As the blonde model notices Atsumu moving from his bed, her eyes widen in excitement at the sight of him awake, trying her best to push through his twin’s protective stance. “Tsumtsum! You’re awake and okay!” she squeals and he winces in response. Atsumu knows his brother well, and from the proximity from between the two by the door, despite his brother’s back facing him, he could tell from his mere posture that his twin had his usual scowl on his face when dealing with the women in his life. He watches from the bed as Yumi turns to face his twin, a scowl scrunching up in her features as she crosses her arms across her chest and stomps her feet. “Can you please tell your brother over here to let me through? I’m your girlfriend!” she huffs. 

“Please pull your head out of your ass,” Osamu snaps and continues to hold Yumi back from entering his brother’s room. “You were never his girlfriend and I’m pretty sure he made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with you a few nights ago. So why don’t you do the whole hospital a favor? Shut up and leave, because I’m pretty sure your excessive whining is disturbing the patients.” 

Throughout Osamu’s annoyed speech, Atsumu had successfully pushed himself to sit on the bed without any assistance. He lets out a groan of pain and uses what little strength he has to press his back against the headboard of the hospital bed. Just as Yumi was about to retort, Atsumu calls for her attention from the bed. Yumi was quick to react, looking over at Atsumu. “Yes, baby?” 

Osamu scrunches up his face in disgust and Atsumu can only let out a sigh, not having the energy to argue with her. “Please leave.” 

The hopeful features that were splashed in her features disappear in a second at Atsumu’s command, “B—But…” 

“Leave, I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” he sighs, tearing his gaze away from Yumi to look over at his brother who had turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes pleading Osamu to get rid of the irritating model from the premises, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer regarding a restraining order. Don’t think I didn’t hear from my son how some ‘mean looking lady’ had ambushed his mother yesterday on the way to the hospital.” 

The model can only gape at Atsumu’s words, blinking in confusion. She stutters, “S—So—Son?” 

“Goodbye now,” Osamu interrupts by sliding the door shut right in front of Yumi’s face, using her dazed gaze to his advantage by locking the door. Turning around, he arches a brow in curiosity towards his brother who looked nowhere near comfortable in his position, “Are you sure it was the right move to let Yumi, of all people, that you have a son?” 

Atsumu lets out a frustrated sigh before waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll handle it.” 

“How are you feeling?” Osamu asks as he occupies the seat next to Atsumu’s bed, “Judging by the look on your face, probably shit huh?” 

Atsumu rolls his eyes before giving his brother a glare, “Yeah, no shit there.” 

“It’s expected,” his brother lifts his shoulders up in a shrug as he leans back against his seat, “Your doctor did list down what you can and can’t do after this surgery, and well, what you would be feeling right after, so this is to be expected. Unless, you didn’t really listen?” 

“Of course I listened, ya shit.” Atsumu snaps, brows furrowing. 

Osamu lets a laugh escape his lips, a grin taking place on his lips, “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Why is my head hurting so fucking bad?” he lets out a groan, fluttering his eyes shut in annoyance for the pounding headache.  

“You don’t remember?” 

Atsumu flutters his eyelids back open to look at his brother in confusion, “What are you talking about?” 

“You fucking got out of bed the moment you were put into this room after your surgery, you dimwit.” Osamu scolds him with a glare, bringing his hands up to massage his temples with the tips of his fingers, “You were told to rest, not to get out of bed. You passed out after the nurse tried getting you back to bed, in the hallway mind you, and Atsuhiko had to witness it. You didn’t know how scared the little boy was after you collapsed head first.” 

Atsumu winces from the tone his twin was using, not that he cared for his brother’s scolding but it seemed the medication that was still in his system made everything sensitive, including his hearing. A frown makes its way to his lips at the mention of his son, “How about his brother? How’s Atsuhiro? His transfusion was just right after my surgery wasn’t it?” 

“Stop talking and let me explain,” he sighs at his brother’s impatience but somehow he inwardly smiles at this side of his brother. 

Since Atsumu had rushed out of the V.League Associations Party to confess his feelings to you, almost everyone noticed a change in him. Sure, he still attended training but according to Coach Samson, Atsumu seemed to be in top shape and even seemed to be more relaxed and enjoying his time on court. Of course, people who knew of the situation Atsumu was in, knew exactly the reason as to why he was in such condition. 

Ever since the two of you cried to each other, keep in mind, in a hospital hallway, on the cold floor, there was an honest shift in the atmosphere that surrounded both of you. It was calmer and full of the warmth that Atsumu and you had been longing. And for the volleyball player, having the chance to spend some time with his kids was a huge bonus. 

It made Atsumu feel complete. 

Especially when Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro had started addressing him as their father. Yes, Atsumu was on different levels of high; the highest peak of Mount Fuji, Cloud Nine, heck he was just so happy he doesn’t want to let this feeling out of his grasp. And he’d be damned if someone tried to take such joy from him. There was no way that he’d let this good thing going for him slip through his fingers for as long as he lived. 

So the very thought of Atsuhiko witnessing him collapse and fearing for his state was enough for his heart to hurt, he’d never meant to worry the little boy. As the father, shouldn’t he be the one worrying for his sons? He knows what his kids are thinking, having them (mostly Atsuhiko) bluntly express their fears of their father disappearing again. So the sight of him fainting in front of Atsuhiko had probably sent the little boy into panic. He’d have to make it up to him soon. 

“It’s too soon to tell if the transfusion was a success,” Osamu stars, watching his brother inhale sharply as anxiety bubbled in his chest. “But so far, everything looks good. I was with them earlier when the doctor came in and he said he’ll be staying in for another day to monitor him. If everything’s good, he can leave the hospital and return every 6 months until he doesn’t need to have a transfusion anymore.” 

He nods slowly, “And what about if the transfusion isn’t successful?” 

“I don’t think that would be the case,” Osamu lifts his shoulders up in a shrug and gives his brother a reassuring smile, “Atsuhiro and you are a match, so far there aren’t any complications. It’s a success, ‘Tsumu. Don’t worry too much. Focus on getting better. Oh, and actually…” 

Atsumu raises a brow at his twin, “What? You tell me not to worry and end your sentence like that? I ought to smack you if my body isn’t sore as fuck.” 

A chuckle escapes the other twin seated on the chair next to the bed, a sly grin forming on his lips as he remembers the conversation from earlier. “Mom may, or may not be already planning your wedding.” 

He splutters, eyes growing wide. He feels his cheeks heat up from the sheer thought of approaching you after his own mother had probably brought up the idea of marriage to you while he wasn’t present to stop her. Suddenly, he’s embarrassed to face you. “Please don’t tell me she had been pestering about marriage with my sons present.” 

A smile curls up on Osamu’s lips at how his twin addresses the younger twins as his sons before he shakes his head in response, “Nah, Suwa-san took Atsuhiko out earlier for the day and I was keeping Atsuhiro occupied.” 

“Suwa-san?” 

Osamu rolls his eyes, “Reiji, purple haired dude that’s always with your girlfriend.” 

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he grumbles underneath his breath, frowning. 

His twin lets out a laugh as he teases, “yet. You two are practically married.” 

“I don’t know…” he lets out a sigh, “Do you think she’d be happier with that Reiji guy? He’s been with her ever since…” 

“You’re lucky you’re in a hospital bed or else I would have kicked your ass for that negative pea brain of yours,” Osamu grunts, unamused by his twin brother’s words. Sure, he often teased his twin but he especially didn’t like it when Atsumu put himself down over something serious. “Don’t go there. Just don’t. The two of you have talked things out haven’t you?” 

“How do you—” 

Osamu cuts him off with a dismissive wave, “She told me. We talked when you were being prepped for your surgery. Just be patient, you can’t rush these things and don’t you dare decide for her either.” 

“When did you become the boss of me?” he scoffs from the bed, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling, “I just want what’s best for them.” 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His twin stands up from his seat upon hearing the knock, thinking it’s probably the doctor or you. Before he could unlock the door however, he glances back at his brother over his shoulder, “Stop moping and just be there for them whether you end up with her or not.” 

Atsumu watches the hospital door slide open and his heart swells at the sight of you and Atsuhiko and he instantly wants to reach out when he notices the little boy’s lower lip quivering as he peers into the room. As the little boy’s gaze lands on Atsumu, the little boy rushes forward frantically. 

“Daddy!” he cries out, throwing himself onto Atsumu’s body as soon as he gets near enough. Atsumu couldn’t even bring himself to complain of the pain from the impact due to the sight of his son’s distress, reaching out to run his fingers into the little boy’s hair, “You okay now? You scared me, daddy! You fell and you wouldn’t wake up! I tried waking you up but you wouldn’t!” 

He tries his best to soothe the little boy who was clinging onto him from the side of his bed but Atsumu couldn’t contain the excitement he felt upon hearing Atsuhiko address him as his father over and over. He realizes that he probably wouldn’t ever get used to it but he wouldn’t mind hearing it all the time. “Daddy is doing much better. I’m sorry for scaring you, buddy.” 

“Good, daddy. You and Hiro should get better so we can start playing together,” he nods his head happily, his mood shifting from his gloomy one upon hearing his father was okay. The little boy scrunches up his features into a look of distaste as he straightens himself up to stand, folding his tiny arms across his chest, “Daddy, the mean looking lady came again! She was yelling at mommy and saying mean things! Uncle Bo helped and I wanna help too but mommy said kicking someone isn’t nice.” 

Atsumu turns to look over at you with a raised eyebrow as Atsuhiko finishes his explanation and you simply shook your head. Giving Osamu a small smile which he returns before leaving the room for the three of you. You turn your gaze back at the man who was waiting patiently for you to answer as you slide the door shut behind you, letting out a tired sigh. “That woman is not worth our time to discuss further, I’m taking legal actions though. How you ended up dating someone like her is beyond me.” 

“She didn’t do anything to Hiko or you?” he asks, worry laced in his voice as Atsuhiko slowly crawls into the bed and snuggles himself into his father’s side. Atsumu notices you about to reprimand the little boy which he simply shakes his head towards your direction, lowering his head to press a kiss to the top of the little boy’s head. 

“She couldn’t even if she tried,” you let out a snort as you approached the bed. He extends his arm out, his hand reaching for yours which you gladly take with your own and giving it a gentle squeeze, “You feeling okay?” 

He nods, “A little sore but I guess that’s to be expected. How’s Hiro? Should you be leaving him on his own?” 

“He’s doing fine, sleeping and our moms are busy bonding in his room, they said they’ll keep an eye on him,” you reassure him, “Plus this little one over here has been pestering me all day to check up on you.” 

He feels his shoulder relax and a sigh of relief escapes his lips, lacing your fingers together with his as he lifts his gaze from Atsuhiko to look up at you, “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing fine,” you counter as the corners of your mouth tug down to a frown, “You gave us quite a scare, you know. We thought something had gone wrong with your surgery that caused you to collapse, turns out you were just being the stubborn idiot that you are. You really haven’t changed one bit.” 

He places his other hand on his chest, feigning a hurt expression as he juts his lower lip to a pout to gain some sympathy from you which you simply responded with a shake of your head. The pad of thumb brushes against your skin and he lets out a defeated sigh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare either of you. I just wanted to see Atsuhiro.” 

“I understand,” you nod as you finally take a seat on the edge of his bed, watching Atsuhiko listening intently to the two of you, his brows furrowed as if he was trying his best to comprehend the conversation. “Just don’t do it again.” 

“I promise,” he nods, flashing you a cheeky grin which you just roll your eyes at. 

Atsuhiko interrupts the conversation by tilting his head to look up at his father as he remembers the task his Uncle Bo had given him when he had asked a particular question after encountering the mean looking lady moments ago before begging you to visit Atsumu. “Hey, daddy?” 

“Yeah buddy?” Atsumu asks, his heart swelling with pride upon hearing the word daddy once more, shifting his attention back to the little boy snuggled comfortably against his side. 

“What does bitch mean?”

[monochromemedic]

“You know you and that Dwight kid are alot alike.” “How so?” “Well out here you two are like nervous dogs, pissing yourself and clinging to everyone like white on rice but out there you seem to grow a pair and do some impressive shit.” Ash huffed, a grin curling the corners of lips as he tightened a few gears on his hand. “Thanks Ash, that means alot coming from you.”  “I know.”  I watched his grin widen in pride before falling, eyes lifting to Dwight and Nea a few feet away, their heads turned to the approaching fog that swept the forest. “Looks like it’s time to fetch those cojones, we’re heading out.” --------------------------------------------- The Thompson House The sun beamed down from above, nearly blinding me with it’s light. Every realm was so damn dark, that it was always jarring to be brought back here. I could already hear the corn beside be rustling, a dark shape darting away towards a distance generator. I exhaled sharply, confirming it was Nea from her beanie.  My calm composition was shattered as I felt hands resting on my shoulders, causing me to twist around, a hand raised to strike a Ghostface, or Wraith trying to play with me. Dwight’s hands shot towards upwards, a shocked look on his face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, don’t hit me!”  I lowered my fist, sighing again before quickly checking the area around us. “It’s ok Dwight, what do you need?” “I think we should work on a generator together, a bit away from Nea and Ash, you know just in case one of them gets caught we can complete one. Also uh, I can’t find Ash and Nea...” He trailed off, but I got what he was getting at. “Sounds good to me, lead the way.” I reached out for his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. They were so clammy, how that was possible despite being in the realm for only a few moments were a mystery not even the Entity knew.  Dwight paused for a moment, his thumb gently brushing the back of my hand before leading me to a generator he saw fit. Just as we reached the gen, a cry of pain erupted from Ash, scaring a few of a crows to fly into the air. The chase had begun, all Ash had to do was waste the killer’s time and try to stay alive while the rest of us did the work. Knowing Ash, he could piss a killer off like no tomorrow, causing them to want to give the most brutal punishments to him and only him. If we were lucky, Ash would throw the creature off it’s game and we could get an advantage. Dwight winced in sympathy, before turning his attention to the wires, brows knitted and broken glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “He’s got this.” I muttered under my breath, trying to comfort myself and Dwight’s nerves. Ash was a tank, sometimes it took a few extra hits just to down him, if not a good dozen on a good day. It’s like that guy was made to be beaten up and in the rare case we were in that was a gift. But if the killer was smart, like few were, they knew the tricks, and Nurse knew that Ash was best saved for last. The sound of a faint heartbeat filled my ear, and I felt a shutter come over my body. Before I had a chance to open my mouth, the rushing form of the Nurse loomed over Dwight, her bonesaw slashing across his back. The man cried in pain, shooting up and running while he had the chance. I followed close behind, hoping that if needed, I could take a quick hit and keep Dwight from being on the hook. God I couldn’t stand to watch Dwight on the hook, the way he cried and whimpered, the tears that feel from his big kind eyes. There was a numbness to them, one that showed he’d done this a million times before but was still filled with a sense of terror, deep into his core. I think that’s what hurt the most, what made even the most hardboiled survivors feel pity. The Nurse slowly raised her hand, the sound of a desperate attempt for air echoing in the air. She was gonna teleport, and it was a long one. We could trick her. I quickly snatched Dwight’s hand, a cry of pain ripping his lips as I yanked him towards the Nurse. He gasped and whimpered, eyes bulging as he tried to rip his hand out of mine. “W-what are you doing!? We’re gonna-” As the words left his lips the Nurse vanished, appearing a few feet behind us with a choking sound, grabbing her chest for some resemblance of air. Dwight let out a surprised laugh, now trailing beside me willingly. “I-I kinda forgot we could do that to be honest. I’ve seen other’s do it but, I can never make my legs move TOWARDS her.” We took shelter behind a small makeshift wall, Dwight’s hand’s searching his back for the wound while he slouched against the wood. “How does it look? It feels deep.” I watched as a finger brushed the edge of the deep, bloodied cut, a sharp exhale rattling through his chest. “S-shit. Damn it, this isn’t good. My arm feels numb, how am I suppose to do generators like this?” My hand brushed against his cheek, smearing some of the blood droplets away from his eyes. “I’ll patch you up, no worries. Come on, turn around Dwighty... we just gotta hope she doesn’t have that one thing on her and you’ll be good as new, I promise.” A generator popped in the distance and not long after another popped in succession, a wave of comfort swept my body. At least the others were doing something. Dwight turned his back to me, his dirty white button up now torn and damp in sticky red. His cut was deep that much was true, but certainly not the worse any of us had. I began to work, trying anything and everything that would possibly help him feel better and close the wound. Despite this I couldn’t help the small sounds he would make in response, the way he’d shutter and twitch with every movement towards the wound. It was a familiar sight unfortunately, but despite the fact you’d be playing EMT every night it didn’t mean you were any good at it. I whispered apologies under my breath, before going silent, my hand clasping over his mouth, my other hand pulling him flush against my chest. Spine Chill was acting up again, and although I couldn’t hear a heart beat that didn’t mean that she couldn’t appear beside us at a moments notice. Dwight’s breath was hot against my palm, I could feel him bite his lips, trying to silence himself even further. I’m glad he wasn’t the type of guy to push aside any safety procedures when he himself couldn’t sense danger. The amount of times I got caught because someone I was with didn’t catch sight of a killer was way too often. Spine Chill lingered for a good 3 to 4 seconds, before being broken, as her attention turned back to a taunting Ash. Thank god for him and the inherit desire to sock him in the face. I pulled my hand from Dwight’s mouth, running it down his neck to rest on his hip. “She was looking over here.” “I kind of suspected that... maybe we should get the generators done, we’re wasting alot of time as it is. One of is is gonna get on hook and it’s gonna go down hill from there if we don’t get at least one more gen, I had a trial at Haddonfield and we got the gens done way faster then this-” Dwight began to trail off, raising his fingers to lips to chew on his nails. “Dwight, it’s fine, I’m almost done anyway, then we can get those gens done faster then any Haddonfield.” I turned my attention back to his wound, hearing Ash get go down in the distance. Damn it, he got way too cocky. Dwight began to bite himself harder, making underlying noise of distress. “Alright, all done, I’ll get Ash, you go to work on the Generator ok?” Dwight stood and nodded, the look on his face apparent he didn’t want me to go and instead work with him. I grabbed his bloody hand with mine, giving it a slight squeeze. “It’ll be ok, we’ll make it out of here, we always do, one way or another. Besides, I know how to juke her.”  I flashed him a small smile, and he returned my hand squeeze weakly. “Be safe, she might be on to you... and Ash’s hook is by the basement.” “I know. But we gotta try to get him-” “No I know, it’s just... bad positioning is all. Go get him, he’s gonna hit the second hook threshold so Nea’s probably on the next gen.” He moved his hand, biting onto the next unlucky nail. “Alright, stop biting your nails baby, catch you on the other side of the gate.” I called out behind me as I jogged towards Ash’s aura. Half way there I realized what I said to Dwight, and felt my face cringe in reaction. Baby? I was just looking for a comfort term but it had to be baby? God why couldn’t he have an easy to abbreviate name?  I slowly approached Ash’s hanging form, the hook piercing his blue shirt, turning it a dark crimson color. His tired eyes moved to look at me, the claws of the Entity closing around his body, ready to strike. “So nice of you to stop playing pat-a-cake with your boy toy to help a dying man.” He growled, a dribble of blood leaking down his chin as he spoke. “I wasn’t-” I stopped myself, lowing my voice while I quickly got him off the hook. “I wasn’t doing that, he got hit real bad by the bone saw. I... I accidently called him baby.” “Ho-ho! Look at you, little miss promiscuous.” He teased “It was an accident, he was freaking out, I was trying to call him something to calm him down but I couldn’t think of anything. He doesn’t think we’re gonna make it out due to how fast we’re doing the gens.” “We could be half way out the door and he’d think we aren’t doing good enough, the boy needs to get some of that good stuff ya know what I mean?” Ash mimicked smoking as we made our way to where Dwight was, hearing Nea go down in the distance. “It’s weed-” “I know-” “Not that if I found any I’d give it to him. Daddy’s needs come first and I’ll be damned if I’m giving the first recreational drug I find in this hell scape to a desk jockey.” “Somehow I don’t think he’d take it anyway...” Ash snorted, pressing his metal hand against the gaping wound in his chest, a gush of blood dripping down his front. “Ye-yeah good point. Damn it, let’s just get this over with, I really hate the hook wounds.” ------------------------------------------------------------------- The rest of the trial went well, as well as a trial with a murderous teleporting health care worker could go. With the help of Dwight we managed to get the last gens done fairly quickly. The only trouble was a second hook for Ash and one for Nea but otherwise we got out fairly safe. Seems like the Nurse was off her game, and Ash’s perfected skill of  being an annoying asshole was once again overpowered and successful. I slumped against the log, wrapping the dirty gauze around my arm from the clawed hands of the Nurse. She managed to hit me right at the end, tried to pull me back into the trial with what strength she had. Luckily due to the Entity’s twisted sense of humor it was already healing, a double edged sword when you found out it was just to put you through the wringer later. Dwight frowned at the tattered remains of his clothes, his thumb smoothing over the rough slash before standing up and beginning to rummage through his suitcase of clothes. “Damn kid, you’re yolked as hell. Why the hell have you been holding out on all of us huh? What’s your secret?” Ash gawked, circling around the bare chested Dwight. Despite the fact he was facing away from me I could some how sense how red his face was getting, his arms curling around his chest to hide himself. Ace who just returned from a walk in the woods chime in as well. “Damn, I looked just like that as a young buck.” He turned to face me, giving a signature smile and finger guns. “Now I look even better.” “I... I don’t look that good, I’ve just been um... running alot. Hyperventilating.” He tried to turn his attention to his clothes, picking out a sweater to hold close to him. “Nah don’t be so shy, why don’t we ask the pretty lady how you look huh? Jenna. What do you think of this hot slab of man meat hmm?” Ash’s arm wrapped around Dwight’s shoulder, turning his body to face me. He looked terrified, his eyes wide and beads of sweat beginning to form along his forehead. Ash was right, he wasn’t ripped but he certainly was fit. But most of the survivors were fit, least the ones that were here the longest were. A nice soft v-line, the smallest signs of the beginning of abs being amplified by the light of the campfire. I averted my eyes to the dirt below, nudging a clump of dirt with my shoe. “You look nice Dwight, Ash and Ace are right even if they are... them.” “Well you heard the lady, the house is always right.” Ace chimed in from his seat on the long. “You got spunk kid.” “And if you keep it up you’ll get to spunk-” Ash smiled, causing Dwight to huff and pull himself away, earning a scolding from myself “Ash-” “What? I can’t be a hype man for nervous nelly over here? I’m trying to give the man a pair that he NEEDS.” “He has a pair Ash, come on. I know you’re trying to help, you try to help alot of people but...” “But what? Come on Sugar, spill it. I know you like to keep those thoughts to yourself.” “...You can be a little... much.” “Baby I’m all a little much-”  I felt my cheeks warming up, crossing my arms nervously as Ash loomed over me. “I mean... sometimes you need a softer approach with things, with Dwight, with me. You can be... off-putting or rude to people who aren’t into your... muchness. You probably scared Dwight off and made him more self conscious cause you said that instead of helping him.” “Well then who’s fault is that? We told him he looks great! Ugh, whatever, I’ll stop being a charity case then, since nobody seems to be appreciative.” Ash grunted, turning around to storm off to a second campfire off in the distance. “Ashley... damn it...” My shoulders slumped in defeat, going to sit beside Ace who was twisting a scratched coin between his fingers. “Don’t sweat it mi tesoro, Ash is just thick headed when it comes to his ways. You either get it through or you break your hand trying to knock the sense into him.” “Was I wrong? Maybe I was being too harsh on Ash. I just... I just don’t want us to fight, I don’t want anyone to fight. We’re all so tense in trials I just want us to get along and be happy for once outside of them.” Ace frowned, placing a comforting hand on my thigh so I would look at him. “Sometimes people will fight, especially since, well... we’re HERE of all places. But give em enough time and when the right moment comes around they’ll forget all about whatever fight you were having and drag your ass from the basement apologizing and praying you won’t die. Happened to me twice. When the shit hits the fan we look out for each other and if it isn’t hitting the fan then it’s not a day in the fog am I right?” He flashed another smile and I couldn’t help but smile along “Yeah, yeah I suppose you’re right. I just want it to stay happy. But that’s impossible huh?”  “Not impossible, just very, very, very hard. But I love shitty odds, so I’m with you for keeping the vibe lively. Maybe when Dwight and Ash come back with can get a round of cards going huh? I promise I won’t cheat.” “I got a feeling you’re lying to me but honestly I’ll take a rigged game any day.”

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart  (3)

Ao3 Link | chapter 1 | chapter 2 |

warnings: blood, hypnosis, tragic backstories, tension, arguing

-

The oven’s beeping was what alerted him.

They’d installed a safety feature in the little panel of knobs and buttons that would chirp loudly if the oven was left on past an hour. It had been Virgil’s idea, after Patton’s forgetfulness caused one too many close calls. 

“I’d like our house to stay not burned down, thanks,” he’d said in that wry tone of his. Patton had been too busy delighting in the fact that he’d referred to them all as a unit, a team, to be offended about the jab at his absentminded nature.

Logan snapped the cover of the book he was holding shut, feeling hot irritation run through him as he forced the memory away. Did Patton really think it was appropriate to burn a batch of cookies now, of all times?

Of course, when he strode into the room and found the oven empty but for a tray of cooling cookies with a sticky note atop it, he changed his tune rather abruptly. 

Went to go feed V! Don’t panic, have a cookie! - Pat <3 

Logan muttered profanity under his breath as he retrieved one of his crossbows from the closet and hurried down the stairs. They had to be stuck down there, Virgil— the vampire likely free of the chair but locked in the room, now with the advantage of a hostage.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and stopped dead, staring at Patton sitting in the chair casually, no vampire in sight. 

Unless Patton hadn’t bothered to lock the door behind him, because of course he didn’t. Logan growled, checking once more to make sure Patton was the only one in the room before flinging the bolt free and the door open. 

“Patton, you cardigan-clad clod—”

He pulled up short at the haze in his partner’s eyes. The blood splattered on the floor. Thralled. 

Immediately, he stepped back, holding the crossbow in a guard position. He desperately didn't want to have to hurt Patton, but with the man’s already considerable strength enhanced by thrall magic, he’d have to use a weapon to stand a chance. 

Patton didn’t move, head tilted just slightly. “It’s... okay, Lo. M— he didn’t order me to attack you guys.” 

Logan carefully lowered his bow, remembering the vampire’s earlier facade, but… this was Patton. Of all of them, he was the most experienced with thralls, and the fact that he was speaking was a good sign. His mental strength was enough that if he was commanded to deceive them, he would simply stay silent instead. 

He rushed over, placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder to ground him. He floundered for words for a moment, throat clogged. Logically, he knew the vampire did not have Virgil’s memories and couldn’t have known. Illogically, his body still felt the betrayal like a physical blow.

“It’s okay, Lo,” Patton offered again, leaning his head into the hand on his shoulder. “It’s a really gentle one. I still feel… all-me. Promise.” 

The reassurance meant more than it would coming from any other vamp victim. When they had first met Patton, he’d been under thrall on and off for long enough that he had learned how to function almost-normally, enough that he was able to give them vital hints to the truth of the case they’d been working on.

He’d almost died for his disobedience, and it was only through severing the thrall bond that they were able to save him. Even then, the mental backlash had been severe. Patton had been dazed and blank for weeks afterwards, sometimes unable to function unless one of them was right there with him, guiding him step by step. 

Virgil had been so protective of him. And now…

Logan nodded, clearing his throat once, and then again. “Can you stand?” he asked when he was sure his voice wouldn’t do anything strange. 

“Mmmhm.” Patton kicked his feet out and hopped up from the chair, nearly falling over before Logan steadied him. He was still holding one hand over the other wrist tightly.

“Your artery—“ he started, alarmed.

“No veins, he only took a little bite of blood,” Patton reassured him, a pleased grin on his face at the pun. “Can’t move my hand… he said to pressurize it.” 

“Ah,” Logan said, a bit taken aback. “Very good. Not the pun, that was very bad. Follow me?” 

Patton paused at the threshold of the room, before stepping carefully over without any twitching or other indicators of pain. “Told me to stay first, buuut then he tried to summon me, so... it cancels out, I think.” 

Such circular logic was Patton’s main tool for subverting thrall orders. If the vamp had gotten out and then called Patton… Logan felt a bit smug. “The hawthorn must have caught him unawares.” 

Patton chuckled. “Silly.” 

Logan paused briefly to turn off the oven before cautiously making his way to the front door, sending Patton a curious glance. He screwed his face up in concentration for a moment, and then pointed a finger up towards the ceiling slightly to their left. The roof, then. 

Taking a deep breath, he strode out onto the lawn and did an about-face to scan the roof. Sure enough, he quickly spotted those eerie eyes glowing in the shadow of their chimney. 

Virgil— the vampire stiffened, body coiling like a spring set to snap before stilling at the sight of Patton trailing behind Logan. He glanced between the two of them incredulously, and then focused on Patton, jerking his head to where their lawn met the road purposefully. Issuing a mental command.

Logan’s worried gaze turned on Patton immediately, but all the man did was twist to look over at the hawthorn bushes and then back at the vampire with a pleading frown. His movements weren’t even stilted, a testament to how easily he had shaken off the command.

“I don’t wanna ruin all your hard work, kiddo!” he called up, making the vampire’s face twitch into an expression Logan only saw on Virgil when he was trying to calculate the tip or a woman hit on him: bewilderment. 

Attempting to distract the vampire from increasing the intensity of the order, he stepped forwards. “Get off the roof, Virgil.” 

A flash of pain on the vamp’s face, gone as soon as it appeared. “Not gonna happen,” he replied, the edge of a snarl in his voice. 

“Are you planning on taking up residence there, then?” Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing up at the grey sky. “I imagine that cloud cover won’t last forever.” 

“I imagine you’ll have fun watching your friend’s body burn to a crisp,” the vampire shot back mockingly, his clawed hands digging into the roof’s shingles. 

Before Logan could respond, the front door was slammed open with excessive force, the sound making the vampire flatten himself further against the roof. 

“Logan! The vamp’s out, have you seen—“ Roman cut off at the sight of Patton behind him, lowering his katana slightly. “Oh, thank the muses.” 

Logan resisted the urge to rub at his temples. Roman strode over, and then stopped dead at the sight of Patton’s half-glazed eyes, his expression instantly darkening. He gripped his sword handle, knuckles turning white as he spoke with false calm. “Where is he?”

“Roman—,” Logan tried, but he was already following Patton’s line of sight up to the blob of shadow on the roof. The vamp looked like he was attempting to merge with the tiles, though he bristled as soon as Roman met his eyes.

“How could you?” he shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “You know what he’s been through, you asshole!” 

The vampire drew himself up, and Logan opened his mouth to correct Roman, but Patton reached him first, bumping him gently from the side. 

“Easy, Ro,” he said, tilting his head to rest on his shoulder. “He doesn’t remember, and I’m okay. It’s a real soft one, doesn’t hurt a bite.” 

“Reusing puns, really?” Logan snipped, relief flooding through him at the way some tension eased from the air. Roman was looking at Patton with unguarded shock. 

Logan understood. There had been a few instances where Patton had been thralled again, seeing as he was their best close-range fighter, and each and every time he had been shaky, drained, and upset both during the thrall and after. To see him still maintaining his cheer now was surprising, to say the least. Perhaps Patton’s insistence that Virgil’s memories remained intact had some merit, if the thrall was this… ‘soft,’ as Patton put it. 

He glanced up at the vampire in question, noting the way he was watching Patton with his own barely-hidden shock. It vanished as soon as Roman turned back to him, a practiced mask of indifference settling on his face. 

“Release Patton from your thrall, bloodsucker,” Roman commanded, breathing deeply through his nose.

“... You’re going to shoot me off this roof if I do,” the vamp responded, which frankly was much better than another ‘not a chance’. Roman glowered harder, and Logan cleared his throat pointedly.

“Virgil—,” he started.

“It’s Anx,” the vamp and Patton corrected at the same time, in wildly different tones. They proceeded to look at each other with wildly different expressions. Roman whipped his head between them with indignation. Logan rolled his eyes.

“Anx, then. You cannot remain up there forever, and you cannot escape.” The vamp snorted derisively, and Logan remained unruffled. “I trust the security of our base greatly. Our friend was the one who reinforced it, and you’ll find there are very few more thorough than him.”

“Great, so he fucked himself over retroactively,” Anx muttered viciously. “As if I needed more reasons to hate myself.” 

“Mno, fight you…,” Patton mumbled absently on reflex. Roman slung an arm around him for support.

“Perhaps we could strike a deal,” Logan offered, seeing that his other teammates were going to be no help in convincing him. “You will release the thrall on Patton, and refrain from biting any of us or attempting to escape again. In exchange—“

“How about in exchange, we won’t shoot you off our roof,” Roman snapped, glaring at everyone but Patton indiscriminately. Logan glared back. 

“In exchange,” he repeated emphatically, “you will be fed and we will attempt more civil methods of negotiation rather than locking you up. Does that sound agreeable?” 

“How about instead, he digs up those stupid bushes and then I leave without bleeding any of you dry? Does that sound agreeable?” Anx snapped. He flicked his gaze back to Patton sharply, making them all stiffen in unison. 

However, it was the vampire who ended up clutching at his head and letting out a choked scream, not Patton. He staggered a few steps forward before collapsing bonelessly into a dead faint on the roof. 

[yikesharringrove]

Don’t Wanna Get Caught

1/2 giveaway fics for my 1k follower celebration! This one is for @harringrovewhorexx​ who requested possessive!Billy.

There’s smut at the end.

Read on Ao3

Steve knows Robin doesn’t like him.

That very first day at Scoops, he had held out his hand, put on his sweetest smile, and said Hi, Steve Harrington.

“Yeah, I know .”

“Well, uh, it looks like we share most of our shifts.”

“Yippee.” She wasn’t looking at him, was only speaking in full monotone.

He didn’t really know what to do with her rejection.

He knows he’s fallen from grace, knows no girls have really spared him a second look, let alone owe him a conversation. But if they’re gonna work together most days, he wants to be able to talk.

Nothing implied.

He’s already got someone, of course. Not that he can tell anyone.

So he and Robin skirted around one another. And his shifts were long and boring, and went on forever while he passed time organizing different sized cups, practiced making perfectly round scoops, and thinking about Billy at the community pool, strutting around in the short red shorts he had picked up from Steve’s floor and shimmied on this morning.

He found out how to really crack her about three and a half weeks into their time together.

He was carrying in a load of plastic spoons, ready to set them out in the designated holders, when he tripped.

And 800 red spoons went everywhere .

She laughed at him so hard he thought she was gonna collapse.

So he figured it out. She likes to watch him make a fool of himself.

He leaned into it.

He had nothing left to lose anymore, didn’t have any more grace to fall from.

Bombing with girls hadn’t really been on purpose.

He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing, and had spilled a cone down some chicks shirt, getting rocky road all down her cleavage.

“God, you dingus. Aren’t you supposed to be good with the ladies.”

“Just lost my touch, I guess.”

“ I’ll say . You made a complete fool of yourself.” Steve smiled sheepishly at her.

It was easier than Steve wanted to think about, making a complete ass of himself, flirting so shittily with the girls that came through Scoops, they would walk away when they knew he was working.

But it’s not like he was trying to get laid anyway .

He had Billy, who would be waiting in his sitting room when he got home, shorts on the floor, and hard cock in his hand. He’d say, well c’mon sailor. Got something nice for ya . He did it almost every night .

-

Billy was beating on the steering wheel, singing along loudly to the Judas Priest tape he had picked.

He was picking Steve up, had planned to take him out for his lunch hour, maybe take him to the diner, maybe just fuck him in the backseat of the Camaro for about fifty minutes, and give Steve some time to wolf down a hotdog-on-a-stick before returning to his ice cream.

He twirled his key ring around one finger as he made his way to Steve.

He had one foot in the threshold when he saw Steve leaning over the counter, flirting with some fucking girl .

He felt like his vision was shorting out. His blood was rushing in his ears.

Steve, his Steve , was giggling at this blonde chick, talking out his ass about something . Something Billy didn’t care now, not when it wasn’t directed at him .

He ground his teeth as Steve finished the transaction, practically throwing the girl’s change at her. Fuckin’ eager little beaver, ain’t he?

She turned around, an odd look on her face as she left with her ice cream.

Steve brightened like the fucking sun when he saw Billy, who just glowered at him.

He stomped up to the counter.

“Hey, Bill.” He reached out to tug on Billy’s shirt collar. Billy knocked his hand away.

“Who the fuck was that ?” Steve’s face crumbled.

“Who?”

“That fucking girl you were having the goddamn time of your life with.”

“Um, the customer before you? I don’t know. I don’t know her name.”

“So you didn’t even bother to learn her name before trying to get in her pants?”

“I wasn’t, wait what the fuck ?”

“No. You don’t get to do that . You talk all this shit about us ,” he lowered his voice, talking through gritted teeth. “Us being together , and you fuck around with girls .”

“Billy, I wasn’t ! The only time my coworker doesn’t hate my fucking guts , is when I’m making a damn fool of myself. So I, on purpose , bomb with girls because she thinks it’s funny. It’s just that.”

Billy huffed.

Ultimately, he does trust Steve, knows when he’s telling the truth.

And in retrospect , Steve’s been hurt before, he wouldn’t cheat on Billy.

But picturing him with someone else, anyone else, well it was making Billy’s gut burn .

He took Steve by the wrist, tugging him into the breakroom.

“What the fuck ?” Steve’s coworker was at the table, drinking a milkshake, Walkman headphones over her ears.

“It’s Steve’s lunch. You’re on.” She threw Billy a dirty look while she pushed past him.

“Billy, no need to be rude-” Steve’s eyes were wide when he slammed him against the freezer door.

“Wanted her gone . So I can have my way with you.”

“Billy, we can’t-”

“You know, you got me thinkin’ . Thinkin’ about you , with other people . And I really fucking hated that idea.” He ghosted his breath over Steve’s neck. “Wanna show you who you belong to .”

Steve whined as Billy ground their hips together.

He started sucking bruises on Steve’s neck, making him gasp.

“You gotta be quiet , Baby. Don’t wanna get caught .”

Steve bit his lip as Billy went for his belt. He turned Steve around when he got it loose, just enough to shove his shorts down, expose his ass.

He sucked on two of his fingers, circling one around his hole.

One went in easy, Steve had ridden his dick just this morning before work. Steve was panting, trying not to make all his usual noises, his mewls and cries.

Billy’s body was so fucking hot behind his, and he could feel his cock, hard as a damn rock through the denim of his shorts.

He pushed in another finger, Steve whined in his throat, biting his lip to try and keep the sound down .

Steve arched his back, trying to fuck himself on Billy’s fingers.

“ Greedy , aren’t you?” Billy was pressed against his back, rasping right into his ear. “What do you say, then? You ready for my cock?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, wanting to stay quiet , wanting to stay good . “I’m ready.”

Billy’s fingers were gone, the weight against his back disappearing.

Steve stayed where he was, back arched against the freezer door, ass sticking out.

He heard Billy zipper, heard him spit into his hand.

Billy’s cock was hot against him, the blunt head pressed against his entrance, just teasing .

“Want you to remember who you belong to.” He shoved his way in, pulling Steve’s hips, forcing him to take his cock in one go.

Steve slapped one hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the whine that had forced its way out of his throat.

“Dingus? You okay?” Billy leaned forward as Robin called out to him.

“Go ahead, Pretty Boy. Tell her you’re fine .”

“I’m fine, Robin. Thanks.” Steve tried to keep his voice even, but it shook a little as Billy slowly pulled out, working his way back into Steve.

“The rush is picking up, so come out here when you can.” Billy’s dick was stretching him out, a little dry as he moved in and out of Steve, moved so fucking slow .

“Sure thing.” Steve rested his forehead against the freezer door, taking ragged breaths.

“ Good job. She doesn’t suspect a thing .”

Billy picked up the pace a little, didn’t want Robin to come looking for Steve at any point.

Even if the idea thrilled him a little.

He plastered himself to Steve, holding onto his hips as he fucked into him, pulling Steve back towards him with every thrust.

Steve turned over his shoulder, looking darkly at Billy before his eyes flutter closed, leaning as close as he could, pressing their lips together gently. Billy took one hand from his hips, bringing it to the back of Steve’s head to deepen the kiss, guide Steve just where he wants him.

He kissed his cheek, down over his jaw. He kissed his neck, letting his tongue lave against pale skin before pressing his lips to it.

Steve reached down, stroking his cock with one hand, the other bracing him against the freezer.

“Billy,” Steve trailed off. Billy knew he was close, knew by the sharp gasps he kept letting out that Billy was hitting his sweet spot , bringing him closer and closer and closer to the edge.

Billy bit him, sucking in the skin, leaving a red, angry mark on his neck, above the little collar of the sailor shirt, where everyone would see that Steve Harrington was claimed .

“You’re mine .”

Steve came when Billy growled into his ear, his legs shaking as his brows screwed up.

Billy fucked him through it, pulling out when Steve stopped clenching around him.

He turned Steve around, pushing on his shoulders to get him on his knees, little shorts still pulled down, spunk all over his hand.

He took Billy into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he let Billy fuck his face, relaxing into it.

Billy was panting, staring down at Steve trying not to choke on his cock, staring at the bite mark , blossoming so pretty and red against his skin.

He pushed Steve down firmly, cumming right down his throat, making sure he takes it all , swallows everything up.

He released Stev, let him take a few shaking breaths as he tucked himself away.

He got a napkin for Steve’s hand, cleaning up the drool on his face while he was at it. Steve smiled softly up at him.

“You comin’ over tonight?” Billy helped him stand up, did his shorts and his belt back up for him.

“‘Course I am. Wanna see how nicely this develops.” He pressed a thumb into the bruise on Steve’s neck, making him hiss.

“Did you leave a mark ?” Steve scrambled to find something reflective, settled for the glass on the back door. “You asshole .”

“Wanted all the girlies that come by to know you’ve already got someone.” Steve slapped his chest.

“Jackass.”

[taehyungphille]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

AU: Mafia + Life Long Rivals

Genre: Angst|Romance|Slight Fluff|Smut

Rating: Censored|Rated 18+

Summary:Taehyung’s life long goal was to eradicate your family’s existence. He was clear to this purpose until you interrupted and proposed for a marriage instead.

AN: This contains a lot of sensitive issues, words and triggering scenarios. I’m warning you of the risks, it’s your choice anyway.

Prologue

“I’d marry you.”

Those were the words that left your lips by the moment you hit the ground. You can feel the eyes drilling through you, surprised gazes.

You were breathless, wheezing and desperate, both hands rested behind your head. “I’d be your wife, your woman. Make me do everything, I’d be your anything. I won’t ever protest, I swear.”

You begged on your knees, mud painting your trousers with deep, filthy brown color. Your eyes were red, hair sticking allover your face, drenched in the rain. Ever since you were formally introduced to this savagery, your family always chased victory after victory. You never knew anything about vanquish or fear, you were taught to always have the upper hand no matter what. However, it was your mother whom we’re talking about now. Her in the hands of the family that yours have always despised for ages. And here you are, defeated.

“No offense but who are you?” a man calmly said, he whom is on average height, leaning against an old tree as he wiped off the blood on his hands. All were curious. They looked at you like an odd. They were familiar of the members of your clan but not of you.

You had to do this. Even when they made you swear an oath to keep your identity out of the radar. Even when your father had to banish you from the land and spend your days in foreign countries. Even when your mother raised another child, a boy who had your place in the family for years. You had to do this .

“I’m Y/N” you softly spoke “I am the daughter”

There were gasps all around you. Surprise looks were printed on their faces.You mother closed her eyes shut as tears escaped from them. Her body trembled as she cried silently. This was the day she have always feared of coming, the day that you will be exposed as the one and only descendant of the Takahashi.

“So the here-says were true.” one man spoke up “That they’ve been hiding the true child after all this time?”

“They have a female successor?” the man leaning against the tree started walking up to you as he chuckled

“That doesn’t make me less than any man” you sassed back “I don’t need to have a penis to have the right to rule. Being a woman myself is so much more than all men here combined”

He stopped midway and replied “And yet you’re the one who’s kneeling and surrendering.” You kept a straight face. You didn’t let them know how a huge slap that was for you.

“But did I hear it right?” some other man exclaimed with a funny tone “The heiress is trading her body, for her mommy?” He laughed hilariously with dirty look on his face.The other men joined the monotonous laughter, all of them except for him.

He intently looked at you, brown eyes penetrating yours, as if he could see all of you. You never left his gaze to indicate the severity of your words. He should know that you are genuinely serious of the proposal.

“Is that a proposition?” He mockingly mumbled as he pressed the gun harder against the head of your mother; she shrieked. “You, my little angel, is willing to leave everything behind, enter my dominion, for the sake of this woman?”

You flinched with dreadful look on your face as you balled your fist against the back of your head “Yes, yes” you confessed desperately “You can have me, permanently. Just please, let her go.”

He watched you, sharp eyes, mouth slightly gaped with a little bit twitch of smirk. There was a brief silence until he slowly withdrew the weapon and walked towards your direction “Do I really look stupid to you, angel?” He sneered, as he knelt one knee and grabbed you by the neck, gently yet forcefully, enough to scare you yet enough to let you breathe.

“Did you think I’d want my heirs to have the blood of a traitor, a stinking, shameful DNA of yours?”

You couldn’t help but to sigh and roll your eyes. You planned to be nice , but your innate sarcasm just popped up somewhere and regretted it immediately “I asked you to marry me, not to bear your little versions, dumbass”

He was taken aback as he narrowed his eyes and his smile grew “So they’re right about your smart mouth” he said as he moved his fist higher, rested it on your cheeks and chin, gripped it a little hard to keep your mouth open then inserted his index finger. He pushed it further until you gagged and stumbled back.

“Please just take me, she has nothing to do with this” your mother exclaimed, gasping for air, hissing as the pain in her left flank continued to burn

“No, I won’t!” you stubbornly answered “I won’t let them touch you mother. I had no business nor any involvement in this long term hatred of our families, and neither are you.”

You returned your eyes back to the man in front of you. You kept the brave composure despite of the hole on your left abdomen “My father was foolish for being your ally, but he was more stupid when he betrayed his oath”

“At least this one got some sense” you heard someone said it but you never really shifted your gaze from the boss himself.

“I would fight you to death if that’s what you want. But know that I should not be taken guilty for my father’s sins. I might be his daughter, but never was his successor. I don’t intend on taking responsibility of his stupidity” you bellowed that the whole ground you are at fell silent. You continued “Yet, I’d be ignorant if I actually ask you for a fight. With my current condition and having my mother as your hostage, I’d rather throw away my pride than let her blood flood this place”

“How dramatic” a blonde girl interrupted your powerful little speech. She played her dagger soaked with blood of your comrades as if she’s holding a light pencil between her fingers. You shot her a look and she replied with pointing the knife to your direction saying “One word darling and this will stuck in your throat”

You walked through the dirt, holding your stomach as blood oozed from it “What else do you wish to fulfill? You’ve already killed my father, congrats you have also murdered Jungkook. You’ve basically eradicated most of us all, what else do you want?”

You were about to be intimidatingly close to him when your pain tolerance reached its threshold and you immediately slumped on the ground. You heard your mother call your name, then you heard the blonde girl screaming at her to shut her mouth or else she’ll blow her skull into pieces.

You turned your head towards your mother to see her state but the man blocked you. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up, you pursed your lips to muffled the cry of pain from your cuts but tears started to pool in your eyes again.

“I want you all dead” he snickered “I want to wipe your history, I want you to vanish in this very Earth. I want to watch the colors in your eyes fade as you beg for mercy.”

He wasn’t a man, you thought. You knew him through stories of Jungkook. You were told that he’s animalistic and ruthless, you were told that he’s always angry and hateful. You were told that he’s speaks bullets and bombs, you were told that he never leave a battle with any survivor. However, you still find yourself shocked with his actual attitude, eyes wide in terror like how you reacted when you first heard about him at the age of 13.

The grip on your wrist slowly loosened “Even so,hearing your little stunt there rang an idea in my head” he pressed his palm hard over the cut on your stomach. You immediately fell unto his arms, clenched his suit and buried your face on the crook of his neck “And I asked myself, what do I gain from your proposal “

“Please Taehyung, let my child go, she’s-“ your mother couldn’t finish her words when the blonde girl quickly kicked her hard on the stomach

“Who and where on Earth did you get the permission to call him by his name huh?” yelled at her as she brought the knife close to her face

“Enough with that Minji, you’re being an overdramatic girlfriend now” the man whom you described by height dragged Minji away from your powerless mother

“Let me go Jimin!” She wriggled off of him yet he kept tugging her far from you.

You wanted to rush towards your mother. Tend to her, reassure her of safety and care, but then you can’t even get yourself stable, can’t even breathe properly, and can’t even let go of Taehyung as you held him as your temporary anchor keeping you from collapsing on the floor again. He didn’t mind at all, or that’s what you just wish to tell yourself.

Nobody spoke for minutes. Not one, until you slowly rose your head up looking at him, and gradually let go of your clutch on him. “What do you say?” your voice was rasp, obviously tired and drain.

“I say I accept your clever scheme” he tucked strands of your hair behind your ear. In a split of second, you almost convinced yourself that he’s endearing. “We’ll get married, but you’ll be just a wife. You won’t get my name and you won’t be allowed to use yours. You cut ties with all your connections around the globe. You are bound to obey my rules. You won’t be involved in our work. You won’t live with me.“ he gently rested a hand on your cheek and caressed it gently “In short, I’ll keep you alive but dead at the same time”

“And you will spare my mother.” You exclaimed as you politely knock off his hand against your skin, ignoring his threats and plans.

“You have my word, angel” he took a step back “You have my word” he took another stride backwards, towards your mother but kept his gaze on you. Crazy it may sound but you put a little faith on his words. He might be heartless but he sure is a man of word. You took a deep breath, glanced at your mother and mouthed “I love you”

That’s when she lost it. She started crying your name. Begging the heavens to save you. Asking the non-existing spirits for a miracle. Verbalizing apologies to you for letting you be in this situation. Cursing herself for being a worthless woman was.

You were about to alleviate her through words again when a sharp blow of punch on your stomach almost shattered your soul into pieces. You fell to the ground, yelped in pain, curled yourself as you struggle to regain your breathing. But then you saw the blonde woman folding a hanky and swiftly wrapped around your head, completely blinding you. You felt arms tucking you to the ground, hushing you down.

“Good girl” Taehyung’s voice was like a catastrophe enveloping your body, pricking thorns on your skin, webs entangling your head, smoke suffocating your lungs, and moments later you heard 3 gunshots, one last grunt and fading breath sounds from your mother.

Your cried so hard that the sky responded with a loud roar, and then everything went pitch black.

[bluebellhairpin]

Something’s Not Right

Bruce Wayne/Batman X Batmom!Reader 

A/N: Oh dear, here comes the angst. (This is like 6+ pages on my google docs. Ha Ha ha oops) - Nemo

Warning(s): Blood, kidnapping, almost character death, mentions of miscarriage and infertility, not necessarily in that order. This could be distressing, so don’t read this if you think it could upset you. 

Summary: Ever since Batman’s third Robin, you’ve been know as the Batmom to Batman’s mask. But events lead you to break with not knowing what to do, and the only comfort you find is Alfred, who then tells you of something you never knew. With your newfound information, you set to work saving your family.

Listening to: “Something's Not Right” by Lily Allen 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

You first met Batman when you were robbing a bank. 

In your defense, you were a little inexperienced, and he only knew you were there because he saw a shadow pass inside through a window. 

After that you kept running into each other, and ended up becoming each others first vigilante partners. 

You know, before he had a million Robin’s. 

You even came to know who was under the mask. Bruce Wayne the billionaire. 

When he brought home the first soon-to-be Robin, Dick Grayson, you were raiding his fridge in the Manor’s kitchen, having made yourself at home over the last few years. You looked at Bruce like he was crazy, he told you he’d explain later and you sure as hell made sure he did. 

You offered Dick some of the cereal you’d raided, and he accepted with a mumble and small smile. From speaking to Bruce later, that boy had been through a lot. 

You only hoped that Bruce wouldn’t push him too hard. 

We had forever We never got it together

Jason Todd joined a few years later, having been found by both you and Bruce trying to steal hubcaps. When Bruce brought him inside after the to had talked, you got the horrible feeling that Jason would become a Robin too. 

Your worries were confirmed when you caught Bruce and Jason sparring in the cave. You caught Bruce’s eye, and he froze. You shook your head at him and he knew he had more explaining to do.

After that, you become monitor of the computer. With Jason as the new Robin, and Dick starting to spread his wings off as Nightwing, you didn’t desperately need to be out fighting anymore. Someone needed to stay home, and with your relationship with Bruce becoming something more than friends, he felt better when you weren’t in danger. 

When he brought that up, you never once failed to play the card of “What about Dick and Jason?” 

Despite Dick being Nightwing and not living permanently at home, or Jason not really wanting to be in the Cave when he could have the house all to himself aside from Alfred, they always managed to be in the staircase of the cave when your voices started to raise in the same heated discussion. They knew it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You were protective, viewing them as the sons you could never have, and Bruce was too careless for his own good. 

But really what they stayed for was what happened after the yelling, the telling off, and the arguing. You always made up after, with softer words, a hug and a kiss. They’d never seen anyone else do that after a fight.

I waited for you For you I made it better

Jason's death hit you all hard, but Bruce didn’t get over it. 

Then, a couple years after Jason died, Bruce came home with another boy donned in Jason’s old Robin suit. He introduced himself as Tim Drake. He said he knew who you were, and you told him ‘Who doesn’t know (y/n) Wayne?’. Then he said he knew who you really were. 

'Valentine' was a name previously not spoken directly to you in over half a decade, and this thirteen-year-old seemed to know more about you than you thought possible. 

The next few years went on with their own struggles. Bruce got used to having a Robin again. Tim dealt with troubles and struggles in the form of his real parents. You got over the fact Tim was wearing Jason’s costume once he got his own. And Tim became a permanent residence of the manor. 

With Bruce and Dick protecting the city, Tim as Robin, and Alfred wanting to keep monitor duty with Tim, you gave up the vigilante life for good. 

Nowadays you only ever went to the cave to deal with injuries, last-resort monitor duty, and scolding Bruce or Tim for staying up too late. 

The one thing that didn’t seem to change was Alfred and Dick. They were always there, always a shoulder to cry on, and a listening ear. They knew how hard it got for both you and Bruce. 

Dick wanted to be there to show he was grateful for what you’d done in the past. 

Alfred was there because that’s where he belonged. 

They kept telling me that it was unlikely All I had to do was keep you beside me

Once everything seemed to be falling back into a semi-blissful state, the world served another harsh blow. The first was to Bruce, in the form of a vengeful and now alive Jason Todd. 

While Bruce had to serve every night going out to face the Red Hood, you went back to the monitor spending your days trying to track Jason down. Now that your boy was back you needed to have him home. Even though they didn’t know it, you knew that what both Bruce and Jason needed  was to be together. 

Naturally, once the initial tension disappeared, you were right. 

Even now, now that Jason is back, you can still see the haunted look in Bruce’s eye that makes you think he’s almost believing he is seeing a ghost.

The second blow was to you, in the form of Bruce’s long-lost son Damian. 

He came in silence, and for the first few days you barely noticed a change. It was mostly Bruce’s attitude and reluctance to let you in the cave that made you suspicious. Luckily for Bruce, he was around when you found Damian in the cave. 

Needless to say it took a good couple hours of conversation before everything was cleared up.

Damian listened from the staircase, and eventually Tim wordlessly joined. The new duo unknowingly recreating what their predecessors did before them. Alfred felt a wave of nostalgia from just glancing at them. 

What Damian couldn’t believe through the whole ‘discussion’ was how much you were blaming his father for him being in your home, not him. Even though you both were fighting over him being there, there wasn’t any hate in your words to him, only annoyance to Bruce. 

He wondered exactly how many times you had to deal with the same thing before, aside from Tim. 

Cause there aren’t many stars in the sky tonight

As far as you were concerned, having children of your own was never going to happen. One robbery gone wrong was enough to pull your chances of your own children from an already mere fifty to less than twenty.  

It was one of the reasons you were so good at welcoming each boy into your home with such open arms. As soon as they stepped through the threshold with a tired introduction from your husband, small faces and bleary eyes, you saw them as yours. Every time, without fail.

Naturally it came as a shock to you when the doctor told you to take a pregnancy test after you’d been horrendously sick for the past week. It came as a bigger shock when the test came back positive. 

Bruce’s excitement and yours was taken too soon. In reality, you knew it could’ve happened, but you didn’t think it’d happen so suddenly, or so easily. 

Dick and Jason were among those waiting when you came home from the hospital, and everyone would've much preferred if the trip happened nine months later, and you’d have a bundle of blankets in your hands rather than just a bag of clothes. 

Even Damian couldn’t help the horrible feeling in the bottom of his stomach. After all he still wouldn’t be a big brother. 

It had been a couple weeks, but you were starting to worry. While you had grieved, and in your own way moved on, Bruce seemed to stay the same. He didn’t react. When the news came he went straight into autopilot. 

In his life he’d lost a lot of people. His parents, Jason, many other residence of Gotham, and now your baby. You started to think that with every lost soul his lost part of his own too. 

Cause I know that it’s day but it’s dark outside

Your worries were well served. Not even a couple nights after you voiced your concerns to Bruce himself did he and Damian get captured by the Joker. 

Tim was monitoring the computers, instantly sending out and alert to Dick to go help, but he just got caught too. Tim then contacted Jason, telling him to meet him near Gotham Docks. 

You wandered into the cave to see the monitor set to where Tim left it. A camera from in an old warehouse displayed all five of your boys beaten, bloodied, and tied up with the Joker pacing back and forth in front of them. 

Near the monitor keyboard was a notebook, open to a page with words scribbled in Tim’s characteristically messy writing. He found writing down thoughts helped him get his mind straight. It cleared his head. 

“Knows fighting styles - been monitoring us for weeks to memorize patterns - new moves needed - Jason good idea - Mom the last resort.” you read a loud, sinking to the chair at the monitor.

As you processed what was happening, you knew time was running short. You felt Alfred behind you, placing his hands reassuringly on your shoulders.

“What am I supposed to do?” you said, resting your head in your hands, “The GCPD won't be able to handle it well enough, and I can't just contact Clark or Diana. And I got rid of my suit years ago - it’s not like I can just slip on one of Bruce’s suits and go fight myself.” 

“I think there’s something I should show you.” Alfred said, squeezing your shoulders. 

And I feel a weight in my heart tonight

All the batsuits were displayed on one of the walls of the cave, it was like a trophy wall. And while your old Valentine suit wasn’t there, there was a display photo of you mid-flip as homage to what you’d done. 

As you went passed the suits, both old and new, and the empty cases of the suits being worn by your boys, Alfred soon stopped near your photo. He pressed the logo of your photo-suit and the glass moved away, soon followed by the wall, to reveal another glass case.

“Mister Bruce has been working on it since you destroyed your old one.” Alfred explained, letting you walk forwards to inspect your pristine suit, “He figured you might need it, and if I’m being honest I did too.”  

“Who else knows?” You asked, running your fingers over the fabric and the slightly darker logo on it’s chest. It was a lot like Bruce's suit.

“No one, but Tim found out, nothing’s a secret from him long.” you smiled. That’s Tim alright.

The fabric was new, a material you’d never seen before, but looked a lot like miniature chain-mail. Knife-proof.

The chest where your signature V logo was along with around your torso sounded a metallic tap. Bullet-proof.

You noted that although the mask only covered your eyes it was embedded with reflective glass. Photo-proof. 

“He sure was prepared.” you said, turning back to Alfred with the mask in your hands. “Will you man the computers for me?”  

“It would be an honor, Valentine.” 

Something's not right

“Copy V? Guards ahead.” Alfred said. The mask was also fit with a com-link. Bruce seemed to put everything in your suit, from an oxygen mask, to a lock-pick.

“Copy.” you said, sulking along the side of the warehouse towards the guards. You knew this could get nasty fast, but over time you learnt from Bruce many ways to subdue without killing. The guards were out of it before they even knew you were there. 

Inside, Bruce and the boys were getting antsy. 

Once when Joker left Tim said to the others he’d left a note near the computer encase he and Jason were unsuccessful, in the hope either you or Alfred would find it and send help. It had been almost two hours, and they were starting to doubt. Especially now that Joker was back and pacing in front of them. 

An explosion somewhere in another warehouse made their tired heads, and the heads of the others in the room, move towards the noise. The familiar sound of batarangs flying through the air made their head turn back right as two of the dozen guards fell to the floor, soon followed by two more. 

Joker ordered to start shooting at where the batarangs were coming from, and the solid sound of shots firing rang out for a couple long moments. When a figure clad in black dropped to the floor from the beams, Bruce felt his stomach drop. 

He knew that figure. He knew that suit. 

“Search them. Make sure whoever it is, is dead.” Joker said, dismissive in his words but the boys could tell he was on edge. Joker had the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood and the two Robins. There wasn’t anymore, right? 

The guard moved to the figure, nudging its shoulder with his foot, and with the second nudge the figure shot up, pulling the guard into a headlock, and the guard dropped down unconscious in less than a few seconds. The other guards were trained on the figure, and Joker smiled.

“Well, well, does Batsy have a new birdy?” he sang, and the figure stepped forwards out of the shadow to reveal you, donned in your Valentine suit for all to see.

“Oh no, dear Joker,” you said, matching his tone yet lacing it with as much venom as humanly possible, “I promise you I’m far from new.” 

Cause I know that it’s day but it’s dark outside

The fact Joker wasn’t expecting a sixth ‘Batman partner’ to show up helped with taking down the guards. And like Tim noted, he was tracking everyone’s fighting styles. Even if Bruce was in the right mind-frame he had little chance of coming out on top. 

You hadn't fought in the public eye for many years, so there was no recent footage of your style, and even so most of it was back when you weren’t working with Batman at all. 

You had tied up Joker when you set to work setting the boys free, and it came as no surprise that he’d somehow gotten away by the time you’d given everyone a once-over. 

Back in the cave Damian was the first. Once back in the confides of safety Damian practically flung himself into you. 

“Ummi, I thought-” he said, stopping himself with a sniff and burying his nose in your stomach. 

“It was a close call.” Dick added, his voice strained. With a look you pulled him closer, and one by one you managed to deal out hugs and just the right words. 

In the next few hours Dick and Jason were both sent off back home with food Alfred made, and the reassurance that you’d come visit. Tim was sent off to bed, being told everything from the past events would be waiting when he wakes up. Damian was also given bed rest, but only after he got one last hug from you. 

All that was left was to deal with Bruce, who’d been in the cave since you all went upstairs. 

Like the feeling of rain on a Summer light

“Bruce.” you said, reaching his place at the computer. He stopped rather abruptly, and turned to face you with an agonizingly slow pace. The look on his face made you pull him into you just like you did with Dick. And for the first time in so long, Bruce cried. 

He could’ve lost everything on top of the baby. The other boys. You. Himself. 

He knew what he did wrong, he knew he went in without a clear head, all because something wasn’t right.

[oneweekoneband]

Vacation

There’s a lot of clichés about artists burning out just as they come through with their brightest work, and in some people’s version of this story, that might be the frame for Vacation, BTMI!’s final album before breaking up. Personally, I’ve never bought into those monomyth-esque narratives about bands’ inherent career arcs, and so I’m not inclined to view the album this way. I will say that while I absolutely love it, I don’t think it’s necessarily the band’s best album. It’s also just not accurate to think that this was a point of “burning out” for BTMI!, since Jeff started writing for his solo career almost immediately following the band’s dissolution.

Still, Vacation does hew eerily close to a lot of these rock ‘n’ roll archetypes. It was a momentous album, it was probably the most publicized release the band had seen, it represented a new musical direction that seemed to present itself as the summary of Jeff’s experimentation with genre and songform over the rest of the band’s career, and the band very much did break up after its release (although, as with ASOB, it took a few years for that to become official).

About that publicization: while I’m somewhat sad that I missed out on most of BTMI!’s career (being, you know, too young to go to shows or even think much about punk for the first 5-ish years), I’m still glad I found them when I did, because the build-up to the release of Vacation was a really interesting time to be a fan. In 2010, almost a year before the release, the band began a roll-out of singles to get people excited about the new material, and it worked like a charm on me: the boisterous first single “Everybody That You Love” seemed like a sign of great things to come if its electrifying lead guitars and dizzying vocal hook were any indication. “Hurricane Waves” and “Can’t Complain” showed even more diversity to look forward to when the band released them in 2011 ahead of the album. In addition to that, Jeff launched a whole new label to sell Vacation (and much of the other stuff released through Quote Unquote) through, Really Records. Clearly, he was trying to communicate something about the step forward he wanted Vacation to represent.

And fans like me, despite knowing that “Side Projects Are Never Successful” and that Jeff was never in it for the fame, had reason to believe not only that this might have been the band’s big shot, but that they might actually make it big – or at least to become big enough to continue to exist as a full-time touring band that played music for a living. The Vacation singles were getting media coverage like no other previous BTMI! release had, and they marked a direction for the band’s music that, while retaining the punk integrity and musical ambition of the earlier albums, also proved more melodic, cleanly-produced, and accessible to a broader audience. While previous albums got recognition in the punk scene, Vacation looked like it had “crossover potential.” And when it finally arrived, there were even more positive signs: within half a year of the release, “Can’t Complain” made an appearance in “The Office.”

Of course, for all this to work, the album had to be good, and thankfully it was better than that – despite what might have sounded like my talking it down, it definitely represents a new high for the band. It’s Jeff’s own favourite BTMI! album, and I can see why: its complexity is something to be proud of. He had always been influenced by artists falling outside of the punk spectrum, but here those influences are more pronounced than ever, and the band finally breaks free of its ska-punk chains with a sound wholly its own. Brian Wilson-esque harmony arrangements and multi-part songs abound, and in a similar fashion to To Leave Or Die In Long Island, a couple motifs from individual songs (“Campaign For A Better Next Weekend” and “Sick, Later”) turn up in multiple places on the album for thematic cohesion. If SMiLE was Wilson’s “teenage symphony to God,” Vacation might be Jeff’s “adult symphony to punk rock.”

Many of my favourite songs off Vacation stand completely alone in the BTMI! catalogue, with little stylistic precedent. “Why Oh, Why Oh, Why (Oh Oh Oh Oh)” is a brash, thunderous fusion of Elvis Costello’s melodic sense and Bruce Springsteen’s maximalism, with a wealth of memorable melodies and lyrics that are all Jeff’s own. “Can’t Complain” is that rare song that manage to “rock quietly” – it’s both hushed and urgent in its muted acoustic chords and slide guitar lines, panicking at the pace of everyday life while simultaneously realizing how much there is to be thankful. And of course there’s the glorious, dynamic opener that slowly builds from a nostalgic piano riff accompanied by subtle, emotionally-charged chord changes into an explosive hardcore-punk charge, with vocals ranging from Jeff’s cleanest, quietest-ever singing to his more characteristic shouting to a group chant at the end.

But even when Vacation retreads familiar territory, it still feels like it’s moving forward. “The Shit That You Hate” stands in a long line of 3/4 5-6-minute slow-burn songs appearing on BTMI! albums, but it feels like a perfection of that particular type of song rather than a simple revisiting. Jeff’s weak, warbly falsetto note when he sings “Hold onto your hope” always gets me a little choked up. “Hurricane Waves” might recycle a melody from To Leave Or Die In Long Island during its bridge, but the rest of the song is all new, providing that melody with a fascinating recontextualization to great effect. The aforementioned “Sick, Later” has a zig-zagging riff in an unusual time signature combination that still manages to be incredibly hooky, as well as some of my favourite lyrics on the album:

The first time that I took you to the hospital,

I was tired and you wanted to die,

I drove off, and I couldn't understand at all

Fuck, I didn't even walk you inside,

I thought we all wanna die, we all wanna die,

And I thought that was fine, I thought that was fine.

One of the album’s most instantaneous joys comes from “Vocal Coach,” the shortest true song on the album. Jeff’s vocals were probably the most consistently difficult factor in terms of getting listeners outside of punk to take BTMI! seriously; they’re somewhere in between the traditionally-expected “bad” vocals of classic punk and the cleaner, more melodic style of singing dominant in pop-punk. Either way, they definitely don’t play to mainstream ears (perhaps this is why “Campaign For A Better Next Weekend” starts the way it does, and for that reason, Vacation might be the best place for a listener that’s not well-versed in punk to jump into the band’s discography). On “Vocal Coach,” Jeff takes on this problem with a healthy dose of irony, penning an ode to the imperfections he loves in music, the “dirty covers, dusty grooves and deep scratches.” But with a melody reminiscent of Pinkerton-era Weezer, he also expresses his own frustration with his inability to transcend the ugliness of his own singing: “I get embarrassed when my voice pops out and it’s not like in my head, / If I got a new vocal coach and I could hit the notes, you’d fall in love again.”

I understand that frustration – I’ve sung in more than one band, but before I even started playing in a band, I never thought I could be a singer because I thought I wasn’t good enough. But over time, I slowly realized that the reason I thought that was because I was comparing myself to singers who were already considered to be superhumanly-gifted, and that not every singer needs to be that way; there are thresholds of “good-enough,” and realizing where you fall in that can be a very freeing experience. I learned to sing by imitation Johnny Rotten and Billy Corgan, singers with definitively “bad” voices that nevertheless managed to communicate pretty much exactly what they wanted to in their songs. And Jeff Rosenstock was another big inspiration to me in that respect: he was a “bad” singer who nevertheless sang his songs defiantly, against popular tastes, because who else was going to do it for him? (Not to mention that as a “rock ‘n’ role model,” Jeff seems like a much better guy than Johnny or Billy.) But like Jeff, I know that there are times when singers wish we could do more with our voices than what seems to be within our natural ability, and we start wondering if it’s just a matter of putting in the right amount of work to “perfect” that voice. “Vocal Coach” brilliantly captures the nuances of this feeling in under two and a half minutes in an unforgettably catchy tune.

It couldn’t last, though. Even Jeff seemed to know it, as he sang on “Vocal Coach”: “ I'm aware that I'm kind of getting scared the love that I thought had no bounds is coming to an end.” Vacation proved that BTMI! could be made more accessible and reach a wider audience, but there were limits to that growth. Just what reasons lay behind those limits will always be a bit obscure, but after a while, it became clear that despite being their most successful album to date, Vacation wasn’t going to be a true “commercial breakthrough.” To be fair, I don’t even know if that’s what Jeff wanted. I haven’t been fully clear on why the band broke up, and strangely, Jeff even seemed a little vague on it in this interview, citing one member’s moving to Australia as part of it. It didn’t have much to do with a lack of commercial success (Jeff claims the band wasn’t even on as much of an upswing in popularity as fans had come to believe at the time), and I doubt he would have soldiered on with his solo career the way he did if it had. In fact, I suspect his solo career is probably more well-known by now than BTMI! was even at their peak.

In the end, I’m just happy the band go to do what they wanted to for as long as they did, and that BTMI! brought so much to my life and the lives of other fans like me. I’m also incredibly grateful I got to see them at least once, on their last tour before they broke up in what turned out to be my first real punk show. It was, in some ways, kind of a fluke: I was 16 and the band had planned some tour dates in Canada, including Ottawa, which was truly shocking, considering that almost no one big (outside of the Wu-Tang Clan – look that one up, it’s a strange story) comes to Ottawa. But it was even flukier than that, because it turned out that my parents had planned a road trip to Toronto for our family over the date BTMI! was playing! Of course, I checked the tour dates and sure enough, they were coming to Toronto too, so I got the tickets for that show instead and saw them for the first and last time at the loft above Sneaky Dee’s with my sister. It was an amazing experience, and I can’t think of a better way to have been introduced to live punk. I was caught off-guard by the mosh pit, but it was a friendly one, and I ended up spending most of the show in it. The band played almost every song I could have hoped for (“25”! “I Don’t Love You Anymore”! Every great song on Vacation!) and I ended the night a sweaty, dehydrated mess. As Jeff came down from the stage into the crowd after the show, I gave him a big hug and told him how awesome I thought it was. And while I hadn’t brought a blank t-shirt for the band to spray-paint their name on (a tradition from the early days they were still doing at that time), I bought one of their special “bilingual shirts” that I assume were made specially for the Canadian leg of the tour. I still have it: