#really wish I could find a Mom and Pop restaurant open but it’s not looking good so far :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lacheri · 4 years ago

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pairing: switch!Eren and switch!fem bodied reader

content: college au, OnlyFans/sex work, masturbation (m), praise kink, oral (f and m receiving), squirting, penetrative sex, drug and alcohol use, classic college party, Eren is down horrendously bad, I believe in long haired Eren supremacy, minors DNI

summary: when jean finally convinces eren to crawl out from under his rock to join society on instagram, he finds there’s a whole lot more than just pictures of food. there’s you.

wc: 15.4k (I know it’s a long one, hope you enjoy tho)

Eren Jaeger had recently found himself in a very, very deep hole. It all started innocently, when one of his best friends Jean had convinced Eren to crawl out of his hole and create an Instagram to join society.

“C’mon Eren,” Jean had teased over a week ago as they studied out on the lawn of their school. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on. No one even uses Facebook anymore, it’s all for moms who want to brag about little Timmy’s genius for figuring out one plus one equals two.”

“What do you even do on Instagram?” Eren’s brows knitted together in confusion, Jean whipping his phone out to show Eren exactly how to use it.

“You post pictures,” Jean navigated to his profile, tapping and sliding down to show Eren all of Jean’s shameless selfies.

“Of just yourself?” he breathed, not comprehending the appeal at all. Don’t people look at his face enough?

“Well, you can post anything you want, that’s the beauty of it. Plus, when you’re not doing that, you get to see and like other people’s pictures.”

“But it says here you follow, 1,536 accounts? And you have 5,000 following you back?” Eren asked incredulously, surprised about how popular his friend’s online persona was. “How do you even know that many people?”

“You don’t,” Jean shrugged, making a few taps to his home page as posts began to load up. “Celebrities have Instagram, our friends have Instagram, fuck, every attractive person on the entire planet has one.”

“How do you even find these people?” Eren’s questioning never seemed to end, the concept out of his comprehension. Facebook was one thing, he personally knew every single one of his friends and family there, and honestly he really enjoyed people just talking about their day to day ordeals.

That’s when Jean forced Eren to hand his phone over and download the app. Jean snapped a quick picture of Eren, to which Eren had no reaction time to. Before he could protest, Jean had already uploaded the candid with some random song lyrics as the caption. To be honest with himself, Eren had to admit that Jean had taken a very flattering picture. He had his knee brought to his chest while his arm dangled over, back slumped and relaxed while he sat on the blanket they had set down before lounging there, hair in his signature sloppy man bun. It was mid day, so all the shadows casted behind his body as the sun’s rays illuminated every high point and contrast of his stoic face.

After a few follow backs from his friends, Armin and Mikasa, he had accumulated a few dozen likes, and Eren couldn’t help the feelings of instant gratifications wash over him, “Okay? So, now what?”

“Now,” Jean began to instruct him, putting the phone back in Eren’s hands after showing him the basics of social media. “Go to my page, and start following whoever you want from my following list. There’s some really hot girls.”

And when Eren laid in his dorm bed that night by himself, he did just that. He really didn’t want to give Jean the satisfaction of showing him who he followed, or why he decided to. His finger scrolled and scrolled through the following list on Jean’s Instagram, hitting the follow button on a few bands he really enjoyed. But then, his hand stopped at one username in particular. The avatar showed a pretty girl, smiling brightly into the camera, sun’s golden rays blooming behind her hair.

Eren tapped on the username, and the first thing he took note of was the bio. ‘Connoisseur of mimosas and rock and roll’, he had to smirk at that, what a simple sentence to sum yourself up with. His eyes flickered to the link in her bio, titled, OnlyFans. He titled his head, Jean hadn’t mentioned what OnlyFans was? Did everyone have an OnlyFans too, like Instagram? He tapped on the highlighted link to be met with a page of prices. What the fuck was so exclusive about it that he had to pay ten dollars for a single picture? As he scrolled down a bit more, he noticed the pricing rising to the final payment cost.

“200 dollars for a personal Snapchat and to talk to me every day?” he read aloud, mouth open in disgust. “What the fuck is this?”

He hit the done option in the upper left corner, returning to the Instagram page in question. He tapped on the first photo, the girl’s back facing the camera, completely bare as her hair trickled down the center. She was sitting in a pretty pink bath, floating flowers all around, staring out a window, captioned, ‘wishing you were here’. His gaze lingered on the dips of her waist, before scrolling down to see the girl in some more clothing. This one was a much prettier picture, glasses set on the brim of her nose while she sat comfortably at a wooden table in a library. She stared directly into the camera, a pretty smile on her face while her hands sat perched under her chin. Some books were open on the table, and Eren took note of the quilted skirt peeking out from the under the bottom, her knees tightly crossed. ‘finals week is going to be the death of me, thank the universe for coffee’.

Eren back tracked out of the photo after double tapping, trying to drink in a comprehensive idea of what exactly people were paying so much money to see. He scrolled, and landed on his answer. The girl sat on a stool, phone angled in the mirror to take in her frame, wearing nothing but black lingerie and heels with a smirk on her face, the caption simply, ‘follow me on OnlyFans, link in bio’.

‘Hey Jean, what’s OnlyFans?’ Eren typed a quick text to his now mentor, patiently waiting as three bubbles appeared from his friend’s end.

‘Lol I see what you’re using Instagram for now, Jaeger’, was Jean��s only reply, and Eren could feel himself getting frustrated. Before he could type back an angry text, those bubbles popped up once again. ‘It’s basically porn, you pay for people’s pictures and videos’.

‘Why would someone want to do that? It’s free almost everywhere else’.

‘Because, young grasshopper, girls are hot and I’m trynna see some titties’.

Eren rolled his eyes at his friend’s stupidity. Deducing that Jean was obviously one of these paying customers, Eren felt a little more secure in himself as he tapped the follow button on the girl’s page. What he wasn’t expecting though was a notification informing him she had followed back, followed quickly by another one liking his only post. Eren couldn’t hold back a blush, heart thumping in his chest. Did this girl think he was good looking?

The thought didn’t sit for long as yet another notification popped up, this time a comment. The girl had simply put a heart eyed emoji, followed by a fire emoji. Eren retreated in haste back to her profile, analyzing every picture and caption.

That had been a month ago, and now Eren had a full blown addiction to the website, more specifically her Instagram. Eren was even paying for her OnlyFans now, making excuses that the money he spent would be used for coffees and lunches anyhow, and he really had to nip his caffeine addiction in the butt so he might as well spend his cash on her.

She had just posted a photoset, one of many on her page, completely naked aside from a gold necklace adorned on her neck, a simple initial of ‘E’ rested prettily on her collarbone. It was like she knew Eren was devouring her social medias on a daily basis. It was all for him, Eren had concluded. There was no coincidence that she had followed and liked his own page, it was all fate and meant to be. Eren had figured out how to DM someone, thanks to Jean showing him how to during one of their classes, and he had taken full advantage of the girl’s inbox. Unfortunately with no reply or read receipt to even prove she had received his messages, introducing himself and showering the girl with compliments. Oh, Eren was down bad. He even brought himself to pay out the $50 tier on her OnlyFans for the month, tired of entering his card information for every daily post.

His dick twitched hard as he drank in her form, curvaceous and beautiful and feminine. It wasn’t even like he just wanted to fuck her either, if he needed relief like that he’d just hit up one of the handful of girls he had saved in his contacts. Eren Jaeger wanted to take this girl out on a fucking date. They had so much in common, they were practically soulmates. She liked and followed all the same bands Eren did, posted on her stories all about her favorite foods and her zodiac sign. While he didn’t really believe in that shit, his Google search history of checking if Aries was compatible spoke to something completely different.

And then Eren began noticing something. How the library she frequently posted pictures in was the same library on campus. All the restaurants she went to were in an hour radius of him, half of them being his usual hangout spots. She lived locally, which thoroughly surprised him. Had he seen her around before? No, definitely not, he would’ve definitely remembered her pretty face. None of the girls that he knew looked like her, and if Eren didn’t know what a woman’s body felt like, he would’ve sworn her body was made of plastic.

Eren was practically an expert at Instagram now, and had plenty of opportunities to follow other beautiful women, but he chose not to. He felt guilty one night as he maneuvered through another pretty girl’s pictures, quickly retreating back to the comfort of his favorite girl’s instead. This was one of the reasons Eren had fought getting online for so long, whenever he found something he liked, he got obsessive.

His attention was drawn back to her naked photos, and he slipped his hand under the fabric of his sweatpants as he began to fuck his fist to her pretty image. All for him, he panted as he imagined what she would look like in front of him, beautiful and begging for his touch.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled graciously at the Starbucks employee in front of you, taking your large iced coffee from his hands.

“No problem, have a great day!”

You tossed your hair behind your shoulder as you turned around, the smile still vibrant on your face. Today was a good day, you decided almost as soon as you woke up. After studying for finals for nearly two weeks straight, you finally had a day off to enjoy yourself. Your best friend, Sasha, had convinced you to go on a small shopping day with her. You eagerly agreed that morning, toothbrush forgotten in between your teeth as your fingers rapidly tapped away to schedule a time. You were running out of sexy outfits for your OnlyFans content, and frankly, you really need some new summer clothes. Spring was drawing to a close, and you couldn’t just wear hoodies and leggings all year round, no matter how much you wanted to.

The mall was about two blocks away from the Starbucks, and as you chugged down your coffee, you slid your phone out of your back pocket of your jeans to see multiple notifications from Instagram. Just more people liking your posts, and some DMs, but you just rolled your eyes. You got tired of explaining on your stories that they were broken, and Instagram had no intent on trying to adjust it so you’d be able to view your messages and reply. You sighed, slipping it back into your pocket as you made your way through the entrance of the shopping mall.

Sasha was seated at a table in the cafeteria near the entrance you had just walked through. She jumped out of her seat, a wide smile on her lips as she strutted up to your form.

“You ate without me?” you pouted, smelling the leftover scent of pizza wash over you.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m still hungry,” Sasha waved her hand. This girl had the fastest metabolism of a person you had ever met, so her statement didn’t really phase you.

“Okay, so, before I spend all my money and forget, we have to go to the lingerie shop,” you stated, stomping your way to the escalators.

“I’m guessing your OnlyFans is doing good?” she asked, knowing just how expensive this certain store was as she lingered behind you.

“Dude, you literally wouldn’t believe it,” you sighed dreamily. “If I had known how much money I’d be making, I would’ve done it way sooner. You should seriously consider making your own.”

“Nah, I’ll just let you have the spotlight on this one,” she snickered as the both of you stepped on the moving staircase. “Are they all creepy old men?”

“No, surprisingly, there’s a few people I have classes with that follow me,” you gossiped. “You know Jean from economics?”

Sasha nodded, eyes widening, “No fucking way, he’s my friend! I’m not that surprised though, he’s always talking to girls and asking for their Instagrams.”

“He’s never even talked to me, right? But he buys every single post I put out! Which is crazy, considering it’d just be cheaper for him to buy the subscription,” you shrugged, stepping off the escalator and walking shortly afterwards into the lingerie store. “That’s what most my viewers do, anyways.”

“Seen anyone else interesting?” Sasha hummed, eyeing the various garments surrounding her in intrigue.

Your eyes honed in on a strappy bright red one piece, “Just a few of his friends, I think. One of them is pretty cute, actually, but he’s only got one picture up.”

“You talking about Eren?”

You nodded, eyes lighting up, “Yeah, do you know him? I’ve never seen him around campus before.”

Sasha was beginning to plot, “Yeah he usually hangs out with Armin and Mikasa, but he goes to a lot of house parties. You know, actually, I think Jean is throwing one soon. He rented a cabin for after finals, you should come!”

“Won’t that be weird?” you scrunched your face, picking up the red one piece and moving onto the next garment that caught your eye. “Like I said, I’ve never even talked to him.”

“Yeah but you know Mikasa and me,” she raised her thumb towards herself. “Eren will be there too.”

“All I said was that I thought he was cute, Sasha,” you laughed her off. “But I’ll think about it. Text me the details and I’ll let you know if I’m free.”

“Something tells me Jean would be very happy to see you there,” Sasha chuckled, you giggling in response to her suggestive comment. The two of you picked through the selection of skimpy clothing, taking it up the cashier to check out.

You walked out of the store together, giggling over small banter. Your trip to the mall was quick after that, and in the end you held a grip full of medium sized paper bags, walking outside the mall with Sasha.

“Oh, hey!” Sasha suddenly quipped, placing her bags on the sidewalk, pulling her phone out of her crossbody bag. “We should take a picture!”

“Sasha I’m not even wearing lipstick,” you half heartedly complained, getting ready to pose next to your best friend.

“Literally, you’re so fucking hot,” she deadpanned, turning her head to look you directly in the eyes. “Shut up and get in, bitch.”

You threw your head back in laughter, leaning in on the left side of her frame, pushing your hair framing your face behind your ear. You smiled widely while Sasha did the same, hearing a soft click of her phone, indicating the photo was taken. Your phone vibrated in your pocket, bringing it out to see a notification stating she had posted it to her story. You’d repost it to your story later after you grabbed food, you decided, the conversation turning to the topic of where the two of you would eat before heading back to your apartment to get drunk in celebration of your semesters ending.

Eren and his two friends sat crowded in Jean’s dorm room bathroom, passing around a blunt. He could hear Connie coughing harshly as it was passed to Eren, the boy taking a deep drag of the backwoods cigarillo. Exhaling slowly, Eren brought his phone out of his hoodie pocket to open it up to change the song playing, his phone instantly opening to Instagram.

Distracted now by his favorite obsession, he glanced at the stories section, her name front in the line, glowing in that now familiar pink and purple circle. Eren couldn’t have tapped faster, and when he did, his mouth hung open.

“Yo,” Eren spoke loudly, shoving his phone in Jean and Connie’s faces. “Sasha knows this girl?”

“Yeah, they’re like best friends,” Connie quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t know her?”

“No, I just saw we had mutual friends,” Eren’s eyebrows knitted together. “How come we’ve never hung out with her before?”

“I don’t know actually,” Jean said, exhaling the blunt after it was passed to him from Eren’s fingertips. “I had a class with her this semester, she seems nice.”

“You’re only saying that because she’s hot,” Connie chuckled. “I bet you’ve never even talked to the girl.”

Jean’s face ignited in a fierce blush as he found interest in the ceiling tiles, “Shut up. It’s harder to talk to girls than it looks. You should know that, Connie.”

“Hey! I talk to girls!” Connie leaned up from his seated position on the floor.

“Idiots,” Eren sighed, rolling his eyes. “Neither of you have any game.”

“Not all of us are as gifted as you are, Eren,” Connie protested, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You could talk to a fucking mouse and it’d figure out someway to talk back.”

Eren rolled his eyes again, harder this time, “You just talk to girls like they’re human beings, it’s not that fucking hard.”

“Oh yeah? Betcha’ won’t be saying that whenever you see that girl around,” Jean teased, finally passing the blunt to Connie in the rotation, Connie muttering something about hogging it.

Eren shifted uncomfortably on the closed toilet seat, “Whatever, Jean.”

“Speak of the fucking devil!” Jean shouted, scaring the very high pair of boys at the suddenness. “Sasha just texted me asking if she can bring her this weekend to the cabin!”

Eren’s heart erupted into a flutter of uneven beats, his face heating up. This girl he had been drooling over was going to be at a party, with him? He suddenly felt like a teenager, the idea of seeing his precious addiction face to face giving him full blown anxiety.

Soft thuds of the bass of the stereo filled the room, catchy pop music drawing Eren out of his stupor to gaze hastily around the room, searching.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Armin had asked him, drawing his attention away once again. “It’s been an hour since the party started and you’ve barely drunk anything.”

Taking note of the full red solo cup in his hand, flickering his gaze between the liquid and his best friend, Eren shrugged and tipped the rim back in his lips, opening his throat and taking large gulps until the cup was empty. “Happy?”

Armin laughed loudly, although only having two strong drinks, his best friend was beginning to feel the numbness of intoxication, “You’re really out of it tonight, everything alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, just waiting for the smoke sesh so I’m not cross faded,” Eren smirked, lying easily. “Last time I got too drunk and decided to rip Jean’s bong, I woke up in some random front yard with one shoe on.”

Armin shook his head in disbelief, “You really need to start making better life choices, Eren.”

Eren shook the empty solo cup in front of his friend, “I’m trying here.”

Truthfully, the reason Eren wasn’t halfway to getting shit faced was because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the girl of his dreams. She still hadn’t shown up yet, and Eren was getting anxious that she wasn’t going to show. Sasha and Mikasa hadn’t shown up yet either, which gave him a resemblance of hope that the three of you were together, and on your way currently to the party. His heart thudded heavily in his ribcage as he heard the jingle of the front door turn, and his attention was fully concentrated on the door frame ahead of him. His jaw dropped at the sight, his breath caught in his throat.

You asked Sasha earlier that day what you should wear to the party, and Sasha had just waved and told you whatever you felt looked the best. Not exactly helpful, you had just decided on black ripped jeans and a low cut shirt, paired with your favorite leather jacket and trusty Vans. You felt incredibly undressed as Sasha drove to Mikasa’s house, watching her modelesque frame saunter out her front door towards the back car doors.

“Mikasa, you could make a paper bag look hot,” you showered her with appreciation, her face blushing in response as she tugged her long sleeved body con dress towards her knees. “Fuck, should I have worn a dress? How nice is everyone else dressed?”

Sasha couldn’t have given two fucks about how she dressed in front of her friends, adorned in blue skinny jeans and a causal crop top, although her face was beat to the Gods, “Shut the fuck up, you’re one to talk about making paper bags look good. Besides, knowing the boys they probably made minimal effort, probably all wearing sweatpants.”

The three of you snickered at this, and Sasha pushed the car into drive and set out on your 45 minute journey into the mountains. Nerves hadn’t set in until you were face to face with the cabin door, nervous that the girls’ friends weren’t going to like you. Putting a brave face on, Mikasa grasped the door knob and pushed it open, the three of you gliding in.

Eren honestly had wanted to drop down to his knees and kiss the ground you walked on. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Your eyes were searching, for what neither of you knew, until your eyes had finally landed on him. You smiled politely, moving your hand up in a quick wave to both him and Armin.

Eren couldn’t fathom moving any single part of his body, so awestruck by you. Jean shook Eren out of his dumbstricken state with a hard pat to his shoulder, “Why don’t you go introduce yourself, Eren?”

“Fuck off, horse face,” Eren spat, trying to will himself to either make strides towards you or to break his gaze, neither working. “Why don’t you?”

“I’d love to,” he smiled wickedly, inspired by liquid courage to lock arms with Eren and force him closer to the trio of girls that had finally made their appearance. Armin followed behind, Connie emerging out of the bathroom to give his hello’s to his best friend Sasha and company.

Eren could hear his heart beat in his ears as he stopped right in front of you, forcing his mouth closed in a tight lipped grimace. He felt like a fucking teenager with a crush.

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, smiling widely. “It’s so nice to finally meet you guys!”

“Nice to meet you too!” Armin spoke up, oblivious to his friends’ reaction to the fresh pretty face of yours.

Jean and Connie wouldn’t admit it, but they were feeling their own nervousness. Jean’s out of guilt as he scanned your body top to bottom, Connie’s natural shyness kicking in due to the newcomer. Both were able to overcome it though, and offer up their own introductions. Your eyes landed on Eren once again, tilting your head, waiting for his intro.

“I’m Eren,” he swallowed. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you looked down, smiling softly. You raised your hand then, looking up at the boys in front of you, revealing a handle of vodka. “I brought a gift with me too!”

“My kinda girl!” Jean spoke just a bit too enthusiastically. “Shots, shots, shots!”

Connie pumped his fist, chiming in, the rest of the party joining as well as the crowd made their way into the kitchen. Eren purposely hung back, trying to keep as close to you as possible.

“You happen to bring any chasers with you?” he had leaned in, tickling the side of your head with his breath.

“No, I totally forgot,” you sheepishly admitted.

“Looks like we’re all gonna get plastered then,” he chuckled smoothly, sending goosebumps down your body.

“Is it really a party then if at least one person doesn’t have their head in a toilet?” you had easily quipped back, feeling more comfortable now that the introductions were out of the way.

Eren hummed in half hearted agreement, feeling slightly more relaxed himself. Besides, his attention was being grasped by the plastic shot glass being shoved in his hand, as well as your dainty one. The group held up the shot glasses, a few phone cameras capturing the moment to post on their stories, and you all swung your heads back to allow the bitter liquid to trickle down your throats. Eren made a mild face, taking a stolen glance at your own to see your grimace, sticking your tongue out in disbelief at the taste.

Another hour had passed by, and Eren was running out of reasons to follow you around the cabin as you shifted between conversations to get to know the group of friends better. You hadn’t really noticed him trailing behind you, nor did you really care because you were very quickly warming up to Eren. It also didn’t hurt that he looked exceptionally better in person. His hair was lazily swung into a half top bun, wearing a couple of gold chains with his white tee tightly hugging his torso, tucked seamlessly into black ripped jeans displaying his muscular knee caps. Eren was definitely a looker, you shifted your gaze up to his face as he made some witty comment to Sasha, his eyes flickering to your face to catch your reaction.

“Oh my god, there was this one time,” Sasha spoke your name. “She had gotten so high during last year’s spring break, and the two of us and Mikasa came up with the brilliant idea of becoming one with nature. So, naturally, we ran to Walmart and bought this tent on clearance. Turns out it was made for kids, so none of us actually fit inside when we got back to Mikasa’s house. Mikasa and I curled up in a ball, surrounded by snacks, and this smart girl over here decided it was the best choice to just lay out on the lawn and pass out.”

“I wanted to watch the sun rise!” you laughed, trying to quickly explain yourself to Eren’s amused smirk. “And the grass was just so nice that night!”

“The grass was basically straw,” Sasha countered teasingly. “Twenty degrees outside, absolutely freezing. She was MIA for like a week afterwards with a cold.”

You shrugged carelessly, “Worth it.”

Now the two of you had sleeping on lawns in common? Eren scoffed inwardly. Yup, it was official, you were his soulmate. Still though, the topic of why you were so casual in person while your naked pictures existed online tickled his thoughts. He was hoping that somehow it’d get brought up naturally in conversation, saving himself the embarrassment if you were to get offended by his questioning. So far it seemed you liked him, not having said a word about him trailing after you like a lost puppy. Jean had been sending him knowing looks all night, Connie shooting two thumbs up at Eren while Armin looked on in confusion.

Mikasa had strolled out of the bathroom finally, joining the trio who stood casually in the living room, simply stating, “I’m starving. You guys think they deliver pizza out here?”

Sasha’s eyes widened in excitement, “I don’t care if it takes an hour to get here. We’re ordering right now.”

Already ahead of the two, your phone was pulled out in your hands to open up the Dominoes app, punching in the location of the party and placing the order online. Eren watched this all, peering over your hands to see the total.

“Guys, we should chip in,” Eren called out, grabbing the boys’ attention. “We’re ordering pizza.”

“No, no!” you protested, confirming the order. “It’s really fine, my treat.”

“But that’s really expensive,” he frowned, the group all joined together in the living room.

“Don’t worry, she’s got that OnlyFans money,” Sasha waved off Eren’s concern.

“OnlyFans?” Armin questioned, darting his eyes in between Sasha and you. “What’s that?”

Jean hid his blushing cheeks and your eyes flickered to him, then back to Armin, “I sell naked pictures online.”

“So what, a bunch of old guys give you money?” Armin had asked innocently, not judgemental in the slightest.

You giggled, relieved he wasn’t asking in a demeaning manner, “Actually, you’d be really surprised about who you know follows me. There’s a lot of people from school.”

Eren’s blood ran cold as he felt a sudden onset of embarrassment. Did that mean you had known this entire time Eren was one of these followers? If you did, you didn’t let on to it, smiling shyly as the questions ended. Eren hadn’t been done with the conversation, but pride from exposing himself in front of his friends kept his mouth shut.

It was around one in the morning when the party was at its peak. Sasha was being held up by her legs by Connie as she did a keg stand, you and the group cheering the girl on in your own drunken hazes. She tapped the large can, indicating she was finished, Connie settling her down on solid ground as she belched loudly.

“That was fucking awesome, Sasha!” you giggled, throwing your arms up and around her. You were definitely feeling the shots you had been feeding yourself all night, holding your red solo cup high above the girl so it wouldn’t slosh on her.

“You should totally try it!” she encouraged devilishly.

You pouted then, taking a moment to consider, “I’ve never done a keg stand before, what if I can’t do it?”

“I’ll help you!” Eren all but pounced on the opportunity, your smile turning into a tipsy giggle. “It’s not that hard, you just keep chugging until you can’t anymore. I’ll hold you, you got this.”

You lightly blushed, nodding your head at the encouragement, bringing a fist to your chest as a salute, “I’ll do it! We gotta’ put on a cool song though, if I’m going to fail miserably I might as well have a good song to do it to.”

Mikasa volunteered, as she was already DJ, having the best music taste out of everyone in the group. She dug her phone out of her pocket, switching over to a ‘Pursuit of Happiness’ remix. Connie whooped at the choice, and everyone began to chant your name as you hovered by the keg, very nervous. Eren then placed his large hand on the small of your back, leaning in to reassure you once again. You gulped, nodding that you were ready to get into position.

“Okay, so you’re going to lean your arms on the top of the can, and I’ll grab your legs. Like when you were a kid and you’d do that stupid wheelbarrel thing,” Eren easily explained, chuckling lightly. “Use your hands to let me know when you’re done.”

You did as you were told, resting your upper body against the keg as Eren hooked his arms around your calves. He couldn’t help but admire how strong your legs felt in his grasp, and how right it felt to finally have some bodily contact. He had been trying to figure out a natural way all night, and he was bubbling over in excitement, the chance had arisen, glorious in the promise of touch.

You placed your lips hesitantly around the tap, opening it up into your mouth, and began to chug. ‘Chug, chug, chug!’ was chanted all around you, even Mikasa joining in on the fun. Fists bumped in the air, and you felt like the coolest fucking person in the world. Doing a keg stand wasn’t exactly in your goals list, but fuck did it feel like it should’ve been as your ego inflated.

“That’s it, you’re doing great!” Eren’s thumbs brushed the inside of your knees, leaning in to whisper. “Good girl.”

You sputtered around the tap, choking harshly. You removed your mouth quickly to gasp for air, and the tap shot up all over your shirt, jacket long forgotten resting on the sofa in the living room. Eren moved your legs down to the floor quickly seeing this, and wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you as your arm shot out to grab onto something, in this case his other arm.

“You alright?” Jean asked, a look of concern washing over his features as you finally got some air into your lungs.

“Yeah,” you coughed again, blushing in embarrassment. “I definitely made a mess though.”

“I brought some extra clothes with me,” Eren offered quickly. “One of these idiots always manages to somehow spill something within the first hour of drinking. I’ll show you where my bag is at.”

You smiled in appreciation, biting your tongue to accuse him of purposely throwing you off your game with his little praise that had your knees buckling. He unwound his arm, taking your hand and leading you to the staircase by the entryway, your smaller form following behind him as he thudded up the stairs. Three doors greeted you at the top, and he led you into the master bedroom, plainly decorated and lacking personal belongings. You watched as he chucked a duffle bag onto the mattress, unzipping it and going through his clothes. He found a sweatshirt, smirking inwardly as it had been one of his old sports ones with his last name embroidered on the back. Proud he could provide a claim to you, he extended it to you, and you gladly accepted it.

“Well, you did really well in the beginning there,” he chuckled, whisking his stray baby hairs behind his ear. “Sucks about the shirt though. The first time I tried to do a keg stand, I barfed everywhere.”

You laughed lightly, fingering the hem of your shirt, “I guess it could’ve been a lot worse. Still, at least I can check this off my bucket list.”

Eren’s eyebrows shot into his hairline as you lifted your shirt to reveal your bare stomach, and he whisked his body completely around so you didn’t see his reddened cheeks, “You could’ve asked me to leave.”

Behind him, you let a mischievous smirk cross your lips, “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Eren’s mouth fell open at your bold statement, letting his words leave before he could stop them, “You know?”

“Of course,” you discarded the sodden shirt to the floor, sitting on the bed instead of tossing the sweatshirt on. “You’re my favorite viewer.”

He caught your movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to take in the sight. Fuck, you were even more beautiful in person. Your bra was white and pretty and dainty, pushing your tits together, accentuating cleavage that Eren wanted to bury his face in. His gaze moved up to your face, smiling so innocently at him as he let out a dark chuckle, “Is that so?”

You hummed, leaning back to expose your form a bit more, feeling confident from the alcohol, “You like every one of my pictures, you buy all my content, you’re pretty cute, of course you’re my favorite.”

Eren’s ego soared as he turned his body completely towards you, taking a small step forward, “You’re just so beautiful, how could I not? I do have to ask this though, how come you never answered any of my messages?”

“Oh, my DMs are broken. Instagram doesn’t let me view them or respond,” you explained easily. “You know, you could’ve hit me up on OnlyFans, I definitely would have answered you.”

A blush crept up on Eren again as he averted his gaze to the floor, “I didn’t think about that.”

You giggled softly, “What’d you send me anyways?”

“I asked you out on a date,” he admitted, growing more nervous. “Told you that you were really pretty. Y’know, stuff you probably get all the time.”

“Most of my messages are from guys trying to take me out drinking and to get a quick fuck,” you scoffed. “Y’know, if the offer is still on the table, I’d really like to take you up on it.”

“Really?” Eren’s eyes met yours in surprise, you watched his Adam’s apple bob along his throat as he gulped. “You’d want to go out with me?”

“Yeah, who else is going to hold me up when I try to do a keg stand again?” you smiled sheepishly, batting your eyelashes. Eren’s hands twitched at his sides, fuck, you were so pretty.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked seriously, his gaze hardening as he felt a wave of possessiveness. In his mind, you were already his girlfriend. You had accepted his date, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to push his luck further.

Eren had never felt the way he feels right now. He took immediate notice of your blushing cheeks, your confident lean turn into a shy arch as you pushed your body into a hunched over seating position. Eren had experience with girls, that everyone knew as a fact, he was very far from being a virgin. You made him feel like a fucking virgin, heart beating wildly in his chest. All he wanted to do was to grab you and hide you away for his own greedy pleasure, the darkest parts of his mind tickled by the thought. He had laid a claim to you way before he had ever met you, and he wouldn’t let you escape now that he had you here, alone.

You didn’t answer his request, you pushed yourself off the mattress and met his staggering stance halfway. Unknown to his wicked thoughts, his past month of obsessing of you, you leaned up, gently brushing your lips against his. No one had ever asked you this simple question before, instead just taking the action as if they had owned you, and you thought to yourself that you could really love this boy who presented himself so innocently to you.

The soft placement of your lips to his was not enough, and Eren buried his mouth with your own, moving both of his hands to cup your face. He could feel your jaw beneath the pads of his fingertips as you attempted to meet his pace, sensual and passionate. The need for air forgotten for the both of you, sucking in deeply through your noses as the space continued to close between your bodies.

“Gonna take you someplace real nice,” muttered Eren as he pulled away slightly to gaze his half lidded eyes on your fluttering eyelashes, your gaze now hidden from him. “I know you like that one place in the city, I saw your little post of you wearing that tight dress. You looked so fucking pretty.”

Tingles shivered up your bones, a sharp intake of breath as you fluttered your eyes open to take in his deep lustful expression, “I’ll wear it for you, if you want.”

“Wear my necklace too.”

You pulled away completely this time, baffled, “Your necklace?”

“The one with the ‘E’ on it,” he breathed, moving forward to accommodate the sudden distance, his lips meeting the corner of your mouth. You realized then what he was referring to, a small smirk uplifting his kiss. You wouldn’t tell him though that the necklace in question was just some random trinket with no meaning you had purchased, or that you hadn’t even recognized the pretty cursive as a letter. You figured out very quickly Eren’s little crush was a bit more involved than just him attached to your hip at this party. No, it was way deeper than that. All of the likes, the money, the new information of messages made sense to you. Eren had believed you were his, and he had sought out confirmation all night to prove it.

“Okay,” you played along to his fantasy, an expert since it was your job online already to provide this to your viewers. “What else do you want me to wear?”

“There’s this one set of lingerie,” Eren was the one to pull back now, letting his teal eyes trail downwards to your chest, displeased by the lack of skin shown to him in that instance. “The black lacy one, fuck, wear that. You look so fucking sexy in that.”

“You don’t like when I wear white?” you pouted, bringing your hands to rest against the peak of your breasts, framing them like a picture.

“I like anything you wear,” a smirk crossed his features, eyes locked in on your tits. “Or what you don’t wear.”

You were met with two choices then. One, kiss Eren and get dressed and save yourself for your date, or two, fulfill his now present fantasy of his that was beginning to morph into your own. You mentally battled the decision in your mind, feeling the desire curl in your stomach at each option. If you were to give in now, Eren might not want to continue to chase after you, the promise of an actual date forgotten. Not to mention the party of people down stairs, the thud of music softened behind the closed door of the bedroom indicating it was still in full swing. Eren saw your hesitation, and let his hands travel to your elbows comfortingly.

“I know we technically just met,” he started, eyes now locked in on yours in genuine honesty. “But I really like you. You’re all I’ve thought about for the past month, so if you don’t feel comfortable going any further, that’s okay, I’ll wait. I’ve waited this long.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you bit your lip as you watched his teal orbs flicker to your mouth. “It’s just — oh God, this is embarrassing to talk about so soon.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I won’t judge,” he cooed, bringing just a hand up to soothe over your cheek.

“I’m not exactly quiet,” you admitted, gesturing towards the floor. “I don’t really want to be the girl who fucks someone at the first party they show up to.”

Eren hadn’t predicted you to be loud in his fantasies, but he was really wishing he had. He held back a groan at your confession, images of what could be filling his dirty mind, “Fuck, okay, no problem. I don’t have any condoms with me anyways.”

“Actually,” you drawled. “I’m on the pill, so as far as that goes, that doesn’t really matter. I’m clean too, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

Boxes were being ticked quickly off of Eren’s checklist, and he let his jaw hang open, “I’m clean too, I don’t fuck anyone without a condom, to be honest.”

I’m going to fuck her raw, is all that was going through his mind. Treat her so good, take her out wearing her pretty little dress and treat her like a fucking princess.

“Please tell me you’re free tomorrow,” Eren pleaded. “I’ll take us fucking anywhere you want.”

“I am, actually,” you batted your eyelashes.

“Cool,” he muttered, beginning to feel drawn into your lips again. As you began to lean back in, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Hey! Everything alright?” you both froze, recognizing the voice as Armin’s. Of course he’d be the only one to dare interrupt, and the party below had discouraged him. Eren had taken you upstairs, and while they were all aware of the possibility of the two of you would be hooking up, Armin was more concerned that one or both of you had gotten sick and were in need of help.

“Yeah, we’re fine! Be out in a second!” Eren shouted, feeling suddenly frazzled from the intense interaction between you two. If Armin had opened the door, seeing the two of you locked in together so closely, making out feverishly, it would be completely mortifying. Especially since it wouldn’t be the first time Armin had accidentally seen his best friend in a suggestive situation.

You pecked his lips quickly then, breaking out of his embrace to throw his sweatshirt over your head. Eren was counting backwards in his head to rid himself of the half erection in his pants, nearly impossible as he thought about how pretty you looked in his clothing.

“C’mon,” you tugged at his hand, urging him to follow you back downstairs. “We have a pizza to eat and friends to convince that we definitely didn’t just fuck for ten minutes.”

The group hadn’t made a single comment when you two rejoined the party, only just knowing smirks from Jean and Connie to Eren. Sasha had wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you quickly pulled her and Mikasa into the bathroom to recap what had just occurred upstairs. The girls clapped drunkenly at your news of a date, incredibly excited that their best friend was finally going out with a boy. The night had ended around three in the morning, bodies scattered throughout the house to pass out wherever they pleased. Eren had continued to stay by you the rest of the night, this time, not shy at all as he stole touches to your back. And when it came time to pass out, you felt smugness as he rested his head on your back while you laid on your side on the same bed upstairs, his arm thrown tightly around your waist. Sasha curled up in front of you, your own head snuggling into her shoulder as the room spun you into a deep slumber.

You sat at a vanity in your apartment bedroom the next evening, applying various makeups to your face. Mikasa had awoken you and Sasha pretty early the next morning, wanting to go home so she could get ready for her job. Eren snored quietly behind you as you tried your best to maneuver out of his grasp, and the three of you cleaned up the cups and plates scattered around the house as a thank you to Jean for the invitation. Sasha had driven you all the way back to your place when you realized you were still wearing Eren’s hoodie, and you smirked. Now he definitely had a reason to get you on this date tonight, you had something that belonged to him.

When Eren had woken up, he truly believed for a few minutes that you had just been a dream. Pictures and videos posted all over Instagram had shown him differently though, the two of you leaning against each other on the leather couch smiling drunkenly on Armin’s story had his heart pounding. His arm was around your shoulders, your head was tilted in the crook of his neck, and then Eren remembered that he was going to see you again tonight. He took a screenshot before the story moved on to a video of the group in a heated discussion about music tastes, a quiet chuckle made its way out of his throat as he recounted memories that would become very fond to him.

He had posted the picture then to his Instagram, a few others followed after that included him and his other friends. Eren tagged all of the people, but most importantly, the picture of the two of you was the first in the line up of the photo set. A few messages hit his inbox after he hit the post button, some classmates asking if you were his girlfriend, because you were wearing his sweatshirt in the photo. He decided to not respond, because as much as he wanted to tell them yes, he knew he’d be jumping the gun. His heart raced as a notification popped up — you had liked the picture, and added a comment, ‘last night was a movie’ with a kiss emoji. When he refreshed the page, your lit up story showed him that you had even reposted his photo set. His ego soared, his affections no longer one sided, and he couldn’t fucking wait to take you out later and show you the best time he could.

Eren had gotten your phone number from Sasha not long before your date, asking for your address and trying to pick out a time to head out to dinner. You tapped a response quickly, and looked at the clock to gauge how much time you’d need to be fully ready. That had been about three hours ago, your body had been scrubbed and shaved, hair curled prettily down your back as you added the final touches of lipstick to your lips. The dress Eren had talked about was laid out on your perfectly made bed, a pretty satin champagne colored fabric, and your apartment was fairly clean, fully expecting his company after the date of all went well. You dressed yourself easily, slipping on black heels when you heard the chime of your phone, letting you know Eren was awaiting you outside.

When the elevator doors chimed open as you walked into your lobby, you saw from the entrance doors Eren leaned back casually against the Uber he had offered to pay for. His attention immediately focused on your form as you exited your building, his gaze flickered all over your body.

“You look incredible,” Eren easily complimented, pushing himself up to stand straight. He leaned in to kiss your blushing cheek as you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’, and he pulled the door handle of the sleek black car, ushering you inside. He slammed it closed after you had positioned yourself comfortably, giving the driver a soft greeting as Eren circled around the back, getting in on the opposite side. The directions were already plugged into the driver’s GPS, and it took less than twenty minutes to get to the restaurant in question.

This gave you enough time to take in Eren’s appearance, and damn if you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to do so, the sight practically mouth watering. His hair hung low in a messy bun, a few complementary strands hanging out to frame his sharp jawline. His torso was adorned in a sheer white long sleeve button up, a small portion of his chest revealed as he had left the top buttons alone, chains hanging against his collarbones, silver in color this time. Black slacks that tightened around his thighs and calves had you biting your lip in appreciation, his legs spread as he took up space in the backseat.

“Staring isn’t very polite,” he had leaned in, taking notice of your devouring gaze.

“Stop dressing like a whore and maybe I won’t stare,” you teased back, chuckling quietly when he swatted your exposed thigh lightly. He kept his hand there for the rest of the drive, enjoying the comfortable silence as the quiet hum of the radio filled in the gaps.

When the Uber had slowed to a stop outside of the fancy restaurant Eren had insisted taking you to, he swung the door open before you had a chance to reach for the handle on your side. He raced to the other side of the car, pulling open the door and extending his hand out for you to grasp onto. You circled your fingers around his palm, and he tightened his grasp as you swung your legs over the flooring, and stood before him. The two of you thanked the driver, and he sped away shortly after. Hand still locked in with yours, Eren led the way inside the opened doors of the restaurant. Inside, a hostess wearing a very classy black uniform greeted the two of you.

“Reservation for Eren,” he spoke smoothly, and your eyes widened in surprise, expecting to have sat and waited for at least a half an hour before you had been seated.

“Right this way,” she smiled politely, two menus in her hands as she welcomed you into the dining area. You followed behind Eren, realizing that this place must’ve been a lot more expensive than you originally had gauged. All the guests appeared in their very best formal attire, and the chatter was soft as the beautiful notes of a piano resounded throughout the space. While you couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the music was coming from, you had a strong feeling that there was a physical player somewhere in the midst, it sounded so clear and professional. When the hostess had sat you down in a booth secluded against the furthest set wall, she smiled politely once more and informed you that the waiter would be with you soon.

“Eren,” you hissed as you sat opposite of his smirking form. “This place is stupid fancy!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved easily. “I got it, I promise.”

“How are you able to afford this? I’ve got a little bit of money and even I couldn’t go some place this nice,” you questioned, feeling a small pang of guilt. He was going to go broke trying to treat you to a very nice, albeit expensive, meal.

“My dad is a doctor,” he shrugged, picking up the menu and eyeing over their drink selection. “He sends me money whenever I come around and help around his office.”

“Following in the family footsteps?” you tried at the conversation, realizing you virtually knew nothing about the boy in front of you.

“Nah, I’m more into the business side of things,” he smiled up at you then, showing off his pearly white teeth. “What about you? What are you majoring in?”

You spoke of your major, Eren carefully listening in of your passions and your goals for your future ahead. He was pleased to hear that you were ambitious, smiling as he was enamored by your speech. Not that he minded a single bit about your online job, but to hear that you had a legitimate career goal soothed his worries.

A finely dressed waiter greeted you shortly, introducing himself and taking the both of your orders in one go, and stole away the menus. The rest of the date flew by quickly, tipsy from your cocktails and full of giggles as the two of you got to know one another. Although Eren was already knowledgeable about a number of your likes and dislikes and personality quirks due to Instagram, you had the undisguisable pleasure of learning his right then and there.

“So,” you leaned your elbows onto the table, resting your chin atop of your closed fists. “Tell me, how many girls have you taken here before?”

“Not a single one,” he chuckled lowly, passing the black booklet encasing his credit card as the waiter stopped at the table. “This is actually my first time taking anyone out somewhere so fancy. Usually I just hang out at the more lowkey spots around campus.”

“I would’ve been totally okay with going somewhere like that instead,” you frowned, that same guilt flooding back to your stomach. Eren hadn’t even let you see the bill before he had given it away, so you were completely ignorant as far as how far the total rang up. “You really didn’t have to take me out to such an expensive place.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, smirking as he did so, “Had to take my favorite girl somewhere nice, show you off in that gorgeous dress of yours.”

You blushed, moving your fists to hold your cheeks to try and contain the heat, “Fine, but next time, I want to see one of these ‘lowkey spots’.”

“Next time, huh?” Eren mused cockily.

“Yes, I guess I had a really great time tonight, consider yourself honored,” you giggled half heartedly.

“Oh believe me, I do.”

Eren had walked you to the front door of your apartment like the gentleman he was. Really, he was just trying to procrastinate leaving you, not wanting the night to be over with quite yet. Luckily, you were on the exact same page as he stood awkwardly behind you while you unlocked your front door.

You turned, an eyebrow raised, “Well? Are you coming in or what?”

“Say less,” he sighed in relief, following your sauntering frame inside your apartment. He was initially impressed as you flicked the light switch on the wall up, illuminating your precious space. Very clean and organized, he felt a pang of jealousy, knowing his own dorm room was scattered with clothes and empty water bottles. If he had only seen what your living space looked like before you had straightened up, he might have felt better about himself.

“I have some róse in the fridge,” you offered, making your way to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass?”

“No lie, that’s literally my favorite wine,” Eren groaned. “How are you this perfect?”

You laughed loudly, grabbing two wine glasses from your cabinet, opening your fridge and retrieving the bottle. Filling the glasses generously, you left the bottle on your kitchen counter and turned around, Eren a lot closer than where you had left him a moment ago. You extended his cup, which he graciously took and sipped. You mirrored him, gulping down your own mouthful.

“Y’know,” he started, gazing around your kitchen space. “For all that talk of mimosas in your Instagram bio, I really expected there to be a lot more pictures of you drinking them.”

You chuckled once again, “Believe me, I have plenty of orange juice, vodka, and champagne here. We had such a classy dinner, I thought I’d try and match it with some wine. Besides, vodka brings out the worst in me.”

“Ah, lady in the streets, freak in the sheets,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You rolled your eyes, swatting his bicep harmlessly. “I get what you’re about at brunch with the girls.”

“If I had a nickel for every time Mikasa had to peel me and Sasha off the pavement after mimosas and scones, I’d be fucking rich,” you giggled once again, raising the glass to your lips.

“I’m really surprised we hadn’t met each other before last night, especially because Mikasa and I have been best friends since we were little,” Eren raised an eyebrow. “She’s basically my sister, and never once did she say anything about you, I only met Sasha because Connie’s attached to her hip and they share the same brain cell.”

“If it makes you feel better, I only knew Jean existed because we had a class together this semester,” you shrugged, purposefully leaving out the part where he consumed your content almost as much as Eren did.

“And of course me,” Eren smirked cheekily. “Because I’m your favorite viewer, like you said.”

“Don’t make me regret telling you that,” you pointed your glass towards him in a fake threat.

“It’s okay, you’re my favorite girl, so it evens itself out,” Eren placed his half drunk glass on the counter top, his gaze much more seductive. “Besides, you wore my necklace like I asked, I gotta tease you a little bit.”

“I wore pretty much everything you wanted me to,” you smirked, copying his actions and settling your own cup down.

“Did you now?” he took long strides to stand in front of you, toying with the necklace that he had laid claim over.

“I can show you, if you want to see,” you leaned up with full intentions of capturing his kiss.

“There’s nothing else I would rather do, pretty girl,” Eren cooed, licking his lips before meeting you in the middle. His arms circled around your waist, your hands wrapped around his shoulders as the pace started out slowly. Gentle was not what either of you wanted though, the desperation seeping in fast as his fingers explored your sides.

“Bedroom,” you gasped as he removed his lips and attached them to your jaw. He had no qualms of fucking you right out here in the kitchen, so he made no effort to move. Realizing you had to take the reins, you moved backwards from Eren, smirking as he groaned from the sudden distance. His eyes followed you predatorily as he began to chase after you, your back meeting the wooden paneling of your bedroom door. He attempted to recapture your mouth, but your hand was faster in turning the door knob, and you began to lead him back until your mattress met the backs of your knees.

“Want you to show me what you’re wearing under that dress,” Eren demanded, playing with the short hem that rested on your thighs.

You nodded, giving him the silent okay to take off the fabric encompassing your frame. You turned so your back faced him, moving your hair out of the way so he could unzip the back. His eyes followed as he fingered the silver zipper, agonizingly teasing himself as more and more was revealed to him. Seeing the straps of the black lace he had requested drunkenly the night before, his patience snapped as he pulled the metal piece down faster. You slid the tiny straps off your shoulders at the sweet feeling of release, and Eren’s dick was rock fucking solid as it pooled around your feet, you kicked the silky fabric to the side and faced him once more.

“You’re wearing everything I told you to,” he stated, drinking in the sight of your scantily clad body. “Good girl.”

You bit back an embarrassing moan at his praise, feeling the heat pool between your thighs. It came as such a shock to you to be so reactive to his words, and it came slamming into you that maybe you weren’t as vanilla as you had previously believed. You had a kink! It all made so much sense, why you felt such pride and arousal from complete strangers giving you their attention and compliments online. You yearned for it, craved the affections, and now that Eren stood in front of you, more than willing to shower you with pretty words, all the moisture in your mouth dried up. You wanted him so fucking bad.

Eren’s hands met the naked skin of your waist as his palms etched over your soft stomach. They met in the middle of your back, leaning your back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of you, a single hand coming up to work on discarding his button up. You rushed to help, pads of your fingers working the buttons open until he revealed his bare chest, his chains hanging above you. He worked his arms out quickly, tossing the fabric onto the floor. He brought his lips to yours, this kiss much more desperate and needy than the previous ones. His hands explored every inch of your body, the tops of your thighs to the swell of your breasts. He tugged on the soft lace at the top, slowly bringing the black fabric down to expose the complete fullness of your breasts. A sight familiar yet somehow new made Eren groan, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your pretty nipples, instantly hardening them.

You moaned lightly, throwing your head back and arching your back into his touch. How many times had Eren pictured you just like this?

“I fucked my fist so many fucking times thinking about you,” he confessed as he pressed slow open mouthed kisses to your collarbone. “You have no idea what your pictures did to me, no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

He leaned his bottom half forward, pressing his thick clothed erection into the meat of your thigh. You let out a whimper, head foggy as his words made your pussy clench around nothing.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he licked a stripe up your neck, leaving a wet saliva trail as he wrapped his lips around where he could feel your pulse the strongest. “My pretty girl.”

While Eren wanted to talk about what you did to him, all you could think about was what he was doing to you. The want and need that coursed through your veins was like a drug, you could feel him worming his way into your bloodstream, straight to the center of your heart and out to the warmest parts of your body. And you felt like an addict in that moment too, and every moment you would spend with Eren there after. You could feel his kisses as if he was underneath your skin, his entire body pressed against yours. So, so close, yet not close enough.

“Take off your pants,” you demanded shakily, placing your hands at the button of his slacks. He seemed to be on the same page of you yet again, and he followed his instructions without delay. He kicked out of the tight pants with ease, and you were more than pleased to see he had rid himself of his boxers too when you heard the thick slap of his cock meeting his stomach.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, eyes widened. “Eren, that’s not going to fit.”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed your hair back from your face, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and wet for me.”

He started to move south, licking and giving attention to your right nipple as he did so. While the idea of him giving you thorough attention was erotic, you really wanted to please him for your first time together, unknown to you as Eren had thought the exact same thing, wanting to make you feel so good you’d come crawling back to him for more.

You pushed yourself up into a seating position, Eren’s eyes flickering in confusion as you stood up. This look didn’t last for long as you switched positions, pushing his torso onto the bed as you rested atop of him, feet placed firmly on the ground. His mouth hung open in disbelief as you began to return his assault on his neck, sucking and kissing and even biting along the columns. He let out a shaky groan, unable to hold it back as your hands traveled down his chest to his abdomen, feeling over the muscles there.

“What’re you doing, princess?” Eren questioned teasingly, not trying to get his hopes up on what your plan seemed to be.

“Wanna’ make you feel good,” your eyes flickered up to meet the dark green of his eyes, watching as his pupils expanded as the realization hit him like a brick.

“Fuck, okay,” Eren subconsciously widened his thighs then, bringing himself up to lean on his elbows as your kisses followed shortly behind the trail of your fingers.

Your mouth met the defined muscle of his stomach, and your eyes drifted up to catch Eren’s reaction as you neared closer to his aching cock. His eyes were hardened on you, brows knitted together, he almost looked angry. You kitten licked above his navel, and knew the anger was superficial as he threw his head back, letting out a quiet groan. You leaned your body in closer, pushing your exposed chest against his length. He whipped his head forward again at the contact, his lips opened as he inhaled shaky breaths.

Part of you had kind of wanted to hear Eren beg for your mouth, but the thought had quickly left your head as he entangled his fingers into the back of your scalp, massaging gently as he did so. Without a moment of hesitation, you lowered your face so you were eye to eye with his thick shaft. Honestly, you really hadn’t expected Eren to be this big. You had caught a glimpse of his half erect member tenting in his pants the night before, but as it stood to full attention, you were very much intimidated by the sheer size. You gulped, putting on a brace face as you continued on.

The sound of Eren’s groans growing louder as you licked a bold stripe from the bottom of his base to the tip of his head had stirred your cunt deeply. You were on your knees now, feet tucked up under you when you felt the wet patch of your panties touch the back of your heels. You licked a few more times, your right hand trailing down from his stomach to grip him more upright. You pulled all the saliva in your mouth onto your tongue, and wrapped your lips around his tip while your hand secured a purposeful grip at his base. You started slow, only sucking in your cheeks and moving your tongue along the underside of his head, pumping him at the same pace. You could feel beads of spit meet your knuckles, circling your tongue around the entirety of his fat mushroom tip. You smoothly licked along his slit, collecting his gushing precum and tasting the salty liquid.

Meanwhile as you had just started your worship of his cock, Eren was watching you in disbelief as your eyelashes fluttered along your cheeks, mouth prepping yourself to take in his full length. He had pulled himself into a sitting position now to provide you the best angle he could. He was in complete awe, furrowing eyebrows and his mouth hanging open, he knew in that moment there was absolutely no point of return. He would follow you from here on out, whether it be online or in reality, wherever you would go. Soulmates, he reminded himself while he collected your hair into his fist and away from your mouth. You were his fucking soulmate.

You pressed your knees upward, eyes opening. Eren’s pupils were blown out, his breathing irregular, and you wanted to watch him completely unfold as you angled your head to drop lower onto his shaft, hand working just a little faster.

“Fuck —“ he stuttered, eyes blazing into yours. “That’s it, take all of me, you’re such a good girl.”

You moaned lightly at his praise once again, and Eren’s cock hit the back of your throat. You pulled your lips up slowly, tongue caressing the underside of his member the entire time, and quickly brought your unoccupied hand into a fist. This was the first time you would be trying out this trick, reading it in a magazine since your gag reflex was very strong and this helped soothe the impulse. Eren was not prepared in the slightest as you removed the hand gripping him, letting his dick fall forward a bit more. You took a deep breathe through your nose, spit coating his entire cock now, and pushed your mouth fast back down his shaft.

Eren let out a strangled gasp when your nose brushed against his pelvis, “Holy fucking — fuck. Shit, yeah, just like that. You look so fucking pretty right now.”

Tears were threatening the spill over your lash line and you bobbed your head furiously, taking in as much as you could before you gagged. You stared up at him the entire time, watching his face screw together as you lapped and sucked his cock. Your jaw was aching already from his size, minding your teeth placement as you quickened your pace. You returned your hand to wrap and pump whatever your mouth wasn’t able to reach as you set yourself into a more comfortable pattern. Your other hand cupped his balls, swirling them softly in your palms.

Eren’s fingers yanked you back, his dick falling out of your lips in a soft pop, as you looked up in confusion, “Gonna’ stop you there baby, gonna’ make me cum.”

His hand in your hair guided you back up to his lips, and Eren could taste himself as his tongue pushed through your swollen mouth to enter yours. You moaned into the kiss, so sloppy and messy, you took no notice of Eren’s hands wiping away the leftover dribble on your chin. He yanked you back, a bit rougher this time, and you panted, rubbing your thighs together at the force. He eyed you up, your beautiful tits still on display, the fabric of your lace bra folded underneath them.

“Get naked for me, princess,” he cooed, untangling his fingers from your scalp. You did as you were told, practically ripping the lace set off your body as you soon stood stark naked in front of Eren. He pushed his legs up, joining you. You felt very small then as he towered above you, playing with the tips of your hair, he guided you around until you were forced to lay yourself flat on your back on the mattress once again.

Eren caressed your shins as he stood tall in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You could still see the glistening of your saliva on his cock, and heat continued to pool in between your thighs in anticipation of his next move.

“Look at you,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers on the tops of your bent knees, legs closed together. “So pretty, it almost hurts to look at you.”

His darkened eyes shot down, drinking you all in before settling on your closed legs. With his hands, he gently forced them to part, and he let out a quiet moan at the sight in front of him. Dripping in arousal, almost sparkling and shining like the gem you were, your pussy spread open for him, begging for his attention. His gaze darted up back to your face, trying not to get too carried away as he admired your beautiful body.

Eren let out a dark chuckle, stroking his hands to the meat of your thighs, “You have no idea the things I have planned for us, princess.”

You whimpered, unable to voice a single word. His right hand moved towards your center, and you gasped sharply as he gently grazed your folds with the lightest of touches. His thumb landed a hair above your clit, and you squirmed, desperate now. He circled so slowly on your pearl, gazing on with an inflated ego. Eren wanted you to beg for him, to tell you all about those ideas he had going on in his head while he fucked his fingers into you.

He decided to go easy on you though, you had plenty of time ahead of you to learn exactly what he wanted when it came to the bedroom, he cooed, “I’m gonna’ show you off, just like you deserve. Gonna’ buy you pretty things, treat you like the fucking princess you are — gonna’ be my pretty girl.”

“Please, Eren,” you whimpered, attempting to push your pelvis into his hand, failing miserably as his other one gripped your thigh in place. “I need you.”

“Tell me exactly what you need, baby,” Eren smirked.

“Everything,” you breathed out. “I want you to keep calling me pretty, wan’ you to fuck me.”

“We’ll get to that part soon,” he paused, lowering his head to your inner thigh, getting to his knees on the floor. “Just need to make you feel good first, pretty girl.”

Eren licked a bold stripe up your pussy as you mewled, feeling a shred of relief as the tip of his tongue circled your clit. You felt a bead of saliva, probably mixed in with your own arousal, travel down the seam of your ass. Eren was starving, and you tasted so delicious, a sweet tart flavor exploding across his taste buds. He flattened his tongue, and looked up to watch your gorgeous face as his lips engulfed your clit.

You threw your head back, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you attached your hands to your breasts, pulling and tugging on your nipples. He positioned his hands to the back of your thighs then, somehow managing to spread you open even more. The sounds he made in between your folds were wet and sloppy, and he rubbed small circles with the pads of his thumbs into the creases where your legs met your ass.

He never broke away from your face, watching everything unfold before him. Now that you were free from his solidifying grip, your hips were rolling. He watched your ribs expand and fall as you moaned unabashedly, rubbing your cunt into his mouth. Eren had never seen a more beautiful sight, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. His right hand itched closer to your opening, and you trembled at the prodding of his index fingers. His tongue flopped around sloppily, slurping your bud in between his lips as he entered you slowly, cock pulsing at the feeling of your slick velvety walls greeting his finger.

Here he was, on his knees before you, eyes heavy and swirling because of you. You arched your back as he pumped the single digit in you slowly at first. He felt the tight clench of your walls as his tongue flicked at a certain angle, pleased that he had discovered very quickly how he was going to get you to cum. Eren was impatient, and as much as he wanted to stay between the heat of your thighs for hours if you’d let him, he really needed that orgasm from you. The tip of his pointer finger left you briefly, and you whimpered at the sudden loss, quickly becoming breathless and he slammed it right back in alongside his middle finger. They curled inside of you, brushing right against the soft spongy wall that was your g-spot. You were gushing for him, the sloppy noises of his assaults resounding around the bedroom.

“Fuck, fuck,” you panted, feeling your breasts bounce as he fucked his fingers into you at an alarming pace, tongue following the pattern eagerly. “Oh my god, I’m so close, Eren, I’m gonna’ cum.”

He pulled his mouth back momentarily, voice husky and pleading as he told you, “Cum for me, baby.”

You slammed your hips down onto his knuckles, feeling the underside of his palm and your slick. He had been reduced to curling and angling his fingers inside of you, watching in adoration and awe as you bounced yourself on his fingers, rubbing your pretty pussy against his mouth. Eren had just become a bystander at this point, he was pretty much forced to be stilled as you used his mouth and hands so greedily, feeling an unfamiliar swell in your cunt.

And when your back arched, and your walls clenched so fiercely tight around his drenched fingers, Eren found his forever love. He’d do anything, be anyone, whatever the fuck that was asked of him, to see this sight for the rest of his life. You were vibrating, legs shaking so strongly, Eren had to mentally catch up when he felt a gush of hot liquid soak him. He shifted his gaze down in shock, and holy shit, you were squirting.

You swore you had never orgasmed like this before, it was more than stars you were seeing behind your closed eyelids. It was pure black, absolute nothingness as your brain short circuited. It was like your pussy was taking a deep breath, because when the onset of contractions hit you, you thought you were going to pass out. And poor Eren, who stared dumbly in front of him at how intense your muscles were flexing, was already so deeply in love with you and was confessing his eternal devotion to you in his mind.

When your cunt had settled down, and your hips relented in pushing yourself against Eren’s face and hands, you let out a low moan as he slid his drenched fingers out of you. He stared at his hand, shining with your cum, and flickered his gaze up to you.

“I’m going to fucking marry you,” he growled. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You let out an exhausted laugh, “Would you believe me if I told you that was the first time I’ve ever squirted?”

“I’m buying you a goddamn ring tomorrow,” he placed a kiss to your inner thigh, moving his body up to hover above you. Eren’s hands wrapped around your thighs once again, propping your knees to your chest. He saw the slight trace of fear in your eyes, and he paused, “You okay?”

“It’s just,” you gazed at the point between your bodies. “Are you gonna’ fit?”

Eren leaned forward, feeling slightly relieved, his face still dripping in your essence, and he placed a sweet, romantic kiss to your lips, pulling away to murmur, “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nodded your head, letting the worry roll off your body as one of his hands caressed your cheek, never breaking eye contact with him. The other hand reached in between your centers, grabbing his throbbing cock and sliding himself along your pussy. He was soon coated in your juices, and both of you were letting out quiet moans. As he sunk his tip into your entrance though, you were gasping loudly.

Eren really had wanted to be gentle, he had no intentions whatsoever of hurting you, but he had realized very quickly that you were going to be the one to set the pace in the relationship. Because as soon as half of his shaft was anchored in your heat, your hips slammed upwards to engulf his entire length. He bit back a yelp at the suddenness, fisting the sheets by your waist in a tight grip. If Eren didn’t feel like a virgin before, he sure as fuck did now.

You didn’t realize just how prepped that orgasm had made you, or how sensitive. What you had believed would’ve been pain was insurmountable and mind blowing pleasure, and you smiled in pride as Eren’s jaw fell open. You felt his hands fall from the underside of your thighs, and you took the opportunity, leveraging your legs, and thrusted upwards. Eren bottomed out inside of you, and you winced slightly at the mild pain of his tip meeting the wall of your cervix, the stretch of your walls accommodating him as you fluttered around him.

“You’re so big, Eren,” you moaned out, moving your hands to grasp his flexing biceps. “‘Feels so good.”

Eren was fighting an internal war — go as slow as physically possible as to not bust in your heavenly pussy in three strokes, or give you the best two minutes of your fucking life. Because it was absolutely all way too much, your gorgeous face, your soaked core, the way you gripped his cock so tightly. You were a vixen, Eren’s personal vices wrapped up in one human body. He couldn’t help but take notice of how perfectly your bodies fit together, your pussy made for him.

“Eren, move, please,” you whined, attempting to squirm your hips. He shot a hand down to your hip, stilling you as he gave you a warning glare.

“I’m trying really hard not to cum inside of you right now,” Eren groaned, finally moving his hips. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. Making it real hard for me right now.”

Little was Eren aware of your pussy still on edge from the mind blowing power of your first orgasm, and you mouth lolled open as he slowly fucked you. If you were to touch your clit, or have any type of pressure there right now, it would be over for you as well. You’d have all the time in the future to have long, drawn out sex with Eren, but the two of you were just way too turned on and aroused by each other to have anything but heavy and fast sex. With a slight hesitation on your end, also not wanting to cum so quickly around his length, you rocked your hips into his fastening pace.

Eren chose the latter of his two options then, feeling the ridges of your pussy pulse and flutter around his cock. He pulled all the way back, tip daring to fall out of your little hole, and he flung himself right back in to the hilt. He repeated this a few times, and you were trying your best to hold back screams. Eren was drooling at the sight of your pretty pink pussy taking him, sloppy and messy from his saliva and your cum. He brought his attention to your bouncing breasts, molding one into his palm, rolling the nipple in the center.

Eren’s thrusts quickened dramatically, and he knew that your warning from the previous night had been true. You were screaming, calling out his name and several swears and ‘oh my god’s. This only encouraged him more, ego pretty much stroking his own cock as he plunged into you at a dangerous pace. He knew he was going to fast approach his orgasm, but Eren wasn’t stupid either. He could feel the clench tightening around him as he fucked right into that pretty spot inside of you, the way your breathing changed after a few seconds of that. Eren would become your number one expert, knowing every tell tale sign of your body, and what you were feeling. From one orgasm, he knew how your breathing changed, and Eren was determined to take you to those heights again.

Keeping the flick of his hips at the slamming pace he was at, he brought his thumb to your swollen clit. At the impact, your eyes screwed closed over the overwhelming pleasure. You felt a twinge of pain, just so sensitive from how strong you came before, but didn’t stop Eren as he rolled your pearl in fast circles, putting delicate pressure on the very top. It took maybe three strokes of his cock and a slight unsteady irregularity in his pattern to get you right where he had wanted you — desperate to cum alongside him.

“I’m so close, Eren,” you moaned out, lower body buzzing in anticipation.

“I want you to cum on my cock,” he demanded, a shocked moan crawling out of his throat at the first clench. “Oh, fuck, good girl.”

You spasmed under him, eyebrows shooting up in a furrow as you arched your back uncontrollably, the wave of your second orgasm slamming into you like a train. You could hear the squelching of Eren fucking your pussy as you contracted around him, or as he tried to. It was pure ecstasy, a feeling of wholeness filling you entirely. Half way through your orgasm, he grabbed the base of his cock, sliding out of you as he pumped himself fast above you. You held your legs open, breathing heavily as Eren watched your muscles contract in astonishment. He had never made a girl cum like this before, so hard and so visually. Your beautiful face, eyes encouraging him to cum, was all he needed. His dick was covered in you, his fingers sticky and soaked. It was all so fucking sloppy, and the thought and sight of it all caught up to him.

You felt the hot ropes of cum hit your belly, moaning at the sight. Eren was fucking his fist, cock thrusting in his grip like he had been doing in your pussy. His head hung forward, eyes drinking in the entirety of you. He shot his load on your lower half, stroking himself down after a couple of minutes, breathing heavily.

He eyed the box of tissues on your nightstand, and grabbed a few, languidly wiping his cum off of your abdomen as the two of you tried to catch your breath, or bring a ration thought back into your minds.

“We just had porn star sex,” you giggled tiredly.

“Oh yes we fucking did,” Eren smirked. “Not to like hype you up or whatever, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Your pride and ego swelled as he finished wiping up his cum, discarding the tissues in the bin on the floor. He hadn’t given you much time to respond, asking where the bathroom was so he could grab a rag to clean you up. You were humbled, affection rising in your chest when he returned to take care of your exhausted body. No one had bothered with aftercare before, and right then and there, you knew Eren was a keeper.

“Thank you,” you yawned out, stretching your legs in front of you. Eren hung around a little awkwardly, not sure of what to do. “You can spend the night, if you want to.”

He raised his eyebrows, a smile crossing his face, “Do you want me to?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself back until your head met your pillows and lifted your comforter, gesturing for Eren to join you. And that he did, pouncing on the offer and sliding into bed with you, not hesitating for a second to wrap his muscular arms around your waist. He kissed you gently, pulling away to place his lips on your shoulder as you began to drift off.

You awoke alone in your bed, the bright rays of the sun hazy as you blinked the sleep away. You could smell and hear the sizzling of breakfast in your kitchen, your bedroom door swung wide open. You threw your legs over the mattress, stealing a quick look at yourself in the mirror. You cringed at the mascara stains under your eyes, taking a tissue and wiping underneath your lashes to look presentable enough for the man looming in your kitchen. You discarded the tissue, and slid on a pair of fresh panties and Eren’s enormous sweatshirt you had yet to return, and padded your bare feet across your floor to join him.

Eren’s back faced you, his form only clad in a pair of boxers as he focused his complete attention to the frying pans in front of him. You smirked, leaning against your counter, placing your chin in your open hands.

“Good morning, Chef Eren,” you teased, catching him off guard as he jumped a bit.

He turned to face you, hair a complete mess as a boyish smile graced his face, “Morning, princess. I hope you don’t mind my mess.”

“It smells amazing, so I guess I can figure out a way to forgive you,” you sighed dramatically. “Only if there’s coffee involved, though.”

“Way ahead of you,” he moved his legs over to your coffee machine, a pair of steaming muga awaiting his hand. He grabbed one, a plain white mug that matched the rest of your kitchen set, and set it on the counter in front of you.

“If you’re trying to earn extra credit, it’s working,” you said, dumbstriken.

“Gotta’ show you I’m boyfriend material,” he wagged his eyebrows, turning back to the frying pan before cutting the heat off. “I couldn’t find your plates, though.”

“Cabinet above the sink,” you directed, pulling out a stool from underneath your kitchen bar. “Forks and stuff are in the drawer by the refrigerator.”

Eren nodded, collecting two plates and the necessary utensils from their designated areas. The sight of eggs and bacon made your mouth water, and you were about to get a key made specifically for Eren to waltz in every morning to cook you this glorious meal every single day. You thanked him as he set your plate in front of you, and you dug in.

“Eren, it’s so good,” you complimented after chewing. “You really know how to treat a girl.”

He simply laughed, and the two of you fell into a pleasant conversation. And then by the time mid day rolled around, the two of you had talked all about where you’d be spending the evening. The night had ended just like the one before in mind blowing sex, the morning after repeating itself, and again, and again.

A month later, you had updated your Instagram bio. ‘Connoisseur of mimosas, rock and roll, and Eren Jaeger’. And when it had come time to update your OnlyFans content, you were more than happy to have your own personal photographer to use at your discretion. Just as long as you continued to wear his necklace, Eren would take as many pictures as you needed him to, knowing you’d end up in each other’s beds at the end of the session anyways. And he’d continue to follow you, this time though, you’d gladly send him his favorite pictures for free.

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mcmansionhell · 4 years ago

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Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

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expectingtofly · 4 years ago

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Painted Nails and Pride

1.7k

internalized homophobia, john being an a**hole, bisexual dean, found family, happy ending

written for day 7 of @spnprideweek

Music boomed from the park down the street and Dean tried to focus on the newspapers spread out before him, front pages covered with news about a bear attack at a campsite a few miles west. Not actually a bear attack, of course. From the tracks they’d seen when they hiked out there yesterday, Dad's money was on wendigo.

Cheering drew his eyes from the table where he, Sam, and Dad sat outside a restaurant to the people heading down the sidewalk towards the music. Banners on streetlights along the road proclaimed that today marked Roseville's 3rd Annual Pride Parade. His eyes snagged on a group of kids his own age standing on the street corner, hugging and talking excitedly. One boy had painted nails and wore a cropped shirt that exposed his midriff. As he talked with his friends, he looked around, and his eyes met Dean’s. He smiled at him, and Dean ducked his head, face burning.

An announcer’s voice echoed down the street. “Welcome to Pride,” the voice boomed. Dean folded and unfolded the corner of the newspaper, listening to the cheering, rotating the ring on his thumb around and around.

Dad snorted, and Dean glanced up at him. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, he watched the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Dean studied the newspapers more intently, underlining words just to look like he was doing something productive. Part of him wanted to go down to the parade, just to see what it was all about, but that was ridiculous. Only affirmed by a derogatory comment Dad made low under his breath about the people in the street.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed verbally, jostling his leg under the table. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was giving Dad a glare. Dean gave him a look that meant, don’t start, but Sam ignored him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, and Dean froze, eyes snapping to their father. Dad pulled his eyes from the street to Sam, giving him a long, steady look.

“What?” he asked after a long moment. “You one of them?”

Sam only held his gaze for a second before it seemed his courage failed. He ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled, kicking at the table leg.

Dad stared at him for another long moment, expressionless, before turning his journal around and dropping it in front of Sam. “Shut up and make yourself useful. Sooner we figure out what’s killing these folks, sooner we can get out of this goddamn town.”

He waved down the waitress for another drink, and Dean glared at Sam, who was absently thumbed through the journal pages. Returning to his own work, he snapped one newspaper closed and opened another, skimmed an article about the victim’s family. The words didn’t really make sense in his head, though, and too soon he found himself watching the people in the street again. The boy who’d smiled at him had disappeared, though, probably watching the parade.

Finding a one-off line in an article about rumors of a strange being haunting the woods, he circled it and handed the newspaper across the table.

“Nice work,” Dad said, taking the paper, but instead of the usual warmth from his praise, Dean only felt sick.

He felt about the same now, standing in Jody’s kitchen—off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way during the frenzied preparations to attend the Sioux Falls Pride Parade. Music played from Patience’s phone, some song he recognized from Cas constantly turning the radio dial to the pop music station. Sam helped Kaia finish a sign decorated with the lesbian flag, and Eileen signed with Alex who was learning sign language in high school. Claire sat at the table painting Jack’s nails, who wriggled in his seat excitedly.

Catching Dean’s eyes, he held up the hand Claire had finished. “Dean, look!”

Dean forced a smile. “Looks good.”

“Stay still,” Claire ordered, frowning down at Jack’s hand as she painted his pinky.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. Jody had invited them for the week, mentioning off-hand that Sioux Fall’s pride events were going on, and Dean had pushed aside the mild panic at that comment, told her they’d come visit. He didn’t know he’d be roped into joining everyone at Pride, but here he was, feeling out of place in the corner of the kitchen. Who knew how he’d feel standing at the parade.

“Want me to do yours?” Claire asked, and Dean snapped his attention back to her. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, others lined up next to her on the table, and he froze, realizing what she was suggesting.

His first instinct was to spit out, “I’m not one of those,” but guilt rushed through him for how harsh the words sounded in his head. Defensive words, unnecessary ones because there was no threat here. He didn't mean them anyway.

Swallowing them down, he glanced around the kitchen for rescue. Cas was helping Donna pack water bottles because “It’s gonna be hot out there,” but he must’ve felt Dean’s gaze because he looked over and gave him a reassuring smile. No judgement in his eyes, or Claire's either, for that matter. He had a feeling he wouldn't find any judgement in this kitchen, which should've been a relief, but he had a hard time trusting it.

“Come on, Dean,” Jack said. “We can match!”

You can do this, Dean told himself. It's just Pride, not an Apocalypse.

He tried to smile. “Sure,” he said, going to the table and sitting down, chest tight.

He chose the color blue because it felt less ostentatious than the pinks and lilacs Claire presented to him. Even so, the color looked strikingly bright in the sunlight as he stood along the street marked off for the parade, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching his shoulder. Dean tensed, then felt awful for his reaction, but Cas didn’t move away, only rubbed between his shoulder blades until Dean relaxed marginally. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he managed. Cas gave him a small smile and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A float passed with people waving and dancing on top, a banner strung across the front declaring, “Protect Trans Kids.” Jack waved a rainbow flag around, cheering along with the crowd. Claire’s arm was wrapped around Kaia’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth despite her attempts to look unbothered by the proceedings. Dean wished he could feel that nonchalant. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what threat he was looking for, but the press of the growing crowds and the heat and noise, the bright colors and waving flags everywhere he looked was making him nauseous.

Turning back to the parade, he met Sam’s eyes. “Never thought we’d both end up here, right?” Sam asked over the noise, attempting levity, and Dean wondered if he remembered sitting outside near a Pride parade, feeling so unsure. There were plenty of other instances to remember, plenty of times John made disparaging comments that Dean either pretended to not hear or agreed with out of a panic that if he wasn’t careful, they might be directed at him next.

“This is fun,” Sam commented, watching the parade, and Dean wished he could agree.

Easy for you to say, he thought. You have a girlfriend, people’ll assume you’re straight. But he felt bad for thinking it. He didn’t want Cas to move away from him—if anything, wanted him closer, wanted his arm around him. But he felt too tense to move.

A crowd of middle-aged people walked in the parade, t-shirts reading variations of MOM HUGS, DAD HUGS, GRANDPA HUGS. Dean watched as people stepped off the sidewalk and hugged the moms and dads, some crying as soon as arms wrapped around them.

Without his permission, he felt his own eyes growing teary and he ducked his head, scraped his heel on the sidewalk.

“Dammit,” Jody said. “Where can I get one of those t-shirts?”

“We gotta do that next year,” Donna decided, and Jack gave her a hug.

“You can hand out hugs without the t-shirt,” he told her, and she grinned.

“You’re right.” Lifting her arms, she announced, “Free hugs over here!” People around them laughed, and someone took her up on the offer, telling her, “You’ve got a lovely family.”

Donna beamed. “Why yes I do.” She pulled Claire into a half-hug that Claire resisted, protesting the whole time. “Come here, Sam,” she said, yanking Sam into a hug that he had to nearly fold himself in half for. Everyone else got their turn, then she turned to Dean, holding out her arms.

Dean stepped into it, wrapping his arms around her. A gentler hug, Donna rubbing his back. Dean sunk into the embrace, the chaos around him subsiding for a moment.

“We’re family now, right?” she asked, pulling away to meet his eyes, and Dean nodded. Smiling at him and patting his arm, she turned back to Jody, wrapping an arm around her.

It felt a little easier to breathe now, his chest not so tight. The crowds around them didn’t seem so threatening, just smiling people with their families like he was with his. Eileen cheered as a float passed with an Irish LGBTQ+ coalition, and Dean smiled, easier now, not forced.

Jody pulled Donna in for a kiss that turned into making out. Claire rolled her eyes. “Ew, guys, Gross.” Kaia elbowed her and Claire’s put-on air of displeasure broke into a grin as she elbowed her back. Cas nudged Dean with a small smile when a float of pink, purple, and blue streamers drove past. For a moment, Dean's chest seized, John's voice ringing in his head, but in all the noise around them, it quickly drowned out.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took Cas’ hand. Cas interlaced their fingers immediately, squeezing tightly, then lifted their hands and studied Dean’s nails. Dean had let Jack paint a smiley face on his pinky to match the one on Jack’s thumbs. Staring at them, he thought of a boy at Pride with painted nails, his own fears and wants tightening his chest, but then Cas looked up at him with a smile, and the memory faded into a warm glow.

“I like them,” Cas told him.

“Yeah," Dean said. "Me too.”

#spnprideweek #bluefirecas #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #userstarry #userpris #destiel fic #pride #internalized homophobia #john's a+ parenting #established dean/cas #bisexual dean winchester #inspired by my first time at pride #:)#expectingtofly writes

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regrettablewritings · 4 years ago

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Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with.

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation.

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

#benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc #knives out imagine #knives out imagines #knives out x reader #regrettablewritings #for anyone wondering: I think Reader's tattoo would be of a flower. Or a random doodle.#something Benoit made while not thinking and they just so happened to glance at it

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reidgraygubler · 4 years ago

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take care (lesley smith-juniment/gender-neutral!reader)

Title: take care Requested: no Couple: lesley smith-juniment/gender-neutral!reader Category: fluff Content Warning: drinking, drunken shenanigans, there was only one bed trope, reader throws up, talks about sex (but it doesn’t happen, just talked about) Word Count: 2641 Summary: Lesley takes care of reader after they had too much to drink A/N: this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins only one bed challenge! This is the first time i’ve written lesley, so bear with me! I appreciate you <3 i really hope you guys enjoy this :D check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

I should have realized how much I had to drink the night before. My head was absolutely pounding and my whole body was killing me. I hardly remember what I did last night. It was just one shot of tequila too many, and then everything was gone.

Damn tequila… And damn my friends for buying shots. At least I wasn’t too much of an embarrassment. Or at least I thought. Drunk me is very, very different than sober me. Drunk me was the life of the party, sober me was not.

I wish I could remember what I did the night before. Lesley was there, and Summer was there. And… Summer’s finance joined, too... I do, however, remember Lesy trying to stop me from drinking but… He’s not my babysitter.

Or… Was he?

My body instantly popped up as I realized I wasn’t in my own room. It was a hotel room, but it wasn’t mine. It was… It was Lesley’s. His boots and clothing neatly set to the side easily told me it was his room.

But it was also him asleep beside me that told me it was his room. Lesley was on the total edge of the bed, on top of the sheets, and his back facing me. I knew he’s never slept in the same bed as another person before, but the least he could have done was act like it was fine.

I tumbled out of the bed, nearly falling to the floor. It was quite the surprise when I realized I was wearing just a shirt (which belonged to Lesley) and underwear. No wonder he was on top of the sheets, and on the extreme edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” I whispered as I searched the room for my clothes. My shirt and pants were thrown around, and my shoes were hiding under the bed. I hope nothing bad happened last night. And by bad I mean I didn’t actually say or do anything… inappropriate.

“Are you okay?” Lesley asked after a moment of silence. I looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. “I just… I heard you fall off the bed, and I’m sure you have a killer hangover. You had like… A whole bottle of tequila with Summer,” he nervously chuckled as he looked at me. I looked back at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Headache would be correct,” I nervously laughed as I lifted a hand to hold my head. “I was just about to go find… Bacon! Bacon and grease and water and… Yeah, it helps hangovers.” I looked down at the ground.

“It’s probably too late for shitty continental breakfast, right?” Lesley asked as he slipped out of the bed. I stared at him for a moment.

“Probably… I was just going to go to the Denny’s down the street,” I muttered as I gestured in the vague direction of the breakfast restaurant.

“Can I… go with?”

“Yeah, of course you can, Les,” I answered with a smile. Although my smile felt disingenuous. Maybe that’s what I meant. I still don’t know who I was last night, I could have done anything…

Our journey to the Denny’s was pretty silent. I must have been real bad last night if Lesley didn't say anything. It wasn’t till I had my coffee and breakfast sitting in front of me that I said anything.

“Can… Can you tell me what exactly happened last night?” I asked, as I dumped the two sugar packets into my coffee. Lesley looked at me with a raised brow. “Like you said… Whole bottle of tequila,” I chuckled.

And then he told me… {***}{***}{***}

Drinks… That was exactly what I needed. Work sucked, home sucked, life sucked, everything sucked. So I needed drinks, because drinking fixes everything. I shouldn’t say that. That’s not true, but drinking can fix a lot.

Summer and her fiance had invited Lesley out for drinks. Which in turn, Lesley asked me to join them. I couldn’t say no to Lesley. To be honest, I wouldn’t have gone had Lesley not invited me. Sure, Summer is one of my greatest friends. But I hated her fiance, Bradley… I wasn’t the only one who hated him though. Lesley hated him just as much, if not more. We had our different reasonings though. I hated him simply because he was a dick, and Summer was amazing.

It was hard to say just how many actual drinks I had, and I lost count of how many shots were consumed. But the majority were done between me and Summer. We were both so far gone, but we were having fun. So who cares?

To answer my own question, Lesley. Lesley cared because he’s my best friend. Of course he’d care. He cared about our safety more than Bradley did. Bradley was too busy drinking himself to notice Summer or me.

I think I was just drinking so excessively to get his attention, too. He was so busy pining over Summer that he didn’t realize I was right in front of him. My plan did work, though. I had most certainly gotten his attention as I stumbled up to the bar and ordered another round of shots for Summer and I. Summer was somewhere, dancing with a bunch of strangers while I did this. She was the one who said get more shots.

“Hey Pal… Are-Are you okay?” Lesley asked as he appeared by my side. I lowered my margarita glass to the counter as I looked at him. I hated the way that he looked motion blurred as I stared at him. The world around him was moving a touch too fast for me to pay attention to him.

“I-I’m fucking great, Les! Fucking awesome!” My words came out like a slurred mess. There was no apparent lie in my words. I felt awesome. It was the tequila talking. “I think… I think it’s time for another shot! You want one?!” I shouted as I turned back to face the bar.

“No, no! I don’t want one. I think we should go. Get you back to the hotel so you can-”

“You want to leave!? Lesley! Tonight’s the night, Dude! We can’t leave! What if we died tomorrow?!” I shouted as I turned back to him. My hands found their way to his shoulders and I looked at him. “We can’t leave now!”

“I think we should,” Lesley retorted as he grabbed my arms. I stared at him before looking over at my drink. I grabbed it and drank the rest of it in one go.

“Okay now we can go.” I looked back at him. Lesley stared at me with a worried crease between his brows, causing me to smirk. I was too far gone, and he knew that. I was about to make his life a hell, and I couldn’t help it. That’s how it was when I was drunk, though. He played the concerned friend (but he’s always concerned), and I was the drunken toddler.

“Alright, c’mon,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I stumbled away from the bar counter. I was thankful that Lesley kept his arm around me because I was sure to fall without him. He was always there to pick me up whenever I fell.

Maybe that’s why I liked Lesley so much. And not just as a friend. He cared about me in ways other people haven’t ever cared for me. Sure, Summer cared about me… But she’s not the one making sure I get back to the hotel safely.

“We’re not gonna say bye to Summer and Bradley?” I asked as Lesley brought us towards the exit of the bar. I looked over my shoulder to see Summer still dancing away with the strangers while Bradley flirted with other women at the bar.

“I told Bradley we were leaving,” Lesley muttered once we were finally outside. I took a deep breath of the fresh and cool air. It was so vastly different from the muggy air inside the bar.

“But I wanna say bye to Summer!” I exclaimed as Lesley took the lead towards the hotel. It was already too late because I had said that when we were blocks away from the bar.

“You can tell her where we went in the morning when you see her,” Lesley looked down at me. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Again, Lesley cared about me and I was grateful for that. I probably wouldn’t have ended up at the hotel if he didn’t take me now.

As I stumbled down the sidewalk, with Lesley’s arm around me, I rambled about everything, while at the same time nothing. Random things that didn’t matter, or silly things that crossed my mind. I didn’t even notice when Lesley just replied with the same three responses: ‘mhmm’, ‘oh really?’, ‘that’s funny’. I’m sure he had given up on holding a conversation with me. I’d do the same thing.

Somewhere between halfway and almost at the hotel, I forgot where we were going. But I was too afraid to ask him till we were inside the hotel lobby, waiting for the elevator.

“Where are we?” I murmured as I hung off Lesley’s shoulder. He looked down at me before looking back at the elevator doors.

“The hotel…”

“Are we going to your room?” I giggled as I threw my arms around his neck.

“I-Uh…”

“PUH-lease?” I begged as he took a step forward. A squeal came from me as he began dragging me towards the elevator.

“Okay! Okay! We can go to my room. I can sleep on the floor, or the armchair.” “Yay!” I jumped off his body and clapped my hands together. Lesley laughed nervously as he helped me into the elevator. “But… But why do you have to sleep on the floor or the armchair?”

“B-Because!” He shouted as he pressed the button to his floor. I squinted as I looked at him. “I shouldn’t have to have a reason.”

“Wait… Wait… Lesley, have you… Have you ever shared a bed with someone?” I looked up at him before batting my eyelashes. Lesley’s body stiffened as he looked at the scratchy silver elevator doors. I smiled as I threw my arms around his middle. “Am I taking your bed sharing ver-ginny-titty?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve shared beds with my moms.”

“That doesn’t count, Lessy. You know that,” I looked up at him with a smile. “I thought you’ve had sex before!?” I shouted as the elevator doors slid open. Two older women were standing on the other side. They heard me yell something about sex.

“Stop… Talking,” Lesley said in a harsh whisper as he looked at me.

“But! How have you never shared a bed with someone if you’ve had sex before!?” I continued to shout as Lesley pulled me off the elevator.

“Have a nice night,” he said as he looked at the older ladies. I looked at them and waved as he dragged me down the hall. “I have had sex. But…” Lesley stopped talking as he began looking for the room key. I stared at him, waiting for the rest of his answer. “I haven’t slept in the same bed as someone,” he finally finished once the key card was in his hand.

“H-How do you-”

“It just happened.”

Lesley looked at me as he unlocked the door. I smiled as he pulled me into the room. If he wasn’t holding onto me, I would have stumbled into the room and fell right to the floor. But since he was holding me, he caught me and held me upright. I looked over at him with a smile.

“So I am taking your bed sharing ver-ginny-titty,” I cackled before stumbling away from him. Lesley watched me as I approached this single queen bed. The bedding was still perfectly made, no sign of human life was seen in this room. Give or take the small suitcase sitting by the desk and a few toiletries in the bathroom.

That was until I was sitting on the bed… throwing up on the floor and my feet. Once the contents of my stomach made its home on the floor, I fell back and groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Lesley. I frew up.” I threw a hand over my face once I realized what had just happened. I could feel Lesley’s anger from my spot on the bed.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna… I’ll clean it up.” His voice was soft as he spoke. I knew he was mad, but to be fair, if someone had thrown up in my hotel room I’d be pissed, too.

I stayed quiet as Lesley worked on cleaning up the mess. Part of me wished I could do something to help, but I’d probably make it a bigger mess than it already is.

Once he was done cleaning, he sat on the opposite end of the bed and looked over at me.

“Can you go to sleep?”

“I don’t know. Can you go to sleep, Wes-wee?” I looked up at him as I readjusted so I was in the bed properly. He looked at me with an obvious tired expression in his eyes. I looked away from him before going under the covers. “Yeah, I can go to sleep,” I whispered as I shifted closer to him. “I love you, Lesley,” I sighed deeply into his chest before passing out.

{***}{***}{***}

“Oh my god, I’m never drinking again.” I pressed both my hands to my face and let out a deep, resigned sigh. Lesley nervously laughed, causing me to look up at him.

“Do you really like me though?” he asked before taking another bite from his pancakes. I froze, my fork stabbed in a pancake. The syrup oozed out of the sides as if it was blood. It was unfortunate that I was probably not going to finish my food. I was really looking forward to pancakes, too.

“I like you a lot more than you think, Lesley,” I nervously laughed again before looking down at my coffee. It was mostly gone anyway, and I wished I had more. “And have since I started working for you.”

“Oh…” He looked back down at his coffee cup. I looked between him and my mostly empty cup, feeling my heart race. “Really?” he asked, searching for confirmation. I swallowed roughly before nodding lightly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Uh, well, you’re sort of my boss,” I breathed out a laugh before shaking my head. “Little bad when it comes to serious things and don't want to lose this job or you… But I guess because I was fucking drunk last night and told you everything, I don’t care that much,” I rambled and rolled my eyes. I lifted my mug to my lips, only to be disappointed by cold coffee, which consisted mostly of grounds.

“You didn’t want to take a risk?” “Considering I was the first person you ever shared a bed with, Lesley, you shouldn’t preach to the choir.” I glanced at him. Lesley lifted his hands in defeat. I laughed lightly and shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t want to lose you. So I didn’t want to take that risk.”

“You want to know what would have happened if you had taken that risk?”

“I think about all the outcomes… Mostly the bad because that always happens to me,” I laughed again.

“I would have told you I loved you too,” Lesley said as he reached across the table. I looked down at my hands just as his clasped over mine. I stared at them for a moment before looking up at him.

“Really?” I asked for confirmation.

“Yeah.”

{***}{***}{***}

if you have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here i'd love to hear what you thought!

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imaginesupply · 4 years ago

Text

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader

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jenomark · 4 years ago

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Part 6: WinWin, The Catch

➔Pairing: WinWin x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Lucas, Ten, Hendery, Xiaojun, Kun, & YangYang ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, yelling, cursing ➔Word count: 6,455

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Life is a whirlwind of many things: emotions, disappointment, new beginnings, and things too complicated to understand. It’s years of fuck-ups, of getting lost in the shit that hurts you, and finding out that sometimes the truth should stay buried. We’re meant to live life like it’s the last one we have, but a lot of us can’t even choose what to eat for dinner. Maybe that’s the joy in living, in just being. Maybe we should all be proud of being fuck-ups, instead of trying to be something we’re not.

“I don’t think life can get any sweeter than this.” WinWin said.

You tapped your glass against his, the frozen, pineapple liquid spilling down the sides. The taste of the drink is refreshing and so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, but you don’t care. You’re sitting on the beach in a plastic chair, the sun dipping into the ocean, and the company of a man you enjoy right next to you. Life, through its ups and downs, was finally looking up.

“I don’t want to go home.” you said. “Do you think people at work even miss me?”

WinWin laughed quietly, just a little wind through his nose. “I would miss you.”

“I bet you would.”

Since coming to the island for the past week, you and WinWin left the hotel room many times. You went snorkeling, exploring different parts of the culture, ate gourmet dinners, and got massages by professionals who avoided your sunburnt shoulders. On the days when you couldn’t seem to make it out of the door, you both fucked on the beautiful white linen bed, sometimes with the sliding door open, and every time without any inhibition.

“I miss you every day.” he said. He leaned over to kiss you, the taste of the drink on the edge of his lips.

When he brought out his phone to text his family back home, you let your eyes gape openly at his body. He was so pretty on the eyes, every muscle put to good use. You didn’t regret the order of the way things happened to fall together, just that you hadn’t met him sooner. It seemed lifetimes ago that you were hitting him up for one last bang of the century. You smiled at the memory, letting it salivate in your mind until he was done texting.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

WinWin took your hand, which was something he did whenever he was feeling affectionate. You liked the attention, the way he put his phone down and focused on answering your question. “My family are asking what time our flight home is tomorrow. And if I’ll stop by on the way back to my house.”

“Did you tell them yes?” you asked. “I miss your mother. She’s just the face I feel I need to see.”

“You don’t know how happy that makes me feel.”

He leaned over and kissed you again. There was a cheeky look in his eyes, as if asking how easy it would be for you to straddle him on the beach chair and take his cock right there. Neither of you were sex fiends during your regular life back home, but vacation time meant making time for your relationship.

Luckily for the public, you were both interrupted by the waiter asking if you’d like a bite to eat. After declining, you both gathered up your things and practically ran back to the hotel for a night of fun and pleasure.

It wasn’t love, exactly. You would be the first to admit that love was hardly a driving force in your life. At first, though lust was an option, you ruled it out fairly early. Your entrance into WinWin’s life was less about pleasing someone sexually and more about pleasing yourself. You stayed around him because he was different. Deep down, you hoped it wasn’t because he was a culmination of all the boys in your life- Ten and his safety, Hendery and his optimism, Xiaojun and his hunger for life, Kun and his stability, and YangYang’s wholesome friendship. He even had Lucas’ taste for laughter and fun.

For a while, you wanted it to be love. You wanted love at first sight to be a real thing so badly. You saw WinWin, you knew he was the one, and you fucked him real good. You chose to let it be more. Still, months later, you chose to keep the relationship because there was always the possibility that you were both lovable. You could be normal, even get the 9-to-5 job and stop fucking people for money. It could happen for you.

The car ride home from the airport felt a little off. Being away from the ocean made you feel stale. You didn’t know how to face normalcy again, how to ease your way back into a city that held so many awful memories. But WinWin held onto you like he could solve everything, made you feel like you could be the adult you needed all your life.

“We’re here.” WinWin said as the car pulled up to his mother’s house.

She didn’t know her son paid for someone like you, or that he was the last one ever. As far as she knows, he met you out with friends, and the rest was history. She didn’t know about your past, didn’t seem interested in it either. She was the kind of woman that judged no one, that welcomed everyone through her door with a hug and a feast fit for kings. It was far removed from the family you had grown up with.

“You both look sun-kissed and beautiful.” she said, hugging you, and then tugging on the edge of WinWin’s ear. “ Welcome home. I made you a nice home cooked meal. I know it’s not as good as the 5 star food you’ve been eating for the past week.”

“Mom, I’m sure it’s delicious.” WinWin said. “And I am starving.”

“Me too.” you said. “It’s really nice for you to cook for us. I feel so thankful.”

Being with WinWin’s family made you feel safer than you’d ever felt. They truly welcomed you into the fold. It was easy to imagine the rest of your life like this: taking vacations, coming back to meals cooked by a mother who cares, and being lovingly accepted into another family like you were one of their own. Your past could easily melt away, along with any of the bad taste that got stuck in your mouth.

You felt yourself getting misty-eyed. Thankfully, WinWin’s mother didn’t notice. She walked away to tend to her meal, leaving both of you in her living room. Unfortunately for you, WinWin was also an attentive boyfriend. He noticed you were on the verge of tears right away. He wiped them away for you, his brown eyes looking concerned.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. I think I’m just tired and overwhelmed.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No, no.” you said quickly. “I’m happy to be here.”

The smile WinWin gave you lit up your soul. He brought you in for a hug, his excitement growing in the childish way he had. You held him tightly, too afraid to let go.

No, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t not love, either.

That night, you made love.

In the beginning of your relationship, all the men before him would pop into your mind. There was the roughness of Lucas, the tenderness of Ten, and the intensity of Hendery. Every so often, you wished WinWin was as good as Xiaojun was at oral. You incorporated the carefree attitude YangYang taught you into your sex life, taking WinWin for a wild spin. You avoided Kun, and every feeling he brought up within you. Every so often, you would dive back into the deep end and meet WinWin, and you would merge all the men together. He would never know, and you’d never ask if he had any inclination.

Something changed a few months in. The sex got better, and you were more present. You were with him for the whole time, pressing down on his chest and riding the high that belonged to only him. You fell hard. You two were good for each other, matched up right in all the best ways. He didn’t need help in any department. He was whole and complete, and he made you feel like a goddess.

“You’re thinking.” WinWin whispered, kissing your forehead.

He pushed his cock deep inside of you, the words out of your mouth coming out breathless. “I’m not.”

“Okay.” he said, giving up before he started.

He fucked you so well that you both forgot about everything. It was only until you were dreaming that everything came rushing back. You dreamed of the men, of the paradise lost, of WinWin’s mother wishing you were her daughter-in-law.

Office jobs on a Monday never once seemed glamorous, but it was all you needed to feel ordinary. You stayed at your desk and watched the screensaver on your desktop fade in and out, like a heartbeat. Cheek resting against the palm of your hand, you sighed. You waited for lunchtime like the rest of the office girls. You didn’t gossip, didn’t show anyone your new nails. Your desk wasn’t decorated, but you were settled in for a while. The company liked you so much that you moved on from being a temp really quickly, which either made people love you or hate you.

“How was vacation?” a colleague asked.

You had become one of those people that shows vacation photos on her phone. There was WinWin laying on the beach, his toned stomach covered in sand. There was a photo of you posing by the sign of a restaurant, your arms thrown around him and your leg popped up. You hardly recognized the girl in the photos, though you’d spent 20+ years in her body.

“I wish I were in your shoes.” she said. “Your boyfriend is dreamy.”

“Thank you.” you said. It was hard to keep the amusement out of your voice. You were used to women fawning over him because he was so handsome, but when it was a married women with five kids, it made you hope you’d never be like that.

“It looked like such a nice little vacay.” she said. “So luxurious. How did you pay for all of that?”

“Savings.” you said.

Though you weren’t doing sex work anymore, the money from your secret apartment felt like it was never ending. You had sold so many things that reminded you of the men you saw over the years, choosing the money and a better life for yourself. It didn’t bother WinWin that you had more money than him, though he wouldn’t let you buy him a damn thing.

“Lucky.” she said before moving back to her desk.

Your eyelids were heavy, and the bottom of your feet sore. You dragged your feet through the doorway of your new, modest apartment, and threw your stuff down on the floor. You didn’t check your phone, just sat down on the couch and let your head fall back. You drifted off to sleep and only woke up to a knock on your front door. Picking yourself up, you walked over, swung it open, and screamed when WinWin picked you up and spun you around.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He kissed you passionately, letting your body slide down his before he let your feet plant on the floor. You felt breathless, and could tell that your face was hot just from seeing him again. There were days you kind of wanted to share a home with him, to see him every single day. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so taken aback by him every time you saw him in the flesh.

You didn’t fully get a good look at him until he moved away from you and went over to the fridge for a drink. He was wearing a dark blue suit and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. He looked expensive, and the smell trailing behind him reminded you of the vacation you’d just left.

“What are you all dressed up for?” you asked.

“You and I are invited to a party.”

“A..party?” you asked. “On a Monday night? I’m exhausted. I just had my full day of work after a week of beauty and sunshine. Baby, the last thing I want to do is party.”

Then, as if everything suddenly made sense, you remembered that your birthday was in a few days. Your mind was whirring. You didn’t want WinWin wasting money on some nice party when he’d put up more than his share for the vacation.

“Please.” he said, pouting. He took a drink from inside the fridge and set it on the counter. “I wouldn’t go without you.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ve seen your closet. You have plenty of dresses.”

“I won’t know anyone there.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t tell you who was going.”

“I’m running out of excuses, aren’t I?” you asked.

WinWin smiled and came over to hold you. “Yes. I’m not a party animal either, but for some reason, I really want to go to this one. It’s at that nice hotel downtown that was just built. Imagine a night full of cocktails and dancing, coming home and collapsing in my bed. Fun, right?”

You closed your eyes. When you opened them, you said yes. After all, you didn’t want to ruin a possible surprise. WinWin picked you up and spun you again. ‘Round and ‘round in circles you went.

The dress you wore was too tight. You felt so bloated in it that, on the car ride over, you kept fidgeting. WinWin calling you beautiful didn’t help, but the sulking definitely did. Arriving at the party made you so nervous that you forgot about the ill-fitting dress. You weren’t ready to be in front of people you loved, if it was a birthday party. You were stressed about who would attend, and who would not.

“Holy fuck.” you said, looking up at the hotel it was being hosted at.

In another life, it felt like you had been there before. It was much too swanky for your new taste, but there was something so familiar about the exterior that you couldn’t help but stare at it. The cream of the building and the black marble accents were stunning to look at, even more so than your date.

“We’ll stay no longer than two hours.” he said. “Does that sound good?”

You were unsure, but you did agree. He took your hand and led you across the street, the red satin dress you were wearing flying up with the wind. You smoothed your hair down with your free hand and walked through the revolving door with him. Inside, the building was even more gorgeous. It must have cost a pretty penny, and would have taken years to import all of the textures.

“Who invited you here?” you asked. “Someone from work?”

“My cousin.” he said. “ You’ve met him before.”

You were whisked into a ballroom full of people. It was clear that, by the lack of people you knew, it was not a surprise birthday party for you. It made you a little sad, but you tried not to show it.

Being among crowds was never fun for you, but feeling his hand on the small of your back relaxed you. You were thinking you could enjoy the night anyway, but WinWin walking away to fetch drinks made the fear creep up your spine again. You sat down at an empty table and scanned the hoards of people dressed in expensive designer clothes, your eyes raking it all in. You assessed that the reason you were so uncomfortable is because the environment reminded you too much of the life you had four months ago.

“Here.” WinWin said, setting your drink down.

You took a big gulp and set it back down, watching strangely as the condensation from the glass formed a ring on the tablecloth. For a bit, WinWin sat with you and held your hand, his eyes watching people laughing and chatting along.

“I can’t find my cousin. He’s not answering his phone.” he said, not able to peel his eyes from the crowd.

“Should we go look for him?” you asked.

There was a weird tension in the pit of your belly. You pushed the drink away and vowed to not drink anymore. You joined WinWin in looking for his cousin, even though you didn’t know which one he was referring to. His family was big, and they all looked so different from each other, but they all had the same cute laugh and love of ordering things online.

“Let’s dance.” WinWin said, rising to his feet.

You looked at the hand stretched out before you. He was speaking and moving too quickly. You felt like you were being pulled in every direction. The lights of the ballroom chandeliers were too bright, the air too humid. Still, you took his hand and let him bring you to your feet.The heels were killing you, but they were the only shoe that matched the dress.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You’re acting really weird. “

“Weird?” he asked. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

You wiped sweat from your forehead and felt nauseous as he led you both around the floor. It was the first time you wished you were anywhere but with him. Being at home and sleeping sounded much more exciting than the truth of where you were.

“Can I spin you?” he asked.

Before you could tell him that he couldn't, WinWin spun you around. You held onto his shoulders and caught your breath. He spun you one more time, your body losing slight control, and then he let you go.

All you could see were the lights in a blur before they stopped. You were too aware of the arm that had caught you. You looked down at the floor, at your feet crammed into your heels, then you closed your eyes tightly, and opened them again. You looked up and was met with a chest that didn’t belong to WinWin. Clutching the arms tightly, you used the body to bring yourself up all the way.

“Lucas.” you said, your voice shaky.

Dressed in a white button down and a light blue suit jacket, Lucas was there. His face was a little slimmer, but the same eyes were looking back at you. They were wide and hard, not a lick of concern in them. For a moment, you were transported back in time. It was where you were supposed to be, with the man you thought you were going to marry. You blinked and started looking for WinWin.

“You like him?” Lucas asked.

You removed your hands from Lucas’ arms and he dropped them to his sides the same time you did. You looked into his eyes and tried to muster something to say. The last time you saw him, you couldn’t get the right words out. Your storyline was very much unfinished.

“Does he check all the boxes?” Lucas asked. “Safe. Able to pay. Puts up with your lies and insecurities.”

“What?”

You looked over at the right time to see WinWin moving up to your side. You felt relief. You waited for him to berate Lucas for talking to you that way, a hero to save the day. Instead, he held out his hand to Lucas, as if asking him to dance.

“Four months.” WinWin said to him. “I want extra for having to sleep with her so many times.”

Lucas opened his jacket and took out a wad of bills. He peeled out so many pieces of paper that you lost count of them all. “Here is half. You get the rest of the money in a while.”

WinWin took the bills without counting them and tucked them into his own jacket. He gave you the tiniest apologetic glance before walking away. Confused, you started to walk after him but was stopped by Lucas' big arm.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “I’m following my boyfriend. Let me go.”

“Your boyfriend?” Lucas asked. “Wow, you really bought it. The con artist gets conned.”

Your brain was trying its hardest to make sense of what Lucas was saying. Any minute now, you would wake up from your nap on the couch and you wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a hotel ballroom with your ex-boyfriend. When that didn’t happen, you stormed off across the dance floor, your eyes searching for WinWin. You took out your phone and began texting, but a big paw of a hand snatched the phone from you.

“He won’t text back.” Lucas said.

“Give me that.” you said, swiping at him. “Why are you here? Did you follow us?”

Lucas laughed. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what? You’re a psycho.” you said. “You broke up with me, remember? You left me. Let me live my life. I’m happy.”

Without your phone, you walked outside, through the revolving door and down the rabbit hole. You could hear Lucas’ heavy footsteps behind you. When you were out of earshot, he placed his hand on your shoulder gently and spun you around to face him.

“Give me my phone, or I will call the police.” you said, not enough bravado in your voice.

Lucas handed you the phone, but you yanked it from his hands anyway. There were no messages from WinWin, and nothing of note. You looked for the car you arrived in but it was gone. You swallowed the lump in your dry throat and closed your eyes again.

“Why did you hand him money, and where did he go? What was he talking about?” you asked. It was the question you’d wanted to ask all along but was too afraid to ask. “Please, nothing snarky. Tell me the truth.”

“The truth? Like you told me the truth?” Lucas asked.

“Lucas, please.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

You were facing him head on, tears rolling down your face. Everything felt too chaotic, too blinding. Your thoughts were swimming in your mind, each one making no sense from the last. If what you believed to be true was true, you needed to know how it all went down.

“I set you up.” he said. “Sicheng, that’s his real name, was never interested in you. I paid him to like you, to fuck you. “

“He was my client.”

“Wrong.” Lucas said. He moved out of the way so that people could pass by. “I paid him to pursue you. It wasn’t easy, I’ll give you that. I had actually given up hope, but then you came right in at the end.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Lucas chuckled darkly. “I paid him thousands of dollars. I paid for your vacation. I’m thousands in debt, but hey, who cares. I finally did it.”

“Did what?” you asked, wiping a hot tear from your cheek.

“Humiliated you the way you humiliated me.” he said. “Fucking guys for money behind my back? Why couldn’t you just cheat like normal people? Fuck, I wanted to marry you.”

It was quiet, the traffic from the sidewalk dying down. You leaned against the side of the building and felt how truly tired your body was. The fire in Lucas’ eyes calmed down a little bit, too.

“I know.” you said quietly. “I saw the ring.”

“Shit, you really fell for everything.” he said. “I planted that ring. I thought that if you believed I was going to propose, you would catch yourself in the lie. I thought you were smarter than me, but tonight proves that theory. You’re not smart at all. You should have seen your face when you saw the house key. ”

“Why would you do this to me?” you screamed, grabbing the attention of someone waiting in traffic.

“You did this to yourself, sweetheart.”

You turned around and put your arm against the wall, leaning your head down against it. “I don’t understand. WinWin and I are a real couple. I’ve been with his family and his friends. I love him.”

“The family thing wasn’t my idea.” he said. “I had nothing to do with that, but I find it funnier this way. How does it feel being so blind-sided that it’s ruined your life?”

“Fuck you.”

“No.” he said. “Fuck you. Exactly, how many people have you slept with? Did you get tested before you fucked me?”

You walked away, walking down the street to God knows where. You groaned when he kept following you, and you stopped in front of a well-lit display window. In the light, you could see how beat your reflection was. The dress was pretty, but your insides were shining out and they were ugly.

“You thought you could fool me.” Lucas said. “I followed you to some places, you know? Saw all the freaks you were with. That one guy? Hendery? I talked to him, acted like I was a stranger. He was so fucking in love with you that I was jealous. Can you believe that? I was jealous of someone who had you about as much as I did. It’s a real shame what you did to him.”

“Shut up.”

“He thought you would be together forever.” Lucas mocked.

“You don’t know a thing about Hendery.”

“Wrong again.” he said. “I know a lot about men like Hendery. The sad, rejected men that tried to love you. I was one of them.”

You checked your phone again, your last attempt at hope. All you wanted was to see WinWin’s name pop up, to text you that he was bringing the car around, and that he was going to take you away from the crazy man before you.

“If you knew....” you began, feeling dejected. “...why did you let it go on for so long?”

Lucas seemed to really think about the answer. In the light, he looked so handsome and young. You were reminded of the man he was when you first met him. You felt a little pang in your chest where your heart used to be.

“I guess I wanted to see if you would change, if you would love me.”

“I did love you.”

There was hurt and anger in Lucas’ eyes. “Loved me enough to cheat on me?”

“It was just a job.”

“Was I just a job, too?” he asked. “ I knew about the extra apartment. I really meant nothing to you.”

“This conversation is going nowhere.” you said. “I’m sorry I did that to you. I should have been upfront about who I was and what I was doing with my body. I fucked up, and I fucked your life up. And you, in return, fucked me up for the rest of my life.”

“This isn’t my fault. This is your fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is, Lucas.” you said. “You and I were done. We never would have lasted.”

“So, you strung me along to make yourself feel better?” he asked.

“No I-”

“-Like you did with Sicheng.” he said. “I’m not an idiot. I know the ins and outs of everything that happened in the last few months. It’s a cycle. The people you fuck keep you feeling better about yourself long enough for you to move on to a new one. I was just the unfortunate asshole getting caught in the middle.”

“I’m not talking about this right now.”

“And there it is, the denial.” he said. “Look at how you turn away from me when I tell you the truth. All those men and not one of them could ever call you out on your bullshit? Where is the love there, huh? Where are any of them now?”

You threw your hands up into the air. “I don’t know. They’re not here, Lucas. You hate me so much, but you’re the only one here. The last man standing. Congratulations, you did it.”

A car pulled up to the curb. You texted a friend for a ride, someone you didn’t know quite well. You didn’t have anyone else. While Lucas was talking, you were figuring out how best to run away from him. The knowledge hit you hardest where it hurts. You didn’t think anything could ever be the same again.

“I have to go.” you said. “I can’t be here anymore.”

“Yeah? Just like that?”

You held the car door open. “Yeah. Just like that, Lucas.”

“And you don’t have anything else to say?” he asked.

“I do, actually.” you said. “To those I’ve fucked and fucked over, I’m sorry.”

THREE YEARS LATER- LUCAS

He stood very still, so still that he could hear the tiny giggling coming from the other room. Lucas smiled to himself and tried to ignore it as best he could. If there was one thing he was good at, it was acting.

“Ready or not, here I come!” he yelled, his voice booming. He loved pulling silly voices. It was something that brought him so much joy. “You better not come out until I find you-u-u-u-u-u.”

With the heaviest of footsteps, Lucas walked across his house. It was dramatic the way he walked, and it only brought out another tinkle of laughter from the east side of the house. Lucas walked into another room and made fake footsteps like he was walking away.

There, in the corner, the top of a tiny head peeked out from behind a toy box. As if sensing him, the head poked back down. Lucas fought the urge to laugh. He played dumb and moved around the room, loudly checking behind places no human could hide behind.

“It’s very difficult to find her.” he said. “I wonder if she is in this room.”

Another giggle, another pull at his heart strings. Before he could move over to the toybox, a little girl ran out from behind it and into his arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she yelled, giggling as her father Lucas scooped her up into his arms. “You found me!”

Lucas swung her around and planted kisses all over her heart-shaped face. His happiness was always with her, even when it was hidden. Lucas set his daughter down and knelt down to her level.

“Now,” he said, his face serious. He tried not to laugh as his daughter put on a serious face, too. “Now, we have to find mommy.”

With her hand in his, they walked through the house to look for the missing puzzle piece of their family.

THREE YEARS LATER- TEN

“What is love to you?”

Ten sat across from his date. There was something in the question that made him cock his head to the side. His smile lit up when the person sitting across from him broke out into a similar smile, a clear embarrassment striking them unannounced.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Ten said. “It’s a fair question. Do you have an answer for it?”

“I don’t.”

“Well, I do.” Ten said.

It was Ten’s assertiveness that got him the date in the first place. That, and the way he was so open about everything. He didn’t know if the person across from him was his soulmate, or if he even believed in that. Still, it was fun getting to know someone. In a way, it was like getting to know yourself.

“I think love is everything.” he said. “I think it’s in everything. It’s in the company you keep, in the weather you wish was different. Love is a painful reminder that not everything can stay the same. It’s the gentle way someone wishes you a good day. It’s an old blanket that smells like memories from long ago. Love is scary, but scary things are fun, too. We all want love, and we all want to be loved. It’s hope, and it’s full. I used to think love is never being left, but now I think leaving someone often means loving them so much that you do what is best for them. Love is...yeah..I love love.”

THREE YEARS LATER- XIAOJUN

He lit the candles, one on each end of the table. Getting lost in the flame was an option, but Xiaojun had many steps to take. He smoothed out the table cloth, the fine linen unwrinkling before his eyes. There was peace in watching everything come together, in the controlling things.

“Perfect.” he whispered.

Moving around the table, he fixed two of everything, even two napkins of the prettiest shade. The dishes resting on the table were cleaned so properly that not even a stray hair found its way there. The drinking glasses were sparkling. He could see his reflection in them both, his handsome face full of content.

“Whaaa, so perfect.”

Xiaojun took a seat in one of the chairs. He felt the wood of the armrest, a seat fit for a king, and he smiled to himself. The dinner jacket he was wearing was a little oversized, but it was pressed in a way that made him feel happy.

A man walked into the room and served food on both sides of the table, the tastiest feast money could buy. A bottle of wine was tipped into the glasses, not a drop wasted.

“Thank you.” Xiaojun said softly.

After the waiter disappeared, he looked at the empty chair on the other side of the table. The steam from the food rose up high, and with it, Xiaojun’s expectations. He took one savory bite of food. After, he took a bow to the seat that would remain empty for the rest of his life.

THREE YEARS LATER- KUN

“Therapy is at five p.m, don't be late.” she said.

“I don’t know why we’re going to therapy if we’re not going to work on our marriage.” Kun said. “Please help me understand.”

His ex-wife looked at him like she saw right through him. She was unbothered, not willing to waste a single emotion on the man before her. “It’s for the children.” was all she said before she got into her car and drove away.

Kun sat by himself on his front porch swing for a long time. His new house was smaller and bought with his own money. There was only enough room for him, and for his children whenever they wanted to see their dad on the weekends. With the end of his marriage, everything else seemed to go, too. He no longer had a job after getting caught having an another affair with one of the real teaching assistants. He figured it was a fair bit of karma for all the bad things he’d done, but it still didn’t make it an easy pill to swallow.

Occasionally, he would call your old phone number in hopes that you’d pick up, but you never did. It was probably for the best.

THREE YEARS LATER- YANGYANG

The massive backpack on his back made him sway a little. He found it so funny that he couldn’t read any of the signs in the foreign language. He’d met a lot of people on his travels, and each one found it charming that he was so carefree and kind. All it took was a smile from YangYang and the citizens were cured.

“Where are you going?” a traveler he had just met asked. He was an older man, way older than YangYang’s grandfather. He’d decided to travel and live a bit after his wife died. He was everything YangYang aspired to be, maybe, without all of the death.

“I don’t know.” YangYang said. “I guess, wherever the wind takes me.”

“Well, that’s a start.” the man said. “The train is here. Best go on your way, then.”

YangYang felt sad about having to say goodbye to the man. It was always like that over the last few years. He struck up conversations with so many good people, all of their stories worth telling, and then he’d have to say goodbye. Occasionally, they would exchange social media and whatever, but it never felt the same.

“This was nice.” YangYang said. “I really enjoyed hearing stories about your wife. She sounds like someone I would have liked.”

“You would have.” the old man said, his gaze on some distant memory. “Have safe travels and remember what I said, kid. Never stop. Take care.”

YangYang accepted the man's clap on his shoulder, even though it made him sway even more. The train stopped before him, windows slipping by. In the reflection as it slowed down, he thought he saw someone that looked an awful lot like you behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there.

THREE YEARS LATER- HENDERY

Since it was raining, the park was empty. Since he considered himself an idiot, he didn’t bring an umbrella.

Hendery approached the park bench like it was a bomb that could explode any minute. He looked around before taking off his jacket and stretching it across the surface to soak up some of the water. Then, he sat down and looked out over the grass. He blinked rain off his eyelashes and looked down at his lap. He did everything he could but check his phone. Over time, he looked up at the sky and let the water droplets hit his face. When he had done all the waiting he could do, he got up from the bench.

“Well.” he said, looking down at his soaked jacket.

Hendery picked it up from the bench and flung it over his shoulders. He took one last longing look at the bench for beginning to walk away. He was stopped by footsteps coming up from behind him. He turned around, placed the jacket back on the bench and sat down again. Hands on his knees, he stared straight ahead.

“You’re late.” he said.

The person sat beside him on the bench, their hands on their knees, staring straight ahead. At the same time, the person and Hendery looked at each other.

There wasn’t an apology you could say that would fit the crime. Hendery knew that. He looked straight ahead again, but he moved one hand from his knee and used it to hold yours. Your clasped hands sat between you on the bench, solid and true.

You looked at him before staring straight back ahead. Though it was pouring now, and your skin was slimy and your clothes wet all the way through, you didn’t seem to mind anymore.

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cycat4077 · 4 years ago

Text

Real Talk

Words: 1639 Warnings: angst Pairing: Sonny x Reader AO3 here

This idea popped into my head after that phone call Sonny received which seemed to be a date. So, ignore the fact that we know that the person on the other end was Nicole. 🙃

Part 2

---

You had met Sonny at Fordham while taking your law degree. A few classes together and the two of you, with a couple other people, hit it off. Yes, you were part of that group Sonny mentioned to Amaro. The group that he went bowling with. In fact, you were even one of the “pretty girls”. However, that’s where it stayed. You and Sonny often bounced ideas off one another and studied for exams.

Any girl would be a fool to say that they didn’t have a crush on Carisi at least at some point, and you were no different. But the thing was, your friendship meant so much more. It was uncomplicated. Just two people who supported one another; borrowed ears to let off steam from time to time.

When graduation rolled around though, you and Sonny saw less and less of one another. His detective gig left him such little free time to begin with that without classes, it was virtually impossible to find the time to get together. And, as so often happens, the texts and calls grew fewer and far between until six whole years had come and gone.

That all changed however, when you walked into the Manhattan DA’s office to cross reference about a case that you were working in Brooklyn. You could recognize that lanky, well-dressed man anywhere. He was speaking to a colleague, using his hands like he always did to get his point across. Your heart rose to your throat.

“Sonny?” you speak up, but you already know the answer. He swivels on his heels to face you, his features easing and eyes lighting up upon recognition.

He crosses the room in just a few long strides, a huge smile plastered on his face. He speaks your name and scoops you into a hug. It catches you by surprise at first, but the warmth of his arms around you – back around you after so many years, makes you genuinely happy. “How are ya?” he exclaims. “It’s been too long.”

You make small talk for a little while, catching up on what you’d missed. Sonny was an ADA now, finally biting the bullet and moving on from SVU. You tell him that you’re working in Brooklyn, not on criminal cases, that was always more Sonny’s speed, but still enjoying the career that your time at Fordham had awarded you. It was decided that you and Sonny needed to make grabbing coffees and lunches a regular occurrence, and so the two of you reserved a space in your calendar for the first one of many.

It was nice to rekindle that friendship. For all the time you knew one another at school, you had always had one another’s backs. There were never any judgements and the two of you could talk about anything and everything. Sonny would always make sure you were doing okay, seemingly knowing just when you needed him to talk to. This dynamic worked both ways too. It used to be that Sonny would phone you up, sometimes in the middle of the night, because he had come off a particularly hard case. You always picked up and it was that mutual friendship and care that got you both through many tough times.

Unfortunately, in those six years, that type of relationship was something you hadn’t found since. Seeing Sonny again made you realize just how much you had missed him. Not to mention that he had gotten more handsome and impossibly sweeter. You hated to admit that there was a flutter in your stomach every time he would smile and a heat that rose to your cheeks when he’d give you a quick peck as a friendly hello.

Little did you know that Sonny was starting to feel that way too and, after a few months of coffee and lunch meet-ups, he invited you to have dinner with him. You suggested a place, one of the few restaurants which were open for dine-in and one that you loved.

Was it a date? You weren’t exactly sure, but you worked up the courage to make tonight the time to tell him how you felt. You put forth extra effort in your appearance, styling your hair and slipping into a nice dress. Stepping in front of the mirror, you take a deep breath and tell yourself that it’s now or never.

Then your phone rings. It’s Sonny. You pick up and greet him, smiling.

“Hey,” he says. “I just finished my paperwork n’ am ready ta leave.”

“Great!” you say eagerly. “I’ll call to confirm our reservation -”

“Ah, that sounds great,” Sonny sounds in your ear.

“- and I’ll make my way over there.”

“Ah, that sounds great,” he says again. His voice sounds genuinely excited. “Listen, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Sounds good, Sonny.” You take a breath, softening your voice. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah, me too.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“See you soon. Bye.”

“Alright, bye.”

A fluster of nervousness and excitement churn in your gut as you grab your coat and purse and head for the door.

---

Arriving at the restaurant, you’re taken to a table out of the way in one of the back corners. All the better to have a conversation, you think to yourself.

Just as you’ve gotten comfortable, your phone rings again. Sonny Carisi flashes on the screen. Your heart rises to your throat, unsure why he would be calling. “What’s up?” you answer.

“I’m gonna be late,” he begins apologetically. “Rollins had a family emergency and I was helping her take care of a few things.”

“Oh, okay,” you stammer out, slightly confused. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, I will. See you in a bit.” The line clicks off.

Amanda Rollins. A major figure in Sonny’s work life. His partner as a detective and still a member of the squad he tries cases for. Many the times you had heard about Rollins: how hard she had things, her problematic family, her daughter Jesse. And each mention of her would be rooted in Sonny’s desire to help her out somehow. Cook her dinner or help her with her baby. He’d tell you how great of a detective she was and how she, too, had his back.

However, Sonny could be gullible. He made decisions with his heart rather than his head and sometimes that let people take advantage of his kindness. So, you were often cautious on his behalf when he’d tell you about the things he did for Amanda. Sometimes it seemed that she, whether intentional or not, would accept Sonny’s kindness without giving him much in return. And by the way he used to talk about her, you suspected he had developed some sort of feelings for her. But through these conversations, he also invertedly revealed how she kept him at arms length. Now, from Sonny’s phone call, you suppose that things had never changed.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity, the waiter returning to check in on you a few times, until finally you see him round the restaurant corner towards your booth.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins, taking a seat. “Rollins – her dad had a stroke n' she needed ta fly out immediately. I arranged for her mom to watch her kids n' informed Liv what was goin' on. I feel so bad. I mean, she’s been through so much n' she really has no one…” He looks up at you then, noticing your attire. His eyebrows lift as he drinks in how pretty you look. But your face tells a different story.

You feel so disappointed. Not in Sonny, but rather, in yourself. You thought that the history you shared would bring you closer together. A solid and mutually supportive friendship was something you longed for in a significant other. Something for love to build off of and grow. Now though, seeing how Sonny was still holding out hope for Amanda, still giving her every ounce of himself with little in return, you couldn’t take it.

You catch Sonny’s gaze. “It was silly of me to think that this was a date.” Your voice is quiet, sadness brimming your words.

He stares back at you confused. His brow knits, “No!” he begins, the realization hitting him. “It was – is a date!” He reaches for your hand, placing his overtop. “I asked you here because it felt so good to reconnect with you. I missed you. We get along so easily and it’s nice to have someone to talk to again. I always thought you were attractive too, both physically and intellectually. When we were at Fordham we were always just friends but seeing you again and having you back in my life, well, it made me feel something.”

Sonny looks positively hurt, yet he understands how all this must seem to you. “I missed you too, Sonny. So much,” you reply, voice a little unsteady. “And I care about you more than you could ever imagine.” You give his hand a small squeeze and he closes his eyes for a moment, knowingly. “Except, I can’t be a placeholder while you wait for Amanda to come around. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to you either, but that decision has to come from you.”

There it is. All feelings laid bare. There’s nothing more you can say. You have and always will support Sonny and you always will be his friend. However, those lines between friendship and something more were starting to blur and before you give your heart away, you need to know if Sonny truly wishes to accept it.

Sonny studies your face, his mind racing. Then he looks down, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know,” he says running a thumb along your knuckles. "I know."

---

Tag list? @barbasbodaciousbeard @adarafaelbarba @teamsladsandgents @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner

❤

#This was a rough idea #Literally written in about 3 hours #Forgive any mistakes #Please love me #No hate for any ship #Just love for Sonny #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #Svu s22 e10 #Svu spoilers #sonny carisi x you #Law and order svu fanfic #my fanfic

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raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

Text

saved by the bell

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

blaine springs kennedy from her date in chapter 10.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T) / parry (E) / pulling punches (T) / ringside (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @dakotawinchester ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes ; @levineseth ; @gryffindordaughterofathena ; @thefirstcourtesan ; @josieplayschoices

~3.5k words | T

he’s not going to look.

no matter how much his phone lights up with incoming notification after incoming notification, he’s not going to look. blaine refuses to torture himself by checking for photos of kennedy’s date, though his curiosity is eating him alive.

it’s a nice reprieve from worrying about her, at any rate, even if it is maddening.

lately it feels like all he’s done is worry about her, though that’s mostly because kennedy looks to be about an inch away from tears every time she’s around -- not that it’s often, anymore. there’s absolutely nothing worse than seeing her suffer from the sidelines; he still feels just as helpless as he did when he watched her give that first disastrous press conference in his dorm, the day after the pictures hit voyeur.

it’s unbelievably frustrating, being forced to sit on his hands and watch everyone else try to control her life. kennedy’s under a microscope like neither of them have ever been before, and for the first time in his life, he’s in the uncomfortable position of having to be careful -- not because he gives a shit about himself or his own reputation, but because of her, and what it might do to her if he was reckless.

he’s bitten his tongue more times in the last week than he has in his entire life. it’d taken every last ounce of his self control not to snap and defend kennedy at the pet store, not to panic when she’d clued him in on her mom’s newest pr strategy, not to keep her locked in the teacher’s lounge with him for the rest of the semester and refuse to let her go when she snuck out to meet him.

already he knows he’ll never forget the names and faces of the classmates of theirs that’d picked on her. if he ever really does wind up in charge in ardona, one day, he’ll come to power with a ready-made list of enemies, all because of the way they’d made her look when she sunk down low into her seat in class, her shoulders hunched in shame.

he’s laying in bed, moping miserably, thinking over it all when peter pokes his head in with a hesitant knock. “how’re you holding up?” he asks, tactfully, given that blaine’s pretty sure he looks utterly awful. “those daily post photos were... rough.”

blaine groans, burying his face in his hands. “i’m not looking at them. i don’t want to know.”

“that’s probably for the best,” peter says sympathetically, and that does it -- seals the deal completely. he reaches for his phone, snatching it off the nightstand.

dionne’s also texted him, which means the photos are as bad as he’s hoping they won’t be. his stomach twists into knots as he navigates to his favorite gossip site, certain the pictures he’s looking for will be plastered all over the homepage.

sure enough -- there they are: kennedy and alexei, huddled together outside of some swanky restaurant, hand-in-hand. she’s all dressed up for the occasion, because with alexei she’s allowed to be; she doesn’t have to sneak out to see him, hidden under a baseball hat in some far away place where no one will recognize either of them. the point of this date is to be seen, and judging by the crowd of flashing lights surrounding them, they’ve done a perfect job selling their relationship to the press.

so the second picture accompanying the story is an unnecessary twist of the knife -- complete overkill. they’re kissing, in this one, lips pressed together chastely just outside the limo. he feels nauseous.

“they’re probably having a terrible time,” peter says, though blaine’s still staring at his phone, eyes fixed on the photo in his hands. “i heard that restaurant is horrible.”

“it’s fine,” blaine says hollowly, tapping back to his texts to answer dionne. she wants to know how he is, too, and he gives her the same answer: fine. everything is fine.

“you’re so full of shit,” dionne says, when she shows up at his dorm twenty minutes later, her arms folded across her chest and her expression unimpressed.

yeah. he forgot she knows him so well. “well -- whatever,” blaine sighs, dragging a hand down his face. it doesn’t matter. it has to not matter, for kennedy’s sake. “it’s not like i can do anything about it. this is the way it has to be.”

the look in dionne’s eyes grows distant, and he sits up slowly as a smile starts to overtake her face, cautiously optimistic while what’s obviously an evil plan begins to unfurl. “no,” dionne says, “it’s not. i think i have an idea.”

so -- that’s how he finds himself sweating through his jacket, overthinking this whole stupid plan while he waits for kennedy to slip out the back of the stupid opera house and meet him and his stupid rental car in the alley. he thinks back over all the ways they’d had to cover his tracks to get him here: how peter’d had to call in the car, how dionne’d had to threaten and sweet talk alexei at the same time, how there isn’t a single hurdle he wouldn’t leap or hoop he wouldn’t jump through for even just half an evening alone with her.

this is probably a terrible idea. at the very least, it’s dangerous, and sure to get them fucking caught again, no matter how careful they all were in making it happen.

maybe he should call the whole thing off. call dionne and get her to tell kennedy to forget it -- to go back to her date and take the easy way out, because who is he kidding, anyway?

the sound of heels on the cobblestones takes the decision swiftly out of his hands. blaine looks up to see kennedy standing in front of him, admiring the rental with a gentle smirk on her beautiful face. she looks even more ridiculously gorgeous than she had in the daily post pictures, as annoying as that is.

she’s alone.

“no limo? that’s not very romantic, mr. hayes,” she teases playfully, mouth stretched wide with a smile.

he leans over to pop the door open for her, grinning to cover up his nerves. just having kennedy around is going a long way towards keeping him calm -- he feels undeniably more sane out here with her than he had in his room, pouting with fruitless jealousy. “take it up with dionne,” he shrugs, eyes raking up and down her outfit. she really does look nice. “now hop in.”

“we have three hours and forty-five minutes,” kennedy says helpfully, as soon as they’ve slipped out of town unseen and headed to the highway, “i have to be back by curtain.”

“i know,” blaine hums, sighing with relief as soon as he glances in the rearview mirror and sees they aren’t being followed, “dionne briefed me. she figured out a whole plan.”

“oh,” kennedy says. she sounds... happy. “that was really nice of her.” there’s a pause, and he fidgets with the steering wheel for a moment before shifting his left hand up to the top to steer so his right arm is free to drape across the back of kennedy’s seat. she leans in closer to the center console and continues, “i really wish it was you in there with me.”

he exhales heavily. more relieving than not being followed, than being with her at all is hearing that -- that he’s not alone in his insanity. lately he feels like a completely different person, and he has no idea what’s come over him, so it’s comforting to know that it’s all for something, beyond just making kennedy smile. evidently, she wants to be his stupid girlfriend just as badly as he wants her to. “me, too. you have no idea. i’ve really missed you, these past few days.”

“i know. it’s weird,” kennedy agrees, “hardly seeing you. not being able to text you, and tell you about my day... i mean -- i barely even get to talk to you, outside of class.”

yeah. he knows. and when there’s other people around he has to watch what he fucking says, too. it’s far from ideal, and he knows he’s gotten sloppy, but...

part of him almost wants someone to catch them. blaine knows it’s selfish and stupid, but he wants it all the same. because if someone found out the truth and spilled the beans... they’d be free, and the impossible decision of what to do next would be out of their hands.

he could never ask kennedy to go public on her own. he would never ask her for that, no matter how badly he wants it. but a slip-up... that would be beyond their control.

blaine shakes his head. “it’s fine,” he says again, clearing his throat, “i’ll plan some secret meet up for us every night, if you want. even if it only buys us a few minutes.”

he glances to the side just in time to catch the look that crosses her face. kennedy’s quite obviously touched by his offer, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she stares down at her hands. forcefully, he drags his eyes back to the road. “i’d really like that,” she murmurs, so quietly he almost misses it. when he only nods, she raises her voice and asks, “so, where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he directs, taking the exit that’ll bring them to the drive-in, mentally cataloging the travel time it’d taken to get up here and making a note of the minutes he’ll need to account for to get kennedy back, especially if he has to circle the block until the street is empty before he drops her off.

her eyes light up when he pulls into the parking lot. “a drive-in theater, seriously? i used to love going to the drive-in back home. i didn’t know they had them near vancross.” her nose is practically pressed against the window as she looks around excitedly while he idles.

“this is my first time,” blaine admits, though how eager kennedy is definitely bodes well for the experience. even if it completely sucked, he’d still bring her back every weekend, just to see her smile like that. “we don’t really have these in ardona, but dionne talked it up.”

kennedy finally peels her eyes away from the window to smile playfully at him again, her eyes sparkling. “so you’re a drive-in virgin? interesting.”

his face feels hot, suddenly. blaine rolls his eyes at her, gesturing at the map of the venue in front of them. they’re kind of holding up the line. “yeah, yeah. pick your movie, rutherland. it’s just background noise for the real show, anyway.”

if he’s being honest, he barely hears her make her choice, the instructions on where to go flying in one ear and out the other. all he cares about for where he parks the car is that it’s secluded, and dark, away from prying eyes and any other people in the lot.

fortunately, blaine finds them the perfect spot, and he doesn’t even waste a second pretending like he gives a single shit about the movie at all, his eyes on her just as soon as the gear shift’s out of his hand.

kennedy’s turned in her seat and already looking back at him. she smiles and says, “thanks for doing this. it’s nice to have a normal date. i never pegged you as the type of guy who was all about carnivals and drive-ins and making these fun experiences for us.”

he shrugs, more nonchalantly than he feels. “probably ‘cause i’m not,” blaine answers honestly, “but everything’s different, with you.”

kennedy makes a soft sound of disbelief, lifting her hands to cover her face. when she peeks out from between her fingers, he sees that she’s smiling widely again. “you keep saying stuff like that. it’s so charming.”

blaine laughs, reaching out to tug her hands off her face. “that’s kind of the point.” he clears his throat, then continues more seriously, “but... i want you to know how i feel, you know? you shouldn’t have to guess. the truth is... i’ve been all-in for awhile, now, and -- those pictures were just a shitty setback. they don’t change the way i feel about you at all.”

she reaches out for his hand, and he lets her lace their fingers together, squeezing affectionately. “you have no idea how nice it feels to hear that,” kennedy sighs. “honestly...” the hesitation in her voice makes it clear she’s unsure of whatever she’s about to say, but she continues, “it kind of just felt like i ruined everything. things were actually going pretty well, for once, but now it’s like there’s this... dark cloud hanging over everything i do. i can’t even hang out with you without worrying we’re going to get caught again.”

his expression softens. he’s not usually one for optimism, but for her, and in the interest of getting some of that thick sadness out of her voice, he’ll try. “well, we’ve done a pretty good job avoiding that so far.”

“that’s true.” kennedy’s head tips back agains the carseat, and she smiles at him again. “i guess we’re making it work, in our own way. i love that i can always count on you to be real with me. it’s so -- refreshing, after all the fake posturing we deal with.”

well -- that’s probably as good an opening as he’s ever going to get. he spares a moment to silently thank whatever god is listening for the chance to ask the question that’s been eating at him for hours, the one thing he’s most desperate to know, beyond even the other stuff that usually keeps him up at night, everything from the simple inner workings of kennedy’s mind to why he’s so tripped up over a girl he’s only spent a few short months with. “speaking of fake...” blaine pointedly looks somewhere beyond her, staring out at the parking lot, “how’d your date go?”

kennedy’s quiet for long enough that he has to look back at her. there’s a knowing little glint in her eyes that he decidedly does not like. “are you jealous?”

“what?” he scoffs, “of course not. you left alexei to go out with me.”

“right,” she laughs, one small word injected with endless disbelief. “well, we had a good time. alexei’s not so bad.”

he’s an egomaniac and a self-centered prick, actually, blaine thinks. out loud, he says, “oh. cool. glad it worked out. cool, cool, cool...”

he fidgets restlessly. kennedy’s visible amusement only grows. “you know it was still a fake date, right? neither of us have any interest in the other.”

“i know,” blaine insists defensively. kennedy only arches an eyebrow at him. with a groan, he slumps back in his seat, a hand rubbing at his jaw. “fine, maybe i am a little jealous. give me a break, okay? this is kind of a unique situation for me.”

“if it helps, i think you’re doing a pretty great job.” she’s still smiling at him, but less like she thinks he’s being funny and more like she thinks he’s being sweet. she leans in a little closer, and -- it actually does help. the knots in his stomach that’d been coiled there since she first said her mom’s team was planning a pr relationship for her are finally starting to unwind.

“yeah?” he asks, gratified by the immediate nod she gives. “that’s good. i don’t wanna half-ass this boyfriend stuff just because it’s new to me.”

there’s a long stretch of silence. he realizes what he’s said all at once and starts to feel nauseous all over again, staring silently back at kennedy while he waits for her to say something -- anything.

“boyfriend stuff?”

“ah.” his hand slips around to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. “sorry. slipped out.” he should probably just cut his losses now -- bring her back early to be on the safe side and go back to his dorm and drown himself in the shower, because he is an idiot and that’s what an idiot deserves. “i know you kind of already have a boyfriend.”

kennedy huffs out a quiet laugh. “i kind of do.” she tilts her head to meet his eyes, forcing him to look at her again. his heart stutters painfully in his chest, picking up into a pace that’s almost frantic. “but... that’s not a ‘no.’”

their hands are still linked together. he looks down at where their fingers are interlaced, hoping his palms aren’t as sweaty as they feel. blaine disentangles his hand to lift it instead to kennedy’s face, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes with a hesitant smile she immediately returns tenfold.

it’s also not a ‘yes,’ but he’ll take what he can get.

as it turns out, three hours and forty-five minutes is kind of not actually a long time at all.

or maybe it would be, for some people, but with kennedy in his lap, squished between him and the steering wheel so she can kiss him senseless, the time flies by. they watch what’s probably ten minutes total of the movie, they’re so busy kissing and talking, his hands wandering along her new outfit to show his appreciation for it the only way he knows how.

for her part, kennedy gives as good as she gets, tugging his hair out of place and messing up his jacket and making him forget his own name, with the way her hips are pushing into his lap and all the sweet little sounds she makes when he whispers something dirty in her ear and presses her in closer against him.

no amount of agonizing over her fake dates and not being able to kiss her in public is ever going to drive the way she shivers with her whole body when he says something she likes from his mind.

still, the drive back is somber. it’s time to bring kennedy -- kiss-swollen lips and raised hemlines and all -- back to the opera house before he knows it, and he’s really not looking forward to everyone who sees her thinking she spent four hours fooling around in the private box with alexei, of all people. he’s looking forward to driving home alone and going to bed by himself even less.

tomorrow he’ll have to sit by her in class again and pretend like everything’s fine.

because they had tonight, and he knows he should be content with that. the problem is -- he’s not.

“you okay?” kennedy asks, checking the time on the watch on his wrist with a frown. she’s holding his hand in both of hers. “and don’t say you’re ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” blaine insists, running his thumb across her wrist. “this sucks, but it’s what we have to do. if you’re good, then i’m good.”

she studies his expression for a minute, then sighs. “i’m as good as i can be,” she murmurs, “but things will get better.”

he knows that, too. even if no one ever finds out it’s him in the photos, even if they have to spend the rest of their lives sneaking out and ditching their bodyguards so they can find a few hours alone together -- things are good. the alternative -- winning the fight with his parents to keep him away from vancross, never getting the chance to know kennedy as well as he does... that’s a future that seems bleak, now that he’s seen the alternative.

“it’s really alright,” blaine assures her. “i’ll miss you, but... do what you gotta do.”

something about the way he says the words seems to instill new confidence in kennedy. she straightens her shoulders and glances back at the opera house door with determination. “thanks,” kennedy sighs, squeezing his hand one last time before slowly pulling away. she probably has only seconds until the finale starts up, though he’s desperate for a way to make them stretch longer. an eternity would be a nice place to start.

“will you... text dionne goodnight before you go to bed?” she asks, looking so hopeful he finds it’s impossible to do anything other than nod.

he grins widely at kennedy, leaning in to steal one last kiss. “dream about me, will ya?”

“every night,” she promises, and blaine lowers the window to get a better view of her and the sway of her hips when she slips out of the car and back inside, sighing heavily once she’s gone and he’s alone again, whacking his head against the carseat.

this is some mess they’ve gotten themselves into.

but, he figures, as he pulls away from the curb and starts back towards campus, the image of kennedy walking away in the heels and skirt she’d been wearing playing over and over again in his mind like a highlight reel, it’s definitely not without its perks.

#blaine hayes #foreign affairs #choices foreign affairs #blaine hayes x mc #myfic #long post

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sindrafalcone · 4 years ago

Text

Adventures in Babysitting pt. 3

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x reader

Synopsis: A babysitting job turns into something unexpected…

Warnings: Fluff for now, but it will evolve into something steamier in a later chapter. You’ve been warned!

Author’s Note: It has been entirely too long since I updated this story! My apologies... But I finally think I’m un-stuck on the storyline, so hopefully I can finish it in a reasonable amount of time. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

You had only made it about half a block before Seunghyun stopped dead in his tracks. When he quit moving you did as well, peering at him to see if he was okay. Between the dim city lights and his face mask you couldn't make out very much, but he was still holding on to your hand so that had to count for something. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he spoke softly. “This place that you're taking me...” his deep voice trembled a little bit. “Is it going to be very busy?”

You were a little taken aback by the clear apprehension in his voice. But then you remembered how happy he'd been when you had given him his space back at the museum. Maybe he just didn't like crowds.

“Sometimes it can be.” you admitted. “Usually around lunch time, but this late at night I doubt there's very many people in there. It's just a small Mom & Pop shop.” He seemed to take a moment to think about what you said & you patiently waited for what he was going to say next. Perhaps he was getting cold feet about having dinner with you and just wanted to go back to the hotel instead.

“I still want to go with you.” he said, as if reading your mind. “I just... um, do you know if they have a private room?”

“Yeah...” you answered him hesitantly, not really seeing where he was going with this. “There's a medium sized room in the back of the restaurant that can be reserved for parties or large groups.”

“Do you think maybe you could call ahead and ask if we could eat in there?” Seunghyun shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot nervously. “I'll be happy to pay extra if they want. Or if that's not available, we'll need a table in the very back, preferably as far away from other people as possible.”

You looked at him closely for a bit before taking out your phone. You decided he was being completely serious and you had the fleeting thought that he might actually have a phobia about this. “Okay... give me a minute.” you relented & you could finally see the tension in his shoulders relax as you did so. He let go of your hand so you could make the call and you found that you missed his warmth more than you wanted to admit.

Luckily for him, you were very good friends with the owners. You had been eating lunch there almost every day since you'd found the place a couple years back. The food was good and relatively cheap, especially once they had started giving you the 'family discount' even though you had tried to object. In a matter of minutes, you had secured the private room for you and Seunghyun to use. You brought up his willingness to pay a fee, but the owner just laughed at you. Telling her that you'd be there soon, you hung up only to find him looking at you anxiously.

“We can use the private room.”

“Oh, good.” he sighed, relief obvious in his voice. “That usually works out much better.”

You really wanted to question him about this whole thing, but decided that it might be better to wait until you were actually in the restaurant or maybe even back at the hotel before deciding to pry into his apparent agoraphobia. This time Seunghyun held his hand out for you to take & you stared at it in shock for a few seconds before gleefully interlacing your fingers again and setting off once more towards your destination for food.

When you rounded the corner and pulled him in the direction of the restaurant, he stopped once again.

“Pho?” he said, a curious tone to his voice. “You're taking me out for Pho?”

You turned to face him, not letting go this time. “Is that a problem?”

“No...” he smiled & you could see it in his eyes, despite the face mask he still wore. “I'm pleasantly surprised. That's all.”

“Well come on then.” you told him, playfully tugging him along towards the door. “I'm starving!”

He chuckled and the two of you tumbled into the warmth of the Pho shop holding hands, laughing and pink cheeked from the cool outside air.

“You didn't tell me it was a date!” the woman who stood at the counter exclaimed loudly. “_______! You should have warned me.”

“It isn't... we're not...” you stammered, looking down at your interlocked hands. You attempted to pull away, but Seunghyun just held tighter and chuckled louder.

“Nonsense! I know a date when I see one.” she dismissed as she motioned for the two of you to follow her to the room in the back. “I wondered why you wanted to use the party room. You should have just said, dear!”

Thankfully you noticed that the restaurant was mostly empty as she walked you through it, so there weren't very many witnesses to your embarrassment and none that you recognized.

She opened the door and gestured the two of you inside. “Here, just sit at the smaller table in the middle of the room. It will be more intimate that way.”

Beside you, Seunghyun made a small choking sound as she continued fussing. “I wish you had told me it was a date when you called. I would have set up some candles or something.”

“It's fine.” you told her, voice cracking a bit. “It'll be fine just like this.” You all but ripped your hand away from Seunghyun's and started to take off your coat, but before you made it very far you felt his hands slide over yours to remove it for you. Then he draped it carefully over a nearby empty chair before he set about sliding out of his own outerwear.

“Such a gentleman!” the old lady exclaimed, hearts practically dancing in her eyes as she backed out of the room. “I'll be back with your drinks shortly.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you rounded on Seunghyun and hissed. “What the hell was that?”

He held his hands up innocently, face mask still dangling from one long-fingered hand. “What?” he asked, laughing slightly, his eyes lit with mirth.

You plopped down into a chair inelegantly. “I was trying to let go of your hand and explain to her that this wasn't a date...”

“Is it not?” he interrupted, setting his mask down on top of his coat. “She's right, it does look like a date. And, you have to admit, it's slightly less awkward than the truth... that you're my babysitter.” he put a special emphasis on that last word that made you squirm in your seat a little bit.

“True...” you agreed. “I suppose when you put it like that...”you started, but Seunghyun held his hand up to you again just as he had earlier in the evening at the hotel. And, just like before, you stopped talking.

“But that isn't what's important right now.” he told you as he pulled out a chair and sat down in the seat across from you.

“It isn't?”

“No.” he said, his face utterly serious, all traces of joking gone. “It's probably best that she thinks it's a date. But I have to tell you something before she gets back.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table so you could give Seunghyun your full attention. He leaned forward as well, until your faces were mere inches apart.

“___________.” he whispered your name. “I have a confession to make. I'm not...” he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I'm not who you think I am.”

“A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, spilling all the details that you'd managed to piece together over the past few hours you'd spent with Seunghyun (or at least all the observations that you were willing to admit to him, anyway).

He flashed you a dangerous smile. “Well, yes... I am those things. But that's not all of who I am and you need to know the vital details before...”

The door the room slid open again, interrupting whatever Seunghyun had been about to say & he cursed quietly under his breath. You watched as he leaned back in his seat and winced, seeming to brace himself for something he knew was inevitably coming. From the pained expression on his face, it didn't look as if he expected it to be pleasant.

“I've got your usual right here. Iced Vietnamese coffee and a glass of water. I brought the same for your gentleman, I hope that's okay.” the older lady said as she bustled over towards you. “Now, do you two love birds need menus or...” her voice trailed off as she finally made it to the table and caught a clear view of Seunghyuns face, without his mask. “Oh my...” her voice faltered, the tray immediately started shaking in her hands.

“Ma'am...” Seunghyun said tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes still closed.

“Oh my goodness!” she practically yelled, her voice echoing slightly in the almost empty room. “Y- y- you're... T.O.P!” she whispered those last three letters as if they were some sort of secret.

You just looked between the two of them, completely lost as to what was going on. “Um, Mrs. Tran?” you placed a hand carefully on her arm to get her attention away from Seunghyun.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, still looking at him with sheer disbelief written all over her elderly face.

“You might want to set the tray down before you drop it.” you told her gently.

“Oh, yes... good idea.” she replied, voice weak.

She did finally manage to set the tray down on the table with a little help from you.

Seunghyun sighed, opened his eyes & smiled at the old woman. It was a polite smile, but tight. Something that someone who hadn't spent much time with him probably wouldn't notice as a fake smile, but you could see it nonetheless.

“Mrs. Tran...” he soothed, having picked up her name from when you'd said it. “Tonight, I'm not T.O.P. I'm just Seunghyun, trying to enjoy a normal date with the lovely ________, here. I'm happy to sign as many autographs as you want and I'll even mention this restaurant on my Instagram if you'd like a boost in business. But I'd appreciate it if you could keep my visit here a secret for now. And please, no pictures.” Seunghyun gestured over to you. “I'd like to keep our date as private as possible.”

You were so confused right now, but Mrs. Tran seemed to understand what was going on. It was as if a light bulb immediately went off over the little woman's head and she smiled knowingly. “Oooohhhhh, I get it. Don't worry, you aren't the first celebrity we've had in here. It's just been a very long time and you caught me off guard, that's all. I know how to be discreet.”

“Thank you.” he said with a little bow towards her that made her giggle like a school girl and blush.

“Now that's settled...” she clapped her hands together excitedly. “Menus?”

“I think I'll trust __________ to order for both of us. She obviously knows this place quite well.” Seunghyun said with a wink in your direction.

“Um...” you faltered, still reeling from their entire conversation, not to mention the fact that he had just referred to you as 'lovely'. 'Celebrity?' you thought quickly to yourself. 'What the hell is going on here & what have I gotten myself into?!?' you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Is there anything you don't want to eat?” you asked him. “Or are you allergic to anything?”

Seunghyun smiled. “I'm allergic to peaches & I don't eat intestines. Other than that, I'm fair game.” he said, already reaching for a glass of water from the tray.

You nodded at him at turned back to face Mrs Tran. “Just double my usual then.”

“So...” she pulled out an order pad and pen from her apron. “A double #4 and two medium # 45's?”

“Actually, make those #45's a large please. We're both kinda hungry tonight.” you said without thinking of the implications of that sentence.

“Oh, I bet you are.” she sassed under her breath as she walked away, causing Seunghyun to almost snort water out of his nose. Mrs. Tran merely hummed happily to herself as she walked out of the room. As soon as the door shut, you could hear her yelling in Vietnamese, presumably to her husband who was in the kitchen.

You briefly thought about immediately grilling Seunghyun about this whole “celebrity” business, but as you remembered the look on his face as he braced himself earlier, you paused. You never wanted to see that look from him directed at you. So instead, you settled for pouring the coffee that had just finished steeping over the ice & sweetened, condensed milk in the other glass.

“Are we going to talk about this or would you rather pretend that whole scene never happened?” you asked, not trusting yourself to look at him.

A few seconds ticked by before he answered quietly. “You'd be willing to do that? Just ignore everything she said about me?”

You shrugged, stirring your coffee to combine it with the milk. “I mean... I'll admit to being curious. But it obviously bothers you & I was just fine with not knowing before.”

Seunghyun sighed heavily before pouring his own coffee. “Right now, I'm just Seunghyun to you. A rich, foreign guy with impeccable fashion sense who knows his wine and appreciates contemporary art.” he smirked. “If I tell you everything, that changes.” he said, his voice melancholy.

“It doesn't have to.” you told him softly. “Let's try this... You tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine.” you said, finally looking up and locking eyes with him.

That statement seemed to intrigue him and he arched an eyebrow up at you. “You have a secret double life too?”

“Saying it like that makes it sound like I'm a superhero or something.” you laughed & smacked him playfully on the arm. “But, yeah... there are things that you don't know about me yet. Maybe not as big of a bombshell as yours, but still... something that might change the way you see me too.”

“How about we wait until after dinner?” he asked tentatively.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Interrupting the conversation, Mrs. Tran came back into the private room, bringing two large bowls of pho over and deposited a plate with bean sprouts, sprigs of basil and quarters of limes on the table; along with four egg rolls and two bowls of dipping sauce.

Seunghyun inhaled deeply. The aroma of the broth and the slices of rare beef and shrimp wontons floating atop the long rice noodles making his stomach growl once again. “This smells amazing.”

Mrs. Tran just giggled at him again. “You know, I didn't even realize Bigbang was in town...” she started before he held up a finger to his lips.

“Technically, we're not.” he whispered. “We're just... having a bit of a vacation that's all. Very hush-hush.”

“Ohhhhhh.....” she nodded knowingly. “I guess everyone needs a break sometimes. Well, I will just leave you two alone. I'll be back later to check in on you.” and without another word, she was gone.

Seunghyun started plucking the basil leaves off one of the sprigs, rolling them up and then ripping them into little pieces and dropping them in his soup while you watched him, completely mesmerized by the movements of his fingers.

“I guess you've had Pho before then?” you asked, taking an egg roll from your plate before tearing it in half, dipping it into the sauce & taking a bite.

Seunghyun nodded, “It's been a while though. So, thanks for bringing me here.” he told you sincerely, picking up an egg roll with his chopsticks and dipping it before taking his own crunchy bite.

“Show off...” you muttered, grumpily picking up your own chopsticks and spoon just to show him that you did, in fact, know how to use them.

Seunghyun merely laughed.

The two of you spent the next hour simply eating and discussing the art and artists from the museum exhibition. Conversation flowed between you effortlessly & before you knew it, Mrs. Tran was bringing in the check and fortune cookies.

Seunghyun pulled out his wallet and when you tried to object, reminded you that you'd paid for the taxi earlier. You caught a glimpse of the black card he held between his long, slender fingers & swallowed hard, nodding your head in acceptance.

You both made the decision to take the fortune cookies back to the hotel and, after Seunghyun spent some time signing the promised autographs for Mrs. Trang, you left the restaurant the same way you'd come in... laughing and holding hands.

Only this time, you were headed back to the hotel and a discussion that could possibly change everything between the two of you.

#Choi Seunghyn #T.O.P #kpop fanfic #bigbang fanfic #choi seunghyun fanfic #T.O.P fanfic #t.o.p bigbang #BIGBANG TOP

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hockey-hoe-24-7 · 4 years ago

Text

4 times you were a tease + 1 time he didn’t let you get away with it, feat. Frederik Andersen

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Teasing, Light bondage, Dom Freddie, Didn’t really spell check, the end is rushed cause I was over it. So this kind of sucks.

Length: 4.0k

You wouldn’t actually call yourself a tease. It wasn’t, like, a personality trait. But you would admit that you loved teasing your boyfriend.

Starting goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Frederik Andersen was the quintessential strong silent type, known for his calming presence in the net and out of it. The rare moments he did let his temper show, it was a shock to most. As his girlfriend, you had witnessed that temper than most others, but not often. He had confided in you that it had taken him a long time to reign in his anger and you respected that, were proud of him for it.

The place you really wanted him to let go, though, was in the bedroom. You had only been dating for 6 months, sleeping together for 5 and you could tell he was holding back sexually. Whether it be his size or for fear of hurting or scaring you in some way, you weren’t sure. The sex was absolutely amazing...but there was something missing.

You planned on addressing that.

“Babe, are you ready?” Freddie’s voice echoed through the hallways of his apartment to where you stood in his master bathroom, putting the finishing touches on your makeup.

“Yeah, can you come help me for a second?” You called back. You hear his heavy footsteps on the wood floors before he appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, looking fan-fucking-tastic in a navy blue suit. His eyebrows popped when he saw you standing at the mirror in only a black lace bra and a matching thong, hair and makeup done to the nines.

Uncapping a tube of deep red lipstick, you took your time applying it, very aware that he was watching your every move with rapt attention. He had always loved your mouth. After a very drawn out lipstick application, you capped it, set it down on the marble counter, and reached for your dress hanging on the door in a dry cleaner bag.

You made a point of ignoring Freddie as he continued to watch all your movements. You bent over, brushing your hair casually over your shoulder to give him an unobstructed view of your cleavage. You caught him shifting out of the corner of your eye, his arms crossing over his chest and his body leaning against the doorframe.

You slowly pulled the dress up your legs, letting him enjoy the show...and so you wouldn’t tear it because it was a very expensive dress and you happened to really like it.

When you got to your hips, you shimmied a bit and you saw him twitch, as if he only just restrained himself from moving toward you. Once you had the dress over your hips, you raised your head and looked at him innocently.

“Help me with the zipper?” With that, you turned your back on him and waited, subtly watching him in the mirror. His face was serious as he stepped forward and slowly moved to stand behind you, the heat of him flush against the bare skin of your back. Instead of going straight to the zipper of your dress, his hands settled at your bares shoulders and wandered slowly down your spine before cradling your hips. You shuddered and heard his inhale sharply before he pulled you back against his chest and buried his face in your neck, laying a hot open mouthed kiss to your throat. Groaning, your eyes fluttered shut and you let your head fall to the side for him.

When you felt his fingers inch under the waistband of your thong, your eyes snapped open and you stepped out of his grip. Looking over your shoulder, you almost laughed aloud at his surprised expression. “Zipper.” His beautiful face fell into a pout, but he did as instructed, leaving one chaste kiss on your exposed shoulder. With that, you brushed past him and made for the door, not even sparing him a glance as he mumbled something in Danish and skulked after you.

II.

The charity event had been a blast for many reasons. It was always fun to hang out with the other players and their SOs.

You also had ample chance to tease your boyfriend.

Light touches throughout the evening, leaning back against him when talking to other people, pressing your chest flush to his when you needed to pass by him. Like all the other players, he was expected to be social tonight so he couldn’t just drag you to the bathroom and fuck you, but you could tell he was beginning to lose patience.

Unfortunately, before he could take you home and fuck the hell out of you, the two of you were invited out for a teammate’s birthday and ended up staying out until nearly 3:30 am. Both of you had been too exhausted to do much of anything when you got home. You had barely gotten your dress and makeup off before passing out.

Now, the next day, you woke up by yourself, the bed noticeably colder without Freddie next to you. Patting around the bed, you eventually found your phone and checked the time. 11:15 am. Damn. You had really slept in. You were meeting your mom for lunch and shopping at 12. That worked out perfectly.

Making quick work of a shower, make up and changing into something clean, you sauntered out to find your boyfriend sitting on the couch, playing video games.

Walking up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and nuzzled your face into his neck, savoring the warmth and familiar smell of him. You wish you had woken up sooner so you could stay exactly like this for a few more hours.

“Morning, min elskede,” he rumbled, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “Heading out soon?” You made a sound of confirmation against the fabric of his hoodie. Pulling your head up to rest your chin on his shoulder, you watched him play for a few seconds. “Can they hear me?” You asked. “Yeah,” he answered distractedly. He wasn’t particularly good at video games, but he was getting better.

Pressing your face back into his neck, you let your lips only just graze the dribbled skin there. He inhaled sharply and went rigid. His hands stilling on the controller. “Think you can stay quiet?” You murmured against the shell of his ear. He didn’t answer so you moved your hands down the broad width of his chest until you reached the band of his sweatpants. Hesitating a long second, you reached down - not very easily because he was so damn tall - and palmed his cock. He let out a streak of curses and instinctively bucked his hips against your grip. You reminded him that you had an audience with a “ssshhhhh” against the shell of his ear. You felt his jaw tense against the side of your head as you let your fingers slowly massage his cock, which was growing harder and harder against your hand. When you loosened your grip, his own hand slapped over yours, forcing your fingers to tighten. You nipped his ear in retaliation and he sucked in another right breath, his hips jackknifing nearly off the couch.

Just as quick as you had started, you pulled away. “Shit, I’m late.” Which wasn’t actually a lie. Freddie looked at you furiously and you thought you had him this time. He certainly looked like he was ready to pull you over the couch and fuck you raw. But much to your chagrin, he took a deep breath and looked away, his body still pulled right with anticipation.

Dammit. The cool,calm and collected had won again.

“Have fun,” he all but snarled at you. “Tell your mom hello.” Ignoring the pang of irritation, you kissed the top of his head and snatched up your purse.

III.

You ended up spending the entire day with your mom, grabbing lunch, walking up and down the streets of Toronto, stopping into different shops, etc. You had a dinner tonight with Freddie and some other couples on the team, so you stopped by your own apartment to get ready. You were already pushing it with the time so you told Freddie to come pick you up instead of going to his place first.

An hour later, there was a rapping at your door. Giving yourself a final once over in the mirror, you opened the door to see Freddie looking as gorgeous as ever in another well tailored suit. He went completely still as he took you in. Whereas the dress you had worn to the charity event had been elegant and sexy in an understated way, this dress was more of a smack-you-in-the-face, grab-you-by-the-dick kind of sexy. Short and figuring hugging, it fit you like a second skin and made you feel like a goddess.

“Ready?” You asked nonchalantly. As you made to brush past him, his hand was suddenly at your elbow and he was hauling you back until your body met the open door. You grunted in surprise, but it was short lived as Freddie pressed his body against yours, dwarfing you even in your four inch heels. Hands framing your head, he pressed you back until you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“I know what you’re doing,” he growled down at you. You could barely hold in your gasp as he pushed his knee up between your legs, the fabric of his dress pants coarse against the bare skin of your thighs. “And you need to watch it, little girl. It won’t end well for you.” A burst of heat in your belly and you were immediately wet.

You could have given in, let him have you right there in the hallway of your apartment building, let him release all that isn’t up frustration you knew he was keeping from you. You could feel it like like a pulse beneath his skin and a deep part of you screamed out for it. Instead, you mustered every ounce of willpower you had to rise onto your tiptoes and murmur against his lips, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” A soft peck and you were wiggling out of his grip and sauntering down the hallway, an extra swing in your hips.

IV.

The entire car ride to the restaurant, Freddie had his hand dangerously high on your thigh, his fingers nearly wrapping completely around your leg. You always loved his hands. Whether they were holding your hands, holding your leg, or holding your throat, you loved them. Now, you let your fingers toy with his, an absentminded display of intimacy you had both grown to enjoy.

When you reached the restaurant, Freddie rounded the car to open the door for you and help you out. You in made sure he got a nice view of your legs as you took your time stepping out of the car. Aware that people were staring, he kept an arm tight around your waist as he ushered you into the restaurant and toward the table the other couples were already seated at. It was Mitch who let out a good hearted wolf whistle and Steph who pinched him, even though she was smiling too. She stood up to greet you, arms open. “Damn, Y/N, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were single in that dress.” You laughed and embraced her.

The dinner was delicious, as usual, and the wine was making you all warm and fuzzy inside. As planned, Freddie couldn’t keep his hands off of you all night, from wrapping his arm around your shoulders to stroking his hand up and down your leg. After an hour or so, you excused yourself to use the restroom. Seeing the bathroom hallway and the women’s bathroom were empty, you took out your phone and furiously texted your boyfriend to meet you ASAP. He was at your side in less than 15 seconds, looking so concerned you almost felt bad for what you we’re about to do. Almost.

“Y/N, what’s—“

Grabbing him by the front of his jacket, you dragged him into the women’s bathroom, shoving him up against the door once it was closed. Standing as far as you could on your tiptoes, you threw your arms around his neck and crushed your mouth onto his. It took him no time to respond instinctively, his mouth slanting over yours and his hands clapping over your hips. He lifted you like you weighed nothing and you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. He crossed the small bathroom in three long strides until he could set you on the sink counter. His hands thrust into your hair, moving your head to suit his needs. You bit his bottom lip and he groaned deep in reply, giving your hair a sharp yank. Tightening your grip around his neck, you pulled until he palmed your ass and pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, bending your body back and against his own until you could feel every taut muscle in his chest. One large hand was then running down your thigh and back up beneath your dress. You gasped into his mouth when we pushed two fingers slowly inside of you. He bit hard on your bottom lip, as if reminding you to not stop kissing him. Just as you were slipping your hands under his shirt, a loud burst of male laughter from the hallway startled you both. Freddie leapt always from you, struggling to catch his breath, his cock straining against his dress pants. You put a hand to your chest, trying to catch your own breath.

You didn’t blame him for his reaction. He had a reputation to uphold here. One that didn’t include breaking a sink while fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom of an upscale restaurant. As you straightened your hair, he was suddenly on top of you again, clenching your chin in his hand and forcing your head back to meet his gaze. “We’re finishing this tonight.” An order. You took a deep breath. “You know I’m meeting some out of town friends after this. I haven’t see them in 5 months.” Freddie’s expression was murderous and, for a small moment, you wondered if you had gone too far. But then he was leaning forward until you were nearly nose to nose. "You are going to pay for this." And then he was turning around and stalking out of the bathroom, nearly breaking the door in half. You gave yourself a few more seconds to compose yourself before following him back to the table.

You ended up staying out until 3 am with your out of town friends and crashing at the apartment on an in town friend,having gotten too drunk to navigate your route home. You had shot Freddie a quick text explaining the situation and gotten a simple “ok” in response. Not abnormal for him. But you could practically feel his frustration through the phone. Good.

When you did finally make your way back to his apartment around 9 am the next morning, it was to hear the shower going in his room. Shedding your own clothes, you took a long moment to admire the view of him standing beneath the shower head, rivulets of water running across the plains of his skin, the crevices of his muscles. You could stare at him for hours, but you were beginning to shiver. Knocking on the glass door to alert him to your presence, your heart twittered when he smiled softly and stepped back to make room for you. Stepping beneath the spray, you shivered as your body adjusted to the new temperature. The two of you showered in a comfortable silence and you found yourself being done before he was. He was definitely more of a leisurely showerer when he was at home.

Before you stepped out of the shower, you pushed yourself as far up on your tiptoes as you could go and placed a long, wet kiss to the strong column of his throat. He groaned and let his head fall back, his hands skimming down your sides to your hips. As he began to pull you tighter into him, you stepped out of his grip. Looking up at him, you almost laughed at his expression.

“I’m all done.” A kiss to the center of his chest and you were stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel and heading back to the bedroom. You hadn’t even stepped into the bedroom before you heard the shower turn off and Fred’s feet hitting the marble floor. You squealed in surprise when he latched a hand over your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You hit it with a thud and didn’t even have time to recover before he was slamming his mouth on yours in a punishing kiss. You groaned and clutched at his shoulders. You squealed again when he plucked you up off the ground, you legs wrapping tight around his hips, one arm holding you to him effortlessly. Then the two of you were moving, walking through the bedroom and collapsing onto the bed.

When your back hit the mattress, you reached in between your bodies, desperate to have him inside of you. You fisted his cock, intent on guiding him inside of you, but he was faster. Grabbing both of your wrists in his hands, he shackled them to the mattress above your head. He pulled his mouth from yours, your breath still mingling.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It won’t be half that easy.”

“Fred-”

But he was moving off of you, landing a stinging slap to your hip. “Don’t move.” You didn’t think twice about disobeying him, only watched as he crossed the room and picked last night’s tie from the floor. His eyes were dark and hooded as he moved toward you again.

“Hands on the bedpost.”

Heat flooding between your legs, you did as you were told, wiggling across the mattress to grab the corner bedpost. He met you there, jerking your hands roughly so you were holding the post between your wrists. With quick hands, he tied you to the bedpost. Instinctively, you pulled at the bondage, found that it was nice and tight, but you could probably get loose if you really tried.

Not that you wanted to.

Freddie was looming over you, leaning down until you were nearly nose to nose. “Safe word is blue. Say it.”

“Blue.”

“Again.”

“Blue.”

A satisfied smirk. “Good girl.”

He pecked you on the mouth before moving onto the bed again, parting your legs and kneeling between them. You were completely exposed to him, no part of you hidden from eyes that shamelessly roamed your body like he owned it.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through these last few days?” he asked, his voice deep and husky with arousal as he leaned over you, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Teasing me.” A light kiss. “Driving me insane.” Another. “Then walking away.” A sharp bite that made you flinch. His mouth came to yours again and took it in a long, hard kiss. “Now it’s your turn,” he continued. “To be teased until you’re begging me to fuck you.” You whimpered in response, flexing your hips beneath his weight.

But he was pulling away, trailing his mouth back to your jaw and down your throat with exquisite slowness. Arching your neck for him, you whimpered again when he ignored the obvious plea and moved his mouth down your breastbone to the valley of your breasts. He kissed one beaded nipple with just enough pressure that you gave a light gasp and arched into him. He moved to the other, taking this one fully into his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against it. As pleasure began to build, he moved yet again and you let out a frustrated curse. You felt his lips quirk into a smile against your skin before he continued moving, kissing down your stomach until he was just above your pussy. Suddenly he was leaning back and pulling your hips up off the bed, raising your ankles over his shoulders so you were completely helpless. You felt a tight kiss a breath above your clit and you tried to close your legs around his head, but he easily pried them back open. After a few more teasing kisses just shy of where you needed them, his mouth pressed lightly to your clit. You gasped and arched your hips into the touch. You were being shameless and you knew it. And you didn’t care. Here, with him, you felt nothing but want.

He didn’t open his mouth and eat you like wanted-needed-him to. All he gave you were small, tight lipped kisses that drove your desperation higher and higher. When he finally did open his mouth slightly to lick your throbbing clit, you thought he might just push you over...but he pulled away. Writhing in his grip, you tried to chase the high, but it faded away.

Giving you one last nip to the thigh, Freddie moved your legs back down to the bed, slowly running his hands up to your thighs. “What do you need, baby?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “Tell me.”

“Fred, I need-I need you.”

He grinned at that, clearly amused and satisfied by your words.

“Hmmm. This what you need?”

Leaning over you, he slid his cock through the folds of your pussy. You moaned long and loud as your eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Pulling back, he gave another long, slow thrust, his cock only just grazing your clit.

Bracing his arms on either side of your head, he took your mouth in a deep, wet kiss. You instinctively moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, but came up against the binds. It was brutal, having no anchor against the onslaught of sensation. Freddie was breathing deeply, his chest pressing deep into yours as he continued to slide his cock through your folds, keeping you at a torturous level of pleasure. Back and forth, back and forth, it was an exquisite pain.

As if he knew you were finally going to reach your climax, he backed off again, leaving you just at the edge.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured against your cheek. “Not yet. Not yet.” He leaned away again, running his hands down your body as he did.

You heaved in a breath as you dangled on the edge of your climax, then fell back again.

“What’s it like, baby?” he asked, running his hands up your thighs and then back down again. “To just get there? And not have it?”

You only whimpered in reply, your entire body begging for him. He had you and he knew it. You would do anything for him now.

He slowly leaned back down, hovering over you until your mouths barely touched. “Apologize for teasing me.”

“I’m-I’m sorry for teasing you.”

You were rewarded by him guiding just the tip of his cock inside of you. You both groaned and shuddered at the burning pleasure, Freddie’s head dropping to your chest as he struggled for control. You writhed, trying to get him deeper, but he slapped a hand to your hip, stilling you instantly.

“God, Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy.”

“Freddie, baby, please-”

You both groaned as he pushed deeper inside of you, pushing slowly until he reached the hilt. You shuddered and let yourself be taken over by the pleasure of having him inside of you. You clenched around him and he cursed. He suddenly reared up onto his knees and grabbed your hips, pulling you up off the bed. Pulling out of you, he slammed back in again. Soon, he took up a brutal pace, his hands digging hard into your hips, your body nearly completely off the bed. All you could do was give yourself up to the sex, to what he was demanding from you.

The orgasm, when it came, was violent and overwhelming, robbing you of breath as it washed over every inch of you, stuttered your heart in your chest.

Freddie came with a curse his hips slamming into yours one last time before he collapsed on top of you, keeping his full weight braced on his arm. The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, struggling to catch your breath as your orgasms slowly faded. You felt Freddie’s hand cup your cheek and he turned it to face him.

“Okay?” he asked. You nodded in reply and pressed your mouth to his.

“If you think this is going to deter me from teasing you again, you are very wrong.”

He laughed, the sound so deep and husky you shivered with renewed arousal.

“I hope not.”

#Frederik Andersen #Frederik Andersen imagine #Frederik Andersen smut #Frederik Andersen fic #fic #smut #imagine #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey-hoe-24-7 #mine #my work #hockey fic #hockey smut #hockey imagine

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years ago

Text

Will you marry me?

I have talked about how pregnancy and infertility are two subjects that hit very close to home here a while ago. Sensitive topics for me, and I found out that writing about it whenever it pops into my mind sometimes helps. This is a very small, very simple thing that just appeared in my head yesterday while I played Mahjong at three in the morning. I hope you guys find it is as beautiful to read it as it was calming for me to write it.

Warnings: Infertility

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you give me the honor to be your husband?”

“No.”

For a second too long, Rowan didn’t register the word. In his mind, there was no reality in which Aelin wouldn’t accept his proposal. He had planned everything— taken her to their favorite restaurant, then to the spot on the park where they first met four years ago, made a beautiful speech, and, when he got on one knee, Rowan was sure Aelin was beaming.

But now, his girlfriend was just looking down at the ring with a sad smile.

Rowan didn’t know what to say, how to act. He was sure Aelin didn’t want to end things, so maybe she just wasn’t ready for marriage? That was such a foreign thought to Rowan, specially after the fact that they had talked about marriage for the past five months. Aelin was ready, she had said as much so many times, and yet her answer had been no.

“No?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded. He didn’t want to pressure her into accepting, he just didn’t know how to recompose himself quickly enough so she wouldn’t realize how his heart was shattering inside his chest. “Why?”

The word was barely louder than a whisper, but Aelin heard it anyways. Rowan knew because her sad smile just deepened, and when she grabbed his hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Come here.”

Still in some state of shock, Rowan let her pull him towards a bench nearby, the moon and some far away street lampposts their only company. The glow they casted had made Rowan thought that the park looked like a dream before he proposed to Aelin.

Now it was more of a sweet nightmare.

Aelin sat down, still holding Rowan’s hands. She stared at their laced fingers for so long that, after a few minutes, Rowan thought she wasn’t going to say anything, get up, and walk away.

“I had lunch with Lysandra three days ago.” She said, her tone barely above a whisper and yet her words sounded so loud as they ricocheted through the empty park. Rowan couldn’t understand how having lunch with Lysandra had to do with her refusal, and yet he found himself hanging on every word that escaped her lips as if they were food to a starved man.

“I know.” He said when she fell silent again.

“We had lunch at the hospital, I was doing my yearly check up.” She continued, still staring at their hands as if she couldn’t bear looking at his face. At the mention of the doctor, accompanied by the seriousness of her voice, Rowan’s shock was immediately substituted with terror. “Everything was normal, I did some exams and went home.”

He didn’t say anything, too scared to say a word, to ask a question.

“Some results came back yesterday.” Aelin took a deep breath, finally raising her head to look at Rowan’s face. Her turquoise and gold eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she gave him a smile that would have destroyed his heart if it wasn’t already shattered. “You want to be a dad, Ro.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed, his mind trying to catch up with what she was saying. “Yes?”

Aelin shrugged, raising her eyes to look at the moon rather than looking at him. “And I can’t be a mom.”

His mind was still trying to catch up to her words, to wrap every single inch of attention he had in his body around the meaning of what she was saying, of what she was implying. A lonely tear slid down Aelin’s cheek, and if she wasn’t gripping his hands so fiercely, Rowan would have wiped it away.

He didn’t say anything— didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she even wanted him to say anything. Some things were inconsolable, and the only thing anyone could do to the person was just sit there in silence and let them get it all out.

Aelin’s beautiful and sad face slid back to him, small and sad smile still gracing her lips. She looked so heartbroken, so lost that Rowan wanted to destroy the thing causing her pain.

But this time there was nothing he could do.

“I am infertile.” She said out loud, more to herself than to him, he realized. By the look on her face, by her posture and the way she spoke, Rowan guessed that was the first time she was saying it out loud. She straightened her spine, staring deep into his eyes. “I am infertile. I can’t have children of my own.”

Rowan silently nodded, not uttering a word as he realized she wasn’t done talking.

“Completely infertile. No treatment, no chance of a miracle, no nothing. I will never get pregnant, Rowan.” Her face was a mixture of anguish, confusion, and, deep down, a small parcel of acceptance. “I won’t get the big belly, the pregnancy cramps. I don’t get my ultrasounds, belly kicks, and first cry. I don’t get the excitement of using a pharmacy pregnancy test, or the thrill of looking at a screen while a nurse rubs that thing against my belly to know the baby’s sex. I don’t get any of that.”

“Ace…”

“And I wanted all that.” She said, determined even as Rowan heard her throat closing up against the words. “Always have.”

Rowan nodded, squeezing her hands. “I know.”

And he did. Every time they talked about the future, Aelin included kids. Always said she wished to be a mom, wished to have a large family. She herself hadn’t had that when she was younger. Her parents died before she could form any memories with them, and Aelin jumped from house to house until she was adopted when she was twelve. For the longest time after that, it had been only Aelin and Darrow. During her first year of college he helped her learn more about her family— which led to her discovering the existence of Aedion and Gavriel.

She let go of Rowan’s hands, cleaning her face from her tears before looking at him.

“And it is something that hurts— knowing I won’t have it. But it is also something that I need to learn how to live with, because it won’t go away.” She looked so determined, so resolute that Rowan allowed himself a small spark of pride amongst the grief raging inside his chest for his girlfriend. “And it hurts like a bitch now, and it will probably never be something I am happy or even comfortable with, but I will learn how to deal with it. How to wake up everyday and learn more and more until it’s a sad reminder that sometimes pops into my mind, not a soul crushing fact.”

“Aelin—“ Rowan started even though he didn’t really know what to say.

“And I did not accept your proposal because you deserved to know this fact before tying your life to mine.” Her eyes still held some tears, but none of them fell. “I need you to propose to the whole me.”

“And I do.” Rowan said the second she finished speaking. He cradled her face in between his hand, thumb brushing over her lips. “Ace, I would propose to you no matter what.”

Her face was serious, and she blinked a few times before saying. “So you don’t care the slightest about the infertility? It’s not something that makes you think a second longer about the proposal?”

He nodded. “I don’t. It’s not.”

She took his hands off her face, putting them on his lap. “Then my answer is no.”

“What?”

She shook her head, strawberry golden hair falling from her loose braids. “This is something that should make you think longer, Rowan. This should be something that makes you stop for a second and think about what the future is going to be like. You talked about me getting pregnant before, and so don’t insult me by saying that you absolutely don’t care. You do. Just like me, you care so fucking much. But the difference between me and you is that you have a choice. You’re not infertile, I am. You can go out there and get someone pregnant, that’s not an option for me.”

“Aelin, I—“

“No. I won’t have you like this. I love you, Ro. I love you so fucking much, and I love how you feel you can love me no matter what. But I don’t need rushed and desperate demonstrations of love, not about this. I need a resonate, well thought response to something that is a big fucking deal. I need for you to understand that there will be no miracle here. I need for you to understand that you will see your friends getting pregnant, your friends’ wives getting pregnant. I need for you to understand that I will never carry your children. I love you, Rowan, but I will not be having you resent your abrupt choice to stay with me. I won’t be having you looking at me with any ounce of regret. If you want to marry me, then you will marry all of me.”

“You want me to think.” Rowan said slowly, his mind replaying what Aelin had just said over and over again.

She nodded firmly. “Not for five minutes, not for an hour. I want you to go home and think about it. To look at it and understand it.”

“And then you’ll answer my proposal.” It wasn’t a question.

“If the offer still stands.” She answered anyways.

————————————

Aelin wanted a kid.

She always had. She was good with kids, had loved babysitting during her adolescence. When she graduated from college and opened her own gallery, she made sure to have a fully white room, full of paints, just so kids could come in just to ruin the pristine walls. She loved a baby’s laugh, a baby’s smell, and smile. She loved everything about motherhood.

She would have loved being a mother.

She would love being a mother, Aelin forced her brain to correct itself.

Infertility had been a blow to every single part of her body, and the moment she read the results was like her body was trying to suffocate itself. She hadn’t been immediately overcome with grief, or sadness, or despair. For the following hour after reading the diagnosis, Aelin just sat on the kitchen floor, staring at a cabinet long enough that she almost opened a hole in it.

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, and a part of her simply knew it would always hurt like a bitch. She knew it wasn’t the end of the world, knew there were so many more options, so many new treatments being created, and yet she simply could not bring herself to shove all those feelings away. Couldn’t force herself to pretend as if it didn’t impact her at all.

She could still be a mom— she would be a mom. Adoption had always been a part of her plans. Yes, it was something she had considered doing after getting pregnant, but adoption had been something Aelin was adamant on since she was younger. To be honest, whenever Aelin thought about the future, pregnancy was a one-time thing while she wanted to adopt at least three kids.

Maybe more.

And she would love her kids so intensely, so profoundly, that nothing but absolute love would fill her body. Just like she had been loved after her parents passed and she was adopted by Darrow.

For the first time in five days— since she read the diagnosis— Aelin genuinely smiled.

Life had been hard during the first twelve years of her life. Parents died in a fire when she was eight months, ended in the system, and just jumped around for years. People have a preference for babies, and so as she grew older and remained unadopted, Aelin’s chances of getting her own little family were thinning at the same rate her desperation was growing larger.

And then Darrow appeared.

Darrow, at first glance, reminded Aelin of a superhero movie villain. Always wearing black, a scowl on his face, and rich enough to wipe his own ass with hundred dollar bills. Whenever in public, the businessman was cold and detached, a mentor rather than father. At home, however, he was always simply Da. They never established if that was short for Darrow or for dad, but neither of them cared. Darrow had been her last hope, and he provided her enough to live a happy and comfortable life during her adolescence and young adult years. She would still call him every day, tell him how things were going with Rowan and the gallery.

Darrow had been her only family for so long, and although she loved him unconditionally, she wanted a bigger family.

“Hey, Da.” Aelin said against the phone, leaning on the balcony. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is great, m’eudail. The company is doing better than ever, and I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.” Aelin could hear him moving around, picking up papers as he probably looked for something. “But how are you? You sound different. Did something happen? Rowan?”

Aelin sighed, staring off the balcony. The day was coming to an end, the sunset painting the sky all shades of red, pink, and gold. “No. Yes. Kinda? I don’t know.”

Darrow laughed, a throaty sound Aelin doubted many people ever heard. “Why don’t you explain to me then? I’m smart, but even I can’t be that good of a guesser.”

“I’m infertile, Da.” Aelin whispered against the phone.

“Oh, m’eudail…” Aelin heard her Da’s voice full of pain for her, even when he was miles away. “I am so sorry.”

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “Me too. Cried like a baby for the past days, but you’ll be proud to know that I have reached a resigned form of acceptance. I always wanted to get pregnant and adopt, well, a small change in plans, but not the end of the world.”

“You’re allowed to be sad.”

“I know. I am.”

“But I am proud nonetheless.” Darrow said, and Aelin could hear a small smile in his voice. “You’ll be a great mom.”

Aelin smiled. “I know. I will.”

“And Rowan…”

“He proposed.” Aelin sighed, remembering the absolute ecstasy and euphoria that overtook her whole body when Rowan got down on one knee. She wanted to jump on him, laugh, and kiss him until they were both breathless. “Before he knew about the infertility. So I said no.”

All the moving around stopped on Darrow’s end of the call. “You said no?”

“He should know about it before marrying me. Rowan wants to be a dad.”

“He still can.” Da said. “I was.”

“Maybe he wants his wife to carry his biological children.” Aelin shrugged again, heart breaking a little. “Maybe it’s not something he can give up and not look back at it in the future.”

“I have the feeling that boy would give up just about anything for you and never look back, Aelin.” Her Da said, letting out a sigh.

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

Darrow laughed. “Yes. Me and your boyfriend have these weekly heartfelt calls where we talk about our feelings.”

Aelin tried to contain a smile. “It would be fitting. You two have the same emotional availability.”

“We do, and you were the only one ever I ever let this close in my life, my darling daughter. No surprise you’re the only one for him, too.” He sounded as if he was sitting down, and Aelin could almost picture him on his office’s chair, rubbing his temples like he used to whenever she’d get in trouble in school and had to tell him. “Rowan’s a smart boy. Practical. I suppose you gave him time to think?”

“Yeah. A few days now.”

“I already know his answer.”

“So you do have heartfelt calls with my boyfriend.” Aelin tried to suffocate some of her nervousness. Her dad was so sure, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to be so confident. And losing Rowan would be such a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Just the thought was a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Darrow laughed, but some concern was present in his voice. “Ae—“

“I gotta go, Da.” Aelin said abruptly, interrupting him. “I love you.”

“Love you too, m’eudail.” Darrow managed to say before Aelin ended the call.

Everything was happening both too fast and too slow, and she just needed a fucking moment. She needed a fucking moment to sit down and think about nothing— no worries, no doubts. Nothing. She just wanted to have one single simple day where nothing bothered her.

She stared off the balcony until the sun had fully set, until the moon appeared and the stars started shinning. She stared off the balcony until the evening rush of hundreds of cars was substituted by hundreds of people walking around, going and coming back from places. High heels and sneakers sounded against the cobblestones, loud music from nearby bars sounded louder and louder every minute. The world was buzzing with life.

“Any particular reason why we are staring off the balcony so intently?” A low voice she’d recognize anywhere sounded from the open door separating the balcony and the living room.

Aelin didn’t turn around, and Rowan didn’t take a step forward. They just remained in silence, both looking at what felt like the whole world.

“Have been considering throwing Aedion off here. Asshole ate my box of chocolates.” Aelin murmured, and Rowan huffed a laugh in response, finally taking a step towards her.

Aelin turned around, feeling all the air leave her lungs when she looked at his face. Rowan was so painfully beautiful that Aelin couldn’t help but smile when her eyes fell on his face. He seemed so determined and so hopeful at the same time that Aelin heard her own heartbeats sounding louder than any of the sounds coming from below. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He mimicked her small smile, crossing his arms to stop himself from coming closer. He wanted, but was probably scared that one single abrupt movement would have Aelin bolting away from him. “How are you?”

“Good. Better. I talked to my Da.”

“What did he say?”

“The expected.” She shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Aelin.”

“Rowan.”

“I thought about it.” Rowan said, a small nod of his head. “For the past days, I thought about it and then I thought about what I would tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and Aelin simply assented, not trusting herself with words.

“I want kids. Always have. Different reasons than you, though.” Rowan started, looking directly into her face, eyes never wavering anywhere else. “You wanted a big family because for so long it was just you, and then just you and Darrow. I wanted a big family because I grew up surrounded by so many cousins, so many aunts and uncles, that a small family sounds strange.”

Aelin nodded automatically. She knew that, knew that Rowan’s reasons to want a bigger family and her own reasons were the complete opposite. He had a big family and wanted to remain as such, Aelin had a small one and wanted to change that.

“I might not be the warmest, but I want to be a dad. I’m not giving that up.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered.

Rowan’s eyes deepened, and his brows furrowed slightly. “But I never cared about biological children, Aelin. If— When. When I marry you, I want to adopt. More than one, more than two. I don’t care about you getting pregnant, Ace. It was never about that. I want to marry you, and I want to be the father of your kids. And that’s all. If adoption is our only choice, then I’m gonna make sure it’s our best choice. We’ll build a life great enough that no other possible reality will ever compare to. I’m gonna love you and those kids more than I could ever love anyone else.”

Rowan ended the distance between them, taking Aelin’s face gently and tilting it up. He pressed his lips softly against hers— one time, two times, three times. He kissed her lovingly and so slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

“The only regret I could ever have about you, Fireheart, is the one I would feel every single fucking second if I let you go.” He kissed her again, wiping away tears from her pretty face. “You will be an amazing mother, Ace, and I will try every day to be a good dad. And I will love you so goddamn much every single day that you will never feel like a burden to me, because you are not one. You’ll never be a burden to me, Aelin.”

Aelin passed her arms around Rowan’s neck, chest bursting with so many emotions she could barely breathe. She let out a laugh against Rowan’s lips, damp cheeks touching his. His hands dug into her hair, pulling her face up so he could kiss her properly. It was so sweet and so loving, that if Aelin didn’t fully belong to that man already, that man would have ensured that. His warm lips against hers felt like the answers to so many questions, some that she hadn’t even asked, all ensuring her that they would be fine.

They would be great.

Rowan would always be the one for her, and Aelin would always be the one for him.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, you will give me the honor to be your husband.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” She answered anyways.

A/N: Ok, so this was something. Again, hit very close to home. Different people will react differently to the same situation. The way I write is based on what I have seen, but just know that every reaction is valid. Whether it crushes your soul, or maybe doesn’t impact you at all, know that it is valid. it will always be valid. And that you deserve someone who will never make you feel bad about something you cannot control. You deserve greatness, how you achieve it or what obstacles are in your way don’t matter. You deserve it.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004

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shhhhyoursister · 4 years ago

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childhood friends to lovers!au

yes i am uploading these all at the same time what about it???? yeah so this the one where david is a rich kid who is “forced” to play with matteo (who is autistic in this au) but of course they become best friends because theyre soulmates so ahh i hope you like it!!!

He knows that he shouldn’t be climbing the tree.

His mom has told him at least a hundred times that he shouldn’t. She always tells him that he’s going to fall, bump his head or break his arm, and he needs to come down right this second or he’s going to bed without any dessert which is almost always enough to convince him.

He wraps his legs tight around the branch he’s on and let’s himself fall backwards, hanging with his head poking out just enough under the lowest leaves so he can see if anyone is there. He knows that Laura is doing schoolwork and his mom had been cooking something last he saw her, and he thinks it’s still too early for his dad to be home from work. His eyes scan the huge backyard, and, seeing nobody, he grins and grabs onto the branch to swing himself back up.

He stands, looking down at the dark blue velcro sneakers that he had begged for last time his mom had taken him shoe shopping, and starts walking across the branch like a tightrope. He holds his arms out, careful not to knock into any leaves or twigs jutting out at him. He gets to an upward curve in the branch and puts a foot on it.

It’s higher than he’s climbed before. Usually by this point someone has noticed that he’s gone, his mom or Laura bursting through the glass double doors that led to their backyard, yelling for him. Always calling out a name that makes him glare and wrinkle his nose. He almost loses his footing thinking about it and refocuses.

He knows what his goal is, and he’s only a couple feet away from reaching it. There’s a birds nest in the tree, high high up, that he’s been watching every morning with the binoculars his dad bought him. His mom would watch him pointing them out the window at the pretty blue bird, and one day got down on her knees next to him, pointed to it, and said, “There are going to be new baby birds in the nest soon, I saw two eggs. That mama bird is going to have two little baby birds, just like me.”

And he’s been trying to get a closer look ever since. He loves watching the birds, the whole reason his dad had bought him the binoculars in the first place, and he will spend hours just lying on his back in the grass, sunglasses (that his dad also bought him) snug over his eyes, watching the birds fly overhead.

With his mission reset in his mind, he looks up, seeing the nest close by, and only a little bit higher than he is. If he puts his foot right between those two forking branches, and shifts his weight just the right way and grabs onto that one branch at the right time, he’ll be able to look into the nest. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He plants his foot and shoots up next to the nest, grabs the branch, and shakes a leaf out of his face. When he opens his eyes he grins, and starts laughing.

He can see two little birds in the nest, and they’re ugly. Gray and fuzzy, pink bald heads, huge eyes barely open as wiggle around. He watches for a moment, wishing that he could reach out and pet one but listens to his mother’s warnings against doing such. He rebalances himself, shifting his weight onto a different foot, and almost stumbles. He gasps and catches himself quickly. He grins at how fast he was able to grab onto the branch but quickly realizes his mistake when he hears an angry squawk.

He had grabbed onto the branch with the nest, the branch strong enough not to move but his hand close enough to the nest to alert the mama bird, who had been somewhere close by the whole time. He gasps again, quickly letting go as the bird jumps closer to his hand, and starts yelling as he loses his balance enough with the surprise to start falling backwards. He hits the ground, hears a crack and the worst pain he’s ever felt shoot up his arm, and he screams until he hears his mom running out the back door.

***

He throws the biggest tantrum when the doctor, along with his parents, tell him that he isn’t allowed to play rough or run around or climb or do any of his favorite things for weeks. He doesn’t even know how long a week really is but it sounds like it might last forever, and he cries and kicks his legs the whole time they’re in the doctor’s office. It’s summer so all of his friends are going to be playing outside and riding their bikes and going swimming, and now he’s being told he can’t do any of that? It’s the most heartbreaking news a six year old could’ve gotten.

On the way home from the doctor, his parents drag him, still crying, and Laura, who’s just excited about all the fanfare, into an ice cream shop. They tell them to get whatever they want, and he orders at least four different flavors through his angry tears because he always orders for himself. He only stops crying when his dad sets down the huge paper cup of ice cream in front of him, a spoon shoved in it, and says, “Go crazy.”

After he eats until his stomach hurts his parents take him to the store, lead him to the video game section, and tell him to choose three new games. He picks fast, his Wii still so new that he only cares about getting games for that, and his eyes are completely dry by the time they get home that night.

It’s later that night that his parents tell him the news. They both come into his room to tuck him in for the night which is unusual, but he’s thrilled that he’s going to get double the attention, not even complaining like usual about Laura having a later bedtime than him. His dad sits in the big chair across from his bed, his mom settling down on the edge of his bed, both smiling at him.

“You did quite a number on yourself today, kid,” his dad starts, grinning while trying to maintain some kind of authority. His mom looks at his dad and smiles, holding back a laugh. He glares between the two, much less happy about their presence in his room if they’re just there to make fun of him.

“I just wanted to see the baby birds.” he mutters under his breath.

“Well, you have your binoculars for that,” his mom said quietly, placatingly, patting his leg, “and we have some news that might make you a bit more happy.”

He looks up at that, wondering what else his parents were going to give him. He’s no stranger to gifts and treats, but he thought that the new video games and the ice cream were going to be it. He smiles, excited for whatever else it is they have planned.

“Do you remember Mrs. Florenzi? From the restaurant?” his dad says, smiling at his mom again.

The restaurant. He frowns again, not wanting to get into the topic of his dad’s job. He doesn’t even understand what his dad does. All his other friends’ dads are lawyers, or doctors, or other big words that he doesn’t understand. His dad seems to just...own a lot of things. One of those things being his favorite restaurant, that he had purchased a few years earlier. His family went there a few times a month, and he could remember Mrs. Florenzi if he really focused. Long brown hair, kind eyes, always smiling when she sees him at a table. She’s a chef there but sometimes would sneak out of the kitchen to pinch his cheeks. He nods.

“Well, I don’t think we told you, but she has a son around your age, and she needs someone to look after him some days when she’s at work. Since I’m home, and already have two crazy kids running around,” his mom says, poking at him until he giggles, “why not take in a third?”

He tilts his head, thinking about that. He has friends, lots of them., but if he’s going to be stuck inside because of his arm, it might be fun to have a new kid around. Especially so he doesn’t have to go to Laura if he wants to play with someone else, because they fight as much as they get along. After a minute he smiles, says, “Okay!” and drops his head to his pillow as his parents laugh.

Having another boy around sounds like fun.

***

The next day, after breakfast when he’s wandering around his playroom trying to find something to do that was fun but wouldn’t cause his mom to tell him to settle down because of his arm, the doorbell rings. His head pops up, and he runs out of the room just in time to see his mom open the door.

Mrs. Florenzi is waiting on the other side, and he frowns, not seeing a kid with her. She’s smiling and greeting his mom, talking in that way that moms always do when they drop off or pick up their kids. He’s not shy, not in the slightest, but he hangs back a bit. He wants to know where this other boy is.

Mrs. Florenzi seems to notice him, and ducks down to wave, and he waves back, and then walks over and past his mom, and pushes his face out the door to look around. When the moms laugh he pulls back, kind of annoyed at that, and demands, “Where is he?”

The moms laugh again and he considers pulling the face that his mom always chides him for, pouting his lips out big and glaring so hard it makes his head hurt. He hates being laughed at by adults.

“Sorry honey, he’s a bit shy. Matteo, do you want to meet your new friend?”

That’s when he notices the small hand clutching desperately onto Mrs. Florenzi’s skirt. His mouth twists up a little; he doesn’t usually get along with shy kids. He finally sees a blond head poke out from around her, the face on it looking nervous but also a little excited. They stare at each other until Mrs. Florenzi shoves the kid in front of her.

He gets a good look. Matteo is small, scrawny even, and his shoulders are hunched in a bit, making him seem even smaller. His shoes are dirty which he hopes means that Matteo at least like playing outside, and the scratches on Matteo’s knees that match his own makes him even more hopeful. Matteo looks at him, tilting his head, not saying anything, and then he looks off to the side, his hand clenching in the hem of his shirt.

“Hi, Matteo,” his mom says, bending down so she can smile at Matteo, and then shoves him forward and introduces him.

She doesn’t do it right though. She never does. Nobody ever does. He scowls.

Mrs. Florenzi pushes Matteo forward again, into the house, and thanks his mom before leaving for the restaurant with a kiss to Matteo’s head, and something whispered in his ear. He watches the door after she leaves.

He hopes the kid doesn’t start crying.

His mom sends them off so she can do something in the kitchen, and he and Matteo look at each other. Matteo looks nervous almost, probably because of the fierce glare on his face, so he decides to clear that up before the other kid tries to say something.

“That’s not my name you know,” he says, and turns, making his way to the playroom because that’s always a good place to start with new friends, “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a name?” Matteo asks, his voice quiet, his face confused, “Then why did your mama call you that?”

He shrugs. Matteo looks uncomfortable with that answer.

“But- everyone has a name,” Matteo says as they reach the door of the playroom, his hand twitching at his side, looking up at the big door in front of them, “you have to. How am I gonna talk to you if you don’t have a name?”

He rolls his eyes, something his parents started scolding him for the second he learned how and when to do it, pushing into the playroom. Nobody really gets it. He shrugs again, and says, “I don’t know but if you call me that I’ll beat you up.”

Matteo’s eyes pop open and he looks nervous. He nods, pushing his arms out at his sides, twisting them in the air and then snapping them back down at his sides.

He nods back, glad that they got that conversation out of the way. He looks around the playroom when Matteo doesn’t say anything, trying to find something to do with this quiet boy who seems like the opposite kind of kid than he usually plays with.

“You have a Wii?” Matteo asks suddenly, pointing at the white console attached to the big TV in the room, his other hand twisting at his side. He’s smiling for the first time since he had come in, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hoping that Matteo would want to play video games with him because that’s always easy and Laura never wants to, “I got Smash Brothers when I broke my arm, do you wanna play?”

Matteo grins and nods, rocking up onto his toes and his hands flapping at his sides as the game is set up. They both settle in front of the screen in the special chairs his dad had bought for him and Laura, his a light blue (that again, he had to beg for), Laura’s a darker purple. Matteo starts rocking in the chair when he realizes that he can get the momentum to.

“I know!” Matteo calls out a little while later, after they had played enough of the game that they were joking around and laughing with each other, Matteo losing every round but having fun regardless, “We should have nicknames! I want to be Luigi!”

He snorts and asks, “Why Luigi? He’s not as cool as Mario!”

“He’s green, though, that’s my favorite color. I don’t like red.” Matteo says, shrugging and shaking his head, focused completely on the screen in front of them. He’s tapping his fingers on the controller in his hand, pressing buttons, selecting and deselecting his character.

He nods, looking at the character selection screen, thinking that if Matteo picked a Nintendo nickname, he needs to do the same. He considers a bunch of different characters before landing on one and smiling, and he turns to Matteo, proud even though Matteo doesn’t look at him.

“I’ll be Link!” he says, and Matteo turns to him, smiling just as wide.

“I like Link, he’s green too!” Matteo says, and turns back to the screen, starting the next round.

They play for hours. They switch between playing different video games and looking at Pokemon cards and playing dress up with the chest in the back corner and bothering his mom until she feeds them, and when the doorbell rings and his mom calls them both down, he thinks fast.

“Come on,” he whispers to Matteo as he grabs his arm and yanks him out of the playroom, “and don’t talk about my room.”

He opens the door and shoves Matteo in first, glancing down the stairs to see his mom standing at the door, talking to Mrs. Florenzi. Neither of them seemed to notice so he follows and closes the door quietly behind him. He tries to ignore the fact that Matteo is staring around at everything.

It’s not that his room is small, or boring, or that his bed is uncomfortable or that there are monsters hiding in his closet waiting to eat him (he’s too old to be scared of monsters). It’s just ugly. The wallpaper was put up before he was even born, when his parents first found out they were having another baby, and the pink and white flowers made his head hurt. There were lots of marks on the walls from balls he had thrown and toy rocket ships he had “launched into space”. The canopy draped over his bed was cool when he closed it, pretending that he was in a tent in the middle of a jungle, but any other time he despised it.

Matteo stands in the middle of the room, his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling above them. It’s covered in those little glow-in-the-dark stars and planets, something he had begged for after seeing it on TV once. Matteo seems to get lost in his own head, still staring up but spinning in slow circles around the floor. He turns to the door when they both hear a mom voice calling them down, and Matteo’s head whips back to him and he holds a finger over his mouth.

They hide as long as they can, quietly giggling, until his mom decides to check his room even though he almost never chooses to go in there, especially not with friends. Matteo looks like he’s going to cry when he’s escorted out with Mrs. Florenzi’s hand gently pulling his, and he waves bye as the moms reassure the two that they’ll see each other the next day. His mom closes the front door and turns to him with a smile.

“So, did you two have fun?” she asks, and instead of answering he runs into her legs and hugs them.

The next morning can’t come soon enough, and when the bell rings, he jumps up from the table to answer it, ignoring his mom yelling behind him that he needs to come pick his chair back up. He unlocks the front door (he doesn’t know if his parents know he can do that) and smiles at Mrs. Florenzi, who smiles back and pinches his cheek. She greets him and he frowns at the name.

Matteo runs past her into the house, his face bright, and they run up the stairs and into the playroom before they even say hi to each other. He can hear the moms laughing fondly behind them, and he closes the door to shut them back into the little world they had created around them the day before.

“Hi Link.” Matteo giggles, a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing in a secret, and he kind of is.

“Hi Luigi,” he says back, unable to stop his own giggles from escaping, and then points to the TV and asks, “wanna play more?”

Matteo nods enthusiastically, spinning in a circle before flopping into the same chair he had sat in the day before. He starts setting the game up like usual, but frowns when he turns the TV on and doesn’t see the usual black screen with words on it that he could read if he cared enough to.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t it working?” Matteo asks, and he looks over, and Matteo is staring at the screen, his eyebrows drawn down. He gets up, walking closer to the screen, examining it like he could figure out how to fix it. His hands come up and start rubbing at his arms as he squints.

“My stupid sister did something and then didn’t fix it,” he muttered, and Matteo’s head whipped to him, a surprised smile on his face.

“That’s a bad word, you can’t say that!” he scolds, but he looks secretly pleased.

“I know all the bad words,” says, smirking, proud of that, “even the really bad grown-up ones.”

Matteo looks at him, awe on his face, and he starts bouncing and says, “Wow, I think you’re the coolest friend I have!”

He grins, puffs up his chest a bit. He knows he’s cool, but hasn’t ever been called the coolest before. He’s going to have to make Matteo say it again in front of Laura.

Remembering his sister, he frowns again. He thinks that Laura may have watched a DVD and then not fixed the TV after, and he doesn’t know how to make it the Wii again. He has to either go ask her to change it, or find his mom.

“I have to go get my sister,” he says to Matteo, and then points off to the cabinet containing the Pokemon cards they had looked through the day before, “you can look at those but be careful, they’re fragile.” He doesn’t really know if they are but he had heard his dad call important things that before.

Matteo nods and he walks out of the room, running down the hall to Laura’s room. He isn’t in the mood to talk to his sister when he already has a friend over, especially a friend who thinks he’s cool, but he kicks her door a couple times, bangs on it with his fist, and yells, “Laura!”

He keeps up the noise until the door is wrenched open. Laura is already glaring, her curly hair frizzed around her face making her look even angrier, and he just grins when she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at him.

“What do you want?” She asks, sneering, and he puts a frown on his face to match hers.

“You messed up the TV, and I have my new friend over, and we can’t play video games!” he sneers, crossing his own arms over his chest, “You need to fix it!”

“Ugh, fine,” she says, and stalks out of her room, shoving past him to get to the playroom. He clenches his fists and follows after her. She closes the playroom door in his face just as he gets to it, and he smacks it with his fist before yanking it open with a growl.

He sees Matteo pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. It seems like Laura hasn’t even noticed him, as she’s focused on the TV, but Matteo’s eyes are wide. He looks towards the door and places a hand flat against the wall.

“Laura, this is my super cool new friend Matteo,” he says, pointing to the boy cowering against the wall, who only presses himself more into it, “Matteo, this is my stupid ugly sister Laura.”

He smiles when Laura shrieks and throws down the chord she was holding, and runs out of the room, yelling behind her, “I’m telling mom!”

He turns to Matteo, who’s still against the wall, but with Laura gone he looks a little less tense. He puts a finger on his lips and waves Matteo over, and once he’s close enough he grabs his hand and whispers, “Come on, we have to go hide now.”

He tugs on Matteo’s hand and quickly, quiety leads him down the stairs. He doesn’t know where his mom is but he can hear Laura stomping around upstairs so he figures they’re safe for a bit. He can see his mom washing dishes at the sink, her back to the hallway that led to the basement, and he tugs again.

They get to the door and he slowly opens it, trying to avoid the loud creak. Once he gets it open as silently as he can, he turns to Matteo and is about to tell him to follow, but as he takes a step down onto the first stair, Matteo’s hand twists out of his.

“No,” he says, stepping back, shaking his head, rubbing at his arms again, “I- I don’t like the dark. I can’t go in basements.”

He grabs for Matteo’s wrist to try and drag him down anyway, but Matteo rips his arm away and wraps it behind his back fast. He glares, and is about to complain and whine and whisper that they need to hurry up because Laura is coming down the stairs, but Matteo glares back at him. He’s wants to argue but instead he rolls his eyes and pushes Matteo back, and then walks past him to the back door.

He pulls it open and runs outside, not even waiting to see if Matteo is following, because Matteo isn’t going to get in trouble if they’re caught. He runs until he finds what he’s looking for, the large shed in their backyard that housed various tools of his father’s and larger toys and bikes and such of his and Laura’s. He puts a hand on the doorknob, and then finally turns, and sees Matteo a little ways behind him. He decides to be nice and take extra long to get the door open.

He can suddenly hear his mom calling for him. His eyes widen and he tugs Matteo inside, who doesn’t seem happy at David’s hand on him so he lets go as soon as he can close the door. He puts a finger over his lips again, and even though Matteo looks mad at him he does the same.

He leads him to the back of the shed where there’s an old playhouse that his dad had built for him and Laura. The only reason it’s in the shed is because he, not loving the colors his parents had chosen for it, decided to splash a can of old black paint he found in his basement all over the exterior walls. He had gotten in trouble for that, but a new playhouse was in it’s spot the next week, a light blue one instead of the pink and purple that the original had been. He opens the door, quickly checks around for bugs or mice, and, seeing a clean enough space, steps inside.

Matteo looks around before hesitantly walking in behind him. He isn’t used to having friends as sensitive as Matteo seems to be, and he reminds himself of the words his mom would sometimes say to him when he’s getting frustrated at someone else, when he’s being too stubborn to think about how someone else might be feeling. His own brain is still a little too interesting to himself, all the thoughts and feelings that come so quickly and leave just as fast, and he sometimes needs to be reminded that other people have their own different, interesting brains.

“We can hide here for a little bit,” he whispers, and then noticing Matteo staring down at the ground, shoulders hunched like the first time he saw him, “are you okay Luigi?”

Matteo looks up, twisting the ends of his shirtsleeves around his fingers.

*** PART TWO

David’s high school graduation present is top surgery. Nothing about it is a surprise due to all of the meetings and consultations and doctor’s visits he needs to complete before they can do the surgery, but it goes by fast enough, probably due to his father’s presence. Or more his father’s money’s presence. He knows that he’s lucky, and can barely even remember the annoying process by the time he’s out of surgery, and on his way to healing again.

They had scheduled everything so he’d be able to go back to school on time, still finishing up the last of his recovery, but healed enough to do the rest of it on his own. As someone who already had a lot of confidence, getting top surgery makes David feel like he’s on top of the world.

His parents take him on a huge shopping trip before he goes, order him everything he adds to his college wishlist on Amazon, and help him pack up his car when it’s time for him to leave. They hug him goodbye, reminding him to be safe, and smart, and to focus on his work but also to have fun, and to call them if he needs money or food or anything. He waves them on and hugs them both quick, too excited to start this next phase of his life to stay and chat long. He gets in his car, starts the engine, and laughs hysterically as he pulls out of the long driveway.

And of course, he thrives there. Being raised in the family he was, he knows how to network, how to get himself out there in the exact ways he wants. The first person he meets is his roommate Jonas, a nice guy around his height with curly brown hair. They bond quickly over the fact that they both brought tons of music posters to hang around the room, and Jonas doesn’t even blink at the trans flag he places in a cup of pens on his desk. He’s perfect.

His classes are easy for him, and more fun than he expected, even the ones not relating to his major. He speaks well, has always been a good student, and gets on all his professor’s radars within the first few weeks with how articulate and insightful he is. He jokingly thinks to himself after getting praised one class for his eloquence, thank god for private school.

He joins as many clubs as he can, too. One for photography, making a note to look for the nice camera he had gotten one Hannukah, some kind of club that he ends up dropping because all of the other guys in it are the type of film bro that David always swears to never become. He also joins LGBT clubs, one for trans people specifically and one more general, and blushes when he’s asked to join the Burlesque club, turning the invitation down with a pleased smile. He makes friends fast through all the clubs, quickly finding people in each of the little niches he was forcing himself into. He tells all of this to Amira with a proud grin that falls the second she decides to start calling him Mr. Popular.

There are other things he does well in, up at school. He’s a little put off at first, how quickly people are to come up to him with small, private smiles already on their faces, touching his shoulder and laughing even when he doesn’t say something funny. The people who would squish themselves up against him at meetings, or put a hand on his arm to ask him a question about something in class. He can’t say he minds the attention at all, feel a little bit in his own cocky way like some prince with suitors parading around his castle doors. It only goes to his head a bit.

That stops a couple months in, when he starts actually noticing the girl in one of his only non-film classes that had been making eyes at him since the first week. Their professor always has the class sit in a circle to “better facilitate discussion” or whatever, after David notices her looking at him, a small smile on her face with her eyebrows raising when she sees him noticing her,, and they spend the rest of that class, raising their eyebrows at each other and smiling, daring the other not to laugh.

David catches her on the way out of class a week later, and finds out that her name is Amelia, finds out that she has one dimple on her left cheek that gets bigger when she laughs, and finally finds out that yes, she’d love to get lunch with him. She has hair that she tells him she dyed the mixture of greens and blues one night when she was drunk off of a bottle of wine and found her roommate’s leftover dye in their bathroom. She

When David gets back after his first year is over, he feels accomplished. He had done fantastic in all his classes, had clubs and friends to return to once the next year started, and as he drives home, music blasting in his car, he realizes he’s excited to have some time off.

When he gets back both of his parents are waiting by the door to greet him, proud smiles on their faces as he tells them about finals, and how much he misses his friends and Jonas and his girlfriend, that he’s definitely going to be inviting some of them to the house over the summer, and that he needs a new pair of headphones because he lost his good ones in the chaos of moving out. He feels like he’s rambling, but he’s excited to see his parents and actually talk to them again.

They tell him that they want to take him out to dinner to celebrate him finishing his first year and doing so well, and he runs up to his room to get changed at their insistence. He would’ve been happy just staying at home, ordering something from the local Mexican place that he’s been missing, but he know if they have an idea for something more celebratory he won’t be able to stop them. That’s confirmed when his dad calls up the stairs that they have a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in his town.

He gets into the backseat of his dad’s truck, buckling himself in and quickly taking his phone out. He wants to see his friends as soon as he can, and had promised to text Amira when he got home. He opened his conversation with her and started typing.

David: Hey, sorry I didn’t text sooner, my parents wanted to take me out and they’ve barely given me time to breathe

As he waits for a response, he realizes that he should probably text his girlfriend, too. He snorts at himself for not thinking about it and opens his messages with Amelia.

David: I’m back!! You’re probably still driving so keep your eyes on the road and text me when you’re home <3

He gets a text from Amira just as it sends, and he switches back to that conversation.

Amira: Ah yes, your best friend is much less important than a fancy dinner David: 🙄

He was going to send more but before he can, his mom sighs, and he hears, “Oh look, we haven’t gone there in so long!”

He picks his head up and looks out the window in the direction she’s staring, and they’re at a red light so David has time to realize that it’s the restaurant his dad owns. He tilts his head, biting the inside of his cheek, and goes back to texting Amira, and checks to see if Amelia responded.

“Maybe we can go another night,” his dad says, turning his head just enough to catch David’s eye over the back of his seat, “we need somewhere fancier, our son just finished his first year of university with straight A’s!”

David smiles before casting one more look out at the restaurant as his dad starts driving again, and once it disappears from sight he turns back to his phone. He doesn’t like to think much about the restaurant, though he knows the reason they haven’t gone in a while. He doesn’t like to think much about that reason, either.

After Matteo was sent to live in Italy, David had a rough time dealing with it. He had lost his best friend, the one person he could talk to about all of the new and terrifying thoughts that were just beginning to drift through his head, he lost him before he even had a real name for him to know. He was angry, at the world for taking him Matteo away, and then at his parents for refusing to let him talk to Mrs. Florenzi about it.

“You don’t understand,” they said to him one night, after he had gotten so frustrated he had kicked a hole through his door and thrown everything off the desk in his room, “yes, you lost your best friend, but she doesn’t have her son with her anymore. If you ask her about him it’ll just make it worse. We know you miss him, but this is for the best.”

He didn’t talk to them for weeks. After about a week of complete silence in the house Laura stormed into his room with the intent to yell at him over something, and it all boiled over. He started crying the second her glare focused on him, and then he started talking. He told her about how Matteo was the only person who understood him, didn’t question what he did or said or called himself, just offered support and companionship no matter what. Through his tears, in a shaky voice, he explained to her that he was a boy, that it was okay if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore but he couldn’t deal with only one person knowing, especially if he didn’t have that person anymore.

She had sat on the edge of his bed and listened, nodding along until David could breathe again. She thanked him, told him that it was okay that he was angry, and asked if he had a name he wanted her to call him. He had hung his head, ashamed that his answer was no. She had nodded at that too, and said, “Well, we’ll find one then.”

David sighs at the memories that had come flooding back at the sight of the old, slightly dilapidated restaurant, and texts another friend. His dad orders a bottle of wine at dinner and pours David glass after glass, until his mom cuts him off with a tipsy laugh of her own, and he’s smiling with red cheeks when they leave later that night, stumbling to the car on steady legs as his parents laugh fondly at his state.

He collapses into bed that night with an urge he hadn’t felt in a couple of years. He takes his phone out and unlocks it after a couple of tries, ignoring the messages from Amira from earlier and opening Instagram. He gets distracted commenting on a friend’s post, but then goes to the search page and hesitates before typing in Matteo Florenzi.

He’s done it before, of course, tried to find him on every new social media site that popped up over the years, and he’s never found anything. That’s why he sits back up in his bed, his jaw dropping open as he sees an account called matteohno, and sees the profile picture, sees that he can almost recognize the face in the tiny circle, and he clicks it.

There are more pictures than he expects. He scrolls to the bottom, trying not to get ahead of himself, and clicks on the first picture he sees. It’s tagged with the name of some restaurant, as far as he can tell, and Matteo is in frame, David can tell it’s him. He has the same button nose, same floppy, dirty blond hair, same half smile on his face like he’s waiting for the right time to let a full one out. David lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He scrolls through all of the pictures, his heart tightening each time Matteo is in them. The memories that have always been hard to think about, of a little boy, sensitive, quiet, happily following David’ lead, were especially hard to reconcile with these new pictures. Matteo looks like he’s grown into himself, more confident in himself or his abilities, David doesn’t know, but it makes him smile and send a pang of something through his chest.

There are pictures of food, and Matteo alone, and Matteo with random other people, all the captions in Italian so David can only guess what they say. He stops when he sees one, Matteo and some other young looking guy, their arms draped over each other’s shoulder as they laugh and each hold up a rainbow flag.

He locks his phone on the image, feeling something strange and nostalgic twist up in his gut, and drops his head onto his pillow. He closes his eyes, thinking back to days full of running through his backyard, hiding from angry parents and talking more deeply about life than kids should be able to.

He wakes up the next day, mid afternoon, with his head pounding and his phone buzzing with a FaceTime call from Jonas.

“Hey, man, is this your shirt?” Jonas asks, and David squints at his screen to see button down shirt he’s holding up, “I think it got lost in all my shit.”

“Uh, maybe?” David says rubbing a hand over his eyes. He blinks them open again and sees Jonas on his screen, smiling knowingly.

“Too much fun celebrating with the parents, huh?”

David flips him off.

“Okay, okay, love you too bro,” Jonas says, chuckling, and then continues, “I have to go though, I just found out that one of my old friends is coming back from Italy this week, I need to call him and yell at him for not telling me.”

David feels his face drop, but puts a smile back on and says goodbye before Jonas hangs up.

#this was a cute one omg i love them #davenzi

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 5 years ago

Text

Daminette Rough Layout AU #1

Warning- This is a Salt AU, it contains Lila salt, Adrien Salt, Alya Salt and Class Salt. Some of the Salt is dramatized, pkease read at your own digression.

Note- Changing things up a bit-they are in high school now-Damian 16 and Marinette 15 and juniors, obviously things are different from canon. Gabriel gave up both miraculous after Adrien dies in one of the akuma fights, he has Nooroo and Duusu bring them to the guardian. Marinette helps heal Duusu so that if he is ever used again the holder will not start to die. Soon after Master Fu takes back Adrien's miraculous and names Marinette the guardian.

He doesnt lose his memories but he does pass away a week later. Marinette also deletes her original website and makes and entire new one under MDC designs after Lila threatens to leave bad reviews.(This happens before she meets Damian, right when they are entering high school.)

They met online after Damian got tired of his brothers making fun of him for talking like an old man. He found Marinette on Twitter, (She has a very popular Twitter blog where she Tweets in English and is considered a meme god.) and after reading her tweets decided that she'd be a good teacher.

After reaching out they agreed on how much she'll be paid and a time that works best for both of them. Every Monday & Wednesday the video chat when Damian has his lunch and study period. For Damian it is 12 to 1 pm, and for Marinette it is 7 to 8 pm. After two months Marinette has successfully made Damian her friend, and he has began opening up to her more. Meanwhile Damian begins to mess with his brothers using memes.

Tim to Jason- I will die if I don't get coffee soon.

Damian passing by the kitchen on his phone- Then perish.

Jason-...Did he just?

Tim- Impossible.

_____________

Dick over the coms while on patrol-I really want candy right now.

Damian drops down next to him and pulls a tidepod of of his belt giving it to Dick before continuing on.

Dick-What the fuck...

Tim having seen from a distance-What did Damian give you candy?

Dick- He gave me a tidepod.

Jason-Your shitting me Goldie.

______________

Jason-What are you eating Damian?

Damian taking a bite of a pop tart- Ravioli...

Jason-Im going fucking crazy.

Alfred-Language Master Jason.

They now text each other durning their free time, Marinette loves receiving pictures of Damian's pets and silly pictures of Damian's friend Jon. Damian loves seeing pictures of her newest designs and Paris at night.

Jon is the only person who knows about Marinette and thats because he crashed one of Damian's classes. He gushes over the fact that Damian is talking to his favorite person on Twitter, then full on fanboys a second later when she follows him back on Twitter. Soon after she becomes friends with Jon too, Lila comes back. After two weeks of fighting her she stops after both Damian and Jon point out that if her classmates were really her friends they wouldnt believe someone they just met over her. Marinette stops doing extra things for the class no more free pastries, banners, clothes or anything. She spends majority of her time on school work, her comissions and talking with Damian and Jon.

Madame Bustier at one point asks her to stay after class. She tells her she is disappointed that Marinette is distancing herself form the class so much. Marinette just tells her that she is done, that if she wants a perfect role model then she should use Lila instead and leaves. The next day she tells Madame Bustier she is stepping down as class president, everyone in the class except for Chloe and Marinette vote for Lila. Marinette has had more free time then she has had in a while and is thriving. She is able to take more and more commissions and even allows Jagged and Clara to give other celebrities access to her website. With a push from Jon she also sets up a Twitter and Instagram account under MDC Designs. With in no time everyone is trying to get an MDC original.

At one point she gets a call from Jon asking her how much it would cost for a MDC original for his mom. Marinette smiles softly telling him to just get his moms measurements for her. When he argues she finally agrees to accept payment but gives him a family discount. Jon agrees with a huff, a month later Jon sends her a video of his mom opening his gift.

Lois-Oh Jon love you know you didnt have to get me anything.

Jon-And let Connor out do me this year? No way.

Connor laughing-Oh shut it Jon!

Jon-cone on open it already mom!

Lois lauging before unwrapping the box- Is this? Jon is this a MDC box?

Connor looking at him with wide eyes.

Jon-open it and see!

Clark-So thats why you asked me for her measurements.

Lois pulls a beautiful knee length navy blue pencil dress. It had a classy V neck and flounce bell sleeves Jon is this and MDC original?

Jon-weeell if you look at the inside of the right sleeve your see her signature marking. Thats not all though mom theres another box!

Lois grabs the other box and unwraps it opening it quickly to find a pair of white lace up Oxford pumps with matching navy laces, MDC hand stitched on the back in navy.

Lois-How did you-how did you get MDC originals?

Jon laughing-I'll never tell!

Marinette saves the video on her phone and tells him he wants a photo of her in it for her website. A week later he send her pictures of his mom in the outfit posing with his dad and the next day he send pictures of her posing with Bruce Wayne on the red carpet. She quickly posts them on Instagram and Twitter tagging Lois, Clark, Bruce and Daily Planet.

'I knew Mrs. Lane would make this one of a kind outfit look beautiful! I was happy to make the dress and shoes as a surprise from her son! Mrs. Lane your son has my number, if you ever want another original talk to him! 💋'

Lois immediately responds to her tweet thank her for the amazing gift, while also asking how her son got in contact with MDC.

Marinette- ' 🤫🤫😘😘💋'

Jon-'You'll never know!!'

Lois, with her bosses approval, writes an article joking about the mystery that is MDC at also an interview where she grills her son on how he knows MDC.

Its a blows up and part of Jon's interview becomes a meme. This part;

Jon-Superman, please come save me from my mom!

Marinette being the meme godess she is decides to quote it on Twitter, but she messes up and posts it on MDC desgins.

MDC-Superman, please come save me from these deadlines!

Half an hour later

MDC-That was meant for my personal Twitter...

Now everyone is also talking about MDC memeing.

After talking with the Kwami Marinette decides to tell Damian and Jon about her time as Ladybug, and how she still goes out and patrols to stop muggers. In return one day Damian and Jon flies him and Damian to paris and they finally meet in person and they tell her their own identities. They leave Gotham at 7 am in Gotham and make it to Paris at 3 pm and wait for her outside of her parents bakery. Marinette flips out and practically tackles the both if them in a hug. She pulls them inside happily introducing her parents to her American friends. After they tell her they decide to spend the rest of the day together. Marinette also takes their measurements telling them its for a surprise. Damian tells her that his brothers are obsessed with MDC and how the wouldnt stop hounding Jon when they found out he had gotten in contact with her.

They go out and Marinette shows them Paris while Jon is slowly pushing them together. He is ecstatic when Marinette wraps one of her fingers around Damien's finger and he respond by grabbing and holding her hand. They are all immensly happy until they are passing by a park and notices her class having a party. At first she doesnt care and just shrugs it off, until the class notices them. Alya accuses Marinette of trying to start drama, she rolls her eyes telling Alya she didnt even know about the party and was just showing her friends around. Damian frowns glaring at the class when he feels Marinette hand start to shake and releases her hand wrapping an arm around her waist in support. Jon is also frowning but simply reminds Marinette that they were going out to eat. Marinette nods and begins telling them about the restaurant they were going to while leaning into Damian's side.

They turn leaving the class behind only for Adrien to hurry after them. Adrien tries to convince Marinette to return and spend time with the class saying he missed his friend. Marinette tells him that they arent friends anymore, that friends dont allow lies to be spread about their friends. She takes the boys and they finally make it to the restaurant.

Damian pays refusing to let Marinette or Jon touch the check. They spend the rest of their time at Marinette's house watching movies until they leave at 9pm wishing Marinette goodnight and making it back to Gotham at 3 pm. When they get back to the manor Bruce confronts Damian asking why he got notified that Damian's card had been used in Paris. Thats how Bruce finds out about Marinette.

Bruce- shes been teaching you memes?

Damian-yes.

Bruce-...well at least your making friends.

Damian-dont tell the others, they'll want to meet her and Id rather not be embarrassed

Bruce-I wont say anything until they catch you then.

Around the end of Marinette's junior year Lila accuses Marinette of theft and she is once again expelled. Only this time Marinette gets the school board involved and she is quickly cleared of charges. once again. However she decides not to return to the school tired of their treatment. Instead with the help of Jagged and her parents permission she enrolls at Gotham Academy and doesnt tell Damian to surprise him. Jon does know that way he could help her.

Within the week Marinette is in Gotham in her new penthouse apartment with her new gaurdian, a maid/nanny that Penny had recommended. Her name is Margaery she is in her 60s. The next day Marinette is dropped of at school by Margaery, Jon is already there early and helps her get his schedule and everything. Then they wait for Damian to arrive hiding until the see him open his locker Jon distracts him while Marinette hides behind the locker door. The school is very surprised whe. Damian smiles brightly at seeing her. Within the day she is known around the school as both Sunshine and Gotham's new Goddess.

Soon enough Damian Marinette and Jon are never seen withiut tge other except in classes. Many teachers see Marinette as a blessing classes have been calmer shes always willing to volunteer and shes even started tutoring some of the students. Even though she entered late in the year she starts to help the student council and things were more organized and running smoother. What everyone is really happy about is how she seems to bring out the teen in Damian and encourage him to act his age. The only reason they havent posted about her and Damian's relationship is because Damian made it clear he didnt want his family to know.

He starts calling her Angel and Red Bird. Marinette starts calling him Dove and Birdie. They slowly start going on dates while also making sure to hang out with Jon so he didnt feel left behind. Its the beginning of summer when Marinette gets invited to a Wayne gala by Bruce himself with a little note.

'Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would like to meet the girl that has stolen my youngest's attention. Please do not inform him I invited you, I think it will be quite the surprise for him. -Bruce Wayne

She tells Damian to wear a seafoam green tie because it will bring out his eyes, in a sly way so that they will be matching. She then makes a seafoam green Asymmetrical A-line off the shoulders dress adding layers of tulle that forms teirs and finishes with horsehair hemlines. The MDC signature is stictched on to the second layer of tulle.

The night of the Gala she is dropped off by Margaery and Jon leaves his parents to meet her. She tells him that Damian didnt know either and Bruce wanted to surprise him. Jon starts laughing causing Marinette to dissolve into giggles. This catches Jon's parents eyes and they walk over. Jon wuickly introduces her as one of his best friends. Lois and Marinette quickly hit it off and enter the gala together with Jon and Clark following behind them. After 5 minutes Damian spots them, and discreetly hurries over to them.

Damian-Angel!

Lois and Clark are surprised at the nickname and that Damian is smiling even more surprised when he hugs her and holds her hand gently. They stare into each others eyes for a moment until Lois coughs catching boths attention. Damian greets them as he lets go of Marinette's hand wrapping an arm around her waist as she does the same. They stand talking with each other until Lois spots someone she wants to interview and hurries off with Clark. The three of them share a look before all saying food at once. Jon walks ahead of them as Marinette and Damian follow talking to themselves.

M-'Your father wanted to meet me so Im afraid I will no longer be a secret.'

D-'Of course he did, I was hoping to keep those embarrassments known as my brothers away.'

This causes Marinette to laugh leaning her head on his shoulder.

M-'I am sure they arent that bad.'

They spend a good half hour talking with Jon and eating before Bruce finds them and introduces himself to Marinette. Five minutes later she notices Damian's brothers starring at them in shock. She starts giggling and points it out to Damian who groans. Soon after the boys rush over to interrogate their brother dragging him away from Marinette Jon and Bruce.

While Damian is dealing with them Jagged and Penny both find Marinette. Eventually the boys force Damian to introduce them to Marinette. She hits it off with all of them promising to visit the mansion. Jon convinces Damian to ask Marinette to be his girlfriend. He asks her to dance with him and asks while they are dancing. That night Marinette Damian and Jon leave together for an impromptu sleepover at Marinette's. Margaery picks them up greeting both parents and assuring them that there kids will be safe, and they will be camping out in the living room.

Marinette surprises the boys with handmade pjs once they get to her house and Margaery surprises them with cookies. The next day she goes to the mansion with Damian and gets to know his brothers more piecing together who is who of the Batfamily. At one point Jason insinuates that Marinette couldnt fight so she challenges his to a spar. Jason being cocky holds back and gets his butt kicked, he asks for a rematch and doesnt hold back this time, still gets his butt kicked.

While Damian and Marinette are saying goodbye she jokes about how long its going to take his siblings to realize shes a hero not a civilian. Damian finds it hilarious. When Marinette gets home she tells Margaery that she was going up to the roof to look at the stars for inspiration. Margaery allows her making her take a blanket, hor chocolate and some cookies with her. That night Nightwing lands on her roof and 'startles' causing her to throw her cup at him hitting him in the gut

Robin chuckling-That bitch empty,

Mari and Robin together-Yeet!

Marinette laughs offering him a cookie as Nightwing gets up

Nightwing-Nice throw.

Marinette laughs harder her eyes twinkling.

Mari-Sorry you startled me I must have lost track of time I should head back home now. Have a safe patrol Birdies!

She says before passing other of them leaving the plate of cookies behind for them. Over the summer Marinette and Damian visit her parents for two weeks before returning to Gotham. The rest of the summer is filled with dates between her and Damian the Gotham Gazette is having a field day with them.

They're referred to as the Goddess and the Prince and every date is talked about the next day. When summer is over Marinette Damian and Jon are back for their senior year. Marinette decides to run for student body president and Jon runs as her vice president, they both tease Damian about being the trophy boyfriend and he responds that he is fine with it as long as hes the trophy boyfriend to Marinette. Marinette and Jon win with an almost unanimous vote. It is half way through their senior year when Damian's brothers realize she knows. Bruce and Babs already know. Jason teasingly jokes about Damian outing them to a civilian and Marinette jist goes

Marinette-Jayby(This is her nickname for him), I have beaten you in spars 9 out of 10 times and you still think Im a civilian.

Tim-What?

Marinette sighs before calling Tiki out and transforming. (She has a different outfit. Period. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, held by a red ribbon. It has a completely black mask, her top was sleeveless and was a deep red. She had gloves that stopped at her elbows the same deep red but with black poka-dots. Her pants were completely black with a red belt holding her yoyo. Her outfit was finished with red combat boots with black soles.) Everyone is silent as they taken in her outfit.

Damian-God your so beautiful.

Marinette-Aw Dove

Que a sweet kiss where Jason gags jokingly before Tim flips out about her being Ladybug. Marinette jokingly says that he didnt react that way to her being MDC.

Tim-what?

Dick-This time your oulling my leg.

Marinette-You didnt know? I was always giving you guys family discounts.

Tim-Your MDC...my favorite fashion designer is my future sister-in-law. Thats why your commissions always seemed cheaper than others. Im chalant right now.

This causes Dick to burst out laughing.

Dick-Really becuase Im whelmed!

Bruce smiles slightly remembering when his eldest would use to his 'Unwords' all the time.

That night Marinette patrols with them and Gotham gains a new hero LadyBird. With a little shove from Damian and begging from Tim, Marinette begins to grow MDC even more by partnering with Wayne Enterprises. Marinette and Damian are the power couple of the school, they have majority of their classes together both being in AP and Honors classes. As the school president Marinette is notified that during the last quarter of second semester a French class is doing an exchange program at Gotham Academy.

Her and Jon have to escort them around the school the first week. Marinette argues a bit at first.

Mari-I understand that it is important but Jon and I are still heavily working on Prom, Senior's Last Peprally, Senior Awards, Senior vs Freshman Football, Prom King and Queen vote and The Senior trip.

Jon-Mari is right is there anyway we could pick someone else to show them around. There are a few other people in student council that speak French.

They both convince the Principal to allow the Secretary of the Student Council, Candy St.Cloud, to show them around. Marinette, Jon and Damian avoid them, none of Marinette's old class knows Marinette is there until votes for Prom King and Queen pops up and Marinette's name is on the ballet.

Lila bursts into tears claiming her Dami promised her she'd be on the ballet since he goes to that school. They all try to hunt her down and give her shit for booting Lila off. However majority of Gotham academy has noticed their attitude towards Gotham's Goddess and everyone makes sure Marinette is unreachable.

They pretty much only see glimpses of her until Senior's Last Peprally when she and Damian are announced Prom King and Queen. Their boos are covered up by the school's cheers. Marinette and Damian share a quick kiss which causes more cheers as the teachers roll their eyes calling out Pda. Then both her and Jon announce whats going to be happening at the peprally.

At the end of it all the seniors get together for one last class photo in the front is Jon Marinette and Damian. Damian and Marinette are wearing the sashes and crowns and Marinette is in the middle of them. Bustier's class is upset they cant be a part of the picture because they arent actually seniors at the school. The next night is Senior awards the class doesnt go but the trio does.

Marinette and Damian get best couple.

Damian gets the award for best grades.

Jon gets the award for most likely to secede in life.

That night all three are on the news and trending on Twitter when they go out to celebrate at Bat Burger, videos and pictures are posted off Marinette and Jon dying of laughter as Damian cuts his burger with a knife and fork. At the hotel Lila is crying claiming that Damian is cheating in her with Marinette. The class continuously message Marinette even when they get a response saying that the person is not Marinette amd that they've had the number for two months.

The next day at lunch they confront Marinette, they followed Jon to the room the Student council eat lunch in. Que them berating Marinette infront of everyone including the teachers. Marinette just rolls her eyes not wanting to give them the time of day.

Alya-I cant believe you tricked Lila's boyfriend into dating a bully like you!

This causes Jon to launch to her defense, he steps in front of Marinette glaring at the class.

Jon-Lila's boyfriend?? You mean Damian, so Lila was dating Damian first?

Lila-Yes! And Marinette purposely seduced him!

Jon-Really tell me when did you firat meet Damian?

Lila-oh he was so sweet! It was when we were 6 and we met at a gala here in Gotham! A older women was being incredibly mean to me and he stood up for me telling me that he'd have his dad kick her out. We were always meeting up over the summer and started dating at the beginning of senior year!

Jon-Oh so you know Arabic?

Lila-What?

Jon smirking-Well Damian didnt learn English until he was 8, his first language is English. Also you couldn't possibly have met Damian here when he was 6 because Damian didn't come to Gotham until he was 10. When his dad was informed that he had a son. On top of that Damian spends every summer with his family and closest friends. Actually he usually spends a few weeks on my family's farm, this summer he didnt because he went to Paris with Marinette. Also at the beginning of senior year? St. Cloud, when did Damian ask Marinette out.

St. Cloud- Beginning of the summer at Mr. Wayne's first charity gala of the summer, he asked her while they were dancing. It was really cute and Marinette looked amazing in her MDC dress!

Mari-Thank you St. Cloud, I could give you her number if you'd like a dress

Lila runs away embarrassed the class starring at Jon and Marinette in shock.

Alya-who-who do you think you are?!

Mari-Alya do you really not recognize your idols son?

Marinette is disappointed as she introduces them to Jon Kent, after that the teacher finally forces the French class out, while also telling them how kuch trouble they'll be in.

The class starts trying to get on Marinette's good side for the rest of the year but she ignores them. Prom comes and goes and when its finally time for graduation Damian is valedictorian. He gives a fairly inspirational speech and at the end he smirks finishing it with.

Dami-And lastly I would like to thank my eldest brother, without him Id never be able to give this sappy inspirational speech, he is really good at them.

When they throw their caps in the air Damian finds Marinette and dips her pulling her into a deep kiss.

That night while they are all celebrating at the Wayne Mansion Marinette finally lets go of Paris, she decides that her place is in Gotham with Damian.

Lets do a time skip!

Marinette is the top name in Fashion, Damian is Co-Ceo of Wayne enterprises with Tim. They are both married and living in Marinette's penthouse together with Margaery, I am to emotionally invested to kill off her or Alfred even if it is do to age. They visit the mansion almost every day, and family dinners are common.

Jon started going out with St. Cloud and are engaged, he has also taken up the mantle of Superman.

Damian has taken up the mantle of Batman with his Robin, Johnn'i Thomas Grayson-Wayne, Richard and Koriand'r's second child that did not inherit his mothers powers, and his partner Ladybird. That is until Marinette discovers she is pregnant. She surprises the family while they are getting their family portrait redone, with only Kori and the photographer knowing.

All the girls are in chairs with the boys behind them. Seating goes.

Babs, Kate, Selina, Marinette, Kori, Stephanie, and Cass. For a few of the pictures Marinette holds up a sign saying, "Another Wayne is on the way!" Then they hide the sign so they have a regular family portrait.

A few days later when the entire family is gathered to see the photos they are surprised when Bruce stars at them in shock. Alfred and Margaery merly smile offering congratulations, everyone is confused until Bruce turns the picture around.

Damian is looking at the pictures in shock until he jumps up and picks up Marinette spinning her around. Soon everyone is screaming and cheering offering congratulations. While Damian and Marinette hold each other close crying softly.

Mari-Your gonna be a Daddy Dove.

Damian-I love you so much Marinette. So much.

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