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cheesybadgers · 2 years ago

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 17)

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Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Javier Peña

Words: 9,448

Summary: Whilst Javier and Horacio try to come to terms with civilian life and their pasts, their anniversary brings some surprises. Meanwhile, Christmas celebrations arrive on the ranch.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Grief and parental loss, PTSD symptoms, religious themes and symbolism, period-typical prejudices, hurt/comfort (with the emphasis very much on the comfort), extreme fluff and mild angst, brief allusions to canon-typical violence, oral sex, other brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, drinking.

Notes: Well, I was determined to get this posted before Christmas (you'll see why once you've read it) and I've managed it with a few days to spare, hurrah!

Just to reassure people, this isn't the end just yet! I'm hoping to get stuck into chapter 18 when I have some time off work over Christmas/New Year, but obviously it won't be ready to post until January now.

Thank you as always to those still reading and commenting, feel free to drop me a message on Tumblr or AO3 if you want to chat about any of it 😊 Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I wish you all a relaxing and peaceful end to 2022 ❤️

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 17: Siempre Tuyo

15th December 1989. That was the date that changed everything. A date that, whilst they were keen to commemorate, preferred to keep lowkey. It was bad enough they were facing a barnful of locals the following evening for the start of Las Posadas. The ranch was the chosen venue for the first night of festivities, and after counting himself out last year, Chucho couldn’t refuse.

Most attendees would be too swept up in the celebrations and keeping an eye on the children to deeply ponder the nature of their relationship. But they had to prepare for some questions being thrown their way. It was inevitable by this point, especially given how long Horacio had been around.

He kept out of the spotlight as much as possible, but most of the ranch staff knew him, and he had dealt with several contractors and delivery drivers. He had accompanied Chucho into town on more than one occasion and visited neighbouring ranches. No one had ever said anything to his face, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think there was no gossiping in private.

And Javier wasn’t in the mood to have to explain himself to folk who would no doubt cast the same judgement-disguised-as-pity looks they gave him in the aftermath of Lorraine.

But all of that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was theirs and theirs alone.

In the days preceding their anniversary, they had both been overly keen to help Chucho with chores. Horacio with the breakfast rounds and Javier accompanying his Pops into town, ensuring they were off and away before the other was up and dressed. Suspicions were high, but neither could confront the other because that would blow their own cover.

When the 15th came around, Horacio simply informed Javier they were going out for the evening, and he was driving. Despite Javier’s narrowed eyes and crinkled brow, he didn’t ask any questions. Not even if Horacio had ever driven on gringo roads before – given his past training over here, Javier suspected he had – or if he knew where he was going.

The sun dipped beneath the rust-red horizon as Horacio navigated the bustling highway with the ease of someone who had been doing it his whole life. Not that his proficiency surprised Javier in the slightest. Headlights glared as the dusk haze faded fast, the road ahead offering possibilities that stretched far beyond their evening plans.

Eventually, they exited the highway and pulled up in front of a familiar building.

Horacio cut the engine and peered at Javier through the shadows with growing anticipation, hoping he hadn’t missed the mark. "When you said you hadn’t been for years, I thought maybe it was the right time to come back. But if it’s too much, we can go somewhere else.”

The red and green neon lights from the Desde La Frontera sign above them illuminated the spark of affection that had ignited across Javier's pupils. It spread to his throat and chest as Horacio’s gesture sunk in, overriding the twinge in his gut that came with the territory of unexpected detours down memory lane. “No. I love it. Thank you.”

The urge to lean in for a kiss was overwhelming. But several other cars were parked around them, and they couldn’t be sure if they were visible under the partial cover of darkness. So, Javier settled for squeezing Horacio’s hand instead. "And I’m starving."

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The décor inside was styled like a typical American diner with a twist. The checkerboard vinyl flooring was offset against the rainbow of red, orange, and green booths. Brightly coloured artwork of Mexican landscapes and trinkets covered the walls on one side, with framed film posters from both sides of the border on the other. A jukebox stood in one corner, a Christmas tree in the opposite with paper lanterns, fairy lights and nativity garlands strung across the ceiling.

It was just as Javier remembered, give or take the odd replacement from wear and tear over the years. He expected his stomach to be in knots from being confronted so directly by the past. But the tempting aromas from the kitchen and the presence of Horacio a couple of steps behind tapered it.

They were seated in a corner booth away from the chatter of larger parties getting into the festive spirit and a couple of families with overexcitable children.

From Javier’s vantage point, he could see out across the restaurant. On the one hand, it was reassuring not to have his back to the room, but on the other, he found it difficult to concentrate on the laminated menu in front of him. The clatter of cutlery on crockery and the shrill scream of a hungry toddler pierced his ears and put his senses on high alert. Without meaning to, he scanned the restaurant, unsure what he was even looking for.

A camera flash dazzled his eyes for a second, triggering a wave of panic until he realised it was the adjacent Christmas party having a group photo taken and not in fact someone sent to spy on them.

He lingered on a young boy sitting with his Mamá and Papá on the other side of the restaurant. The boy was about 9 or 10 and was devouring a sundae that came up to his forehead.

Memories from Colombia and Javier’s childhood blurred together in a rush. Was that the same booth he had his photo taken at? He couldn’t remember. The boy in the diner was of a similar age to the kid he confronted on the rooftops and was only a few years younger than Fernando Duque’s son. The strawberry sauce oozing down the side of the sundae glass darkened until it was the shade of dried blood caking the bodies in the trunk of Duque’s car.

Javier was unaware he had been staring into space for the last few minutes. But a gentle calling of his name brought him around. He must have looked blankly at Horacio as he felt the weight of a knee against his under the table and the lingering warmth of a hand resting on it. Words failed him, but he slid his hand to meet the one on his leg, grateful for the lifeline Horacio had thrown him when he was floundering.

"Can I take your order?" asked a bright, cheerful voice to the side of them. And with that, the weight and warmth were gone, but at least Javier was no longer drowning.

The waitress jotted down their order: a platter of nachos, taquitos, empanadas and quesadillas to share, and brought over drinks.

Javier took a sip of his beer to stave off the dark thoughts that still rippled under the surface and threatened to emerge at the most unexpected moments.

Horacio didn’t want to make a big deal out of whatever just happened because he could guess the reason behind it, even if he didn’t know the specifics. He was no stranger to the flashbacks, the dreams, the disjointed snapshots, and the zoning out. He had a year on Javier of civilian life dealing with them, after all. So, he slid his foot forwards until it met Javier’s boot, subtly rubbing up to his ankle and back down again.

Javier’s gaze was trained on Horacio’s, answering the unspoken question that hung between them by lifting his foot and reciprocating with the same grounding gesture of comfort.

The mood lifted once plates of sizzling hot food were placed in front of them, and they quickly tucked in.

“I can see why you like it here so much; this is all delicious," Horacio said between enthusiastic mouthfuls.

“I told you. It wasn’t just birthdays we came here. Pretty much any celebration was a good excuse to make a trip. Anything that wasn’t the ranch felt like an adventure.”

“I was the same visiting relatives outside of Medellín. A few hours in the car felt like another country away. Especially in the mountains.”

“Is that where your family lives now?”

“Well, I’ve got extended family all over the place, but Alejandra’s family and my Mamá are in Manizales. It’s about 5 hours south of Medellín.”

“Never got round to visiting in all my time over there.”

Horacio searched Javier’s face for a second until Javier looked directly at him. “Subtle.”

Javier’s eyes widened as though he had been falsely accused. “What?! I was just making conversation.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Says you! I knew you and Pops were up to something.”

“Could say the same about you two.” Horacio didn’t want to pry too much, assuming all would become clear. But he couldn’t resist letting Javier know he was on to him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Although the faux-innocence Javier attempted was betrayed by the upturn of his lips.

Whilst they cleared the rest of their plates and ordered tres leches cake – and some of the famous buñuelos in preparation for Las Posadas – Horacio’s thoughts turned to Colombia.

It had been so long since he had spoken to his family, let alone seen them. Too long, in fact. And deep down, he knew he would have to tell them about Javier eventually. But unlike Chucho, Horacio found it hard to imagine them having even the slightest inkling. Turning up in Manizales without forewarning or details of who exactly Javier was to Horacio wouldn’t go down well. But the alternative made it difficult to swallow his cake, and he didn’t want to ruin the evening. So, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being.

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Since Horacio had taken the lead by arranging and paying for dinner, Javier offered to drive them home. The road was quieter now, only rare sets of headlights reflecting through the window and illuminating their linked hands resting on Horacio’s thigh. Every so often, one man would glance across at the other with anticipation of whatever Javier had planned, trying and failing to hide the smirks tugging at their mouths.

Once back at the guesthouse and behind closed doors, Javier wasted no time pulling Horacio against him. They hadn't been out in public together in forever, becoming accustomed to the freedom and privacy offered by the ranch. So, he had earnt this after sitting opposite Horacio all evening without being able to touch him beyond hidden and brief contact beneath the table.

Breathless, they pulled apart once Javier had satisfied his craving. "I need you to wait in the bedroom."

“Someone’s eager.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Javier all but growled. “I promise it won’t be for long.”

Horacio did as he was told for once and waited patiently in the bedroom with the door closed. After a few minutes of nondescript movement and the odd thud, he was ushered back out again.

As he walked into the living area, a soft glow replaced the bright lights of the guesthouse. A glow Horacio instantly recognised from last Christmas.

A sea of candles flickered and swayed, and the fire in the hearth was now lit, the sweet aroma of mesquite drifting through the air. The crooning voice of Elvis sounded from the record player that had suddenly appeared on a side table.

Javier stood in the middle of the room, traces of a nervous smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

Horacio took several steps forwards until they met in front of the fireplace with an uncharacteristic boyish shyness. “Someone’s been busy.”

“You’re not the only one capable of making secret plans, y’know.”

“So I see.”

The choice of music wasn’t missed by Horacio, and whilst it was early days and baby steps, between this and the diner, it was as though he had been handed a key to a stubborn lock. It wasn’t impossible, but the right know-how was needed to make any progress.

Javier retreated to pick up a wrapped parcel from the table where the record player sat. The rectangular object was covered in rustic brown paper and tied with matching string. Understated from the outside, but no doubt with hidden depths beneath the surface.

“Happy Anniversary,” Javier said as he offered the parcel to Horacio.

Horacio held the gift with a curious expression, looking up at Javier as though asking him what it was, even though opening it himself would be easier.

Eventually, he tore off the paper to reveal a book. Upon closer inspection, Horacio saw that it was an anthology of Spanish poetry, which included works from Federico García Lorca, Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, and Gabriela Mistral.

“Open it.”

Horacio turned over the cover, stopping in his tracks at the first page when he found what he was looking for.

Para Horacio. Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar. Siempre tuyo, Javier.

(For Horacio. My love, my life, my home. Yours always, Javier.)

As the pieces slotted together, Horacio couldn't do anything but stare at the scrawled handwriting that seemed to resemble Chucho’s more than ever. “Javier, I – I don’t know what to say.” He stumbled over his words, his heart seemingly in his mouth, chest and abdomen all at once as he fought back a familiar sting behind his eyes.

Javier studied Horacio for a second, contemplating the flash of recognition that had followed the initial surprise. And then it came to him. “Pop showed you Mamá's book, didn’t he?”

“Not exactly. He told me about it in passing, but I, er, might've found it by accident.”

“You just accidentally snooped around my bedroom, huh?” Javier’s eyebrow was raised in mock judgement.

Horacio’s hand met the stubble of Javier’s cheek where a thumb brushed over his moustache. “I missed you.”

Not that Javier was remotely mad, but a line like that was enough for him to forgive Horacio anything.

The book was placed back on the table with care before Javier pulled Horacio flush against his chest. “So, did you accidentally find anything else whilst I was gone?” His bristles teased at Horacio’s neck, scattering kisses as he went.

“Hmm, maybe a few things.”

“I see.” Javier’s hands slipped past Horacio’s waist until they dipped into the back pockets of Horacio’s jeans and made a home there. “You can borrow it, by the way.”

“Borrow what?”

“Giovanni’s Room.” Javier whispered the book’s name into Horacio’s ear as though it was a secret only they knew. “What’s mine is yours, remember.”

Horacio pulled back from Javier slightly, confusion creasing his brow. He thought about asking the hows and the whys but changed his mind because it didn’t matter when he was seen and understood so perfectly. When they both knew exactly who and what they were.

Their heads rested on each other's shoulders as the song changed on the record player, the switch in tempo causing almost imperceptible movement between them.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Almost of their own accord, their feet shuffled on the wooden flooring, subtle enough that they could still claim plausible deniability if they wanted to.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

But they didn’t. Instead, they leaned into it, taking advantage of the intimate knowledge they already shared of how they moved as one. They shook off any lingering self-consciousness, the shuffle becoming a more pronounced slow sway from side to side as the melody soared and the words spurred them on.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

A look of acknowledgement passed between them, their hands intertwined and the silver cross pressed against their chests. No further words were necessary as Javier led Horacio to their bed, the past a comforting presence this time rather than a melancholic ache.

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The next day was the start of Las Posadas. The local ranches and farms played host each night of the celebrations once the procession through the town was complete, and tonight was Chucho’s turn.

Whilst Javier and Horacio could easily have spent the day in bed, carrying on where they left off the previous night, Chucho had other plans. They were on tamale-making duty again and put up multiple sets of lights across the ranch and in the largest of the barns; the location of the posada.

Keeping busy at least distracted them from the waves of nausea bubbling in the pits of their stomachs when they thought about the social aspect of the evening ahead.

Whilst Horacio finished securing the last set of lights to the rafters, the barn door clicked open.

“So, how did it go? Did you find the place okay?”

Horacio climbed down the last few rungs of the ladder he’d been perched on and turned to face Chucho, who was carrying dismantled parts of a nativity scene under his arms. "He loved it. And the drive went without a hitch. Thank you for the directions, by the way.”

Chucho acknowledged Horacio with a brief bob of the head. “Glad I could help. I thought it’d be good for him. He’s been running from the past for too long. Never did anyone any good.” He gave Horacio a pointed look coupled with a hint of a smile.

“Javier was worried going to Madrid would still be running away.”

Chucho added several figurines and a manger to the half-constructed nativity scene taking shape in one corner of the barn before giving his full attention to Horacio again.

“He always thought the solution to his problems started and ended with getting out of this place. But he’s changed. You’ve changed. You’ve changed each other. And I think you’re ready for whatever’s out there. Including tonight, which I know won’t be easy. So, you can move to as many cities or countries as you like, but if you hold on to what matters, you’ll never be running away.”

Once again, Horacio was floored by Chucho’s ability to always say exactly what he needed to hear. So, he pushed his luck one more time. “Do you think I’m running away from telling my family about Javier?”

“Only you can answer that, Mijo. But the fact you’re asking the question in the first place is a promising sign.”

As Horacio nodded, two things occurred to him at once: the answer to his own question and the fact it was the first time Chucho had called him Mijo. And it oddly made him want to pick up the phone and dial Alejandra’s number immediately. But he didn't; he couldn't. Not yet.

“Thank you, Chucho. For everything you’ve done for me. And for Javier.” Horacio’s words felt feeble and inadequate compared to those offered to him in the last few minutes, let alone over the past year. “And I suppose I should thank you for the book too.”

“The book?”

“The poetry book. From Javier. I figured you had something to do with it.”

Chucho was silent for a long moment until a warm smile spread over his face. “I think perhaps I did, in a roundabout way.”

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As they showered and dressed on the cusp of dusk, Horacio made sure to choose one of his polo shirts this time, just in case. Meanwhile, Javier threw on the red plaid shirt that Horacio had practically made his own. The top few buttons were undone, leaving the cross on full display, not that anyone but them knew its significance. Yet, it somehow still felt like an act of rebellion when later that evening, they would watch people attack a piñata in a bid to chase away the seven deadly sins.

Horacio gave himself a final once-over in the mirror, arms encasing him from behind.

“It’s not too late to find you a shepherd’s outfit, y’know. Or an angel,” Javier said as he nestled against Horacio’s back, eyes meeting through their reflection.

“I think we both know I’m no angel.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Javier mumbled against Horacio’s neck, an abundance of memories making it difficult not to get carried away. He could feel Horacio’s tension at his fingertips, but sex probably wasn’t going to do much to quell that right now. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“It’ll be okay. And hey, we’ve been through worse.” Whilst that was undeniably true, Javier’s words were as much to reassure himself as Horacio.

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The procession was led by a young Mary and Joseph carrying candles, the route from the front gate, across the courtyard to the barn lit by a pathway of lanterns. Strings of white lights adorned the buildings, fences and a real Christmas tree, transforming the ranch into the enchanting night sky that hung above it. A melodic chorus struck up amongst the crowd requesting lodgings as the tradition goes. And in Horacio’s eyes, no one was more fitting to play the welcoming innkeeper than Chucho.

An impressive spread of food was, of course, laid on for the weary travellers. Tables were blanketed in plates, trays, and bowls full of tamales, pozole, pambazos, vibrant salads and glazed ham. The savoury food was accompanied by churros, buñuelos – including the ones from Desde La Frontera – ponche navideño, Café de Olla and champurrado.

As the food and drink flowed, a group who had brought their own instruments struck up a festive sing-along.

In between the music, several people shook Javier's hand or brought over a drink he hadn’t asked for. He smiled, laughed, and said all the right things. But he was longing for a moment of peace with Horacio in a quiet corner. However, no such luck.

“Javier Peña, well, I’ll be damned.”

Javier had his back to the room but turned around once he heard his name, confident he recognised the voice behind it. “Oh, erm, hey, Mia. Long time, no see.” Fuck, his hunch was right.

“Yes, and we all know whose fault that is, don’t we, Jav?”

Horacio watched the exchange silently from his spot leant against the barn wall, already tensing at her forced smile and the jarring way she said Javier’s nickname.

Mia was dressed similarly to Javier, except with heeled boots and a more fitted shirt. Her auburn hair flowed down her back in neat waves, and her almond-shaped nails were far too clean and well-kept for someone who supposedly lived on a ranch full-time. Not that Javier could talk when it came to avoiding manual labour.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good, actually. We all have. Did you know Lorraine married a stockbroker? Randy. Their kids are gorgeous. They’ve got a huge place in Dallas now. It’s got a pool and everythin’.” The gloat in Mia’s tone was evident, deliberate even. Like she had bided her time all these years until she saw Javier again, just waiting for the opportunity to brag on behalf of her friend.

“Yeah, I heard.” Javier nodded for far longer than was necessary, gripping his glass as he raised it to his mouth. “Good for her.” In his defence, he meant it. It was good for her. Better than anything the version of him who jilted her on their wedding day had to offer, that was for sure.

“How ‘bout you? Anyone manage to pin you down yet?”

The warming ponche navideño tickled the back of Javier’s throat, and the only way to avoid a coughing fit was to throw back more. “I’m not married if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. No offence.” Except they both knew full offence was absolutely intended. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” Mia’s attention fell on Horacio, and there was something feline in how her emerald eyes looked him up and down.

“Mia, Horacio. Horacio, Mia. Mia is Luca Domínguez’s wife. And Horacio is erm – he’s a…friend from Colombia. We worked together over there.” Javier could barely look at Horacio, waves of shame rolling over him, even though this was the story they had agreed upon beforehand.

Mia was still eyeing Horacio like he was an item on the buffet table, Javier already long forgotten. “Ahh, so you’re Chucho’s mysterious ranch hand I’ve heard so much about. Howdy, Horacio.” She held out her palm and attempted to repeat his name the same way Javier had said it, but her Texan drawl couldn’t be disguised.

It took all of Horacio’s strength to smile back and accept Mia’s hand, a sense of unease building now that he knew he was already on her radar. “Nice to meet you. And nothing bad, I hope.”

“On the contrary. According to Luca, you’ve made quite the impression.”

The Domínguez family were ranchers a few miles east of the Peñas. Chucho had a good rapport with Luca’s parents, Manuel and Carmen. But it was no surprise to hear that gossip had spread, especially as both ranches often shared casual workers and contractors.

“Tell me, how does a police officer end up this far outta his remit yet still so in his element?” Mia asked.

“I guess I’ve always liked a challenge.”

“A challenge bigger than hunting down Pablo Escobar? You must really love ranch life to give all of that up.” Mia’s gaze drifted in Javier’s direction when she spoke of ranch life. Although Javier quickly averted it by sipping more of his drink.

“What can I say? Taking a bullet makes a man re-evaluate his priorities.”

“Bless your heart, a bullet?! No wonder you ran away!”

Mia’s hand ironically found its way to the very shoulder said bullet ripped a hole through, the uninvited contact and her last sentence making Horacio flinch.

Javier was on the verge of intervening, but Mia wasn’t finished yet. “You must have a very understanding wife to uproot your life here. Is she around somewhere?”

“Er, no, I don’t have one.”

“Ahh yes, that’s right. I heard you’re not the marrying kind, either. Such a waste.” There was underlying aggression to her words despite the saccharine delivery of them. And before Horacio could react, Mia waved enthusiastically at someone on the other side of the room. “If y’all excuse me. Nice to meet you, Horacio. See you around, Jav.” And with that, she was gone in the same whirlwind fashion she had arrived in.

That was one of several awkward conversations throughout the evening, often due to undeserved declarations of heroism and expressions of sympathy over Judy Moncada's interview. But the loaded looks Javier had been expecting could still be found if he glanced in certain corners, and the effect of rubbing salt in still-raw wounds was the same regardless.

Horacio was also attracting a different kind of attention with admiring glances being thrown his way. The interest mostly came from the few single women in attendance who weren't up to speed on small-town gossip. But there was a young male ranch hand whose Javier’s sympathies lay with the most.

Because Javier recognised the way the doe-eyed 20-something kid was enthralled by Horacio whilst deep in conversation about ranch business. It reminded him of the early days in Colombia when they were little more than reserved co-workers discussing raid tactics. He would find himself mesmerised by Horacio lighting up, torn between watching his thumb flicking over the ignition and how the cigarette nestled between his lips. If Horacio noticed, he didn’t show it.

Javier was supposed to be catching up with his old friend, John, the best man from the wedding that never was. John also married the daughter of a neighbouring rancher because that was just how things went around here. If you stuck about long enough, you were paired off with someone you went to school with or grew up with. It was why Javier had to get out of the suffocating forcefield. And it should have come as no surprise it was necessary to go all the way to Colombia to find someone he wanted to settle down with.

Whilst John regaled a much-told anecdote from their high school days, Javier’s attention was elsewhere. Specifically on Horacio and the attractive brunette woman who was bolder than all the other interested parties.

She was trying her best moves on him, laughing, playing with her hair, leaning closer to him when he was talking, touching his arm. It dawned on Javier that once upon a time, that would have been him she was talking to, and he no doubt would have snuck off with her to his bedroom at the first chance he got.

For a second, he wondered if she was proposing the same thing to Horacio. Not that he had any doubts about Horacio’s reaction to such a question. But it gave him a strange thrill to know that the most sought-after man in the room was guaranteed to be going to bed with him once the festivities were over. And every night after that.

At a suitable gap in conversation, Javier excused himself, catching Horacio’s eye long enough for him to do the same with his new admirer. Javier’s head gestured towards the barn door before he left the party unnoticed, Horacio trailing a safe distance behind.

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Javier let himself into the locked farmhouse, where the dogs were fast asleep across the sofas. They briefly stirred and wagged their tails in greeting both at Javier and when Horacio arrived a few minutes later.

“What are we—?”

“Lock the door.”

Horacio knew that look anywhere and didn’t hesitate.

No sooner had the lock turned than Javier was upon Horacio, fingers already pawing at clothes and belts as Javier guided them towards his old bedroom.

Javier closed the door by pinning Horacio up against it, mouthing at his neck and unzipping his jeans.

“What’s brought this on?” Horacio gasped as Javier began palming him through his underwear.

Javier’s free hand didn’t so much as cup Horacio’s jaw but grasped it; firmly but not roughly. “D’you have any idea how fucking good you look?”

Horacio couldn’t speak for a moment; his sole response was to nuzzle his cheek against Javier’s hand and kiss whichever part he could reach. “Says you, parading around like that.” Of course, Horacio was alluding to the distinct lack of buttons fastened on Javier’s – or was it his or theirs now? – shirt.

“I wasn’t the one being eye-fucked from every angle just now. What was her name again?”

“Who?”

“The knockout woman coming on to you.”

“Cristina?”

“First name terms…so she was your type as well, then?”

Horacio wasn’t entirely sure where this was going, so decided to play it safe and dodge the question. “Were you jealous of her or me?”

Whilst, of course, he knew the answer, Javier was drunk on lust rather than alcohol, and teasing was the more fun option. “You could’ve asked her to join us.”

“Very funny.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about doing that?” Javier stopped short of confessing he had thought about Horacio on multiple occasions when he disappeared off to Gabriela or Vanessa. Not in place of them, but in addition. However, that had only ever been a fantasy; one that he was happy to keep that way.

“Didn’t say that.” Several times before they were together, Horacio had imagined being invited to experience the best of both worlds with Javier at one of his favourite brothels. And if he was honest with himself, there was even the odd guilty fantasy of Javier joining him and Juliana. “But that’s a different question than wanting to do it for real. I don’t want to share you with anyone, Javier. You’re all mine.”

Javier’s pupils dilated and darkened with a wolfish hunger. “Say it again.”

“I said, you’re mine. And I’m yours.”

Javier was practically panting by the time their mouths crashed together. Not that Horacio was telling him something he didn’t already know or believe, but hearing it out loud was dizzying.

Once they broke apart, he guided Horacio to sit on the edge of his bed and sunk to his knees. Memories of them kneeling in prayer flashed through his mind as he peeled jeans and underwear down Horacio’s legs in one go.

Horacio’s cock stood proud already, their verbal exchange an aphrodisiac for both, apparently.

“Beautiful,” Javier whispered, kissing along Horacio’s length, featherlight to begin with but deepening further until the head was enveloped.

Horacio’s hands landed in Javier’s hair, raking and stroking through the thick strands. He leaned back, his lip cushioned between his teeth on the verge of drawing blood and his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. The significance of this happening in Javier’s old bedroom wasn't lost on him. On Javier’s old bed, surrounded by the items and keepsakes locked away for so long. And on the day after Horacio received his own keepsake, a token of everything they meant to each other.

A groan escaped Javier’s throat as he felt the pull of Horacio’s fingers. He swirled his tongue in rhythmic circles, imagining doing this for an hour or more, just holding the hot throb in his mouth. He didn’t have that kind of restraint or patience today, though, preferring to suck greedily, encouraged by the strengthening grip on his scalp.

Horacio's legs trembled harder now, his hips reflexively lifting off the mattress to meet Javier’s mouth, shallow thrusts to start off with.

He was vaguely aware of a belt and zipper unfastening before he looked down at Javier taking himself in hand right there on the floor of his childhood bedroom, where past met present and future head-on.

The tell-tale jerking sensation and Javier’s moans made Horacio hiss through his teeth and buck his hips with more force. Slow and deep motions that mimicked the way they liked to fuck.

Javier’s jaw was relaxed enough to take Horacio to the back of his throat, his nose pressing against dark, wiry curls as Horacio guided him up and down.

The sight of Javier on his knees for him again, albeit in a different context this time, nearly made Horacio come on the spot. There was a profound vulnerability and act of trust to it, especially in this room of all rooms. In the middle of a fraught evening of unwanted attention where they would be run out of town if everyone knew what they were up to right now.

Javier could sense when Horacio was on the cusp just from the way his breath stuttered and his fingers clenched into fists amidst Javier’s hair.

Right on cue, Horacio’s abdomen spasmed, sending shockwaves in all directions as he emptied himself down Javier’s throat with a strangled growl.

Javier took everything he was given, swallowing Horacio’s release as he tugged on his own cock. The taste on his tongue and the vibrations of Horacio’s shaking thighs were enough to push him over the edge. After a few extra strokes, he came over his hand and stomach with a winded grunt.

He remained breathless on his knees whilst recovering, his head flopping into Horacio’s lap like a purring cat as Horacio’s fingers sailed through his hair.

Eventually, Horacio helped Javier up from the floor and onto the bed. They lay tangled up in varying stages of undress, waiting for their pulses to calm and the indiscreet flush from their cheeks to dissipate.

“Fuck, I love doing that with you.”

Horacio’s shoulders shook, the only energy he could muster. “Likewise, funnily enough. But shouldn't we be getting back soon?”

“We should. Although, I don’t think a piñata is gonna save us after that.”

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Upon returning to the barn, they switched their glasses of ponche for hot cups of champurrado. The crowd were in the process of gathering around the seven-point piñata star hanging from the wooden beams above. A line of giddy children high on sugar and festive spirit queued up to be blindfolded, ready to take their shot with a stick decorated as brightly as the piñata itself.

With each successful hit and chant of Dale Dale Dale, candy, fruits, and peanuts rained down and caused an uproar of cheers to break out around the barn. With each miss, there was a murmur of disappointment, then a cheer. And so the cycle repeated.

Now they were soaking up the atmosphere – and were more relaxed – Javier and Horacio were as caught up in the excitement as everyone else for the first few hits. But conversations from earlier in the evening rang loudly in Horacio’s ears, and even the rowdy crowd of a posada couldn’t drown them out.

Maybe it was a combination of too much ponche and the extreme highs and lows he had experienced in the last few hours. But he suddenly felt like the ground was moving. Or was it him? Was he spinning around in circles, or was it the piñata?

The crowd noise filtered out, leaving the repetitive thwacking of the stick against the hard shell. Each impact seemed louder than the last until it could just as easily have been a blunt weapon – or a booted foot – bludgeoning into soft flesh.

It wasn’t him delivering the blows, but he was watching, unconcerned. With a cigarette between his lips, he observed his men kicking the life out of the limp body sprawled across the concrete floor. It could have been Gustavo, or any number of sicarios now he thought about it. He might not have delivered those blows, but he had inflicted equal damage with a blade or a bullet, and nothing would erase his sins.

“Hey, you okay? Horacio?”

Horacio closed his eyes tightly and shook his head before he was back in the room once more. “Sorry, what?”

“Are you alright? Your hand’s shaking.”

Horacio looked down to see his right hand clenching around his drink to attempt to quell the tremble. “Erm…yeah, I think I just need some fresh air.”

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Whilst the crowds were still preoccupied, Javier and Horacio took their cups of champurrado outside to the fire pit.

The wooden seating was abandoned in favour of the barn. And fireworks were to follow in the lower fields away from the stables, out of courtesy to the livestock.

Making the most of the peace and quiet, they sat on the floor in the shadow of the fluttering flames, Javier’s back against a chair with Horacio cradled between his legs.

“Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes, but not for a while. I guess it’s just been a stressful day.”

“No kidding.”

“Well, not all of it.” Horacio nuzzled back against Javier’s shoulder as he corrected himself.

“Glad I could provide some temporary relief, at least.” Javier buried himself against Horacio’s proffered neck, lightening the mood for a second as his moustache swept back and forth.

But stressful was an understatement. Between their encounter with Mia, the crowds, and relaying tales from Colombia to people, who only wanted gory details they couldn’t give even if they wanted to, it was no wonder Horacio snapped.

“The first time I heard the ranch hands firing shots to scare off coyotes, I was back in the ambush. I could hear the glass being shot out again. Could even taste the fumes from the explosion for a second. And my right arm went numb. But…it does get easier.”

“When?” An unmistakable crack could be heard in Javier’s voice that betrayed the question’s surface-level simplicity.

“I don’t think there’s a timeframe for it. Some days are better than others. Sometimes you think you’re fine until suddenly you’re not.”

“It was the strawberry sauce,” Javier said abruptly. “Of all fucking things.” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “At the diner, I mean. A kid was eating ice cream. But all I saw was blood.”

“I’m sorry if I jumped the gun last night. Maybe it was too much too soon.”

“Hey, no. It wasn’t. I should’ve gone back years ago. So, thank you. It was still a perfect evening.” He tilted Horacio’s face towards him, their lips meeting delicately. “I guess I’m just gonna have to learn to deal with the other stuff.”

“It’s early days, Javier. You need to give yourself time.” Another butterfly kiss, this time instigated by Horacio. “We both do.”

And that was the one thing they finally had. Time. To try to heal, to come to terms with what they had and hadn’t done. To accept their mistakes, their flaws, and their pasts. To close that chapter once and for all so they could open a new one together. To live at last rather than merely survive.

They retreated to the safety of the guesthouse once the fire pit simmered down to its last embers, Luna, Sol and Leo joining them, glad of the company after being kept away from the action all night.

The fireworks could be heard faintly in the distance, noticed more by the humans than the dogs. In other circumstances, it would have been too easy to confuse the bangs for bullets and bombs. Sounds they had heard enough of for a lifetime. But in the here and now, they took refuge in the darkness of their bedroom, Horacio’s chest moulded to Javier’s back and their legs entwined. Their hands joined over Javier’s stomach, fingers clutching their cross and seeking comfort in each other once more as they drifted off to sleep.

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Christmas was a quieter affair once the other ranches and farms began hosting their posadas. Javier and Horacio made appearances at some of the nearest ones; however, they kept themselves to themselves for most of the holiday season. After dipping their toes in more sociable waters, they still preferred to be alone, the drain of small talk and prying questions too much at this stage.

The exceptions were phone calls to and from Miami and Medellín, with the Murphys and Trujillo providing festive greetings and updates from their respective homes. Connie had insisted on sending a food hamper, mainly for Chucho’s benefit, given the kitchen was his domain. But Javier made sure to thank her on his dad's behalf.

He also learned that Steve hadn’t been back to work yet and was enjoying being a man of leisure until the New Year, a fact that had Connie asking to come with them to Madrid instead. Meanwhile, Steve took great delight in spilling the beans about Trujillo’s new girlfriend. And Trujillo dodged all subsequent questions, declaring Steve a dead man walking.

It was those connections they needed for the time being. They were easy, safe and familiar and came with a mutual understanding of what they had all been through.

On Christmas Eve, Chucho attended his usual Midnight Mass whilst Javier and Horacio spent the night in front of the fire, surrounded by three dozing dogs. A modestly decorated tree stood in the corner of the room, its warm white lights and the fresh scent of pine making the place feel more homely. They hadn’t bothered with one last year; the timing wasn’t right with everything up in the air. But this year, whilst neither was exactly gifted with creative flare, they didn’t take the shared domesticity for granted.

They had been sat in comfortable silence for a while, their bellies full of food from Chucho’s earlier feast, and their minds quiet. Elvis’ Christmas album played lowly on the turntable whilst Horacio’s legs lay across Javier’s lap. Candles flickered on the mantlepiece as Javier sipped whiskey from his glass in between stroking Horacio’s calves. Although it wasn’t enough to distract Horacio from the book balanced between his fingers.

Without anything else to do, Javier watched Horacio read, studying his features, trying but failing to gauge his reaction to whichever poem he was currently engrossed in. Whatever his thoughts were on the subject matter, the novelty of seeing Horacio so absorbed yet relaxed like this hadn’t worn off, and Javier was captivated.

When Horacio next turned a page, he looked up, catching Javier in the act. “What?”

“Nothing,” Javier said with a coy smile. “I’m just glad you seem to like the book.”

“I do. Very much.”

“Any favourites?”

“A few.”

“Read them to me.” The demure tone from moments ago gave way to conviction, the flames from the fire dancing in the dark of Javier’s irises. Not a demand, but a request Horacio would find hard to refuse.

And, of course, he didn’t. With Javier’s head now resting in his lap, Horacio read aloud in his native tongue. The book was held in one hand whilst the other glided through Javier’s hair with soothing touches. As the clock on the wall ticked past midnight, they had not only ushered in Christmas Day together but a new tradition born out of an old one. A tradition passed from generation to generation, the people and the words different, yet the sentiment the same.

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December faded into January, the festive celebrations ending with Día de los Reyes Magos and plenty of Rosca de Reyes.

Over the last fortnight, they finalised their plans for Madrid. Javier, somewhat reluctantly, agreed to Chucho’s proposal to take his share of the ranch money, and Horacio’s claim for compensation was authorised as part of his resignation deal. It gave them the financial freedom to regroup for a while, so they weren’t diving headfirst into new jobs and would have the time to settle into their new apartment.

Horacio took advantage of his Consulate contacts to get in touch with the letting agents who handled his move. It was a bigger apartment in the same building they would be renting this time.

As far as the CNP was concerned, Horacio had moved to Manizales to be with his family. He was sure there must be rumours circulating in the upper echelons with whom he didn’t command the same loyalty as on the ground. But he was equally confident his superiors would be relieved to see the back of him once and for all this time.

Even so, Horacio found himself looking down at a stowaway bottle-green shirt that must have been shoved into his bag in haste when they made a getaway from Carlos Holguín.

He traced his fingers over the embroidered patches, starting with the letters of his surname, continuing up the sleeve to meet his Colonel insignia and across to the CNP emblem. His lapel pins had been rescued from the bloodied, torn shirt he wore on the night of the ambush. They now sat in an envelope on the nightstand alongside his broken watch. He collected up the shirt, and the envelope, laying them at the bottom of the suitcase spread out across the bed. Already relics of the past, even if he couldn’t bring himself to part with them.

Javier had abandoned his packing in favour of chewing his thumb and staring out the window. He was quiet over breakfast and distant in the shower, even when he was buried to the hilt inside Horacio and had him pressed against the tiles.

Now, however, Horacio crossed the room to the window, slipping his arms around Javier from behind. “Hey, you still in there?”

Javier was startled out of his daze but quickly relaxed against the solid warmth of Horacio’s chest. “Er yeah, sorry. Just about.”

Horacio's lips ghosted from the nape of Javier’s neck down to the nook of his shoulder as a thumb stroked over the softness of his stomach. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm yeah. It’s just…it’s Mom’s birthday today. I know I should’ve said something earlier, sorry.”

Horacio hushed softly against Javier’s ear. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Your father mentioned it was coming up soon.”

“We’ve never done much for it. Pops goes to the cemetery, but he does that anyway. And I never really saw the point in thinking about how old she would’ve been.”

“Me neither with Papá. It always reminded me of everything he missed out on. All the milestones in our lives he wasn’t around for.”

“Exactly. But this year, I dunno…” Javier trailed off, losing confidence in his thought process mid-sentence.

Horacio’s fingers slotted through Javier’s, allowing Horacio to bring Javier closer to him as his nose nuzzled in encouragement.

“I think there’s something I need to do before we leave.”

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As Javier pushed the stiff iron gate open, his feet trailed through a pile of damp, shrivelled leaves left over from the fall. It had been early autumn when his Mamá passed. Somehow, she had clung on throughout the sticky heat of the summer, adamant she was going to be around to see the leaves changing colour one last time.

Even though Javier hadn’t been here for more years than he was ashamed to admit, he hadn’t forgotten where she was laid to rest. The grave was in immaculate condition, unsurprisingly. Fresh flowers had recently been left, and any trace of weathering had been polished away from the headstone.

He tentatively reached out to run his fingers over the embossed lettering of her name. Mariana Rosa Peña. “Feliz cumpleaños, Mamá,” he whispered. “Sorry I left it so long.”

He couldn’t explain the compulsion to come here. It wasn't as though it was the first time he was leaving Laredo. Nor was it that he would never be coming back. But it had gnawed at him for the last few weeks like something was missing or forgotten. Horacio had helped him remember, though. Gradually, bit by bit, gesture by gesture, conversation by conversation.

Memories unravelled that had been locked away for too long. The happier ones that often hurt too much to dwell on when Javier was already in a dark place, like the trips that they made every spring to Fiesta San Antonio. He loved watching the vibrant floats pass by at the parades whilst stuffing his face with gorditas and paletas or cracking cascarones over his cousins' heads.

He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out the poetry book from his bedroom shelves. It was funny; he had never been an avid reader of poetry, although he admired those who could express themselves so freely with words, even if he often couldn’t do it himself. But in more recent years, the dedication in the opening pages compelled him to keep it as proof of what existed between his parents. And apparently, as inspiration, even if he didn’t realise it until now.

As he flicked through the pages, recognising some poem titles from days gone by, a shadow moved across the gravestone, and a pair of feet crunched along the gravel path.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.”

Javier didn't need to turn around to greet the voice he had known all his life. “Better late than never, right?”

“That’s what she used to say.”

“I remember.”

“I’m sure she appreciates you being here, Mijo. And so do I.”

“Just felt like I needed to come here before we leave.”

“She always wanted to visit Madrid, but we never got round to it. Too busy with the ranch…and then you. I think she always knew you were a sensitive kid. And she understood you better than I did for a long time.”

“You don’t do too badly these days.”

“I got there in the end with a good teacher.”

“I don’t think I’d have come here if it weren’t for Horacio.” He paused, finally shifting to face his dad. “And I don’t think he’d have encouraged me without you. So, thanks for the nudge, Pops.”

Chucho nodded despite not deeming the praise necessary in the circumstances. “All we ever wanted was for you to be happy, Javi. And same for Horacio now too.”

“I wish she could’ve met him.”

“I don’t think she’d have let him leave the ranch.”

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. “No, and you’d be out of a job.”

They were both laughing now and somehow knew Mariana was, too, wherever she was.

Javier glanced at the book in his hands, pangs of guilt settling on his chest for hiding it away all this time. “I imagine you’ve been looking for this. Sorry, I meant to give it back.”

“Keep it for the plane journey.”

“What?”

“I told you, she always wanted to see Madrid. Take her with you. She knows where I’ll be waiting.”

As he drew Chucho in for a hug, it hit Javier that the past, present and future weren’t supposed to be kept separate; they were interconnected and a delicate balancing act. And after so long in flux, maybe, just maybe, Madrid was his and Horacio’s opportunity for some kind of equilibrium.

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Since Javier’s first night back in Laredo, he and Horacio made a habit of parking the truck in the lower field. Sometimes Chucho had given them chores, or sometimes they would take a picnic and then doze in the sun with the dogs pottering around them. And sometimes, the sight of Horacio in his ranch attire was once again too much for Javier. Today was one of those days.

It was also their last day in Texas, their flight to Madrid booked for early the next morning, and they were making the most of the peace and quiet of the countryside.

This time they were in the front passenger seat, Javier’s thighs straddling Horacio’s lap. Javier was naked from the waist down, whilst Horacio’s jeans were merely shrugged over his legs.

Horacio had briefly got his way and donated his Stetson to Javier, fulfilling a fantasy he wasn’t even aware he harboured.

But it wasn’t long before Javier tossed it back on Horacio’s head. “Keep it on.”

“Only if you keep doing that.” Horacio’s fingernails dug into Javier’s ass, his pelvis jerking up as Javier ground his hips at just the right pace and angle.

A gasped laugh shuddered through Javier as Horacio manoeuvred him up and down. “Well, they do say, save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

“I’m not a cowboy.”

“Coulda fooled me.” That remark earned him a deeper thrust and a swat to the ass.

It was over too soon, and they got dressed and returned to the back of the truck. A cigarette passed between them as the dogs emerged from their usual sleeping spots under the shade of a nearby mesquite tree.

All three dogs seemed to sense the impending change in the air and had followed them around for the last few days, particularly Luna. She stuck to Horacio like glue at the best of times and became increasingly confused at the sight of half-packed suitcases back at the guesthouse.

As he scratched her ears, it brought a lump to Horacio’s throat to picture the moment he would have to say goodbye. Knowing he would need to remind her and himself that it was only a temporary separation.

The truck looked out across the bank of the Rio Grande where a daily stream of trafficking boats sailed to and fro. Escobar may be no more, but the drug trade was still booming right under their noses.

“My first assignment out of the Academy was a task force searching for Kiki Camarena in Guadalajara. All these years later…it never stops. Same bullshit game, just different players.”

“Did you spend much time in Mexico?”

“Some. When I was a kid. I’ve got family there – Tía Inés, Tío Matías and my cousins. We used to visit in the summer. The older I got, the more they saw me as a gringo, though. And maybe they were right. Maybe I lost sight of my roots somewhere down the line. Thought I could play the big fucking American hero.” Javier scoffed at his past delusions of grandeur and at the misguided notion heroes existed in any of this.

“I think we all lost sight somewhere down the line.”

“Yeah.” Javier closed the gap between them, cupping Horacio’s cheek and brushing his lips over the bridge of Horacio’s nose and forehead. “I don’t regret going, though. I don’t regret us.”

Horacio’s long lashes fluttered like wings against Javier’s face as he closed his eyes. His hands slid up from the stubble of Javier’s jaw to the nape of his neck and into a mass of thick hair. “No more regrets. To new beginnings instead.”

“To new beginnings.”

As the low late afternoon sun created a mirage over the choppy waters, they drove back to the farmhouse in preparation for Chucho's farewell feast. And perhaps an old film or two with sleeping dogs for company.

They were under no illusions about the road ahead. Or the demons that lay lurking in the shadows of their minds, a hangover from the last several years. But for the first time in too long, there was hope. They were both finally standing still at the same time and ready to just be. Ready for anything that life threw at them because they would face it together. Ready for a new year and a fresh start.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Horacio Carrillo x Javier Peña #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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lokiskitten · 4 years ago

Note

Hiya can I request a bucky imagine where he comes across one of your sex toys (preferably a vib or dildo ;) be creative) and then you walk in on him finding it, then he decides to use it on you wondering if you can really take it etc

Bucky Barnes | adult playtime

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Author’s note : so I decided to add a little twist.. I hope you’ll be able to enjoy it ;)

plot : Bucky stumbles upon one of your intimate objects and decides to show you how to efficiently use it. However, he unexpectedly decides to switch to another method.

warnings : smut, mention and use of sex toy, Bucky using his vibranium arm for inappropriate purposes, masturbation, overstimulation.

After you had forgotten one of your belongings in his room, Bucky had no choice but to make his way to yours in order to give it back. He had traveled throughout the avengers’ compound and finally managed to find the place he had been looking for. His hand delicately moved up to the door, knuckles offering gentle taps to the wooden material which resulted in none but light knocks. Surprisingly enough, the man earned no answers. Bucky felt annoyed and frustrated, thinking about how he would have to give you your belonging back another time which would make him loose some of his own. However, no one would know if he decided to break in in order to drop the object off before disappearing behind the door again. It would only be a matter of seconds...

His hand twisted the handle, door opening and revealing the inside of your small bedroom. “y/n?..” Bucky called discreetly, wishing to double check on your presence before getting engaged into this upcoming illegal act. A sigh escaped his lips upon noticing that no one was here, a light head shake coming from the man as he dropped the book down on your desk. However, right as he was about to exit, Bucky’s eyes caught glimpse of a purple length resting on top of your bedsheets. He frowned, feeling too curious to back away as his feet were now leading him towards your bed on which he took the initiative to sit. Was that really what he thought it was?

His hands didn’t hesitate to take ahold of this object which had probably been in contact with your intimacy, his vibranium finger pressing down onto a button and allowing the man to watch the object begin to vibrate. He bit down on his gum, eyes remaining staring at your vibrator. Bucky couldn’t help but imagine how you must’ve probably used it not too long ago if it was resting on top of your bedsheets- though you could’ve never expected someone to penetrate into your room and accidentally bump into it. Perhaps you should learn to lock your doors and fear noisy intruders. Unfortunately, Bucky was caught off guard by the sound of the door opening, revealing your tired silhouette which felt surprised and embarrassed to see your friend in here, holding your vibrator.

Out of shame, Bucky desperately attempted to turn the object off by pressing onto the button again, which only resulted in him switching speeds and rythmes a couple of time before the vibrator finally agreed to turn off. “I was just umh.. you know. Giving you your book back.” He affirmed on a flustered tone, yourself barley leaving him time to place the vibrator down as you were soon to scoot until the bed and yank it out of his hand. This move led a smirk to appear on his face. Bucky admired your embarrassed silhouette. “Hey, tell me something y/n...” he began, adjusting the position he held on the edge of your bed. “You’ve been feeling lonely, huh?”

This question caught you off guard, and obviously led you to feel even more embarrassed than you previously were. It felt as if someone had written down “I’m lonely and crave sexual attention from another human being” on your forehead with the help of a black marker. Visibly, Bucky read right through you. “Whatever I am, it is none of your business, Barnes.” You responded, earning a surprised chuckle coming from the unstable being. He leant back on his palms whilst watching you put the vibrator back into your nightstand’s drawer- feeling nearly saddened face to such a turn off that was this sight. “That’s a shame.” The trained soldier affirmed seriously, blue eyes then diverting up at yours when you finally agreed to turn around. “We could’ve had some fun.”

Had Bucky just offered you to spend some intimate time with him? Out of all the males you knew, he had been the first one to do such a thing. He could tell that he had caught you off guard, and the fact that you didn’t answer straight away could only indicate you were seriously thinking of accepting his proposition. Bucky therefore decided to make a first move, and all of that whilst remaining perfectly serious. “How about you get that vibro back out, mmh? Will you, doll?” He requested, your submissive self having no choice but to allow your organism and mind to crumble under his appetizing offer. And that, Bucky could perfectly sense it. He longed to watch you squirm and clench under his touch.

As previously ordered, your hand pulled open your nightstand’s drawer before your digits could wrap around the purple sex toy to take it back out. It was a basic vibrator, but it remained efficient due to its multiple choices when it came to vibrations. You then proceeded to sit down beside your soon to be one night stand companion, teeth biting down on your bottom lip out of envy and impatience. Bucky didn’t hesitate to take ahold of the toy which he examined for a couple of seconds, blue eyes then diverting towards your head as a gentle smile appeared onto his face. “Is this really what you use to please yourself at night?” He asked, the cocky tone he used making you want to change the truth in your upcoming answer. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“Well, buttercup, let’s see what it can truly do.” Bucky finished, watching as you began to undress yourself for him and the experiences he enjoyed to lead on the human body. It didn’t take long for all of your clothes to be removed- Bucky getting rid of his upper pieces of clothing as well- and you were now laying down with your head pressed against the pillow. Your legs remained spread, knees stuck to your chest as you exposed your bare and pulsating sexe to the older man. Your core, which had yet to soak up, couldn’t appear to wait for Bucky’s touches and what would certainly come along. The man smirked, laying down beside your body as his eyes remained glued to your chest.

His free hand took ahold of the fleshy mound, lips soon wrapping around your areola which he sucked on from a brief moment before setting it free in order to focus on your cunt. A gentle moan escaped your lips, your organism simply reacting to receiving some masculine attention again after spending all this time pleasuring yourself. When the sound of the working vibrator finally began to echo throughout the bedroom, you felt your body automatically fill itself up with bliss and excitement, toes clenching as you eagerly waited for Bucky to begin to work his magic. It didn’t take long until the tip of the vibrating sex toy finally collided with your clit, gliding up and down your slit before going back up to your sensitive bud.

Bucky managed to find his way through your clitoral hood in order to properly reach for your clit, which resulted in shockwaves of pleasure travelling through your crotch and overall lower abdomen. It felt divine, yet still hard to handle and had you clench against the bedsheets. “Buck-“ you began, only to be stopped by the man himself who made sure to keep you within his strong hold to guarantee stability. He now began to rub the tip of the working vibrator in circles against your clit, being perfectly aware that it would make you feel even weaker than you already were. However, you now had grown used to the vibrations, and it didn’t affect you as much as he would’ve wished.

“Feeling anything yet sweetheart?” Bucky asked as he took the initiative to coat the tip of the vibrator in your love juice before allowing himself to slide it within your entrance. The toy vibrated against your walls, though it only started to feel nice once Bucky began to thrust the length in and out of you. “Mmh..” you responded briefly, earning a frustrated sigh coming from the working man. Persuaded that this vibrator was useless, Bucky took it out of you before turning it off and carelessly tossing it to the side, earning a rather upset state coming from your confused self. “Why’d you do that?” You asked before sensing the tip of his cold vibranium fingers come in contact with your clit. It didn’t take long for you to understand his upcoming plans.

“Mmh..” his fingers held just the right type of vibrating pace, which seemed to be growing stronger through time. Your eyelids shut close, head peacefully resting against the pillow as Bucky carried on making his digits rub and vibrate against your cunt. “Are you feeling it now?..” he asked again, blue eyes staring at your clenched face as he appeared to enjoy watching your facial expressions twitch and change. “I am..” you responded breathlessly, those words leading Bucky’s fingers to accelerate the rythme. This was seriously beginning to send you head over heels, allowing your climax to build up within your crotch as Bucky continued to willingly work his magic on you.

In the corner of your mind, you were seriously beginning to wonder if the man’s arm wouldn’t overheat and explode- but it thankfully didn’t. Instead, it carried on vibrating against your clenched core which was desperately seeking for release. It soon became too hard to handle, a burning sensation taking over your legs and sexe the more Bucky’s fingers remained pressed against your clit- offering it pats and rubs. Before you could know it, your orgasm showed up and filled your body with pure bliss, your muscles contracting and tensing up- feeling secretly grateful about the fact that Bucky was here to hold you down and restrain you from hurting yourself. Bucky’s digits progressively paced down, wishing to slowly take away the reason to why you had gone physically crazy.

“That’s it.. you can’t imagine for how long I’ve been wishing to see you purr like a little kitten for me.” Bucky revealed proudly, hand finally moving away from your sexe. “Quit wasting your money on useless toys. Save up some cash by calling my number instead.” The man advised with a wink before sitting up onto his bum, allowing you to recover from the intense overstimulation you had just been put through.

@bucky-soldat ,, you deserve to be tagged in this. I love you!❤️

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

A/N: I LOVE BENEDICT. I love him so much. What do I have to do to get a Benedict? Title is from Shawn Mendes - Wonder. I had so much fun writing this fic, I can’t wait to write more for the Bridgerton fandom! I truly hope you all like it, let me know what you think please?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food and drink, fluff, pining, mutual pining, dancing, balls, obliviousness, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns, a lot of history - I am a historian after all and this is the regency era.

Word count: 4.8k

Lady Danbury never spared any expense on the balls she held every season. She knew full well that many a match could be made that night so there was not only pressure from the ton, but also a responsibility that this ball must outdo all others thrown before – by herself and other matriarchs in society.

A feat she always managed to achieve, the elder thinks to herself as she watches your eyes widen upon entering the ornately decorated room. Looking you up and down, she approves of your outfit – a dark blue dress punctuated with silver jewellery, hair twisted into an updo with only a few strands hanging loose to frame your face. From her spot across the ballroom, Lady Danbury wonders how you hadn’t married yet.

As the band strikes up, Lady Danbury walks into the fray, greeting her guests with a smile. All the while, she keeps a trained eye on you, wondering who on earth had captured your heart but had not noticed.

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

No matter how hard he tried, the charcoal would not wash from his fingers. Having scrubbed and scrubbed at his hands, Benedict could only offer you a smile of apology as you not only noted his lateness but the state of his hands.

“It’s very fortunate that you are a talented artist,” You comment with a teasing smile.

Benedict reaches for your hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before answering. “I class myself as very fortunate to have a friend like you who understands how easy it is to get lost in a sketch or a painting.”

You roll your eyes, careful not to let anyone else but Benedict see your act of impropriety. He smirks, unable to help himself.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Benedict.”

“Some might even call me a ‘rake’,” He replies, his tone teasing.

“I shall save that for when you’ve really annoyed me.”

He laughs; a loud chuckle that draws the attention of those closest to you. Most notably, Benedict’s mother, Violet Bridgerton and Lady Danbury.

Benedict clears his throat; cheeks flushed not only from the attention but from the knowledge that his mother would soon be making her way over to him. He adored his mother; was grateful for her every day, but he could happily admit he could live without the meddling in his love life. He grabs your gloved hand once more; kissing the back of it in parting before asking, “Save me a dance on your card?”

“Always,” You answer, watching his back as he stalks away. Benedict narrowly avoids being collared by his mother, an act to which you find yourself smiling at.

With thoughts of Benedict in mind, you wander around the outskirts of the ballroom, your dark blue skirts swishing pleasantly under foot. You pause only to grab a lemonade from the table, sipping happily at the cold drink.

You catch sight of the brunette that had stolen your heart dancing with Penelope Featherington and though you know there is no romance there, your heart is unable to stop the hurt that lashes through it. Schooling your face into a mask of polite delight, you force yourself to turn away from the sight of the man you had so readily given your heart to dancing with someone else.

“How long have you been in love with my brother?” A raspy voice asks from behind you.

Your lemonade splashes slightly as you turn to face your interrogator. “Eloise!” You laugh, smiling too wide to be comfortable, “Whatever do you mean?”

Eloise’s shrewd blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in your dismissal. She waves her hand in the general direction of Benedict though you knew exactly where he was – could feel his location thrumming in your veins.

“Don’t play coy, (Y/N). It doesn’t become you. Now, how long have you been in love with Benedict?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? How long had you loved Benedict? Thinking back on it, you’re sure that you’ve always loved him. Your family had been good friends with the Bridgerton family for as long as you could remember. Your mother was always having tea with Violet and you were always thrust upon the eight siblings without much worry. Your friendship with Benedict had started in earnest when you had complimented his art skills, bringing up how you liked to draw too. From there, a close friendship was forged.

By your twentieth year on this earth, you realised that your feelings for the second Bridgerton were no longer platonic… that you craved something more. Falling for Benedict Bridgerton felt inevitable almost; that your heart was destined to be his whether he knew it or not.

Sighing heavily, you see no point in lying to the second eldest Bridgerton girl. “For as long as I can remember,” You admit, rushing to add on, “But he doesn’t know so please don’t tell him!”

Eloise’s eyes widen at your confession, not only shocked that you readily admitted your feelings for her elder brother, but for how long you have harboured them. “Is that why you have not yet married?” She demands, “Because you loved him?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It wouldn’t be fair to my husband. Their wife in love with another man – it doesn’t exactly set stable foundations for a long, prosperous marriage and…”

“And…” Eloise prompts, her innate curiosity getting the better of her. If her mother could hear her now, she would surely receive a scolding.

You ball your hands into fists before letting them drop to your sides; letting them hang there like the constant hope you have for Benedict.

“And I still hope he’ll notice I’m here. That I have been here all along,” You voice cracks on the admission causing a pang of upset to flash through Eloise. She’d reach out to comfort you, but it would only draw attention from the many mothers circling and no doubt, Lady Whistledown.

“(Y/N)…” Eloise begins but you hold a single hand up to stop her before she starts. With a strained smile, you reassure her. “It’s fine, Eloise. I accept it with every season that passes that it is unlikely he shall ever return my feelings.”

“Then he is a fool,” Eloise states plaining, sending a glare in the direction of her beloved brother. She had no qualms admitting that Benedict was indeed her favourite sibling, but he had his moments where he vexed her beyond belief.

“Who is a fool?” A voice questions to the right of you. Benedict.

Freezing in place, you cast a helpless look at Eloise, begging her silently to take control of this situation. Eloise smiles and nods imperceptibly. She turns towards her brother, hooking her arm through yours as she declares, “The men that have not offered their hand to (Y/N) yet. They’re all fools, aren’t they dear brother.”

Benedict casts his gaze towards you; his eyes scanning your face for what, he does not know. “Fools,” He agrees quietly though he is heard perfectly over the music. “Would you care to dance?” He asks, wanting you to himself for a little while. As much as he loved his younger sister, she was a keen observer, and he wasn’t ready for her to figure out his feelings just yet. Not when he hadn’t admitted them to you.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand, bidding goodbye to Eloise for now. The brunette shakes her head as the both of you walk away. Oblivious, she thinks to herself, completely oblivious.

As the music strikes up once more, it becomes obvious that the next dance is a waltz, requiring the closeness of your partner. It was only years ago that this dance had scandalised the ton for its closeness – now, it was required at every ball, many married couples savouring the intimacy.

Benedict’s hand settles on the small of your back as his other grips your hand. Your hand rests comfortably on his shoulder as he begins to lead you through the steps you have known since your youth.

Music around you fades as do the other couples. The only two people in the room are Benedict and yourself. The feel of his hand on your back and the look in his eyes; it’s enough to have you accept your fate then and there. It’s enough for you to admit that you have been ruined for any and all men; finding yourself in love with the man who holds you so tenderly and has always held you in high regard. Is this it? You ask yourself, is this what it feels like to be loved by him? To feel like the only one in the world. If it is, you’ll take it with open hands.

Your eyes do not leave his as Benedict leads you through the rises and falls of the dance. His hand remains a steady presence on your lower back; the feeling just enough to distract you from the crowd now watching you and instead, leading you to wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere on your body.

As the music falls into another song; this one more upbeat, Benedict drops his hands, letting you free. He hadn’t wanted to; had wanted to pull you from the ballroom, to confess the feelings that have haunted him for years and to ask you to be his for better or for worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he bows and smiles, reaches for your hand to kiss it and then lets himself breathe as he turns and walks away.

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

Dear Reader,

Though there is much to report from Lady Danbury’s ball last night – the fashion, the food, the décor – This Author wants to focus on one moment in particular.

Now, Dear Reader, whilst you may wonder the importance of such a moment, remember that it is one’s job to observe all. That is why I want to bring attention to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who found himself extremely popular last night, dancing with many eligible women and delighting them with his talents.

However, Dear Reader, this is not the moment I want to focus on.

No. Instead, I want to bring attention to the heart most likely suffering in silence as Mr. Bridgerton continues to charm the ton.

As you all know, I am not one to beat around the proverbial bush and hide identities, but for the sake of the woman who has found herself in love with the second eldest Bridgerton for as long she can remember, I shall endeavour to keep her name a secret.

Know, however, that This Author’s sympathies lie with you.

To love another unrequitedly is a dear shame.

----------

The gossip sheet is scrunched to a ball in your hands. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from falling down your face. As if you didn’t know your love was unrequited; as if you didn’t know you had all but doomed yourself to being a spinster as you wait for a man who did not know you loved him.

Lady Whistledown knew your secret, and your identity. As a result, the whole ton knew your secret but whatever morals the author possesses, she had not revealed your identity.

Summoning the carriage, you ask to be taken to Bridgerton House where you can speak to Eloise in confidence and ask for her advice on what she might do. Deep down, you had to know whether Benedict had read the paper too.

It doesn’t take long for Eloise to find you in the tea room; a cup of tea in your hands but readily ignored as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Her brown hair tied up in her usual bun, her eyes hold the pity you didn’t want to see or hear as of this moment.

“I didn’t know she was listening, I swear,” Eloise promises, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand.

“I know,” You comfort, “You would never tell a soul.”

“At least she didn’t reveal your identity,” Eloise chirps, trying to find a silver lining.

“Yet she has revealed my secret to the entirety of London society,” You sigh. Removing your hand from Eloise’s, you press your palm to your forehead, feeling overwhelmingly tired and desperate for the day to be over already. “Does he know?”

Eloise chews on her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer you. “He has read it,” She admits, but rushes to add, “He doesn’t know it’s you! He doesn’t have a clue really. He’s angrier at himself for not noticing anything was amiss.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You whisper, feeling helpless.

“For now,” Eloise states, “We do nothing.”

---------

Your heels sink into the soft carpet as you wander down the stairs, pausing only to check you have everything. Your mind remains elsewhere as you check your bag out of habit, the conversation with Eloise, the latest gossip sheet, your feelings for Benedict. They circle around your mind, leaving you dizzy in their wake as you try to make sense of them all, try to find your next step in and amongst the mess.

“(Y/N),” Benedict greets, hurrying down the final few stairs, pleasantly surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I came to drop in on Eloise. I wanted to thank her for last night; she was an ear when I needed someone to listen.”

“Is it anything I can help with?” He asks, voice taking on a concerned note as he reaches out for you.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand in return. “For now, everything is okay.”

Benedict clears his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, but please come to me next time. I want to help if I can.”

“I will,” You promise, your eyes now scanning over his fine clothes. “Where are you off to?”

“An art exhibition at Somerset House. They’re showing some Holbein’s from the Royal collection.”

“Holbein’s?” You ask, shocked at the name falling from Benedict’s mouth.

He nods, just as excited. It was a rare thing indeed to have Holbein’s on display; they were usually kept in whatever royal residence they found themselves in; hidden away from the public eye. Art was the very foundation of your friendship; having seen so many of his sketches as a young boy and watching them develop into surer lines and confident strokes. Benedict was an exceptionally talented artist – something he would say about yourself. Benedict was the only person to see such work; the watercolours in your sketchpad leaving him breathless as you bring life to the inanimate.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He had barely seen you all season; you had closed in yourself, as if accepting a fate that you did not want. Benedict would do what he could to ensure your happiness for a little bit longer.

“Unchaperoned?”

A faint blush rises on Benedict’s cheeks as he realises what he has asked of you. “I shall ask Eloise to accompany us,” He suggests, turning to face the direction in which you had just come, “Did she mention any plans to you?”

You shake your head to which Benedict leases a sigh of relief. “I’ll go ask her now. I’m sure she won’t mind… much.”

Laughing quietly, you wait patiently in the entryway of Bridgerton House. The house in London so often felt like a second home to you; spending so much of childhood summers here when your mother would take tea with the Bridgerton matriarch. As you grew into your teens, you would begin to visit the house with just your maid, calling on the family for social niceties. The friendship with Benedict and Eloise only solidified your standing in the close family unit.

Eloise’s voice brings you back to the present. She walks down the stairs, accompanied by her brother. Taking one look at you, waiting patiently for the both of them, Eloise gets a mischievous look in her eye. It isn’t a look that leaves you in comfort, but rather leaves you wondering just what she has planned for the art exhibition.

“Eloise has so graciously accepted to join us,” Benedict announces, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Eloise smiles: a smile that sets Benedict’s nerves on edge. He would owe her for this, that much he knew. “I would be more than happy to accompany you, brother.”

Benedict resists the urge to groan; he’s in deep shit for this.

“Thank you, Eloise,” You murmur with a smile. Something in Eloise softens at your tone as if she would be unable to deny you this time with Benedict when it was their mother’s mission to see him married off this very season.

“Of course,” Eloise allows, glancing between you and Benedict – noting the longing in both sets of eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to the door and where the carriages waits just beyond it. “Shall we?”

--------

“He wasn’t a handsome monarch, was he?” Eloise murmurs quietly, staring up at the grand portrait of the fearsome king who preferred executing his wives rather than loving them.

The walls of Somerset House have become dedicated to the eyes of the past. Past monarchs and relatives decorate the walls; their eyes following each attendant, as if curious to see how society is progressing less than three hundred years after the death of the artist.

Benedict chuckles; the very sound raising goosebumps across your skin. You barely repress the shiver the sound elicits. Trying your best to listen as the siblings argue about the reign of this particular monarch – the pros and the cons to what he did for the very country he ruled over for decades.

“Oh!” Eloise gasps, interrupting the argument and loosening her grip on your arm, she waves frantically at Penelope Featherington. “Would you mind terribly if I go say hello?”

“Not at all,” You laugh.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with Benedict?”

The man in question scoffs, rolling his eyes at his little sister. “Off with you,” He dismisses, “I’ll escort (Y/N) – someone who actually appreciates the art.”

Eloise laughs as she turns away, but you do not miss the wink she sends in your direction. It hits you all at once; her mischievous look before you all left the house. She had concocted this plan in her head; accepting to accompany you as a rouse to get you and Benedict alone.

You didn’t know whether to appreciate her genius or hide her favourite book.

Jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat, you focus your attention on Benedict. He watches you with an amused look, and it’s then that you realise that he has stood beside you waiting with his arm out for a minute or so whilst you glared after his younger sister. Taking his arm, you rid yourself of any thoughts of violence against Eloise. Instead, focusing on the man beside you.

“How are you?” You ask, hand resting gently on Benedict’s forearm.

“Do you mean in general or after today’s publication?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“In general, I am quite well. I have a wonderful lady on my arm, and I am in the presence of excellent art work. However, after today’s publication, I must admit I am rather angry.”

“Oh?” You sound, trying hard not to let his words affect you so much but they rattle around your mind on repeat, committing themselves where they will last for an eternity.

“I’ve never been the focus of the gossip paper and now after one ball, I am. I don’t think I like the attention.”

“I don’t believe that for one second, Benedict Bridgerton.”

He pauses, smiling widely down at you. His eyes light up with the smile and your heart begins to pound at the sight of it. “Alright, I do like the attention,” He concedes, “But what I don’t like are the looks I’m getting from all mothers.”

“Why?”

“They all look like I’m about to break their daughter’s heart.”

“I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” You reassure, tightening your grip on his arm.

“I don’t think I am,” He states, nodding politely at Lady Whitelaw who in turn glares at the younger man. He turns his gaze to you as if to say, see?

You turn your face away from him, trying your best to hide the smile and laugh that threatens to break free. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Benedict guesses, a smile in his own voice.

“I’m not,” You promise, schooling your face into a mask of indifference, focusing on the closest sketch to you. A graphite sketch of Anne Boleyn; marking her beauty only years before her death.

“You are,” Benedict argues, standing beside you, admiring the same sketch. Throwing him a knowing smile, you turn your attentions to rest of the exhibition, unable to hide your awe at just what is being shown to the public.

The art is incredible; your watercolours barely compare to what is being shown in Somerset House. He would disagree in a heartbeat, but Benedict could come close to producing something of this calibre. He had shown his portraits of his mother and brothers; Anthony making the perfect candidate for a painting.

You come to a natural stop in front of a portrait of a young women. A young queen, in fact. This particular queen had never got to reign in the manner that she was capable, dying after giving birth the king’s heir. His one true love, the king had called her after he death.

“She’s beautiful,” You whisper, admiring not only the artistry but also the focus on the painting.

Benedict watches you admiring the portrait painted so carefully by Holbein. Though the portrait is indeed beautiful, Benedict finds himself agreeing that they do not hold a candle to you. As he watches you lift a single hand, trying to dampen the urge to run your fingers over the brush strokes, he thinks to himself that there would be no artist on this earth that would be so talented to capture your beauty.

His breath comes faster; his heart rate increases. He recognises the symptoms; he’s only experienced such signs before. He had been eighteen then; barely a man but man enough to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend. Years later, here he was, experiencing such feelings once more. Once more, he wonders what it would be like to be loved by you. He cannot help but hope that the mystery woman in the society papers is you.

-------

Dear Reader,

It seems that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton reads my paper!

He was overheard at the Somerset House Holbein exhibition, complaining to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) about my last column in which I criticised his treatment of the lady in love with him.

All I have to say on the matter is this:

Mr. Bridgerton, for every complaint you offer, you break her heart further. Stop now before you do irreparable damage.

-----

“What does she mean ‘break her heart further’? I’ve been trying to figure out who it is so I can put a stop to it!”

“It doesn’t matter whether you know who it is, Benedict,” You argue, placing your teacup on the table, “But rather the fact that you unknowingly hurt whoever it is that is in love with you.”

“Do my feelings not matter?” He demands, throwing the damned paper onto the table. Benedict runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry,” He apologises, “I should not have taken that tone with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” You laugh, “I’ve heard you say a lot worse.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward on your chair, you wring your hands together, working up the nerve. “What feelings haven’t they taken into account?”

“Lady Whistledown,” He spits the name with derision, “Hasn’t taken into account that I may not have noticed someone in love with me because I am in love with someone myself.”

It’s as if the chair is pulled out from under you; your stomach dips and flips as the world crashes around you and Benedict is none the wiser. He’s none the wiser to the palpable shift that has taken place. Instead, he’s sat down across from, looking utterly defeated.

“Does she know?” You ask after a moment of silence, using the time to pull yourself back together, to compile it all and put it away for later.

Benedict shakes his head; eyes sad as he watches you. “Why haven’t you told her?” You ask, unable to stop the questions now they’re on the tip of your tongue.

“I suppose for the same reason she hasn’t told me. Fear maybe?”

“Fear of what? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. Fear of ruining a friendship,” He lists off, counting the reasons on his fingers, holding them up for you to see.

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time,” He answers honestly, and you wonder whether the crack your heart makes was audible to the whole of the ton.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Eventually.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the teacup instead of him, readying yourself to offer up your broken heart. To confess that the two most recent society papers have been about you; have shown your heart to the whole of London.

“It’s me,” You confess quietly, voice no louder than a whisper but he hears you all the same.

Benedict’s head whips towards you. Had this been another situation, it would have been funny, but the look on his face… “What?” He whispers, shocked.

“It’s me,” You announce; louder this time, ready to lay your heart out on the floor for him to break entirely. “It’s me, Benedict. Lady Whistledown must have overheard Eloise and myself talking at Lady Danbury’s ball the other night. She had caught me watching you dance and asked me outright. I couldn’t deny it. I’ve been in love with you for years, Benedict. For as long as I can remember.”

“For as long as you can remember?”

You nod, wringing your hands together once more. “I didn’t realise until I turned twenty, just what my feelings meant. I think I’ve always been in love with you, Benedict.”

Benedict remains silent; eyes wide, hands slack as they rest on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't believe the very words leaving your mouth; as if he is unworthy of the love you offer him so willingly.

“Say something, please,” You plead, “I know it isn’t proper for the woman to announce her feelings for the man, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not when it is the focus for Lady Whistledown to sell more copies of her paper.”

“I didn’t know,” He whispers after a prolonged silence.

“You weren’t to know. You don’t have to feel the same, Benedict.”

“I do as it happens.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Benedict clarifies, standing from his chair, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen.”

You sniffle slightly; emotional from hearing the words you have longed to hear for years. The words that have haunted your dreams; had you rushing from sleep, so you didn’t let yourself believe an alternate reality.

“You do?”

Benedict nods, “I do. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” You reply, standing from your chair, reaching for him – not wanting anymore space between the two of you.

He dips his head, pausing mere millimetres away from your lips. The question burns in his eyes; desperate to know whether he can kiss you after so long waiting. Your nod is barely imperceptible but it’s nod, nonetheless.

Slowly, almost wanting to savour every moment, Benedict presses his lips to yours. Reaching up, you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against you after having waited so long, after having dreamed of this moment for too long.

He tastes like tea and his hands bring to life the butterflies in your stomach as they wander the path of your back, settling on your lower back, dipping you slightly. Benedict groans softly at the feel of you lined up against him. If he had known heaven was this close, he would not have waited this long.

Benedict breaks the kiss; not out of need of air, but to stop himself from taking this too far when you feel like heaven pressed against him. You smile widely, kissing his jaw lovingly before starting to laugh lightly. Benedict’s hands on your waist tighten possessively as he joins you in laughter.

Briefly, he wonders whether this is what it feels like to be loved by you.

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

Note

Could I suggest the brothers reacting to MC confessing to them accidentally?

MC Confesses to the Obey Me! Brothers By Accident

AN: Cute prompt! Sorry I took so long to get to this, nonny! This post is romance based, so if you’re looking for something more platonic I’m sorry but this one’s not it ;u;

They’re literally almost all sleepy in these, I’m having a day where I find that really cute ^^”

Lucifer

Lucifer feels exhausted, half-dozing off at his desk when you walk in and poke him square on the forehead. It startles him enough that he sends you a harsh glare through his hair. You grin at him, and he responds only by scoffing and turning to the side, stretching his arms out. Well, he is grateful you woke him up to some degree - he has a lot of work to get done and has to remain focused.

But there’s something enchanting about how he looks and moves when he’s too tired and trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to remain guarded. He’s graceful as always, but allowing someone to see him looking, for a lack of a better term, like his feathers were thoroughly ruffled and he was ready to turn in for the night, was a rare treat, and one sweet enough to crush your own walls.

By the time you realise you’ve just admitted to liking him aloud - something simple, but he knows what you mean when you say that maybe you like him a little too much, mumbled under your breath mindlessly - he’s already standing in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face with an unreadable expression.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he requests - or demands, its hard to tell - that you repeat what you just said. "I like you?" you say, although it sounds like a question, and he smiles and asks, "Are you sure? You don't sound it," with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You don't get to respond before he hums and straightens up, crossing his arms. "How much?" he asks, sitting against the front of his desk and watching you carefully.

"What do you mean, how much?" you sigh, frustrated. This proud man was getting on your nerves. Its not like confessing is easy, planned or not, and he had the gall to tease you about it?

"How much do you like me?" Lucifer's smile widens. When you don't respond, and you start to look somewhere on the edge of hurt, he sighs, rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing his pen unceremoniously onto the desk. He opens his arms and waits for you to walk into them, thoroughly confused by this entire interaction. "I like you too. I thought I'd get to confess first, but it seems you were so determined to beat me to it you did it without thinking."

You blush and glare up at him. That proud smile of his is softer around the edges now, and his hair is still just messy enough from where he's been running his hands through it whilst working that it makes your heart race. You lean into him, press your face against his chest, and release all your pent up emotions in a sigh. Lucifer responds with a chuckle, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Would you like some tea, my dear?"

[[Others under the read more!]]

Mammon

- You two tended to relax together. Things were stressful, it was hard being in a new world and Mammon had been the first to befriend you, even if he refused to admit how much he cared for you most of the time.

But he's tired now, and its a little different. He'd brought over a blanket again and he was on the floor of your room, where he tended to spend a lot more of his nights now, but also where he'd found a place for himself since the very beginning when you first arrived. He leans up on his elbow and looks up at you, and you watch him in turn from the bed. You'd just been talking about something or other but now he's simply grinning at you, something devilish and handsome, and you can't stop yourself.

"I really like you," you half-whisper, and then cover your mouth immediately as if you can stop him from hearing it, can stop the words from leaving and making their way to him. They don't, and he tilts his head, face slowly turning red.

"Huh? What'd you just say?" he asks, sitting up and staring at you. His eyebrows twitch down into a frown, and he looks puzzled, and almost a little bit hurt? "D'you mean it?"

Before you can respond, he barks out a laugh and lays down, staring at the ceiling and covering his face with one arm. “Ah, yeah. We’re friends, right? I like you too.”

You shake yourself out of your stupor to glare at him. “I don’t mean as friends, Mammon.”

He sits up again, looking offended. “What, so we’re not even friends now? Wow! Way to break it to me.”

“You-” you half-growl, before taking a deep breath. Your face is burning, and he’s maybe starting to piece things together, but you can’t stand any more of this. “I like you. I want to go on dates with you, and be your partner, and spend as much time with you as possible. I like seeing your smile when I wake up and knowing I have someone I can trust.”

His jaw drops open and he turns away, covering his face with one hand. “Gimme a second,” he mumbles, and when he looks back at you there are tears in his eyes and he’s grinning. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon!”

His voice catches, and then he’s laughing and crying and you scramble out of your bed to kneel next to him, startled and concerned. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him.

“I like you too, MC.” He kisses the top of your head, watery giggles still rattling through his chest.

Leviathan

In all fairness, neither of you were expecting it. It was late, or maybe it was early? You could never really tell in the Devildom, and you didn’t want to move right now for fear of ruining the moment.

Levi was curled up against your side, eyes fluttering closed and then bolting open again as he tried to focus on whatever show he was supposed to be presenting to you. He’d been talking through a lot of it, and you still had the remote in one hand so you could pause it to listen to him properly each time without missing anything. After about an hour of that, he’d started to look tired, and then eventually flopped down against your side, defenseless and unworried, too tired to really process what he was doing.

Your other arm was wrapped around his shoulder, touch featherlight on his jacket for fear of startling him. He was cute, adorable even, and whilst you quite enjoyed seeing him flustered, it was nice to see Levi free of it as well, even if it was a spell only going to last until he woke up a little more.

That moment, as it were ought to, came quite soon. The episode was fading out and the outro music just starting to play when you mumbled, “God, I really do like you.”

Without warning, Levi sits bolt upright and headbutts you in the process, clinging onto his own head as he stares at you with wide eyes and a tomato-red face.

“H-h-huh?” he stutters, lowering one hand to cover his mouth. You fan at your own - he’d made you bite your tongue, and you were trying to process things when he started to mumble to himself at a mile a minute.

“There’s no way you could mean you like-like me right? I mean, I’m me. And you’re you. Why not one of my brothers, or even Lord Diavolo? He’s going to be the king soon! And-”

“Levi, please, one moment,” you groan. Your chin and mouth were sore and you needed a second, and even if you were planning to confess to him sooner or later it really wasn’t like this, and you didn’t need him denying your feelings so soon. You take a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside a little. Levi helps; he hands you a cold can of something or other, purses his lips until they become nothing but a thin, worried line, and waits.

You start laughing soon after. “I do like you. You, Levi. And I know I could spend all day explaining why and you still wouldn’t accept it, so I’m just going to need you to trust me.” You look at him, nervous and already feeling thoroughly rejected, and smile. “You don’t need to return my feelings, but I hope you can accept them as the truth, at least.”

Levi tears up, and he nods, gripping the bottom of his jacket in both hands. His face takes on too many different expressions in those painfully silent moments, and then he opens his mouth, trying to force something out. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“I l-like you too, MC.” He sighs, clenches his hands tighter as he tries not to stammer too much through his words. “I... I...” He laughs, then, holds his head. “It hurts, so its not a dream, right?” His smile is small but glorious, and you can see his sharp teeth. “Yeah. I like you. And you l-like me?”

You take his face in your hands and laugh. “I like you.” He’s bright red but continues to grin anyway, and you poke at his cheeks with your thumb, smiling in kindness.

Satan

Satan is curled up in one of the few tidier parts of his room, and you sit somewhere close by, occasionally glancing up to look at him over a stack of books.

The mess had been more disturbing at first - there were books everywhere, and he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to you knocking down a stack or two of them. He wouldn’t lose his temper, not at you - he hadn’t in a long time, not since before you’d made a pact with him. And despite how awkward it was to try to find a little space big enough for you to sit in every time he requested you come to his room instead of the library or your own, it was nice having that place and knowing you fit there, with him and all of his precious books.

He chuckles and pulls you back to reality, and you’re glad he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You look down at your book and back up again in a weak attempt to cover up what you’d been doing, and Satan smiles all too knowingly, as he often did, and tips his book at you.

“Listen to this, MC,” he says, voice somewhere between cheeky and amused. He’d definitely caught you staring. You blush but tilt your head all the same, curious, and he continues. “It’s a human world story about an admirer who can only ever sneak glances at the person they admire over the top of books. How charming is that?” His bold smile was annoying and handsome at once.

“It’s daring of you to assume I was actually looking at you,” you grumble. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“But you didn’t deny the admirer part, hmm?” Satan laughs. He doesn’t mean anything by it, isn’t really making assumptions. He’s just trying to poke at you a bit, trying to feel out your reactions so he can better guess at them in future ahead of time. He did that often, and it was something you were getting used to. But this time he was right, and it was a little bit different.

“I can’t deny what’s true,” you mumble at your book. It was quiet, and usually he’d be so engrossed in his own again that he wouldn’t hear you, but you don’t hear pages turning, can’t feel the aura Satan has when he’s thoroughly engrossed in something.

You look up at him and he’s still looking at you, puzzled smile and flushed cheeks catching you off guard. Oh no.

“Do you like me, MC?”

Satan sounds unsure, and you can only swallow and nod as if you weren’t admitting to something you’d planned to keep to yourself for so much longer. Maybe you’d have told him someday in the future, when you were long back in the human world and had met someone else, or were at least starting to get over your feelings. But no. You’d just gone and done it now, with books piled precariously on either side of you and the subject of your affections staring at you, dumbfounded, over an unsteady pile of them.

He absorbs your words slowly, and you know you can’t stand and rush out of there without knocking over enough books to piss him off, so you stay and wait. So what if he knew? Satan wouldn’t get mad about something like that, and he was respectful enough to just ignore it and get on with his life. If it were Lucifer, he might tease you about it, but Satan won’t. And if he reciprocated?..

“Ah, that’s good then,” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He lets out an airy laugh, and you can tell that as much as he’s trying to hide it, he really is feeling flustered. “I was never sure. But, hmm...” Satan clears his throat, looks at you and genuinely smiles now, showing you something deeper than the usual facade he put up to make himself appear like more than just his anger. “I like you too, so its quite convenient, isn’t it?”

You laugh, then, and a weight leaves your shoulders... only to bring on a new one. Your sudden movements topple one of the book piles beside you, and Satan lunges forward to try to catch some of them before they can hit you as you protect yourself with your arms.

When the last one falls, you hear Satan groan as he sits up and pushes the books off of the two of you. He looks around, grins, and then laughs before offering you a hand.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” His emerald green eyes sparkle in the low light, just bright enough to read. “Shall we go out somewhere else? I’d love to take you on a date.”

Asmodeus

(Mildly suggestive at parts. Sorry ;u;)

It was a weekly tradition, to go to Asmo’s room and put on a face mask and relax. He gossiped, although it was harmless - there was no judgements passed on anyone - and you listened and offered insight on things. Asmo would show you whatever new makeup or perfume or clothes he’d gotten, would sometimes go for a full impromptu fashion show, or would rest his head on your thighs and let you run your fingers through his delightfully soft hair.

Today, it was the latter. You’d missed last week for some reason or other - Mammon had probably distracted you, or Lucifer dragged you off somewhere with him, not giving the chance for you to refuse. Sometimes the brothers did it intentionally; rather than setting up their own days to spend with you, they had decided to sabotage your days with Asmodeus instead. You were able to prevent it most of the time, to sneak off to his room or at least away from whoever was trying to draw your attention, but after missed weeks where you couldn’t find enough excuses or an escape route, Asmo tended to cling to you and not let go, begging for some affection. It felt best from you, he’d said once, and you were sure he was joking, because Asmo often commented about how he’d done much more with others in the past and surely you petting his hair and listening to him didn’t compare to that, right?

He opens his eyes now, and looks up at you from your lap. His eyes were always startling, because they were incredibly intense even if his powers didn’t work on you. They were beautiful, as well, much like the rest of him, and your gaze flutters away after a bit because you know they’ll draw you in and force you to admit to things you don’t feel ready to talk about yet.

Asmo chuckles, and you wind a hand through his hair and pull it slightly, frustrated. He pouts at you, face colouring, and you perhaps regret it.

“Don’t be a tease. You’ll ruin my hair if you pull at it like that,” Asmo whines. “I mean, of course I don’t mind that much, but-“

You cover his mouth and shush him, tutting as you put your hand back in his hair and played with a lock or two. Asmo only laughs again, and you can’t help but think how he’d only adore making you more and more flustered, and would even risk irritating you so long as he got to see you a blushing mess. He didn’t push too far, though - he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and more than that he’d be left on his own with no one to run their fingers through his hair if you decided to leave because of it. Or, well - he could easily find someone willing to do so, but it wouldn’t be you, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes again and you feel it tug at your heart, something like a desire, but maybe more innocent than what he was used to drawing out of people. You pause, and Asmo opens his eyes to look up at you again, confused, and when met with that gaze, you can’t really hold it back the words that had been threatening to spill for weeks, now, and moreso on days like this when he was seeking delicate affections and smiled at you so beautifully it made your breath catch.

“I like you, Asmodeus,” you half-whisper, and you know he’s heard it because his eyes are wider now and you can see the yellow of his iris, and you half think to push him square off your lap and book it, but then he’s kneeling in front of you with a firm grip on your wrist.

Asmo’s mouth opens and closes, like he isn’t sure what to say. Something like ‘do you mean it?’ or ‘of course you like me, who doesn’t?’ or, maybe, ‘I like you too, love you even!’ Nothing comes out, everything jumbling together in his head. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, as he was a stickler for keeping his composure in almost any situation - it was attractive to be in control of your emotions, wasn’t it? But the silence was painful, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, because as much as Asmo’s mind was racing right now, you weren’t psychic. You couldn’t tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to confess.

Eventually, Asmo settles on doing something he knows how to do better than finding the perfect words for this. He leans forward, hesitates as if checking you were okay, and then kisses you. It’s soft and gentle and not nearly as deep as what he momentarily considered making it, but it’s just right for a confession. He pulls back only to kiss you again, and this time smiles against your mouth when you kiss him back. When you smile too, he throws his arms around your shoulders and laughs, burying his face against your neck and pressing light kisses against the skin there, too, although you can still feel him smiling too much to do it properly.

In the end, it’s not really said aloud, but you know what Asmo is trying to say. He likes you, too. And he is so, so incredibly happy.

Beelzebub

9 times out of 10, when you get the urge to go to the kitchen for some reason - to cook, to get a drink, or to get a snack - Beel can be found there. The main rooms in the house he goes between are the common room, where he spends time with his brothers, his own bedroom, and, of course, the kitchen. And lo and behold, here he is now, eating something you can’t actually recognise and talking to Belphie, who slumps against the counter, half-asleep, but offers you a tired smile when you enter the room.

Beel himself doesn’t notice your presence until Belphie stands up and stretches, looking between you and Beel pointedly. Maybe you had been obvious, or maybe it was because Belphie was actually quite sensitive to people’s emotions when he decided to be and when it involved Beel, but he would often leave you alone with his brother if you bumped into the two of them, as if he were trying to give you a chance. His knowing smirk as he passes you on the way out, mumbling a quiet and lazy goodbye, didn’t help.

“Ah, MC!” Beel beams, and your breath catches. Generally, Beel looked quite pissed off. It was just his resting expression, and you knew he was content or thinking about the next meal he’d have, or something like that. But when he smiled? If you didn’t think it might offend him, you would absolutely compare it to that of seeing an angel. His expression hid nothing, betrayed his delight, and he grinned every single time without fail whenever he greeted you, unless he was seeking you out because he’d had a disagreement with Belphie and needed support.

And now as he stands in the kitchen, unknown food in hand and delighted smile on his face, you consider telling him he’s beautiful. Not like Asmo, not in the same sense. But he truly was stunning, and you wanted him to wear his smile with pride for eternity. He deserved to be so happy, and it would be a nice treat for you, too, to be able to see that expression anytime you wanted. You might sell your soul for that much, you joke dryly to yourself.

Beel looks puzzled when you return from your thoughts, and you realise you haven’t even greeted him yet. Perhaps that was how Belphie had noticed.

“Beel!” you chirp, and you think maybe he grins wider when you say his name, although it’s hard to tell. You lean against the counter where Belphie had been resting. “Did you find something nice to eat?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then seems to consider something before he closes the fridge and stands beside you, resting against the counter too. “Do you want to try some?” he offers, and you can’t help but think that he really only offered food to you and to Belphie, and what did that mean? Did he love you as much as his brother, and was it in the same way, or something different like how you felt for him?

“Am I being selfish by liking you so much?” you think. Or rather, say. Out loud. For him to hear. Unfortunately.

Beel freezes, and his ears go bright red. “You-.. hmm? What do you mean?” he asks, and you can tell he’s looking for a specific answer in the hopeful way he looks at you, but you don’t know what it is. If you admit to liking him and he sees you as a sibling, wouldn’t that be awkward? But if you lied you’d have to carry that with you, too, and it would be hard to correct in future.

You sigh and take a deep breath, and look at him, speaking with whatever confidence you can muster. “I like you, Beel. Would you be interested in... dating me?” You think to tell him that it’s okay if not, it’s okay if he’s not interested or he doesn’t want things to chance, it’s alright if he doesn’t think of you like that. But you can’t bring yourself to, and it’s too late anyone to take back what you’ve said, and what’s the point in confessing only to shut yourself down and reject your own advances before he even gets a chance to?

As you wait, Beel’s face steadily gets redder, and he seems to be fumbling through his own thoughts as if he can’t find the right one, the right answer to this question. And, eventually, he nods, and that smile returns, and your head spins because these last few minutes had been too much to deal with and now you have this huge demon grinning at you as if you’d just handed him the sun with a kiss on the cheek and promised him the world, too, on top of it.

“I like you too, MC!” he beams, and sweeps you up into his arms, food forgotten for the moment. You’d panic if his grip wasn’t so firm, and if you weren’t so sure he would never even risk dropping you. Beel’s eyes twinkle and you think you see a spark of mischief peeking through his delight before he holds you tight to his chest and spins, and you can only hold on and listen to his laugh. You bury your face against him and laugh, too, and you feel as warm and bright as his smile.

Belphegor

(Mild spoilers for up to lesson 16 / 17)

Although you thought you would be able to suss out where Belphie would be - as Beel had his places, Belphie had his own; the planetarium if he couldn’t sleep, so he could look at the stars and think without being disturbed, or the library if he was scheming with Satan, or the attic if he wanted to sleep and wasn’t in his room - you found that it was actually more tricky than that.

You see, after being released from the attic where he’d been trapped for months, Belphie found himself seeking out his brothers on odd occasions. He’d do so anyway, before all this nonsense had occurred, but now there was more meaning behind it. He’d missed them, and he liked to curl up and play games or just fall asleep near one of them. Finding him on those days was almost impossible, because he could be anywhere.

You almost feel like giving up on it - the two of you had agreed to spend time together, but he was nowhere to be found and was probably off sleeping somewhere with no idea what time it was - and felt thoroughly dejected when you bumped into Lucifer, who was quietly leaving the music room, movements near silent and with a gentle and rare smile on his face. When he sees you it vanishes, goes back to his usual expression as if he’d just put on a mask, but you can tell he’s concerned because he puts a hand on your back and leads you down the corridor with him. He only stops at the end of it and leans down to quietly ask if you were feeling okay.

“I’ve been looking for Belphie and I can’t find him anywhere,” you mumble, automatically responding at a similar level to him. It felt like you were sharing a secret. “We were supposed to go on a walk together.”

Lucifer smiles, then. “Ah.” He tilts his head, and for a moment considers telling you it’s a shame he can’t help, but you look so dejected he can’t bring himself to do it. “Now that I think about it, he did mention something like that before he fell asleep in the music room. I didn’t want to wake him up, but he might not mind if it’s you.”

He chuckles quietly when you cheer up, thanking him before you rush off back down the corridor and open the doors of the music room. You see Belphie sleeping on one of the seats near the piano - he’d probably been listening to Lucifer play something or other, and had passed out in the middle of it all.

You can’t help but smile as you crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair away from over his eyes. As usual, he doesn’t even stir - you weren’t sure if he was a light sleeper or a heavy one because it seemed to vary by the day. but most of the time you could get away with little things like this without waking him. It makes you consider just letting him rest until dinner. You would still have time to go for a walk after, and it’s not like anything would change - there was no day and night in the Devildom. It would remain just as cold and dark as it always was. Any time would be the best time to go out, really.

Belphie shifts in his sleep, and you watch as his hair falls back over his face. You stifle a laugh as you push it away again, allowing yourself to run your fingers through his fringe slightly. His hair is soft, delightfully so, and he looks so peaceful and cute whilst sleeping that you absentmindedly let out a sigh.

“I like you, you know?” you mumble, only just stopping yourself from poking him in the forehead, because that would wake him up and it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so right now. “I really do.”

And, much to your horror, Belphie half smirks and opens one eye. You let go of his hair and sit back on your heels, startled, and he stretches and yawns.

“You’re awake,” you say, as if you were accusing him of something, and he laughs.

“Someone decided they wanted to play with my hair,” he grins, lopsided and with sleep still filling his voice, pitching it lower than usual. He clears his throat. “How could I not wake up? And just in time to hear you confess, too!”

Belphegor sits up and watches you cheerfully, and you pout at him. He liked to tease you, but this feels like it should be a forbidden topic. Something he shouldn’t poke and prod at you about.

“I wish you’d just pretend not to have heard it,” you grumble, but it only makes him smile more, and he tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion. Before he can ask why, or tease you more, you cut him off, focusing your gaze on the floor. “It hurts to be teased about this. If you don’t like me it’s okay, but please don’t make me regret liking you.”

“And who said I didn’t like you?”

You look up at him again, and he only sighs and gets up off the bench to kneel in front of you. He looks like he’s waiting for an answer, or waiting for something at least, but when you don’t respond, he pats you on the head and stands, holding out a hand.

“Don’t we have a date to go on? Get up off the floor, it’s dusty,” Belphie says. You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you closer to him, half hugging you as you walk. He was a pain to deal with and he knew it, but he was determined to prove himself worth the effort.

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starlordamn · 4 years ago

Text

My Girl - Michael Gray oneshot

Summary: You and Michael have always had sexual tension, from what started off as playful flirting has turned to actual feelings and most of all lust. So one night when you are doing last minute paperwork and Michael is making it so you can’t concentrate, a stare across a room leads to desk sex

Warnings: smut, fingering, desk sex?? vaginal sex, hair pulling, michael gray being hot!! fluff at the beginning, and its 1am i just got the idea for this sp possible grammar errors and yeah that’s it enjoy

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It was late at night when you were still in your office finishing off some paperwork Tommy had asked you to complete before tomorrow. Of course you took on the workload but you slightly underestimated how much there was to get through. Though you’d managed to get through a good chunk, you couldn’t help but feel distracted with the pair of eyes across the room that were fixated on you as you worked. Michael. He was your…you weren’t even sure what you two were anymore. You both would constantly tease and flirt with each other and though it started out as a joke – Michael’s stupid pick-up lines and your over the top, ridiculous attempts at seducing him – it all felt very real now. Your eye roll that usually followed his pick-up lines had been replaced by flustered mumbling and his sarcastic laugh that followed your teasing had been replaced with a fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. It would be a lie to say that no one felt the tension whenever you two were in a room together and it would be a lie to say that you both didn’t constantly have the other person on their mind, pretty much twenty four-seven.

Your eyes scanned the same sentence that you had skimmed over four times already, yet not properly taken in. You felt hot under Michael’s gaze, it made you almost squirm in your seat.

You swear he hadn’t looked away for a second in the past twenty minutes.

After rolling the pencil between your fingers, trying your hardest, one last time, to concentrate, you finally looked up to meet Michael’s stare.

“Do you like what you see?” Your eyebrows raised as you swiftly sat back in your chair, you legs crossing one another, moving slowly on purpose. Michael’s eyes darted away from your face momentarily to look at your legs before he replied,

“You know I always do.” He smirked confidently as he noticed your smooth façade crack at his words, your cheeks dusting with pink and you fiddled with the pencil in your hands. His smirk faded slightly as he noticed your nervous shift in body language,

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Y/N?”

You looked up at him quickly, shaking your head reassuringly, “no, I just,” you paused, during which you couldn’t help the grin spread across your face, “I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.”

He grinned back at you, looking at the floor for a moment before he responded,

“Can you blame me, when you always look so stunning?”

Shaking your head gently unbelievingly whilst letting out a small giggle, you put the pencil back on the table before putting your elbows on the desk and resting your chin on your hands. Your cheeks were still so blushed were from his comments, you almost didn’t reply,

“Are you flirting with me, Michael?”

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward towards you, his elbows on the opposite side of your desk, your faces inches away, “Yes. Is it working?”

His hot breath fanned against your lips as he made the gap between you both slightly shorter. His lips were centimetres away from yours and you felt your heart hammer in your chest with anticipation.

“Yes.” Was all you muttered out before closing the gap fully between the two of you. His soft lips hitting yours ever so gentle and soft. As if he were scared he would break you. Your hands raised to wrap themselves around the back of his neck as he stood up slightly and pulled you over your desk, knocking quite a few things off in the process before you were sat on the edge of your desk with Michael stood between your legs. You were about to protest about Tommy’s paperwork but was cut of with a gasp as Michael began to kiss his way down your neck, kissing slightly rougher than he had your lips. He took his time as he sucked his way down your neck all the way down to your collarbone as his hands gripped your hips, drawing lazy circles on them. He looked up at you when he reached the top of your shirt and you nodded, encouraging him to take it off.

He did.

He unbuttoned your shirt, his warm hands brushing against the skin of your arms as he slid it off you, sending a shiver down your spine. You sat in just your skirt and bra now as Michael leaned in to kiss you again, this time it was rougher. It was forceful and you sank into it with ease, a floaty feeling washing over you so you didn’t even realise he had taken your bra off until you felt the cold air hit your hard nipples. That feeling was eased straight away as Michael wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it and nipping at it while his hand pinched your other one.

“Michael.” His name came out as a breathy moan as you arched your back, almost trying to squirm away from his touch which only made him step closer to you. His clothed hard cock pressed against your clothed cunt as he took your other nipple in his mouth making you whine his name softly again.

Michael’s pulled away from your breasts, the cold air now teasing your nipples as one of his hands began tracing little patterns on your thigh underneath your skirt. Your breath hitched as his fingertips reached your panties and he stopped to toy with the lace before yanking it aside and running his fingers teasingly over your entrance,

“So marvellously wet for me.”

“Michael…fuck- please stop teasing m-” you managed to whine out at first before you broke off with a louder moan when his hand dragged up to your clit and began to slowly rub circles on it. He continued to draw circles on your clit agonisingly slow as he brought his lips against your ear,

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?” He smirked against the skin below your ear as he pushed a finger inside of you, a line of expletives rolling off your tongue.

“Michael, please,” you whined as he began thrusting his finger in and out of you slowly.

“Tell me what you want and I might just give it to you,” he finished his sentence off by taking your earlobe between his teeth and dragging it slightly. You moaned in frustration, unable to get your words out as Michael added another finger to you, stretching you ever so slightly.

“Please, I want you, I want you to fuck me,” you whined out needily. As soon as the words left your mouth his hand was gone from in-between your legs, replaced instead with a dull aching sensation. He reached down to undo his belt and you reached out to unbutton his waistcoat and then his shirt. Pulling the waistcoat off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt you discarded them both on the floor before running your hands over his chest in awe. He dragged your skirt down your legs and your panties down as you lifted your hips slightly, also discarding your items of clothing on the floor.

Pulling his cock free from his boxers, you saw he was fully hard. Not only that, but he was huge. You widened your eyes slightly and he noticed immediately.

Resting his forehead gently against yours, “do you want this, Y/N?”

His eyes were sincere as they looked into yours, awaiting an answer.

“Yes, make me yours.”

Yours. He felt his stomach flip at the very word. His.

That was all the confirmation he needed before placing himself once again between your legs, Pulling them slightly more apart as he lined up with your entrance and slowly beginning to push inside you. You hissed as he stretched you out, his cock fitting tightly inside your cunt, the slight burning pain being overridden by the pleasure of being full to the brim with Michael’s cock.

He stilled inside you for a minute to let you properly adjust to his size, and it wasn’t long before you were asking him to move inside of you.

“Gosh Y/N, I can’t believe I’ve waited so long before doing this. Fuck…” he moaned lowly into your hair, resting his head on your shoulder momentarily.

“Aaaa…fuck, me too,” you moaned in agreement, you’ll never know why you both just allowed the tension to grow between you.

“Michael, god, that feels so good,” you cried out as he shifted your legs slightly. Placing his hands on the underside of your thighs he quickened his pace, his cock inside you feeling so good. Every nerve felt like bliss, you felt like you were on ecstasy, everything felt so good all at once as Michael brought a hand up to toy with one of your breasts. This feeling was a thousand times better than just your imagination could have ever created. You were both one now. Circling your hips in sync with his deep and sharp thrusts inside of you.

His hand pulled away from your breast and reached up to your head, pulling roughly on your hair as he buried his hand in your hair. Jerking your head to the side with his hair tightly in his fist he attached his lips to the side of your neck, instantly finding your sweet spot. Smirking against your skin once again he sucked on your neck.

“Mmm-Michael I- I’m close,” you barely managed to form coherent words as the build up of tension in your lower abdomen grew significantly as Michael hit a spot inside you that left you seeing stars, basically falling apart beneath him.

“I know, fuck, come with me,” he whined roughly against your neck, your hair still gathered in his hand as he pulled it harder. He thrusted repeatedly against your g-spot inside of you and your eyes rolled back as you squeezed around Michael’s cock, making it twitch inside of you.

“Come with me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, the slight pain from the hair pulling, the fingers lazily drawing circles on your clit, his cock hitting your g-spot, it all sent you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you with force, causing you to shake slightly. Your walls squeezed Michael’s cock which sent him over the edge too, his hot release painting your walls as your grinded your hips in sync with his thrusts to ride both of your orgasms out.

Your hips finally came to a stop as you both steadied your breathing before Michael pulled out of you, causing you to whine slightly at the feeling of being empty. You both stopped to look around at the mess you made; all of your papers were on the floor, scattered here and there, all out the orders you had filed them in.

Michael smirked before looking back at you, “I’m sure Tommy’s paperwork can wait a little longer.”

You grinned, understanding instantly, “it can wait all night.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned back at you before once again attacking your neck but you pushed him away slightly making him look at you with concern.

“My girl? So are we…” You bit your lip in hesitation.

“Dating? Of course, only if you want to, my love.” He smiled nervously awaiting a response, the glisten in his eyes genuine.

“Of course I do.”

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray x you #michael gray imagine #michael gray one shot #michael gray smut #smut #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #new years eve special #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #finn cole #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x reader smut #peaky fookin blinders #incorrect peaky blinder quotes

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dracosathenaeum · 4 years ago

Text

Library Escapade | D.M.

Summary: Library Sex

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1,548

A/N: This is 1.5k words of pure smut, I literally wrote this in one sitting instead of doing my uni work but hey ho; hope this is okay lmao. use protection xx

MASTERLIST

If someone had told you a week ago that you’d find yourself swallowing moans whilst grinding on Draco Malfoy’s fingers as he stretched you open in a deserted corner of the library at 9pm on a school night, you’d ask if they were under the imperius curse.

Your chest was to his back, his own against one of the many walls of books, one hand holding your skirt out of the way as the other curled deeper inside of you, trying to find that one spot that would make you scream. His mouth sucked incessantly on your neck, not caring about the bruises that would be impossible to hide come morning. No, he was too busy trying to make you see stars, and he was doing a damn good job of it.

“More, please Draco. More.” You tried to keep your voice down but with your heart beating in your ears and Draco’s heavy breath accompanying it, you weren’t sure of the volume of your voice; unsure as to whether you had spoken at all.

His fingers stilled, pausing their actions as Draco moved his lips to the shell of your ear, breath ghosting over all the fresh marks he had decorated you with. “Are my fingers not enough for you?” You whimpered, hips moving wildly trying to generate the friction that you had suddenly lost, “Please.”

“Please what darling?” you could feel his smirk against the side of your face, his nose brushing against your cheek as you struggled with what to say. It wasn’t exactly a secret that didn’t usually do this, hook up with Slytherins in some corner of the library where anyone could walk in at any time and have them both expelled. You weren’t a virgin, but it had never been like this, you hadn’t even known fingers alone would be enough to bring you over the edge yet here you were, so close to it. “Please Draco, I want to come.”

Your hips hadn’t stopped trying to move on his fingers, but you were pressed too closely to his body that you couldn’t move nearly as much as you needed to. More pleas fell from your mouth as you felt the frustration build, you had been so close, damn Slytherins and their fucking pride.

Tilting your head back as much as the angle would allow, you pulled Draco’s head towards you with a free hand, lips finding his almost instantly. You let him explore your mouth for perhaps two seconds before you forcefully pulled back, teeth digging into his bottom lip on your way out. “Hurry up before someone finds us.” A flash of pink darted from his lips to run over where your teeth had just been, a small smirk and look of what could only be described as amusement flooded his features.

“I underestimated you.”

You weren’t quite sure if that had been a compliment or just a revelation of his, you didn’t have much time to think about it however when his fingers pulled out of you. You watched as he brought them into his mouth, his other hand reaching between the two of you to free himself of his trousers. Reaching behind you, you fumbled to swat his hand away before wrapping your own around the hard length, pumping it as best you could at the awkward angle, twisting it until you heard his breath hitch.

“These are in the way.” You hadn’t even noticed his hands had found their way back under your skirt until his fingers had torn them off completely, carelessly throwing them aside. Briefly losing your hold on him, you twisted in your arms to find his mouth again, your hand continuing its ministrations as his fumbled with the buttons of your blouse.

“Up.” His hands tapped the underside of your thighs, reading himself to hold onto your weight; leaning you against the shelves of books once your legs were wrapped firmly around your waist.

It was unlikely that anyone would walk this far back into the library on a Thursday night when it wasn’t even exam season, but you decided to be cautious since Draco clearly wasn’t going to be. You had barely managed to cast a quick silencing and disillusionment charm before Draco had started pressing into you, his precum and your own slick acting as all the lubrication you needed. You were suddenly glad you had managed the silencing charm as you were sure Draco would’ve exposed the two of you with the moan that had tumbled out of his mouth.

You bit down on your lower lip, nails digging into his back as you waited for the uncomfort and slight pain to ebb away. Draco had understood and hadn’t moved, waiting patiently for your breathing to even out again before continuing, his lips finding yours to distract you in the meantime.

When the first moan tumbled from your mouth Draco had pulled his hips back slowly before pushing back in, eyes locked onto your face for any sign of pain. Your breathing had quickened but with no sign of pain or discomfort his thrust became rough, cock pulling out hard enough so that only the tip was left in before slamming straight back in, the sharp edges of his hipbones hitting your skin with each thrust. With both arms around his neck, you changed your positioning slightly, the small change enough to illicit moans tumbling out of both of you.

You started to match his thrusts, bouncing on his slick cock with the help of his hands spread across your thighs and grasping at your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as the obscene sound of wet thrusts filled your ears, Draco’s small grunts sending shivers down your spine causing you to clench around him.

“Can you come this way?” despite the haze that clouded your mind you managed to snap your eyes open, you had never been asked that before. Your previous partners had asked you if you had cum afterwards but had never had the consideration to ask during. You tried to catch his eye, but his own gaze was focused elsewhere, eyes darkening as he watched his cock pull out of you before slipping back between your folds repeatedly with little to no resistance. “I’m not sure.”

He gave a barely noticeable nod before letting go of your legs and carefully lowering you to the floor, offering himself as support as you waited for the pins and needles to disappear from your legs. Hands turned you around to face the table which still had your revision materials scattered across the desk, directly across from his own. You laid your hands flat on the desk to support yourself as you felt Draco press back into you from behind, moaning at the feeling of being full again. He had barely started a rhythm before he had hauled you up against his chest, one hand pinching and kneading at your breast whilst supporting you up, the other had reached down to find the bundle of nerves between your legs. You couldn’t stop the scream that left you as his thrusts timed with the rolls of your clip between his fingers; they dipped briefly to where you were joined to collect some of the mixture of both your cum before pressing against your clit again, pressing harder with each roll.

You could tell he was close by the way his thrusts lost their steady rhythm, his fingers however, continued their ministrations, trying to release the coil that had built up in you as he fucked you.

“Fuck, can you cum for me y/n? be a good girl for me yeah?” The rasp in his voice was enough to send you over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as your cunt fluttered around his cock, eyes rolling up. “Just like that darling, did I make you feel good baby girl?” He knew you couldn’t formulate words, but he couldn’t stop himself as he chased his own relief, hips becoming more and more erratic, the hand on your breast gipping harder until his hips stuttered before finally stilling.

You leant your body against the table in front of you as Draco pulled away, only heavy breathing filling the air. “That is so fucking hot.” You turn to ask what he meant but he already had a hand on holding your skirt up to give him an unobstructed view of his cum dripping down your thighs. You hadn’t even had time to be embarrassed about being so exposed when he used two fingers to gather the white liquid trailing down your thighs, before pushing it back into your sensitive cunt, leaving his fingers inside of you for a while before pulling them out and wiping them on your inner thighs.

“If this is how tutoring sessions go with you, I’ll be back every day.”

Testing the strength in your legs, you stood back up, resting the back of your thighs against the table behind you just in case. “I expect you here tomorrow at the same time Malfoy, don’t be late again.”

He drops you his signature smirk, as you grimace, knowing full well his cum is leaking out of you again now that you’ve stood up.

“Have fun walking back love.”

TAGLIST: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy @minigigglybabi @mcuweasley @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin @thehumanistsdiary @mariah-can-dream @futureofanthropology @pixieflutter @tobarmaidswhodontcount @dray-cookies @xuckduck @dreamyginny @dracofeltonmalfoy @lord-byron @inglourious-imagines @audreythehufflepuff @beiahadid @moonlightorbit @imonlyherecauseimbored @dracosgoodgirl @dreaming-about-fanfictions @goldensatine @avengers-end-me @sad-bitch-h0ur @zhangyixingxing1 @yourenotafailureoverall @pastelpuffbar @miso-tang @pixiedustsupplyco @harry-and-draco-loves @tsukibaby @dracoswhore007 @hogwartslut @mischiefisbeingmanaged @raylovessarcasm @drxcomvlfx @dracosballs @standingandstaring @its-chickenwing-450 @iamproudtobeaslytherin @mischiefisbeingmanaged @pxroxide-prinxcesss @slytherinxraven @jinnbie @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend @Utzelh8 @gloryekaterina @capkatie @jquick-18 @imcedricdiggorys @osterfieldnholland @explxsion @big-galaxy-chaos @malfoycrave @softlyqoos @krazykendraisnotinsane @minsuuwu @lumlfy @mllzhxrrs44 @weasleyis0urking @slytherinwh0re @gwlvr @m3ssytrash @aubreyanna02 @akaaaaashiiii @carrobrumbrum @dracoswift @bitchybeatle @samnblack @dumspirospero-1 @dracomalfoyswifeee @fuckingdraco @myshaahmad77 @you-sunshine @little_me204 @lipstickandloveletters @pillowjj @meipotter @dracoismybabey @rennaisancebaby @gwlvr @sydnee-kom-spacekru

#draco x reader #draco x reader smut #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy smut #harry potter #draco x y/n #draco x y/n smut #what did I just write omg #tw sex #tw smut

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starlessea · 4 years ago

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Sleepless Nights (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Prompt: “Well, I never thought we’d get here. But here we are.” By @witch-of-letters

Summary: They say that your firstborn opens your eyes to the world; but Daryl looked at her like she was the world.

Words: 1249

Warnings: So much fluff... and Dog somehow teleports into S5

"Well, I never thought we'd get here. But here we are." You whispered into the open air, watching as your husband held his child for the first time.

Despite the pain, despite all those sleepless nights where you'd cry to him that your feet were swollen, or that your belly got in the way, you wouldn't trade it for the world. Daryl cradled that world against his chest, completely enamoured. Her cries didn't faze him in the slightest, as he continued to rock her gently as though she were glass in his grasp.

He looked over at you, wide-eyed and speechless, and suddenly you wished for time to trickle along just a little slower. Your baby girl wailed so loudly, and you wondered how many people had their ears pressed up against the door, waiting to be allowed back in. Daryl had ushered them all out, not so gently, as soon as he knew you were okay. He'd said that you needed your rest - but in reality, you knew that he'd just wanted this moment to himself.

The man took careful steps towards where you lay, propped up on too many plumped pillows, staring at him trying to lull your daughter. He held her in one of his arms, and she looked so tiny tucked away there. With his free hand, he pushed your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead, leaning down to press a kiss against it and taste the salt on his lips.

You gave him an exhausted smile, fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids so that you could savour this image in your mind.

"Please remind me to never do that again." You chuckled quietly, as he took your hand in his.

Your fingers interlocked with each other, and he took a seat on the small stool near the bedside, letting you see your baby again.

"She's worth it." He mumbled, his expression proving just that.

Daryl stroked the back of his thumb gently over her cheek, noticing how his hand was bigger than her little face. She'd stopped crying at some point, and slept soundly against his chest, completely unaware of the parents who stared dotingly at her.

"Jus' look at 'er." The man said softly, almost like he was talking to himself.

You were looking at her, but you were also looking at him. The way his eyes lit up, and a smile tugged at his cheeks like he was unable to hold it back - it all made you realise just how much you loved him. You felt sleep creep up further, but you held it back, preferring to stay awake over even dreaming.

Daryl glanced over at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and sweaty skin - and the way your eyelids fluttered closed every few seconds.

"Yer amazin'. The both of ya."

Your husband brought your hand to his lips, and placed a kiss over each of your knuckles. You giggled, trailing your fingers along his jaw and feeling the prickle of his beard.

There was a scratching at the door, and the two of you looked over just in time to see it fly open, and a familiar german shepherd bound into the room. Daryl stood up instantly, bringing your daughter closer to his chest and holding his other hand out to keep Dog at bay. Except, he didn't need to. He sat patiently at the foot of your bed, wagging his tail and sending lopsided looks in your direction.

You let out a genuine laugh this time, wincing at the soreness it brought with it. Daryl raised an eyebrow, looking over at the mutt whose tongue lolled out of his mouth.

"An' look." The man muttered, leaning down slightly to show off the baby in his arms. "Even Dog's excited to have a lil' sister."

You beamed a smile you didn't even know you had in you. With what little energy you had left, you peered over at the exchange, wishing to be closer so that you could be a part of it.

Denise came stumbling through the door not a minute later, looking rather flustered as she whipped her head around to look for the dog.

"Sorry!" She whispered, and shot you an apologetic look.

You waved her off, and watched amused as she grabbed him by his collar and dragged him to the door. His paws slid across the marble, and he whimpered in fear of missing out.

"Just outside." Denise reminded you, before closing the door and giving you your privacy. "Call me if you need me." She said, through the wall.

And suddenly, it was just the three of you again. You thought you'd never get used to saying that - three, instead of two.

"Daryl-" you whispered, and he was by your side in an instant. "Can I see her?"

The man wasted no time laying your daughter over your chest gently, and you supported her head under your arm.

"Ya don't have to ask, Sunshine." He mumbled, close to your ear. "She's yours."

Her cheek pressed against the bare skin of your neck, and you felt her lips tremble against you as she started to let out quiet whimpers.

"Dear god, she's going to be such a daddy's girl." You sighed, as her cries picked up again.

Daryl's eyes widened like he'd never even considered the fact.

"Ya think?" He asked, and you nodded.

"Dixon, I can already tell."

Everyone had come and gone within the hour, and you'd surprised yourself by managing to stay awake. They cooed over your daughter, and then cooed over you for doing so well. At this point, you could barely remember who you'd even spoken to. You could briefly recall Carol placing a damp rag over your forehead and getting you to drink some water, and Carl joking about how your baby could probably fit comfortably in his hat.

After a while, however, they'd filtered out at the request of Denise, who saw the way your eyes drooped and head sunk back into the pillow when no one was looking. She'd put the baby down in her crib, coaxing Daryl by telling him he'd have to let her go at some point.

Once everyone had left, the two of you lay pressed together in that single bed. You'd had to plead with the man to get him to lie next to you - and even now he stayed perfectly still in fear of accidentally hurting you. You were just grateful for the warmth, and rested your cheek over his chest as he played with your hair. He watched you fight sleep and chuckled, pulling the sheets higher to cover your shoulders.

"She's so beautiful." He whispered into your hair, noticing you tiredly gazing in the direction of the crib.

You nodded against him, staying silent.

"I hoped it'd be a girl." He admitted, to your surprise.

You'd always thought he'd be more comfortable with a son, first. You could imagine Daryl teaching him to hunt, or fix up cars. It wasn't that your daughter wouldn't be able to do that, too - but you could already see how protective he'd be over her.

"Really?" You mumbled. "And why's that?"

A small yawn escaped your lips as you asked him, and you kept your eyes closed as you listened to his heartbeat.

"'Cos I wanted 'er to look jus' like her mother."

A/N Dear lord, who let me listen to soppy spotify playlists whilst writing?

Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @speakinglikeconstellations @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli @julesmalek @fuseburner @riverscyberwife @browneyes528 @julesclues @diaryofkali @solinarimoon @ssonia13 @phoenixblack89 @srhxpci @jocyc1997 @bvbwestfall @graniairish @bitchynicole

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queenshelby · 4 years ago

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My Friend’s Father (Part Eleven)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 1,566

Please comment and interact…it’s what keeps this blog going

***************************

‘Jesus Amalie’ Cillian gasped as he pulled away from her in less than a second, causing Amalie to display some form of disappointment.

‘This is inappropriate. I think you realise that’ Cillian then said calmly before telling Amalie to cover up. He didn’t want Denise to walk in on them and get the wrong idea.

‘I am sorry. I thought that, perhaps, you might be attracted to me. Most men are’ Amalie said a little surprised but without any hesitation at all, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Well, I am not. Sorry’ Cillian said, shaking his head in surprise about her bluntness.

‘Sure? Because it could stay between us, you know? Even if you have someone, that’s fine with me’ Amalie said, running her hands over Cillian’s chest.

‘I am sure Amalie and I am going to be straight to be honest with you. Even if I wasn’t seeing anyone else, I wouldn’t be interested, alright?’ he said firmly, moving her hands away from him and causing Amalie to nod.

‘I am sorry’ she then said, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Alright…have a good night, okay?’ he then said, almost amused by the situation, before walking into his bedroom.

***

By the point he walked into his bedroom, his phone had gone off four times already as you had decided that you were bored.

You had sent him one picture after another followed by a question.

“Which set of lingerie should I wear for you when you get here on Friday? Xx” you texted, causing Cillian to gasp and stare before picking up the phone and call you.

“You are killing me with those pictures you know that?” he whispered and you couldn’t help but laugh about his reaction. You were still wearing lingerie in all of the photographs you had sent him and, yet, he was clearly turned on by them.

“I am sorry, I just can’t wait to see you again” you responded and Cillian was quick to tell you that he couldn’t wait either before informing you about what happened with Amalie.

“I don’t blame her, you know” you told him before reminding him on the night you seduced him rather bluntly as well.

“That was a little different though” Cillian chuckled but you didn’t think that it was different at all. In fact, the situation was quite similar and the only difference was that the feeling of attraction between you and Cillian was mutual.

“If you wouldn’t have me, would you have…?” you asked and, before you could finish your sentence, Cillian interrupted you.

“No, she’s not my type at all” Cillian said without hesitation.

“So, what is your type then?” you asked curiously.

“Intelligent women, who are down to earth and funny and, of course, there needs to be physical attraction too and, whilst Amalie is pretty, she’s lacking something…for me at least” he explained quietly so that no one could hear.

“Good” you said, before asking him about his choice of lingerie again and he outright told you that he didn’t care because, whatever you choose to wear, would come off rather quickly anyway.

Matters escalated from there and, after talking about Amalie’s actions, you reached the point where you felt as though you needed to mark your territory in some way.

*** Phone Sex ***

You: So, once the lingerie comes off, what would you do to me?

Cillian: I think I would want spend an extraordinary amount of time in between your legs, making love to you with my tongue.

You: Hmm, you are so good at that too. I honestly can’t wait Cillian. I might need to pleasure myself tonight just at the thought of it

Cillian: It drives me wild thinking of you pleasuring yourself, especially without me there. So, are you going to?

You: Already started.

Cillian: That was quick.

You: I told you earlier, I'm in the mood. There is no stopping me.

Cillian: Are you naked?

You: I am naked on your bed with my fingers inside my pussy.

Cillian: Do you have a vibrator?

You: Maybe.

Cillian: That’s a yes…use it.

You: Are you naked?

Cillian: Not yet.

You: Take off your clothes.

Cillian: Alright.

You: Are you hard?

Cillian: I’ve been hard for a while.

You: Stroke your cock for me.

Cillian: Already started. Have you found your vibrator yet?

You: Yes, can’t you hear it buzzing away?

Cillian: Is it deep inside you?

You: As far as it'll go. Circling around inside me. It feels lovely. But your cock would feel so much better inside me.

Cillian: Fuck babe, I can just imagine what you look like spread out across my bed with your vibrator inside you.

You: Do you want a picture?

Cillian: You know I do.

You: Alright, keep stroking your cock for me and I will send you one.

[Sent Picture]

Cillian: Fuck.

You: I knew you would like it. Now tell me, what would you do to me if you found me on your big bed like this?

Cillian: I would get rid of the vibrator and replace it with my tongue and fingers.

You: Ummhh. Sounds nice. I'd like that.

Cillian: And I'd keep licking until you tell me to stop because you can’t take it anymore.

You: Then what?

Cillian: I'd move up to put my cock in your mouth and make you take in all the way.

You: Oh. I'd like that. I'd suck it well.

Cillian: You would.

You: You know you are the first man I ever did this with?

Cillian: Seriously? You are a natural talent then and I feel very privileged. In fact, that just turns me on even more, being the first man you did this with.

You: There is a lot of things I want to try with you that I haven’t done before.

Cillian: Like what?

You: I want you to tie me up one day and have your way with me. Then maybe some spanking too. Maybe even anal sex, let’s see.

Cillian: Jesus Y/N. I can’t wait to do all these things with you.

You: Oh god, me neither. Are you still playing with yourself there?

Cillian: Of course. You?

You: Yes…I am very close too but my vibrator just died.

Cillian: Take it out.

You: I did.

Cillian: Is it very wet?

You: It actually is. The whole shaft. I must be very aroused.

Cillian: I want you to lick it.

You: Seriously?

Cillian: Yeah, do it for me. It’s a big turn on.

You: Alright.

Cillian: Tell me what it tastes like.

You: Like my pussy I would imagine.

Cillian: So it tastes pretty good then.

You: It's not gross. It's very wet.

Cillian: Is your pussy free now?

You: It is.

Cillian: Slide your fingers in?

You: Okay. Here they go.

Cillian: Slide them in and out, nice and deep. Your fingers should be soaking by now.

You: Hmm, fuck I am so wet Cillian.

Cillian: Good. Keep fingering yourself. Hard and deep. Plunge them right in there and then I want you to take your fingers out and suck them for me.

You: So good, but I would much rather lick my juices of your throbbing cock.

Cillian: Your mouth would certainly feel so much better around my cock than my hand does.

You: Tell me what you would be doing if your cock was in my mouth right now.

Cillian: I think I would want to cum in your mouth. It’s so fucking sexy when you swallow my cum.

You: God, I love the taste of your cum. But the problem is that, you cumming in my mouth makes me want your cock even more.

Cillian: Fuck, just the thought of cumming in your mouth is too much Y/N.

You: Are you close?

Cillian: So fucking close.

You: Me too. Oh god…fuck.

****

With those last words, you came in unison, moaning into the phone as you were talking to each other. You were fingering your pussy hard and fast while Cillian was stroking his cock thoroughly, seeking his realise.

‘Jesus I think I made a mess on your bed’ you said, breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

‘I wish I could have seen it’ Cillian gasped, also trying to catch his breath.

‘I will give you your own personal show on Friday’ you then said just before you heard the doorbell ring.

You were worried to open the door, not knowing who it was and Cillian wasn’t expecting anyone.

‘Just go to the door and see who it is. If anyone asks, you are a friend of Denise and I let you stay there’ Cillian suggested while he was staying on the phone, somewhat nervously and curious at the same time.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy @kpopgirlbtssvt

#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

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teacher!levi and teacher!reader headcanons please 🥺

author note :: i expected for this to be better but idk,,, um, you know maybe it’s just me who wishes i executed it better but i wrote this at 3am that’s my excuse. ANYWAY I HOPE U ENJOY ANON :-))) i know it’s not headcanons but here!! also my ask box is always open to feel free to drop by !!

word count :: 5.4k (after i had to severely cut the word count down because my tumblr wouldn’t let me post the longer version with more detail,,,,)

honestly you’ve never fit in well with the math teachers in particular but you’re still amicable with most

however, there’s one unbearable member of the group that happens to want to play jump rope with your patience constantly

and that person just so happens to be mr ackerman

every single staff meeting the both of you sit furthest away from each other whilst silently exchanging bitter glares

maybe it’s his stony disposition or his unrealistically harsh grading system that makes him seem so off putting to you.

or perhaps it’s your soft and gentle approach to teaching that drives him up a wall

but to make matters simple, the two of you have never got along. nearly everything he says you disagree with and nearly everything you say he has to rebuke.

every outlandish suggestion of his at meetings is met with firm disapproval from you and every time you bring up wanting to provide the children with more time for extracurricular activities he sneers in annoyance

today he’s proposing a plan to set exams as soon as possible

???

you wonder if he’s even thinking with his head attached to his neck because it’ll be impossible for the children to handle all of the content in the form of an exam paper so soon

the workload he’s been pushing onto his math class has become far too ridiculous for your liking and you want to put an end to the man’s reign of terror

it just so happens your classes are scheduled in the blocks next to each other meaning he always sees your students an hour before you do

it’s got to the point where your pupils trudge into english class completely EXHAUSTED

the other day a boy fainted because of lack of sleep and now mr ackerman has the audacity to put forward the exam dates???

“we need to instill these children with discipline. taking them by surprise will give them a much needed reality check.”

you groan at his speech and raise a hand

“may i interject?”

professor ackerman’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek the irritation is painted on his face but he nods although he seems reluctant

“these children do not need standardized exams to-”

“would you like for me to completely scrap exams from the curriculum?” without even allowing for you to present your argument he has to cut you off with a mocking grin

“levi, i think-”

“that's mr ackerman to you.”

his blunt correction has you rolling your eyes because YES!! you understand the two of you aren’t exactly the best of friends but he doesn’t even want to be on a first name basis with a colleague of two years??

his pettiness has your blood boiling in searing displeasure

“you have to stop going so hard on these children.”

he’s shuffling through some paperwork not even batting an eye in your direction.

“personally, we aren’t hard enough but of course the english teacher has trouble understanding that.”

the jab he makes at your job only causes the anger inside of you to bubble up again

why does teaching english have ANYTHING to do with this???

“you teach math yet you can’t calculate the reasoning behind your subpar love life. do not insult english.”

personal insults are your favourite to throw at him because he always gets so riled up

and actually for once you have the answer to a math question.

the reason why his love life is so uneventful has to be because of this :

his personality + his obnoxious humour + his looks = a good looking but undatable man

his jaw clenches and the grip he has on the stack of papers in his hands strengthens

ok,, that is kinda hot but that is not relevant at all

you’re able to make out miss ral one of the other math teachers make a move to speak and god you fight the urge to punch her every day because she’s always gushing about mr ackerman

seeing as you don’t want to punch her or anyone for that matter you turn to give her a “if you speak right now i swear to god i will lose my shit” look

she gets the memo incredibly quickly because her mouth closes shut immediately

mr ackerman takes a sip out of the cup of black tea next to him. “i would appreciate if you just sat back and let me do what’s best.”

“children fainting in my lesson is not what’s best.” your rebuttal catches him off guard and he seems more than a little surprised

“wait- fainted??”

you eyes flick over to mr zacharias, you had told him to pass the message on but the way he’s sheepishly looking at the floor avoiding your eyes clearly tells you all you have to know

“looks like someone forgot to pass the message onto you but the other day falco fainted in english.”

“is he- is he okay?? did he say why?”

eyebrows raising you’re quite surprised to see any sort of reaction from him let alone concern

“he stayed up all night completing your homework.”

lips pressing together into a fine line it almost looks as if he’s guilty

“i’ll talk to him about it later.” his voice is back to its usually plain tone and any trace of his previous worry has been masked.

an awkward silence follows. he coughs choosing to not continue the discussion about exams.

principal smith takes the hint and moves on to discuss planned school trips

HOORAH victory!!!

yet another day where you’ve saved your students

“who is fallacy and why are they pathetic?” a few snorts and giggles are heard around the class and you force yourself to laugh at falco's miserable attempt at a joke

you’ve noticed falco’s been cracking more jokes around his new seat mate gabi.

she’s small but feisty always willing to debate and she’s really a joy to teach although she can get a little bit aggressive with the others at times

honestly it’s quite obvious that falco has a fat crush on her. well, actually it’s been obvious from the moment she step foot into your class

and... you couldn’t just ignore the way falco looked at her could you?? and there was an empty space next to him too sooooo, what harm would there be in placing the two together?

it seems as if your attempt at getting the both of them to talk has worked. gabi and falco compete desperately for the top position in the class and are two of the best students you’ve had in a while

also after the day falco fainted in class gabi has been noticeably nicer. things like asking if he’s drank water or how much he’s slept

you have a small inkling that she may like him back

and the budding romance is adorable to you because you too once had childhood crushes

it feels rather nostalgic to see the two interact

but today you notice the two aren’t in

in fact, you notice half of the class isn’t?

“where are the others?” your question sends a jolt through one of your present students but he stays silent choosing to pretend to clean his glasses as a distraction

crossing your arms over your chest you walk over towards his desk

“udo, you can tell me what it is.”

“professor ackerman said not to tell.” udo looks petrified and you’re just kinda wondering what in the hell is going on

lucky for you his resolve is thin and he quickly cracks under pressure

“okay. you can’t say i told.”

nodding in agreement he looks around making sure no one else hears what exactly it is he’s about to disclose

“he’s kept some people back to talk to them about something top secret. i don’t know what but he asked for the students who like you.”

at that you feel a little bitter because if he asked for the student who liked you why on earth is half the class still here??

but oh well, you guess you can’t please them all

“oh no, no, no. you’ve got it wrong. we all wanted to stay but he didn’t let us.”

udo looks genuine so you let it slide

either way it doesn’t really matter as long as the majority prefer you over that sick and twisted math teacher you’re alright

“he does know he’s cut into my class time right?”

“falco told him that and he whispered something about how you’re bothersome.”

you???? bothersome???

WHEN HE’S THE ONE BOTHERING EVERYONE?/!:£:!/)

you don’t even look back as you walk out frankly furious at what’s happened

english is important

ACTUALLY!!!

ENGLISH > MATH

you will stand by that till the day you die

your knuckle meets with the wooden surface of your sworn enemy’s classroom door and almost automatically you’re able to hear the shuffle of chairs and padding of numerous footsteps approach

the door swings open and you step aside to allow your missing students to pass through

they look nervous but one look at your reassuring smile lets them ease up and relax

“well.” a voice behind you snaps “look who paid me a visit.”

“we’re talking about this later.”

you try your best to sound serious but you don’t know if you pull it off as well as he does because he just ends up giving you a disappointed sort of look

“y/n. stick to being the good cop it suits you better.”

“we are not on first name basis. you said it yourself.” is your narrowed comeback

finally turning to face him you’re surprised when your eyes travel to the triangle of space behind him and you’re able to get a peek of what looks to be a list of books on his whiteboard

pride and prejudice

wuthering heights

jane eyre

ville-

before you’re able to read the rest he moves in front of your line of vision

he’s got quite the selection but,, when did he of all the people on this planet start showing any interest in literature?

“the books on the board what’s that about?”

your inquiry flies over his head and he shuts the door behind him completely

his face doesn’t move and if it does it only shows the slightest hint of confusion

“what books are you talking about?” he replies and don’t know why your knees feel a little weak when he looks you straight in the eyes

snap.

out.

of.

it.

“i saw books on the board.”

“you saw wrong.” he barks back and he’s getting agitated now

maybe you did imagine it...

and you have to get back to teach your class so okay fair enough you’ll let it go because you do know you have a habit of daydreaming randomly

however that doesn’t stop you from giving him another skeptical look before you leave because there is NO WAY you imagined it, but it is you and it really could be a possibility

the click clack of your heels against the floor sound out as you remove yourself from the conversation

you assume he’s returned to his classroom

that’s why it catches you by surprise when you hear a hesitant voice behind you

“there were no books on the board.”

you don’t know why he has to tell you that again because it only makes himself look all the more suspicious

“but if they were a list of book recommendations then what would you recommend i read?”

the question is peculiar coming from him

are you in an alternate universe?

is this a dream?

are you talking to a clone?

a robot?

because this can NOT be the same man you’ve been working with for two years

maybe he’s having a change of heart?

but that sounds unlikely

maybe he’s planning to read the book and somehow with that big brain of his formulate a calculation to score it a measly two out of ten

yeah. that sounds more likely.

nevertheless, you still want to give him a recommendation, maybe he’ll find out he’s into books this way

“you should totally check out pride and prejudice :-)”

for once you’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know what to do because the change is sudden but he doesn’t say a word after that

instead he retreats into his classroom

god.

now you’re sure he’s just asked to form a stupid calculation or whatever the hell it is math teachers do.

“he likes you.” hange has a shit eating grin on their face and you can’t help but narrow your eyes and sigh in exasperation

no he does not like you but you don’t try to correct hange because you know they’re firm in their stupid belief

“would you ever date him?” hange fiddles with the last of their potato salad absentmindedly waiting on your reply

the question literally has you choking on your lunch

“i would rather fight for survival in the wilderness. thank you for asking.”

“oh come on... he’s got a thing for you. you read romance novels all the time you should be able to tell he does.”

“yeah and that thing he has for me is wanting to shove my head onto a pitchfork. you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” shoving a piece of pasta into your mouth you sigh dreamily at the taste. it serves as a momentary distraction

you get one lunch break and you are not!!!! in the mood to talk about him whilst you’re on that break

he’s attractive

and you have to admit he looks handsome in his crisp white button up and pristine black suit AND his cologne is really...

okay, you are digressing from the point

none of what you just said means anything!!!

at surface level he seems like a catch but it’s what’s on the inside that matters and he said he finds english stupid

that’s more than enough of a reason to dislike the guy?

he thinks stuff like the pythagorean theorem and y = mx+c are entertaining

y = mx+c ??? over literature???

you read books to teach and you read books for your own enjoyment

it would be a complete travesty if you had a crush on a book hater

and levi ackerman most certainly can be classed as a book hater.

a pessimistic book hater if the specifics are needed

“OH! SORRY Y/N GOTTA BLAST MOB’S OVER THERE!!!!!”

you don’t even get the chance to say goodbye because hange makes an eager run towards moblit

hange and moblit are inseparable, both are the shared heads of the science department and since he’s been off on sick leave recently you understand why hange’s rushed off to greet him

you wish you had a teacher friend like that but the sad truth is you’re pretty much a lone wolf. the other english teachers are wrinkly old pickles and talk about antiques or quiz shows :-(

“this seat free?”

no way.

it’s not him

it can't be

what does he even want??

“um, well yeah it is free b-.”

“good.” he takes the seat without you even inviting him and now you’re stuck in an awkward situation you didn’t even expect to be in today

you're about to burst into tears because is it too much to ask for a peaceful lunch period???

mr ackerman clears his throat and places a book in the center of the table. “pride and prejudice although not my cup of tea was... mildly enjoyable.”

wait...

is this him...

admitting defeat!??

HELLLOOOOO

you are over the moon right now because you know he really had to have enjoyed it a lot and is simply choosing to withhold that information for his own reputation

“i’m happy to hear you took a liking to it.” you’re munching away at your pasta a little more upbeat now

“okay but the start of the book assuming all single men want a wife? no, all i want is a good night’s rest for once. also mrs bennet needs to calm down, elizabeth can marry who the hell she wa-”

“someone’s a little passionate aren’t they?” you giggle into your glass of water and you catch mr ackerman frowning

“i liked it okay.”

“i thought you said it was only mildly enjoyable just now?” grinning and looking at him through your lashes his cheeks become red

you guess he’s angry or something but that’s the usual with him

“yeah, whatever. i just wanted to play fair and apologise.”

“apologise?” oh wow, now your interest has really peaked because never in the past two years has he apologised to ANYONE

not even principal smith for the one time he flipped out and nearly cursed at a mouthy student at parent's evening

grimacing a little before he does it he finally speaks again.

“english is important. i’m sorry.”

your lips tug up into a bright smile

well???

this is a great interaction??

an apology coming out of levi ackerman of all people

“apology accepted! i’m glad to know you liked the book but now that we’re a tad bit friendlier with each other i wanted to ask for a favour.” your eyes gleam and he swears he can see specks of shining stars in them

“...okay, it depends.”

he’s warming up to you so he considers it

“please don’t cut into my lesson time levi.” his name slips out of your mouth but it’s so natural you don’t even care to correct yourself

“i’m sorry about that too y/n.” your name now ventures out of his mouth too as it tests the waters

wordlessly the two of you agree to first name basis

BUT more important matters are at hand such as how he’s issued you yet another apology?

this is satire surely

because why is he so willing all of a sudden...?

well, that's the power of pride and prejudice, wow you’re really thanking the heavens for blessing this world with jane austen’s existence

jane austen. a woman capable of remarkable things, she's even managed to make an unmoving book hater somehow become a lover

poking at your tuna pasta you and levi are now quiet.

“soooooo, any opinions on mr wickham?” you ask the question hoping to initiate a longer conversation than before

and luckily for you your attempt works

SUCCESS!!

levi pinches the bridge of his nose and the creases on his forehead show he clearly isn't particularly fond of wickham

“don’t get me started he’s so indescribably annoying?”

ok, ok, ok

you don’t even know how it happens but you and levi really hit it off

weeks have passed and you and him have even become lunch buddies

it was so shocking to moblit at first that he dropped his lunch on the floor when he saw you and levi enthusiastically exchanging words

then again, two mr wickham haters are bound to get along

you’re seriously wondering how the two of you ever survived as mortal enemies

yeah, you still disagree a lot but you’re getting there!!

sometimes he helps you out when your computer stops running and in exchange you’re willing to offer him book recommendations

he swears he doesn't want any recommendations from you but you know he enjoys it

yesterday he got microsoft excel out and showed you how useful it really was and you went :O because you never really understood the need for it at all

you’re a little bit of a granny when it comes to tech...

and just today at lunch you recommended he checks some plays out but his nose wrinkled at the mention of shakespeare so the both of you went through a long list of dramas and eventually you were able to interest him in j.b. priestely's an inspector calls

another victory for you!!

anyway, right now the two of you are sitting inside of the staff room seeing as it's that time of the month again.

time for the monthly staff meeting

it's the first one you've had since you and levi became friends and you're worried the both of you will be back at it butting heads

wait, are you friends?

well, you wouldn't mind if that were the case but to be honest you would like to be a little bit more than friends mayb-

no!!! no!!! no!!! stupid thought!!! you retract that statement immediately

no you do not want to be more than friends with levi ackerman, yes he's lovely to a degree but you are not going to elaborate on why it's a terrible idea to fancy him

okay wait, let's elaborate for the sake of elaborating

he's surprisingly charming and wittier than you thought he would be. the fun conversations are making your days now and to be honest it is nice to have someone to spend lunch with (hange usually skips out on lunch all together to tinker in the science labs and set up experiments)

wait... weren't you suppose to explain why you don't want to get with him?

you're an idiot and you don't notice how dumb you really are until everyone just kinda gawks at the both of you because it's so odd seeing you in the same room let alone within a three feet radius of each other.

fuck, you completely forgot you and levi sat at opposite ends of the room

principal smith enters and even he looks visibly shocked at the change in seats but he doesn't mention it and you're grateful he doesn't because you didn't purposefully sit here it just happened on accident

erwin turns in your direction and smiles

"would you like to start off with your proposition for extracurriculars?"

nodding your head you begin passionately.

"well, i'd like to say i don't think we offer the children enough. we have spare funding so why not open another club? cooking perhaps? i understand many of you may not understand the importance of teaching them how to cook but-"

"do you have an obsession for setting these children up for failure?" tensing up you notice it's levi who's spoke and he doesn't sound remotely happy

blinking once and then twice he realizes his tone isn't the best and he mutters an apology "sorry, go ahead i'll add in when you're done."

whispers travel through the room straight away

"did he just say sorry?"

"actually why are those two sitting together?"

"do you think they're you know...?"

miss ral who's sat a little further away is the next person to disagree with you

"i understand the intention but would it not be better to let them have extra math lessons?"

"oh, so you can get a pay rise?" the comeback you make is aggressive and dripping in displeasure

she sits up face burning up

"no- no- absolutely not i take pleasure in teaching all of my classes." flustered and trying to hide her nerves she takes a sip out of her water bottle

you want to pour all of the water out onto that ginger hair of hers

the reason why her interjection is getting on your nerves is due to the fact you overheard her and another one of the math teachers plan to bring this specific point up

and you are well aware that her reasoning behind it has nothing to do with the children

she couldn't care less about them

"do not make me repeat what you and mr bozado were chit chatting about earlier today."

the threat is enough to silence her and just when you think you've handled the situation levi has to give his input

"let's ignore petra's motivations and talk about how teaching these kids how to cook means nothing if they have no tradable skills to offer in the real world." levi's not looking at you. he's either too annoyed or too preoccupied with his thought process

at that moment you feel naive, you thought maybe he would try to understand your opinion seeing as he's been spending so much time with you as of recent but that looks to not be the case

murmurs of agreement fill the room at his statement and you feel pathetic

it's practically the entire room against you now

genuinely how is it these people can manage to be such spoiled sports about everything?

"recently, i asked all of my classes to write an essay about school stress. maybe you won't understand my views because you haven't read their pieces but they need a fucking break." the expletive flies out of your mouth without warning and you flush in embarrassment

that

was

not

professional.

"oh god, i'm sorry i got worked up i shouldn't hav-" fumbling over all of your words you feel even more mortified

the principal raises his hand signalling you stop and you clamp your mouth shut. you're in huge trouble that's for sure

but,,, in spite of the clear difference in opinion between you and the other teachers, soft and well spoken principal smith says the unthinkable

"i have the final say and i believe you are coming from a good place after reading your student's work. how would you feel about running the new cooking club?"

scanning his face for a second you can tell his question is legitimate and the wave of relief that washes over you has never felt better than ever

sighing contently you agree and as the topic of conversation shifts to something else entirely you sense your heart rate picking up

you feel like you're back to square one with levi.

it's yet another day where you’ve saved your students and you should be feeling overjoyed but if anything you feel a little deflated

you wish he would have come around and understood but you can't teach and old dog new tricks

again, the feeling of disappointment wears you down

two weeks have passed since then and your favourite time of year has come. it’s spring term meaning MACBETH

the english curriculum includes plays and it just so happens that today is your first lesson covering shakespeare

and you LOVE shakespeare

something about all the intricate foreshadowing always has you excited

but some children are missing

and it’s way too many to blame on sickness

so you wait for a few minutes but it's consistently radio silent

the last time this happened the culprit had been levi and he promised to never cut into your lesson time

but you could count on him to break his promise after the fiasco that was the monthly meeting

is he back to hating you and hating literature?

well, that's his loss if that's the case!! and no!! you will not upset yourself over the loss of the budding friendship

sighing you get to your feet making a beeline to the door but gabi and falco rush to stop you

awkward chuckles activated they wave their hands to get your attention “OH NO, they’ll only be five minutes!!” their sentence comes out as one big blur of words but you manage to understand them

now you’re doubtful because you know falco and gabi would usually ignore you and allow you to walk out

giving them a knowing glance the pair look between each other

their eyes are clearly communicating and asking if it’s alright to tell you

“i promise i won’t be mad.” you sigh

perhaps if you reassure them they’ll be more likely to spill the beans

“it’s not that you... i don't know. you might be upset.” gabi isn't one to care much for other's feelings so you're slightly anxious even though you shouldn't be

but you’re a tough nut to crack. so, absolutely not. you are not going to upset yourself over whatever it is

“i won’t be hurt. i’ve suffered through reading some of the most emotional classics to ever exist.” hitting your chest with your fist you wince a little because you hit yourself a little too hard

falco’s seems to be too shy to come out with it so gabi takes the lead as she normally does

“some students were talking badly about you so mr ackerman kept them behind to have a talk.”

oh.

yeah, actually you are a teeny weeny bit disheartened because you think you’re nice to all of your pupils but it’s nothing too bad, not everyone will like you

“if that’s all i’ll go get them. thank you for letting me know.” giving them two thumbs up you leave the class immediately

levi is probably scolding them to hell and back

not because he cares for you but because he hates disrespect in general

as you’re nearing the open door of his classroom you hear something you never thought would emerge from levi’s room

“final question. why does mr darcy say he doesn’t want to dance with elizabeth at first?” oh yeah, that’s levi’s voice for sure

an english question?

is he quizzing them on pride and prejudice?

you wait hoping your students don't fail you and are able to provide the correct answer.

“ummm... she’s not pretty enough!!”

levi hums “you answered all five questions right. do you all know why?”

you can’t see the children’s faces but they have to be confused if there’s no immediate response

he grunts in agitation “because your english teacher works hard to teach you every single day. have some respect because that teacher of yours is one in a million.”

taking your bottom lip in between your teeth you fight the urge to smile

“do you know how at every single staff meeting there’s only ever one teacher fighting for you all and what you want. i can assure you that teacher isn’t me, but i believe you can all guess who i'm talking about.”

your heart does a back flip in your chest and you feel jittery but in that really fuzzy good way

like that super duper fuzzy and hazy good way

he’s really very sweet for saying all of this and you're now smiling like an idiot

one pupil takes a chance to make amends “we’re sorry mr ackerman.”

but before levi can give them a response you clap your hands together and walk in unannounced

“apology accepted, now if you want to all be forgiven forever please return to class and answer the questions on the board!” directing them to the door with your hands you make sure they're conscious fo the fact you aren't mad at them

still, never have you seen them so eager to run off to analyze macbeth. you guess levi's deathly stare is the cause for it

holding back a laugh you clear your throat after the last student leaves

“thank you levi :-)”

it’s quiet for a second and you think to ask him about what has been gnawing at your mind

“you didn’t have to do that. you disagreed with me before so... why did you?”

“i say this at every meeting and you never listen but children need to be disciplined.” his unchangeable tone is unwelcoming

again it’s awkwardly silent and you sorta regret even coming over to see what was going on because now you and levi are just having an uncomfortable staring contest

then he scratches the back of his neck and heaves a heavy breath

“it may also be because i really fucking like you, but i look like an idiot saying that when we’ve been at each other's necks for two years.”

oh.

the sudden and brutally honest confession has the wind knocked out of you, you’re stunned

and then you get hit by it too. the realization hits you like rain hits umbrellas on stormy days. you like him too.

you like him for his witty sense of humour, his pure honesty and his hatred for mr wickham only serves as a bonus

yes, you have your differences. many of them. but you like him

he’s no longer a book hater and so by default you can fancy him. he goes against none of your guidelines essentially

you like him, he likes you back?’//’.;

[SCREAMS]

“well, what do you say? will you be this mr darcy's elizabeth bennet?” hearing the cheesy pickup line from him of all people has the butterflies in your stomach exploding in delight

“you sound weird, where's the grumpy math teacher from before?" now you and him are simply shamelessly flirting but HEY!! you have no complaints at all

he scoffs at your sarcastic question

"do you want the equation for a two dimensional heart on a graph beca-"

"can i just kiss you?"

wOWIE are you being bold today y/n???

thankfully you don't have to wait for his answer. levi’s right hand pulls your face in and he slams his lips against yours. he gives your waist a squeeze and you hold him tighter by the neck in response. he has a way of somehow making it all feel gentle and relaxed in the same breath

and... you know what? maybe you should have recommended pride and prejudice to him earlier

but oh well.

what matters the most right now is that you're kissing your mr darcy!!

and he’s kissing his elizabeth bennet

:-)

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