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st-alessia · 11 months

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Blood of Empires Chapter 9

3rd of Sun’s Dawn

My friend,

If things aren’t already as bad as they are! A few days ago, a woman was murdered butchered within the heart of the city! Who could have done such a heinous thing? Elda says it was a vampire but I don’t think so. Calixto had stumbled upon the act as she had screamed for help but he said it was too late… Poor Isabella, even though she kept to herself she was kind. If he was only a few moments sooner maybe she could have been saved and the culprit caught.

I overheard the guards asking him questions but he became so emotional that he could barely speak. I can only imagine how he feels, I think I’ll visit the temple for a bit - I know you have little issue with praying to the Gods for guidance but it is not something I do often. I find that I hate the silence and the loneliness praying invokes in me - but this time it won’t be for me. I will pray for both of them.

Do you think I should cook something for Calixto? I can’t imagine he will want to cook for himself and it’s not like he has anyone to look after him. Poor man.

In regards to your last letter, no other strangers have come to town. The man you spoke of, I hate to intrude but, is he a danger to you?

Stay safe,

Susanna

8th of Sun’s Dawn

Susanna,

While it was a relief to receive your letter, the news about a killer in Windhelm is deeply unsettling, especially with the vampire attacks as of late.

That man is not a danger to me, quite the opposite actually as I very much look forward to our reunion. And before you ask, no he is not my lover! I do appreciate your concern and wanted to respond immediately as you know I will be returning soon. Later than originally planned, I will be heading out within a few weeks after I have gotten my affairs here in order. My mentors will be signing off on documentation signifying my dedication to their teachings, I will be able to present that to the Jarl and hopefully be allowed work within his army. I feel like I’m getting steps closer to taking back my aunt’s home and returning my cousin to where he belongs!

I wish I could discuss the situation with my cousin, I think it would help to know what his thoughts are on the situation. Would he want me to adopt him? I can imagine he would be upset to find that I have known about him but never tried to help him before now. Even if he was alright with it, would the city be safe for a child by then? I hope the guards do something soon, a murderer should not be allowed to run free.

I think making Calixto a hot meal would be welcoming, I cannot fathom what he must be feeling after having been too late to help that poor girl. It would at least be kind of you to offer.

Your friend,

Cassia

PS - I know this is not the most appropriate time, all things considered, but I don’t have much choice but to just mention it now or I would suffer with this knowledge until we meet again in person and I cannot bear to wait so long. I met someone. A Companion. Remember when I mentioned Farkas? Well he has a twin brother named Vilkas. I think I may have found myself enamored with him. I feel silly, he is a friend. Just a friend. A friend that I have dinner with fairly often and speak with regarding just about anything. I’m not sure what to do, as I told you before–I am still legally married. A married woman shouldn’t be putting herself in this situation. What am I doing? What should I do, Susanna?

Time seemed to slip away unnoticed for Lucretia, and before she realized it, the days had marched its way to the cusp of First Seed. Nearly three months had elapsed since she embarked on her journey to escape her husband's pursuit and find a new life in Skyrim. The passage of time had woven a complex tapestry of emotions within her, weaving threads of invigoration and terror into her very being.

Lucretia had not received a single trace or hint of Valerius, her ever strong-headed brother who followed her around like a duckling when they were children. His absence was as perplexing as it was unnerving, like a lurking shadow on the periphery of her consciousness. On the surface, she maintained a façade of composure and well-being, but beneath it all, a creeping sense of despair gnawed at her soul with each passing day. She was losing hope.

During the solitary hours of the night, when the temple's chambers provided her only sanctuary, Lucretia grappled with her inner demons. Her thoughts seemed to betray her, echoing with cruel voices that mirrored the relentless criticisms of her husband. Every facet of her existence became fodder for self-flagellation, from her perceived inadequacies in the fields of restoration and alchemy to her unspoken desires and yearning for connection.

One particular target of this inner torment was Vilkas, a presence that ignited her heart with an intensity she dared not acknowledge. Her very core trembled with every stolen glance, every racing heartbeat in his proximity, and the burgeoning eagerness to converse with him. But her inner tormentor, fueled by her own self-doubt, taunted her mercilessly for these unspoken desires, leveling them like a jagged knife against her throat.

Nights of self-imposed exile within her dimly lit chamber beneath the temple's roof saw her cocooned within layers of furs and blankets. In the hushed solitude, Lucretia sent her fervent prayers to Kynareth, Akatosh, and the pantheon of Divines. She did not presume herself to be a beacon of significance, deserving of divine intervention. Yet, in the depths of her solitude, she clung to a faint hope that perhaps the gods would bestow upon her a fleeting sliver of blessed fortune, a respite from the arduous path she had chosen.

Despite the torrents of self-doubt, Lucretia remained resolute in her purpose. Her unwavering determination crystallized around her unwavering goals: to become a valuable asset to the world, to reclaim her abducted cousin, and to provide him with the safe, loving home he so desperately deserved.

As she huddled upon her bed, hidden from the world around her, Lucretia made an unspoken promise to herself. Regardless of the unpredictable, tempestuous outcomes that awaited her, she would press onward. Her journey was a relentless march into the unknown, a testament to her resilience and the strength of her convictions–regardless of how fragile she feels-she forcefully wills herself to maintain a hope for something more, something better than all the suffering she and her family have already been put through. With that profound hope that Valerius would soon find her, Lucretia clings to the thread of possibility, a slender lifeline amidst the dark tides of uncertainty that threatened to engulf her.

21st of Sun’s Dawn

Cassia,

It has happened again. Another woman was murdered last night! This time it was Frigga Shatter-Shield, I don’t believe you had the chance to meet her but her family are well-to-do citizens of Windhelm, controlling the trading shipping business. I can't imagine the grief her parents and sister are going through right now. How can the guards be so incompetent as to allow this to happen again?! Viola has taken to drafting letters to post throughout the city, she is calling this killer “The Butcher” and it’s a fitting name. I think you should bring these Companions of yours with you when you return.

I think I’ll head to the Temple again, a few people were there praying for Isabella even though she was an Imperial and Rolff and his goonies have accused her of being a spy—what a load of skeever shit, by the way—so I’m sure more will be there praying for Frigga. I am beginning to feel like I have to keep eyes in the back of my head, no woman is safe until this murderer is captured or killed. I wish the Jarl would do something.

Also you should write a letter to Honorhall in Riften. It doesn’t hurt to try getting in touch with your younger cousin. He may very well believe he has no one left.

Stay safe my friend,

Susanna

PS - Oh by the Gods, that is exciting! Maybe you should have them both travel back to Windhelm with you, I would sure like to meet these Nords who have captured your attention in one way or another. I’m sure your husband would understand, he would want you to be happy - not miserable and mourning him for the rest of your life.

Lucretia’s cot feels too hard, too cold, to bring comfort to her sore body as she sits there enduring it, her heart aches as she reads Susanna’s latest letter. She had only seen Frigga or her sister in passing and at the time she didn’t know who they were until one evening she overheard a conversation between Frigga’s mother, Tova, and Viola, and now it would be too late. Not that Lucretia would know how to go about introducing herself as a distant cousin anyways, especially since the Shatter-Shield clan had made their distaste known for kin they consider as outsiders; Aventus is only a child and yet they spurned him when his mother died. Lucretia wants to hate them for it but now she could no longer find it in herself to have anything but pity and sadness towards them.

Her shift in the Temple is over for the night and all is quiet now so she decides to stow the letters in her bag before returning to the main room. She ignores the questioning look Jenssen gives her as she passes by one of the emptying beds he is cleaning up from an injured farmer who was well enough to leave not long after the end of her shift.

She beelines for the altar of Kynareth though as tired as she is she remains standing before it as she begins to offer her prayers for those killed by The Butcher and the people who have to live and suffer for it.

After some time she hears leather-clad footsteps approach her slowly before halting a respectful distance away, finishing her prayer Lucretia finally turns to acknowledge Jenssen as he stood slightly abashed and looking more towards her shoulder than towards her face. Without a word, he lifts his hand and offers her a cloth but when she doesn’t take it from him, he clarifies. “You’re crying. I thought you’d want something to clean your face.”

“Oh.” Lucretia had realized her face was wet with tears but chose to ignore it and now that it was being acknowledged by someone else it is her turn to feel abashed as she reaches out and takes the cloth—it’s clean and soft, not at all what they use in the healing halls for bandages, it's personal. After she quickly wipes her face, she barely has time to thank him for his kindness before he is walking away from her. With her heart still heavy, she returns to her room and to her cold, hard cot with the hope that she will at least have the fortune of having a dreamless sleep.

Come morning Lucretia resigns herself to a day of exhaustion as her mind would not rest and by the time she was falling asleep dawn was not too far off. As she pulls herself from her cot, she is quick to ease the pain in her back with a simple healing spell but refrains from wasting too much on herself when there are others who may need it more.

She shrugs on her plain brown robe given to her by Ahlam solely for working in the Temple and ties an apron, clean but long since stained, around her waist. She pulls her hair back into some semblance of a braid before wrapping a cloth over the bulk of her head to hold any stray hairs from her face. Once she tugs on her shoes she is fully dressed, she heads towards the main hall where in her approach she could hear some chattering from Danica and Jenssen as he was due to leave soon, he was likely filling the priestess in on anything of note from the night. Lucretia wouldn’t be surprised if he already told her mentor about her emotional state last night.

As she fully enters and makes herself known, Danica’s eye flickers over Jenssen’s shoulder and meets her own. With the Priestess’s attention diverted, Jenssen also looks back before dipping his head and quickly turning back to Danica with a final whisper before he nearly dashes off to what she could only assume to be his bed after a long night. Lucretia hopes she didn’t offend him in some way to make him avoid her.

Whatever he said made Danica’s brow furrow for just a moment before smoothing out as she watched him dash away. Turning back to regard Cassia, she gives her a more discerning eye as she said, “Blessings upon you, child. You look like you have slept for days.”

“It feels like I haven’t.” Lucretia replies. “I assure you that I will be fine for the day though, I won’t let a little sleeplessness hold me back, you said we were going to be training for healing in the field.”

Danica doesn’t argue with her, just simply nods and says, “Think of it more like surgery. You will have no access to your magicka and will be expected to clean and stitch wounds, dress them, cut off limbs if you must. Field surgery is about quick thinking and precision. Stay calm and collected, even in the midst of chaos.” She begins to lead the younger woman out of the main hall.

Lucretia follows Danica to her own room, sitting at the small table as Danica rummages through scrolls and books on her bookshelf, collecting a few as she goes, and with a final collection of a roll of leather, she meets Lucretia at the table.

“This,” she unrolls the leather and displays an array of metal tools, “this is to be your medical kit, it is your lifeline. Familiarize yourself with every tool and supply it contains. Sterilization is crucial. Make sure your instruments and hands are as clean as possible, given the circumstances.”

Lucretia only has a brief moment to study the tools–they remind her more like instruments of torture, not healing–before her attention is pulled towards the literature that was also presented to her.

“These,” Danica gestures to the books and scrolls she laid out, “will go into more detail about the various techniques that will be undoubtedly useful to you. Sutures, bandages, adhesive – know when and how to use each method for closing wounds. I have written in examples that you can use in a pinch should you lack the necessary supplies; sap and honey are useful and can be easily found in nature–should you have the time to harvest them. They work well by applying to wounds to prevent infection; this also includes abrasions, burns and other forms of damage on the skin. Always be mindful of infection. Even a small wound can become deadly if not properly treated.”

“Honey - I can understand, my grandmother used to apply it to my brother’s scraps, but sap? I never would have guessed it was used for more than just treating fabrics and leather for preventing water damage.”

“Of course. Knowledge is your greatest tool. Study the body's anatomy,” she opens a scroll that shows a man’s body with specific details about each part - Lucretia ignores the drawing’s lower region, “and the properties of herbs and remedies diligently, thankfully Arcadia has been doing an admirable job at that part. Many things one may consider mundane to the art of healing are in fact beneficial. Be wary though, sap is harder to remove and must also be kept away from fire.”

Lucretia relishes the new knowledge, she wonders if Vilkas knows this. “What else?” she says with vigor.

Danica appreciates her apprentice’s excitement, even in the face of exhaustion, and chuckles, “Plenty more. Honey, or sap, can also attract insects that may do more damage so you will need to know how to prevent that as well. But for now, let’s start somewhere simpler first. Here,” Danica picks up the first book and flips a couple pages to find what she was looking for and hands the book to her apprentice, “this may be a good starting point. I will discuss everything as we go but read the books, study the scrolls, you can keep these - consider them a gift for being a good student - they are tools that will be at your disposal.”

“Thank you so much!” Lucretia beams with gratitude.

Danica's eyes met Cassia's, and she smiles. "Remember, healing is not just about potions and remedies. It's about understanding the world around us, respecting its gifts, and sharing them with those in need. Comfort the wounded both physically and emotionally. A reassuring word can also do well to ease their pain."

Lucretia nods, absorbing every word like a sponge thirsty for knowledge. The weight of her sleepless night begins to recede, replaced by a newfound determination to excel in her training. She understands that what lay ahead will not be a simple path, but she is eager to embrace it.

As Danica delves into the intricacies of field surgery, Lucretia follows her mentor's instructions with diligence and dedication. She learns about the different types of wounds, their treatments, and how to maintain composure amid chaos. Each piece of information feels like a precious gem, adding to her growing repertoire of healing skills.

"Listen carefully, Cassia," Danica says, her voice steady but tinged with an urgency. "In a battlefield, time will be your enemy. As a healer, you won't have the luxury of endless magicka, possibly even supplies. Your patients may be as tough as nails, but they will need you. Remember, in the field, you will often be the beacon of hope for those in despair. Your skills can save lives and inspire courage but it comes with a heavy price. You may be forced to make tough decisions, some of which others will not agree with–save the life of one brother, sacrifice the life of a different brother–it will never be easy but learn from every experience. Successes and failures alike are valuable lessons in the art of restoration.”

A thought stops Lucretia for a moment and leaves her also nervous to ask but she forces herself to shake it off. “Danica - you are not old enough to have fought in the Great War, right?”

“Hmm.” Danica’s eyes flint in the candle light and for a moment Lucretia feels a chill run down her spine before the older woman smiles again, looking as calm as she did before the question.

Lucretia releases the breath she’s holding and lets the thoughts and questions die on her tongue. After all, who is she to question someone to clearly doesn’t welcome those types of questions when Lucretia has her own that she would rather no one question her on.

“Let us continue. Where were we? Oh - another important thing to remember: never forget the importance of teamwork. In the field, you often rely on others for support and assistance, even those who are not healers can help you with tasks such as collecting water, holding a patient still, anything you can think of that will require an additional set of hands that are not your own. Make use of that.”

“What if they won’t help me?” A genuine worry she has, the Nords angry with the Empire have their distaste for Imperials, she expects resistance regardless of how she wants to help.

Danica's countenance softened as she observed the genuine concern reflected in her young apprentice's eyes. Her voice carried the wisdom of years as she responded, her words imbued with a comforting reassurance. "You bring up a valid point. In times of strife, emotions can run high, and not everyone may be willing to cooperate. However, it's essential to remember that healing transcends politics and loyalties. When someone is injured and suffering, their need for aid often supersedes their grievances."

With a deliberate pause, Danica's gaze locked onto Cassia's, underscoring the gravity of her message. "Your role as a healer is to serve as a beacon of neutrality and compassion. Speak with actions, not words. Show through your deeds that you are there to help, not to further any political agenda. Over time, people will recognize your genuine intentions, and resistance may lessen."

Leaning in closer, Danica's voice dropped to a gentle whisper, as if sharing a precious secret. "Yet, you must also be prepared for the potential dangers that lie ahead. Some situations may pose risks to your own safety, and in those moments, your well-being must always be your foremost concern. Exercise your judgment, Cassia, and trust in your instincts. We will continue to work together on scenarios that will equip you to navigate these challenges."

Lucretia nodded, her eyes fixed on Danica, absorbing every word like a sponge soaking in knowledge. She knew that the path she had chosen would be fraught with trials, not only in mastering the intricate art of healing but also in navigating the intricate web of human relationships during times of crisis. Yet, she remained resolute in her determination to become a healer who could make a difference, regardless of the circumstances.

As their training continues, Lucretia finds herself not only learning the art of healing but also the art of resilience and compassion. Danica is not just a mentor; she is a guiding light in a world filled with darkness.

In the days and weeks that follow, Lucretia's training intensifies. She practices her skills tirelessly, honing her ability to heal wounds and mend broken bodies. With Danica's guidance, she was thrust into battlefield scenarios within the safety of the Temple, each one more challenging than the last. These exercises, in no small part due to the escalating vampire attacks, compelled her to think on her feet and make split-second decisions that could mean the difference between life and death.

Her skills with handling the variety of plants nearest the city and stocked in Arcadia’s shop has increased faster than she would have considered possible for herself; Arcadia likes to say she took to it like a slaughterfish drawn to shallow waters seeking prey–a strange analogy she accepts it for the praise it is supposed to be, albeit weirdly phrased. Though Lucretia still feels that she has much more to learn, she only considers herself to be an Adept even if Arcadia says she is being too humble.

The number of vampire attacks have gone up causing the guards to set up a curfew after the city itself was boldly attacked. Members of the Companions have been coming and going in pairs to hunt down the foul creatures; more often than not she doesn’t get a chance to spend time with Farkas or enjoy her usual dinners with Vilkas. She also missed out on the opportunity to peruse the wares of the Khajiit caravan before they decided the valley was too dangerous to stay for more than a few hours; Arcadia herself lamented the possible plants they had in their inventory that couldn’t be found in Skyrim.

Lucretia was grateful for Ria being even more adamant about following her around as it reassured both of her mentors and is the only reason she has been willing to go beyond the walls of the city. She has had no choice but to cut down her time for gathering plants to every third day and only from the late morning to mid-afternoon, and now the majority of her time with Arcadia is spent brewing potions of healing and cure disease before taking them to the Temple for Danica to administer to those hurt or bitten by the vampires.

Much to her dismay, Lucretia’s skills in the art of restoration magic is still not enough to assist any more than bursts of healing at a time. While she could extend her magicka to heal herself with ease, it was a taxing process to heal others. Danica reassured her that with time and continued practice, her magicka will deepen like a well and she would be able to draw on more for longer periods of time. When she becomes too worn down, she settles for the traditional healing Danica had been teaching her for when she will be expected to heal without magicka and spells.

Lucretia’s lack of ability to treat those in her care with the instant relief of magicka brought a bout of hesitancy against her until the Priestess gave them an earful until they relented and no one questioned or denied her assistance again. She needs to learn to channel her mentor, she knows this resistance is going to be a frequent problem when she heads back to Windhelm.

In the time she has been away, she has exchanged numerous letters with Susanna. It was a little bit nostalgic for her as she hadn’t sent or received letters since before Naalia died. Sadly most of the letters from Susanna were lacking in good news; a string of murders has taken place since she left Windhelm. According to Susanna’s recent letter, The Butcher had recently claimed his third victim–an older Imperial woman by the name of Marina Laevinus, who kept to herself and rarely left her home, and the guards still haven’t done anything about it. It was more worrying considering Lucretia was planning to return within the next couple of weeks as well as Susanna confirming vampire attacks of their own outside of the city.

Regardless of the dangers, Lucretia will need to leave soon and while she is as prepared as she could be, armed with her letters of recommendation in Restoration and Alchemy, a deep swell of apprehension makes itself known. She feels at home here in Whiterun, no one looks at her with suspicion or hate, she has met many people who welcomed her with open arms and expressions of happiness and by the Gods she craves it, these feelings she has been deprived of for years. Although the city is beautiful and the perfect place to raise her younger cousin, there is no possible way for her to support either of them yet and when she has no home. The temple closet where she sleeps is barely big enough for her, let alone a child as well.

She loathes the idea of leaving, even if only for a time because she certainly has every intention of returning with Aventus in tow; she would like him meet the children here and have the opportunity to play with them, not once did she see any other children in Windhelm out and about playing, not that she could fault them as the city has a certain eeriness to it on top of being unfathomably cold.

For now, she writes a response to Susanna.

5th of First Seed, 4E 201

Susanna,

I want to emphasize how important it is for you to stay safe. Please, do not go outside after dark, especially alone. Your safety is a priority, and I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you. Maybe I will take Farkas up on his offer to see me to Windhelm at least. I dislike using them for such things, especially since I cannot afford to pay for their services. Farkas and Ria have shunned the very idea of me paying them but that doesn’t take away the guilt.

I can already hear you berating me for not asking such a thing of Vilkas. I have hinted that I would like his company along the way but I am too much of a coward that I can’t even ask him to come with me.

I promise that as soon as I arrive, I will find you. Likely at the inn of course so easy enough. Again, I am deeply grateful for your offer of allowing me to stay with you while I get my bearings about me. I hope I won’t need to impose myself for too long, with hopes that the Jarl doesn’t take offense to an Imperial wishing to join his army as a healer (lack thereof from what I have heard). Thankfully it's only tensions in the air, if it was a war then I wouldn’t even consider this path as I am not cut out to be a soldier. With Arcadia’s and Danica’s training, I feel that I could start an apothecary or a healing house, perhaps something to consider in the future. What do you think?

I also did as you suggested but I still haven’t received a response from the orphanage, does it normally take this long? I know Riften is far but I would have thought someone would have written me back by now.

Also, did you cook for Calixto?

Until then, please stay indoors after dark, keep your doors and windows locked, and if you see or hear anything suspicious, don't hesitate to contact the city guard or anyone you trust.

I am looking forward to seeing you soon, Susanna. In the meantime, take care of yourself and know that I will be on my way soon.

Your friend,

Cassia

10th of First Seed, 4E 201

Cassia,

Your concern for my safety warms my heart, my friend. I will do my best to stay safe, and I promise not to venture out alone after dark. Farkas and Ria seem like honorable companions, and I'm sure they will be more than willing to help you on your journey. Don't feel guilty about accepting their assistance. Sometimes, people genuinely enjoy helping others without expecting anything in return.

As for Vilkas, I understand your hesitation. Matters of the heart are never straightforward, especially when we carry the weight of our past. Take your time, and when the moment feels right, you can speak your heart to him. Remember, life is too short to let fear hold you back.

Starting an apothecary or a healing house sounds like a wonderful idea, Cassia. With your knowledge and skills, you could provide much needed help to the people of Windhelm and the Eastmarch. I believe it's a path worth exploring, and I will support you every step of the way.

Regarding the orphanage, I'm surprised to hear that you haven't received a response yet. It might be due to the distance or some delay in their communication. I would recommend sending them another letter, just to ensure they received your inquiry.

And yes, I did cook for Calixto. I made a simple but comforting meal of vegetable soup and fresh bread. He was grateful for the gesture and appreciated the company. It's amazing how a warm meal and a listening ear can provide solace during these troubled times.

Please keep me updated on your journey, and let me know when you're nearing Windhelm. I'll make sure to prepare a warm welcome for you. Until then, take care, my friend.

With warm regards,

Susanna

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: Eh.. not much to say at this moment lol

Catch the story here on AO3

#ao3 fanfic #elder scrolls #skyrim fic #Blood of Empires

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padfootdaredmetoo · 3 years

Note

What about Tommy being out with his dainty wife or girlfriend on a date when someone attacks them or something happens, and he automatically goes to defend her but finds out she is more than capable to defend and stick up for herself having grown up with brothers and in a city as a young woman, and he finds it oddly attractive and is proud his lady can protect herself even if his masculinity is a bit damaged.

Hello Anon! Thanks for the request! I'm self conscious about my fight scenes so hopefully this is alright. I had another protect the wife request so I combined them. Hopefully this is a good mix of badass reader and protective Tommy hotness.

Enjoy XO

Can you please write a Tommy x wife reader where he physically defends his wife? Knocks someone out or something like that after they harassed or hurt his wife? Protective husband Tommy is hot

Rated: Teen - Violence, Reader is attacked, mentions of past abuse, Hurt / Comfort, Badass reader, Comfort from Polly & Esme. Mentions of sex.

Fall had fallen, the crisp November air was pulling Small Heath into another bitter winter. You stepped down the wet stone steps onto the cobble road. The more the wind swirled the more grateful you were for the alcohol in your system. A feud with another crime family had ended leaving everyone in the mood to celebrate.

Tommy held out a hand for you and you let him pull you into his side. The two of you made your way into the ominous alleyway beside the Garrison. It normally never seemed this spooky, you’d stumbled down this alley to the car hundreds of times, and yet the hair on the back of your neck stood up. A heavy feeling made its way into your stomach.

You gripped Tommy’s arm tightly, something wasn't right here. You stopped walking but by that point it was too late. Gunshots spiraled out cutting through the thick blanket of darkness. Tommy immediately pushed you down in front of the car putting something between you and the attackers. You rested your head against the brick wall and resisted the urge to let out a disgruntled moan. Of course the underground crime network would rear its ugly face right when you were drunk and wanting to take your husband home for a much needed evening alone.

You should be scared, but you had an unrelenting temper that was only fueled further by the booze sloshing in your stomach. Your mind had already chosen fight over flight. The geniuses at the other end of the alleyway seemed to have thought the two of you dead, you heard their heavy footsteps come closer. Tommy held a finger up to his mouth motioning you to keep your mouth shut. His eyes told you to stay put, but you could see the rage mixed with the slightest bit of fear. Suddenly he leapt up taking on the two men responsible for this nonsense. You hated watching him leave your side to defend you.

You listened to them go at it like a good wife. The last thing you wanted was to make things worse by getting in the way. Silently you prayed that Tommy was winning. You looked down the alleyway with a plan to run back to the Garrison to get help.

But the fates had another plan for you and being a good wife wasn't in the cards. Three large men approached from the end of the alley way the two of you had come from, thoroughly ruining your original plan.

Suddenly it was your time to shine, they had the two of you centered in the middle of the alley way with no escape route. Anger plowed through you, since when is five on one fair?

Well, five on one + wife.

You got up from your crouching position and immediately swung your closed fist against the cheek bone belonging to what you assumed looked like the leader.

The thing about fighting is everyone expects you to be scared, or timid.

To be fair, normally you did come off scared and timid, your mind was normally pulled in a hundred different directions in conflict. Sadly for the man who fell to the pavement, you’d shut all that nonsense off with help of Ireland's finest whiskey.

You enjoyed the way his body lay slack on the ground.

Second thing to fighting is there are rules you are supposed to follow. But men rarely think of women when making rules or explaining them. How were you supposed to follow them if you didn't know what they were?

Your knee made contact with the second man's groin, he let out a scream as you drove your fingers into the wetness of his right eye.

Thick fingers wrapped themselves around the tops of your arms pulling you away from the man. You pushed into the man behind you using his steadiness to kick the cyclops of a man in the face. He met his fate on the wet pavement of the alleyway next to his buddy.

You’d kicked with enough force to put the guy behind you off balance, you got one of your arms free but before you could use it he swung you around to face him. He pulled you down, settling himself on top of you.

His fingers wrapped around your throat, a place that should only be occupied with love by your husband. A fresh wave of anger to run through you. You held your breath and forced your nails into his eyes. He screamed and you used everything you had to flip the two of you over.

Now you were on top, sender fingers wrapped around the man's neck. You leaned down on him with everything you had watching the life slip from him.

“And how do you like it? Are you enjoying this?” You asked in a voice that didn't sound like your own.

You lied. You had three older brothers, you knew exactly what the rules were. But years of being harassed left a heavy weight that pressed down into your shoulders. Fleeting words and fluttering hands that had left something feral and broken inside you. But any man that wanted to play like this, wasn't playing by the rules anyway, so they clearly didn't apply to you either.

Years of rage ripped through you as you felt the man crumple beneath you, finally you were calling the shots. You were the one taking things away, ruining a perfectly good evening.

Hands pulled you off of the man and you looked up to see John’s face. You let him guide you up and you realised there was a thick silence around you. He slowly let go of your arms when he was sure you could stand. You didn't realise how far you’d slipped. There were many men that had entered the alley way. Most of them were shot dead by your husband.

Tommy Slowly approached you with open hands, everyone was looking at you like a wild animal. He stepped closer and you nodded to him once you realised he wasn't scared, he was asking permission. Making sure that you weren't scared of him. You accepted his arms around you, the feeling pushed all that rage away. In its absence the cold fear came back in full force, your body started to shake as everything started to play through your mind.

You couldn't breathe.

Suddenly you were steered into the freshly vacated Garrison. Tommy sat you down on the edge of one of the circular booths. His hands frantically running all over you trying to make sure you were in one piece. Everyone was yelling and swearing. You were trying desperately to settle back into your body so you could keep up.

“No, we are going after them tonight! They said it was over, terms agreed to, and then they tried to KILL MY WIFE.” Tommy’s voice boomed and everyone looked ready for what was about to happen. Suddenly Polly floated into the pub, giving you a searching look.

“Your wife is in shock. Be sensible, let's focus on getting her back to the house before taking them on.” She snapped and Tommy looked back down at you.

“I can manage more.” you said numbly and you thought you heard John chuckle.

The look on Tommy’s face broke something deep inside you. Going after them right now meant leaving you here like this. He looked at Polly and nodded. Tommy carried you down the street to the betting shop and placed you on a couch facing the fire.

He knelt down in front of you and you knew he needed to get this settled quickly. A hit on you was a hit to the family, then needed to strike back and assert themselves.

“I’ll go with you if you want. I didn't take any hits back there.” Now that you had a chance to catch your breath and come to terms with everything you were feeling, well, you could manage more if needed.

“No love, this is my mess.” He looked at you and you knew that he was also seeing ghosts. He kissed you. “I’ll be back soon.”

You watched him tear his way out of the room. Esme came to your side and you rested your head on her shoulder. The shaking came back on as soon as Tommy shut the front door.

“Let’s get you into a bath, yeah?” She asked softly and you looked down at the blood covering your dress. You nodded and her and Polly looked after you. Trying to make you laugh and just bring you back. Polly had added all sorts of stuff to the bath that stung your eyes slightly and coated your lungs. Slowly you felt yourself calm down, the images that forced their way into your mind no longer causing you shake or tense.

“I can't believe I snapped like that.” You said absently.

“I can.” Polly leaned forward and gripped your face. “Don't you feel guilty for one second.” Her words were heavy and her eyes stared into you like she could see your soul. You nodded, tears welling up into your eyes. “Good girl.” She let you go and leaned back into her seat taking a long drag of her cigarette. You hoped that whatever things that had her relating to your current state weren't tormenting her.

You realized that the whole family was trying to look after you tonight. Lots of people were out there being killed, your two closest friends by your side. Tears fell down your cheeks, there were no ways to say thank you. Most of the moments you’d experienced like this were spent alone, terrified.

Eventually you were clean and into a pair of men’s Pj’s that Esme had found in one of the bedrooms.

The three of you sat on the couch silently praying that the boys weren't in over their heads.

What felt like an eternity of stories and tea, they finally piled into the entryway down stairs. Esme got up and ran down to find John. You wanted to get up and find Tommy but you also didn't have the energy, slightly terrified of moving down the stairs only to find him absent.

You closed your eyes and waited, eventually you felt his hands pulling you up off the couch. There was lots of commotion, but it sounded celebratory so you leaned into Tommy's hold on you. He kissed you just to feel that you were there alive and okay.

After Grace’s death he was a mess, a mess that was very reluctant to date you. Your safety was always the top priority, the night's events had left him more than rattled.

It was time to go home so he could calm down. After thanking Polly, and seeing Esme fully occupied with John, you let Tommy take you down to the car.

It was a short ride home. He’d draped his coat around your shoulders trying to keep you warm.

Once home you collapsed onto the bed assuring him you were okay. He went and got himself cleaned up. You hoped after a moment alone he would calm down enough to come to bed. But troubled eyes met yours as he came over to perch on your side of the bed.

You weren't sure what to expect, there was as much anger trapped inside him as there was hurt. After a moment of silence you realised that maybe he was stuck on how to proceed, so you reached out and took his hand. He squeezed it tightly.

“So where did you learn to fight like that, eh?”

You laughed.

“Darling, I wasn't a stranger to men like you when we met. Girl’s gotta know how to defend herself.” You watched as your words made it through to him, expression lifting ever so slightly knowing that you weren't shook up anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He said and you almost choked. Tommy rarely ever apologized and he certainly didn't do it without prompt. You didn't care that he probably had some sort of speech, about how he should always be there to protect you.

His fear of you dying was something you handled on the regular, but right now you wanted him.

You wanted him all over you, chasing thoughts of scary men and dead wives far away. They had no place here in your bed. You pulled him down and kissed him with enough fever to have him gripping onto you tightly.

You broke the kiss to look into his deep eyes.

“Correction. There are no other men like you.”

The rest of the night gave you exactly what you needed.

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x Wife #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders Request #Peaky Blinders Fic #Tommy Shelby Request #Badass reader #Thomas Shelby

890 notes · View notes

p33paw · 3 years

Text

broken contract

zhongli x f!reader

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

warnings | nsfw

word count | ~10k

links | ao3

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

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

I might be drunk in the middle of the day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beidou 'oohs', leaning in even closer.

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

She walks in, tailed by two guards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I really shouldn't be drunk.

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright?" He asks, softer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you need help undressing?" He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

It's a useless effort.

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

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

"How do you feel?" He asks.

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

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

"Yeah?" He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Use your words." He says back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Up." He demands.

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

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

He doesn't hold for long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zhongli notices.

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

I whine, shaking my head.

"N-no—" I mumble out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Beg." He says, low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So quick." He chastises, seemingly unaffected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm—" I mumble out, disoriented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I might repeat the mistake.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fic #genshin impact #genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x y/n #zhongli

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

fuckboy - chapter xvi

The one where Chris only wanted to fuck you and you were alright with that.

Chris never promised anything more than what he had to offer: a release - and a good one at that. Recently widowed and new to Hollywood, you're eager to learn how to live the single life with the help of such a talented teacher. What happens when Chris is the one to start expecting more from the relationship than you are prepared to offer?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t go back to LA.

When I arrived at the airport and tried to buy my ticket, I was forced to confront the fact that although I never actually had a relationship with Chris, this felt too much like a break-up, and I didn’t want to go back to a house where he’d pretty much burned a thousand different memories in every single corner and crevice in the span of a few weeks.

I booked a flight to New York City.

It’d been a while since I was in my apartment, but it felt like home just the same. Everything was, unsurprisingly, just the way I left it, and something in my heart ached at the realization that it didn’t make me happy.

I wanted the unexpected. I wanted to come home and find someone waiting for me, the signs of it clear in the dirty mug by the sink that I didn’t use, the smell of a cologne in the air that didn’t belong to me.

And I was only now starting to realize that.

Those days in my apartment were a harsh wake-up call, but a needed one regardless. Alone, with nothing to do but think, I was finally able to reflect back on those last few days and how I was feeling about them now that I was away from Chris and his magnetic pull.

I couldn’t say that I regretted letting it get this far. I was still so surprised but it all - his attempt at romance, my inability to see it for what it was and the subsequent weakness to stop what had clearly been a dormant desire I was ignoring.

But at least now I knew about it. Now I knew I wasn’t dead inside, that the romantic part of me, the hopeless, starry-eyed girl hadn’t been buried alongside the man who I vowed to love for the rest of my life.

I wouldn’t forsake that vow, I always knew that. But I seemed to have forgotten my life didn’t end when his did, and nothing stopped me from loving someone else until it was time for me to be gone, as well.

I realized that I missed it. I missed being someone’s significant other, even if forever wasn’t promised, maybe especially so. Because I already had my happy ending, the soul I’d meet on the afterlife. I would take a happy-for-now any time. I’d be someone’s haven until they could find someone to love until they died, like I had the opportunity to do.

And how could I hate Chris if he was the one who allowed me to come to all of these conclusions?

I learned he’d come to NYC through the news, ironically enough. I didn’t even know he had an apartment here too, and I was pretty sure I had nothing to do with his decision to come to the east coast, but he hadn’t stopped texting me since the day I left.

They were all short, random texts.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

“I hope this isn’t the end for us.”

“Ma says hello. She misses you.”

“Orlando wasn’t the same without you.”

That one I got on the morning we were supposed to be leaving. I assumed he’d texted me from the plane, and just like the other text messages, it went unanswered. I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I didn’t want to make him sweat.

I just didn’t know how to pretend it didn’t happen and where to go from there, and I figured there was no reason to reach out and initiate some sort of contact only for it to be awkward and pointless.

If we had any chances of salvaging whatever the hell this was into something worth keeping, as a friendship or something more, I needed the time to figure out how to approach him.

But of course, because nothing in life can ever be easy, I saw my hands being forced by destiny itself as the news suddenly hit me.

“Pandemic. Corona. Quarentine.” Words that barely meant anything to me only 24 hours before, suddenly became all I could think of, all I could focus on. If I was feeling this way, I could only imagine how he was, knowing about his history with anxiety.

I tried to call him at least three times, one eye on the tv and the other eying the suitcase I still hadn’t unpacked. When the call rang for the final time before it reached voicemail, my decision was made for me.

“I don’t want you to be alone through this.” It was the only thing I could think to say when he opened his door to find me on the other side, fully packed, knowing it was one hell of an intrusive move, especially considering we didn’t know how long we’d have to be locked together, but I knew it was the right call.

He took a while to answer, not because he hesitated in any way. It seemed like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, frowning and blinking at my figure by his door. At last, he cleared his throat, eyes widening as realization seemed to dawn on him, and I breathed a sigh of relief as he took me in his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered against my neck, and all I could do was nod.

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harry-writings · 3 years

Text

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

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diedbutterflies69 · 3 years

Text

Drunk in love- Bang Chan imagine.

This is pure imagination. Minors don't interct.

Contains: explicit stuff fingering, blowjob, sex etc.

Red lights mv is the reason for this imagine.

Being alone never bothered you until now. Being alone at a place you don't belong. Sitting in An expensive night club, after quitting your job you decided to have time for yourself and do all the things you missed out so and the sixteenthth goal of your list was drinking in the city's most stunning and expensive club, you decided to get Fully wasted while slurping various wines, champagne, sweet Mimosa etc. but after seeing the price you realised that the one shot of vodka's price was equivalent to your whole month's grocery budget.

So yeah this is how you were struck, with a beautiful woman who gave you rich CEO vibes slightly drunk and was ranting about some buisness stuff you barely knew.

And she was really something else so damn pretty, elegant even her voice was sexy even though you were quite straight you wouldn't hesitate to be her sugar baby cause Money .

You don't understand how a powerful women like her was being so vulnerable infront of you, maybe because you helped her fixing her expensive backless dress, which was on edge of tearing, who didn't expect her to give you such a great treatment and open up to you. It has been 2 hours since you have been with that stunning women, but now you were really tired and was just wished to go to your nest. While being deep in your thoughts that women whose name was Sana (pretty people have pretty name too) her phone ranged .

" hey, your phone is ringing", you said her softly resulting her in giving a whiny look.

" whoever that is calling can suck fuck itself, you hear me , ignore it", Sana said after silencing her phone and again giving you some great intellectual knowledge.

The phone may have vibrated more than 6 times before Sana decided to to pick it and you again knew however was on the other line will be hearing tons of unique insults now ..

"hello, Bang I am absolutely fine and just having drinks with my new found friend, you relax and go, bye" Sana said screaming her lungs out as the music was hella loud. You were quite surprise by how kind she sounded, She called someone Bang as far you remembered , Must be someone special to her you thought.

"who was it? ", You asked her cautiously trying to not appear too nosy. In answer to your question she gave you a big smile and continuing " My little brother, you already know what kind of shit I am going through so he just worried for me, I am lucky right?", While describing her little bro there was a big smile on her beautiful face and yeah she surly was lucky cause the brother you had was a druggist because of whom you used to get really low on money back in days. And now the phone again rung and she picked up guess she really hated how the person on other side of line was feeling.

"Hello again", Sana said her voice really tired and vulnerable. You guessed that person on the other side asked her where she was as she said the club's name next. You really hate this club from the depth of your heart, cause you didn't got any alcohol to taste nor good food. You were bought back to reality As Sana yelled at the person who was on phone.

"I will kill you if you come here", Damn Sana sounded 1999 times more dangerous now and you were scared to death. But a little glad as someone was coming to pick her up and that meant you can go back to your dead apartment too.

"Guess he will eventually come here, I should just get fully wasted than hearing his boring lecture" Sana said after cutting the call , she signalled a waiter to your table and ordering some great quality of alcohol. Yess finally you could too get a little raste too of that sweet paradise drink, you were internally screaming as the waiter bought some nice too good to be true shots. Sana immediately gulping down three shot one after another means she just swallowed your three months grocery.

Now pushing your urge to atleast try one shot, you stopped Sana from getting wasted and distracting . Once again you killing your desires, after about 20 minutes you saw a drop dead gorgeous Man approaching your and Sana's table . That man was wearing an expensive black suit you could feel his intimidating aura even from a distance, his eyes darker than your future, even in those blurry red lights you can easily notice every feature of that hot stranger. You were bought back to reality when that stranger straight up goes to Sana who was little wasted but still sane. You salute her alcohol tolerance level.

" you fine?" The man asked Sana, now you were sure that he was Sana's little bro but you didn't thought by little she meant such a great human with outstanding body proportions. He was so sexy you were internally drowling over that sexy human's visuals.

" You seriously came here? Damn I love my brother so much", Sana said in her voice clearly indicating how drunk she was. She was smiling adorably at her bro but he looked at her with a annoyed gaze.

"get up, let me take you to your house, come", the stranger said and helped Sana to get up from her seat, which made her stumbled and now you clearly knew her alcohol tolerance level was trash, she wasn't able to even stand without any support . Your hands reached her waist in attempt to save her from falling. And that action finally made the man to look at you . your heartbeat increased so much just by his mere gaze at you . And for the first time in night he talked to you.

"who are you", he asked you . Ouch, that was an obvious question to ask but you were disappointed because how boring and uninterested his tone was with you while with Sana he sounded so fuckin caring. But regardless gulping down your nervousness, you replied to him politely.

"umm, I helped Sana slightly and from then we are talking", you knew your explanation was just trash but it atleast made that man realise that you were the 'new found friend' who Sana described on call.

"Okay, can you help me carry her back till parking lot?", The Stanger asked you, his voice now laced up with little gratitude and expectation. You simply nodded your head and wrapped Sana's one arm to your shoulder and helped her walking while that man went to pay the bill.

At parking lot you were standing with a little dead women, while waiting for him , all you saw at parking lot was beautiful and costly cars, something which you won't be able to afford it this lifetime. You never felt this much out of place before. That man's presence bought you back to reality, again feeling insecure as you standed next to Sana. She was a goddess and her brother an alluring devil.

He didn't spoke much to you and simply helped you carry Sana to the Car.

Now, an overdramatic old aged man coming out of car, which you think you knew, her deceased husband's dad, Sana had gave you her whole family history , future and economic information, apparently that old man treated Sana as his own daughter and today Sana lost the lawsuit related to her late husband's death and that was the reason for Sana's mad women behaviour today. That old man looked as Sana and it seemed like he was controlling his urge to cry, but nevertheless got inside the car with her to tired to even thank you.

Now here's when the fun begins. You were left alone alone with that alluring devil. But you sadly knew he wasn't even interested in you even 1 % so you got ready to go back to your nest and started walking until..

"wait!, Let me drop you to your home please", he said and wooow how could you say no to that glamorous offer as it was too late at night to get a bus and too hard to get a cab. You acted like a little hesitant but eventually said yes, as you didn't knew how less time it will take him to take back his offer. Following him to his car And again your jaw almost dropped it was the hottest car you ever seen in your life. And it was honour for you to get a chance to be inside it. The man opened the door for you, you not being sure if he was being a gentleman or to was preventing you to touch his car, but nevertheless you got inside it the temperature was warmer inside the car and the air freshener was doing a great job. He got on driving seat next to you and started driving.

After exiting the parking lot he asked for your address, and you just told him to drop next to bus stop cause the building you lived was apparently more like a abandoned haunted place.

he didn't forced you for further answers and started driving to your direction.

You were lost in admiring the Stranger's car from inside and literally got startled by his deep voice.

"listen, can I please drop you somewhere , your place is too far from here, I need the go somewhere today", he said you and your mood literally dropped, yeah it was true that you lived far away from club it took you 3 hours to reach there in traffic, so swallowing your disappoint you replied.

"it's okay, drop me here only", you didn't knew why your voice was so weak at the moment maybe because you wanted a little bit kindness from that man but he just ruined your every expectation.

"I am sorry, but there is another option too" that man said to when you were getting ready to yeet yourself out of his useless expensive car.

"you gonna call cab for me, no thanks I will look for it " you Said and you didn't expect to sound rude. You thought now that man will now won't hesitate to throw you out of window.

But in response he smiled, for first time in night but his smile a little evil.

"no, I meant you can spend the night at my house", he said voice laced up with nothing but purness.

And your heart stopped. Spending a night at someone else house and that someone was a dangerous devil. You immediately said no to his tempting offer but

"Please,it doesn't make me feel good to drop off a such a fantastic women of my car and you even helped my sister, I should repay your kindness, please.."

You were more than just shocked, whatever he just said was something you least expected, he fucking called me gorgeous you thought and your heart literally flied in the sky.

"no, it's okay please drop me here", you said impatiently, the nervousness kicking you on head.

"Relax, I am not gonna do anything to you, don't be afraid" he said you in such a calm tone fully opposite of his devil like demonor, you immediately melted and tried to consider his offer, his house won't be less than any luxury hotel and you being you..

"are you comfortable, letting a stranger in your house?" You asked him honestly you didn't wanted to make yourself a burden to that man. In response to your question the stranger let out a soft chuckle.

"forget me,are you comfortable being in some Stranger's house?", He asked you with strange curious tone. You honestly didn't knew the answer.

"Yes, I am comfortable, you only told you won't do anything so", your voice coming out softer a little innocent. He smiled at your answer, somehow satisfied.

"So should I take car to my house?", He asked you again, damn you wanted to shout a big ass yes, but suppressed the desire by simply nodding. And so the stranger reversed the car back to his house direction.

"what's your name ?", He asked you, looking at you finally he initiated a conversation.

"Y/N, what's your name?", You asked him.

"Chan", he simply replied.

"nice", you said and again silence. You were a super awkward person and that fact wasn't hided from Chan.

"What do you do for living?", Chan asked after some second and you frowned upon hearing that question.

"I am sorry, if it was too personal", he quickly noticed your behaviour you tried to say something "No, I am just unemployed at the moment and I am writer, yes writer", you replied what you said wasn't completely a lie you used to write some articles back in past but your recent job from which you quitted was at a restaurant.

"Wow, writers are amazing, it's great make people connect to your work", Chan complimented you for something you really didn't did. Still you took it and smiled back.

" your work must be tough sir, balancing off an company ain't easy", you complimented Chan back.

" Sana must have told you about what I do, right?", Chan asked you to which you nodded.

Again silence and in 5 minutes the car stopped infront of a skyscraper.

Rich people really live in sky. You thought.

"here we are", Chan said after opening the door for you and handing off the keys to guard.your neck almost got twisted to see end of the building.

"Done looking?", Chan asked you slightly waving his hand infront your face and damn he was veiny. Having a thing for hands was definitely your thing and Chan must have noticed your hungry gaze on his hands but didn't said anything .

"yeah let's go", you replied and started walking with him.

You both entered in heavantor. And again the same awkward air surrounding you both. Maybe it was sexual tension in Chan's mind which you scrapped off as awkward.

"Do you perhaps... Have a boyfriend?", Chan asked with a little hesitation in his, and for the first time in your whole life you got this nervous, he didn't proposed you but his question was very suggestive.

"no I don't, do you have girlfriend?", You answered and asked back.

"No", Chan answered and again silence.

"why you asked?", You again questioned him

"To know if I can make you interested in me or not", Chan said back a proud smirk dancing on his face and you were dead. He said something bold so confidently your mind pure hazey now.before you could say something the doors of hellevator opened.

"let's go", Chan said immediately getting out like he just didn't almost gave you heartattack. Nevertheless you followed him.

He put on the passcode and you both entered in his luxurious house. The house something you didn't expect. Dark, just as much dark as your future, but it looked freaking classy.

Chan showed you a room, to spend a night, but you noticed how he was holding back from something and as well as you. And you knew it was now or never.

"I am already interested in you, why would you want to make me though?", You asked if you thought it was bold but you stuttered as much as students who gave presentations.

But Chan find it alluring about you. Cliché but, he was too in daze after meeting you. And now finally his wish coming true. He smiled and come a little too close to you.

"Because, I am really interested in kissing your beautiful lips", Chan said , if this line would be came out of any normal guy then it would be to cringy, But Chan was your alluring hot devil and fantasy, someone so beautiful interested in me you thought. you tried to say the first thing that came to your mind.

"Then kiss.. me", You said the last word almost like a whisper , Chan smirked at you, you were literally his ideal type he knew you weren't innocent but ironically you were.

Chan's hand reached your cheek and made you look at him, being too embarrassed you avoided his eyes.

"Look at me, Y/N", Chan almost said as a whisper. Gathering your scattered courage you finally managed to look in to Chan's eyes and his eyes were .. scary.

"I can kiss you, right?", Chan again asked you and you sweared nothing is as hot as consent. You nodded a yes to him.

"Baby, use your words", Chan said the word baby rolled of his tongue so erotically.

"Yes", you said not breaking the eye contract.

"is it okay to Call me sir?", He asked you, now you were dead sure that this man was Kinky af. And you won't be surprised if he had a tons of chain in his bedroom.

"Kiss me, Sir", you said literally feeling so submissive to him. A last smile Chan gave you before his lips touched yours and the butterflies in your stomach exploded. His lips were soft, but the kiss wasn't he sucked at your bottom lip almost painfully and when his tongue entered your mouth, butterflies again exploded, his tongue doing wonders in your mouth , you didn't even knew a kiss so deep, so sensual can happen. With Chan's right hand at back of your neck ,the other one reached down to squeeze your hand in a tight yet sensual grip you finally feeling those veins and the kiss getting more heated.

"let's continue this in bedroom, Chan said after finally breaking the kiss to catch breath, he lifted you up in his arms and it felt so fuckin great, he was so strong even though you were little heavy Chan showed no sign of uneasiness. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and while he carried you to his bedroom, you never felt this much safe in anyone's arms as much as this hot Stranger's.

He put you down while unlocking his door, after unlocking he again carried you and softly laid you down on his grey bedsheets. His room was a mix of grey and blue a little weird but you didn't got much time to explore as Chan immediately started his ministrations on your body. He was a great man who believed in foreplay supremacy.

"Aah", you moaned a little as he sucked at your neck the little sound of yours making his dick painfully hard. He got on his knees towering your frame.

"Can your mouth handle this?", Chan asked you pointing at his memeber and were glad to give him a positive answer. Getting up, you undid his belt and removed both his pants and briefs simultaneously, Chan looking at you like a animal the whole time. The moment his erection was visible to you , you were beyond shock, he was so fucking big he won't obviously fit in your mouth, but you didn't wanted to disappoint Chan so you slowly entered the tip of cock in your mouth going little by little back and forth slowly till it was deep enough to hit the back of your throat. You slightly gagged and that sended shivers to Chan's spin ,to get that feeling again his hand wrapped around hair and detaching you from his cock.

"will you be comfortable, if I go rough?", Chan again asked you , and without any second thought you said yes to him. After being satisfied with your answer, he immediately tightened his grip on your hair and shoved you back on his cock, his tip directly coming in contract with back of your throat and a gagged being heard, you didn't expect him to be this rouf but it was such a turn on for you. You stumbled a little as he was ramming himself inside you hands gripping on to his thighs for support. He wasn't moaning too much but grunting and occasional deep breaths.

"Fuck, you have wonderful mouth babe, so fucking perfect", Chan praised you that resulted in your pussy skipping a heartbeat and encouraging you to go Even deeper.

Your one hand coming in contact with his balls which maybe was his string before cumming. He was grunting too much which meant he was close .

"keep going babe, I am gonna cum inside your mouth, will it be okay?", Chan asked and to affirm him you just increased the speed.

"don't let it fall" , Chan said and after a few seconds he bursted in your mouth, a warm feeling welcoming inside your throat and just as Chan commanded you swallowed it all without letting his seeds fall. After fully empting himself inside your mouth Chan removed his cock from your mouth.

"let out your tongue", Chan commanded you in his breathless voice you immediately following his words. Slowly removing your tongue.

You looked so submissive to Chan, the perfect person to fuck he wished to fuck. Chan spitted inside your mouth, your eyes widen on his sudden such a filthy yet hot action.

"Swallow it, babe", Chan said voice fully filled with lust. You obeyed him without any hesitation, whatever Chan was doing to you made you feel like being on cloud nine.

Chan again made you lie on the matteress , him staring at you from top, ever so submissive. Chan's hand directly reached your Fully clothed breasts his mere action made you whimper, your small little sounds were giving him so much satisfaction.

"so fucking sensitive", Chan said to himself as he his fingers were dancing on top of your breast. To eager to see your naked body, he slightly tilted your body to undo the dress zipper after successfully removing it he undid your bra next. Your breasts immediately being exposed to his eyes and Chan just lost his sanity, immediately slapping your right breast as an instict,. You moaned loudly at the sudden pain but it was pleasurable enough to make your panties wet.

"Do you like it, you like being gropped and slapped ,huh?", Chan asked you and your head in pure haze .

"yes sir I like it", you breathlessly said causing Chan to smirk , he loved to know what kind of effect he had on your body and mind. After twisting and slapping your nipples Chan finally decided to take them inside his mouth and paint them with beautiful marks. You were questioning his real identity at this moment his teeth felt like Some wolf was devouring you but it was damn pleasurable.

You were a moaner even a screamer during sex , which fueled Chan's lust to give you even more pleasure.

Being done with your boobs now Chan's hands reached your most sensitive part. He wasn't really surprised to know how much wet you were down there when his hands cupped your pussy through the panties.

"my baby is dripping, who caused her wetness?", Chans asked you in dangerous tone you just moaned at his words but he harshly slapped your cunt.

"I asked a question, answer it", Chan warned you his sudden rude tone again surprising you you stuttered as you answered him .

"you sir, I am dripping because of you", you answered Chan and he was satisfied. He entered his middle finger inside your pussy with through the cloth, the harsh texture of cloth making you moaned out. He removed your panties and without a warning entered his 2 fingers inside you and twisting them ever so harshly , Chan was a sex God.

And it was just the beginning of night.

Thanks for reading ❤️.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan #bangchan #bangchan smut #bang chan scenarios #chan smut #straykids scenarios #chan ff

253 notes · View notes

shydragonrider · 3 years

Text

Torn - Part 1

Summary: Strife had always been untouchable, arrogant, and ruthless. A vicious Supervillian. It took more than Pandora, or Glory, as she was called in public, knew she had in her to bring him down. But this sets in motion events that Hero could never have imagined.

Warnings: Detailed death threat, swearing, name calling, vomit, extremely violent whump, vivisection, smug whumpee breaking, infection, graphic infection, fever, delirium, panic, scared whumpee, sick whumpee, begging, crying, restraints, violent torture.

Tagging @whumpwillow, because I saw the idea on her blog, and @equestrianwritingsstuff, who encouraged me to write this.

Update, changed their names

“I’ll kill you for this, you little bitch.” Strife snarled, as he was dragged towards the prison transport. “When I get my hands on you, I will break you, body and spirit.”

You already have. Pandora thought, as he was dragged into the truck. She was breathing hard, her heart racing, her body bruised and battered from the fight. She could barely stand up, and she had come so close to dying in that fight. forty-five minutes of being thrown around by that brute. She wanted to cry. She’d been so scared the whole time, so scared that one of his custom made knives would find one of her vital organs, and tear the life out of her.

“And then I’ll fucking strangle you.” Strife shouted, even as the doors slammed shut.

Pandora groaned, closing her eyes. She felt sick, and she knew she had at least three broken ribs.

But I finally beat you, you monster. She thought, clinging to the miracle that was her victory. They’ll lock you away, and I’ll never see you again.

It brought a little comfort when she thought of it that way. He’d never menace her again, never injure her again. The whole city was safe from him.

Pandora made her way home, limping down the rainy streets and back alleys, avoiding people as best she could. No one knew her real identity, and she didn’t want that to change.

When she got inside, it took all of her effort not to faint right there in the front hall. Shivering, she climbed the steps, and made it into the bathroom. She staggered over to the sink, and threw up. Exhausted, she rinsed the sink, and climbed into the shower, watching as blood from various cuts washed down the drain.

*********

Damian growled, tugging against the restraints on his arms. If that little brat Glory hadn’t stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong, then he wouldn’t be in this situation.

Insufferable little twit. She’ll pay for this. He thought, watching as his jailer picked up one of his knives.

“Be careful, they’re sharp.” Damian sneered, feeling only the faintest flicker of alarm as the man walked towards him, and placed the tip of the blade at his solar plexus.

“Oh, I’m aware.” The man replied, pressing ever so slightly.

Damian hissed as blood began to run out of the small cut. “If this is meant to scare me-”

“It’s not meant to scare you. It’s meant to break you.” His captor smiled, and dug the knife in deeper, before tugging it down. Damian gasped, trying to squirm away. The restraints made it impossible. As the knife continued its downward path, Damian screamed, again trying to thrash around. By the time his captor drew back, the cut extended from his solar plexus to below his naval.

The man walked over to a table with various metal tools, and selected something that looked like it came from a medieval torture chamber. Unfortunately, Damian could guess its purpose; to hold the wound open.

“N-no.” He stammered, overwhelmed by the terror and pain. “No, p-plea...please. Y-you c-can’t do this.”

“You don’t seem to be in any position to stop me.” The man noted, and got back to his work.

**********

1 week later

********

The phone rang at three in the morning. Groaning, Pandora answered it.

“Mmmmf?” She mumbled, still half asleep. Had she not been, she would have realized that this was the untraceable phone the police sometimes called her from. That sank in the moment a quiet voice spoke.

“Glory? Is this Glory?

Pandora sighed. “Yes, this is Glory.”

“You have to get Strife out of the prison.”

Oh great, a crank call.

“Why would I do that?” She asked in a low voice, the one she used in public.

“They’re torturing him. They... Glory please, they vivisected him.”

All the edges of sleep vanished, and Pandora bolted up.

“They. Did. What?” She asked.

“Vivisected him. I saw it happen.”

“Who are you?”

“A prison nurse.” Came the hushed voice. “Please, he’s unguarded. You could get in through the window. Cell 10. Isolation. Oh, please come.”

With that, the line went dead.

Hero frowned. It could be a trap, but if it wasn’t she couldn’t leave Strife to be tortured, no matter how much she hated him.

After setting fire to an empty wing of the ward to create a distraction, she did end up climbing in the window, which, thankfully, was on the first floor, and sneaking down the hall of the isolation ward until she came to cell ten.

Carefully, she wired the code box on the door, and it slid open. As she entered the dimly lit room, she carefully covered the camera with her jacket.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she took in the sight of the supervillain.

He was lying on his back, very thoroughly restrained. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his trembling body drenched in sweat. His eyes were open, staring at nothing.

“Shit.” Pandora breathed, and crept closer, feeling nausea rise in her throat as she saw the crudely stitched wound on Strife’s abdomen. It was oozing both blood and pus.

“Hey.” Pandora murmured, gently placing her hand on his wrist.

The man whimpered, trying to pull away.

“No.” He whined, drawing the word out until it was more of a whimper.

“Ssssshhhh. Sssssshhhh, it’s alright.” Pandora soothed, and began undoing the restraints.

“Saving your nemesis dear?” A voice asked. Pandora whipped around, drawing her gun.

The man facing her looked ordinary enough, except for his eyes. They were soulless, empty.

“Saving someone who needs my help.”

“He’s a menace.”

“And you cut him open. Tore him apart.” Pandora snarled. At the words, Strife began to sob, begging incoherently.

“And you’re next.” The man said, picking up a scalpel.

“Think so?” Pandora asked sweetly, and squeezed the trigger of the tranquilizer gun. The bolt hit the man square in the neck, and he staggered backwards. Taking advantage of his shock, Pandora used the butt of the gun to hit him over the head. He fell to the floor, unconscious, and Pandora quickly returned to the delirious supervillain’s side.

Senseless with fever, he moaned and begged incoherently as she freed him from the leather straps.

Carefully, she wheeled the stretcher he was lying on over to the door, and down the empty hall. It seemed that most of the guards were still occupied with her distraction, and Pandora was able to sneak out the emergency exit with Strife.

Finally, she carefully got him into her car, and laid him on the back seat, careful not to aggravate the massive wound on his stomach any more than it was already.

With a heavy heart, she drove home.

Parking in the garage, she carefully hauled Strife inside, and tried to carry him up the stairs, in the end, she had to drag him, though his squeaks of pain made her stomach twist.

Finally, she hauled him into the guest bed, and examined his mutilated stomach.

“Plea...se.” Strife moaned. “No... more...”

“Sssshhh. It’s alright now. I’m going to fix... this.”

184 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Sunrise (2)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, hella nervous!bucky, dangerously sweet!y/n 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“What the hell do you mean ‘you’re not going’?”

Bucky shrugged, taking a bite of the bagel Steve picked up on his way to the apartment. He flinched as Steve flung open the curtains, expelling a cloud of dust as the sunlight invaded the living room, illuminating over months of untouched mail on the coffee table and crumbs in the carpet.

Sam kept his eyes burning on Bucky from the other end of the table. “You can’t back out now, Barnes. She’s expecting you!”

“What’s this about again?” Steve asked as he slid into the chair beside Bucky.

“Book club. Y/n. Barnes is being a coward again,” Sam explained a little too nonchalantly for Bucky's taste.

“I’m not being a coward,” Bucky grumbled, avoiding Sam’s eyes and very much proving his friend’s point. “I’ve just— I’ve got better things to do.”

He regretted it the moment it left his lips because both Sam and Steve exchanged a less than subtle, irritatingly familiar glance.

“Yeah, like what?” Steve scoffed. He extended his arms out to gesture to the empty apartment. “You got tons of plans this week? Think you might see sunlight again or did someone hang garlic in the hallway?”

“Shut up,” Bucky warned, rolling his eyes. It had been a few days since he’d ventured out to the VA for the first time and it was more than he’d done in weeks. It should have been enough for these two, but it never was. They always wanted more out of him. They couldn’t just leave him to rot in his apartment, could they?

“It’s Sunday, you know,” Sam said, devilish smirk rising on his face.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I’m well aware.”

“Come on, man!” Sam groaned, slamming his hand on the table enough to cause a ripple in the coffee mugs. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You can’t tell me seeing her again isn’t a good enough reason to go...”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed red. They burned hot on his skin and it only seemed to make it worse. He’d never been like this before he was discharged – flustered and easily embarrassed. He supposed before he came home with one less limb and baggage the size of his living room, he didn’t have much to be embarrassed about. He was a flirt, a bit shameless about it, too. He’d had girlfriends and hookups and never thought much about it.

But now? The vague idea of even presuming to be interested in a woman was borderline laughable. What chance could he possibly have? He was washed up and broken, missing a few pieces, and half off his rocker. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d go for a guy like him. It was easier to just pretend like he didn’t care, give into the empty void he believed his heart to be, and waste away.

“Seeing her again isn’t a good enough reason to go,” Bucky said flatly, much to Sam’s annoyance. It was a bold-faced lie, one all three of them were well aware of, but it didn’t mean Bucky needed to give them the satisfaction of admitting it.

He thought of you in that sunset red sweater, holding a book tight to your chest with that sort of bright starlight look in your eyes as you listened intently to a retired vet go on and on about his personal connection to some corny book. He’d only met you for maybe a span of a few minutes, and still, he could somehow still picture your smile. He wanted to see it again.

But there was a sharp pain in his left arm; it burned, enough for Bucky to reach across his chest and try to put pressure on it, only to slip through thin air and land against his ribs. The pain remained, like an extension of himself, on an arm that was no longer apart of him. There and not there all at once. He groaned.

“It’s not a good enough reason, Sam,” Bucky repeated. “I’m not going. She probably won’t even notice.”

Another lie.

Sam shook his head, the smile quickly leaving his face in favor of one Bucky knew all too well. Disappointment. Frustration. The thing was, it didn’t hurt as much when Bucky was purposeful in creating it.

“I thought you liked her?” Steve asked cautiously, eyes catching Sam’s for only a moment before he turned back to Bucky. They’d been talking about him. He hated when they did that.

“I don’t even know her, Steve,” Bucky shot back. He shouldn’t be getting angry with them. They were only trying to help. And yet here he was – pushing away the only two people left in his life that still managed to tolerate him. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, trying to push past it. “She’s nice, okay? She’s pretty. Is that what you want me to say?”

Steve sat back in his chair, exhausted. “I want you to be happy, Buck.”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, well, shoulda thought of that before I got myself blown up.”

“Bucky--”

“Let it go, man,” Sam sighed, setting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Bucky felt like he could sink straight into his chair. Why did he always do this?

“I hope you change your mind,” Sam said simply, gathering up his things as he and Steve started to make their way to the door. “It could be good for you.”

Bucky knew what he meant by that, the underlaying message hidden just beneath the surface: she could be good for you.

Right on cue, the pain started up again in his arm that was both there and not there, and Bucky tried to grit his teeth through it, though Sam could spot the tells almost immediately: his right-hand gripping to the arm rest, the flinch in his jaw, the short tense breaths.

Sam sighed, pausing in the door frame. “We’ll be back in a few days. Try to clean up the place, will you? It’s a shithole in here.”

“Ma said she’d bake you cobbler if you promise to eat it,” Steve offered, too hopeful for his own good. It had been Bucky’s favorite once; the sort of dessert he talked about on desert nights when the mess hall served day old meatloaf and bland potatoes. He didn’t have much of an appetite these days.

Bucky forced out a smile for his friend’s sake and nodded.

A familiar silence swept over the apartment as the door closed behind them. It had been a comfort once; a darkness that swept around his shoulders like a blanket. It kept him isolated and suffocated and still, safe.

Now, it mocked him.

He stared at the knob on the door, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. He’d done this about a dozen times before, trying to convince himself to do something more with his days than waste away in an expensive one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

Steve was right. What the hell else was he going to do today? Stare at the wall for a few hours? Pretend to watch TV and not catch a single word of dialogue? Make a meal he wouldn’t eat?

He thought of you again. How you might scan the room in search of him and a frown might pull at the corner of your lips to not find him amongst the crowd. He wondered if you’d be dressed in yellow or orange or if you’d resemble a cloudless sky as the sun touched over the peaks of the city in soft pinks and purples.

He wanted to know so badly it was killing him.

“Fuck.”

He dragged his feet to the bedroom to find something half decent to wear.

***

It had been a less than ideal start to your day.

The children’s reading presentation at the library got a little out of hand when the speaker – a local theater student – got caught up in the voices and scared half of the toddlers to tears as he took some interesting liberties with The Cat in the Hat.

Then, a rather unpleasant woman yelled at you for twenty minutes about a man sleeping on the bench outside the near the entrance as if it were a personal affront that this man, a little down on his luck, dared to catch a few minutes of sleep in a public place.

The internet was shotty all day, leaving a few college students red in the face and with fat tears matching those of the toddlers in the next room over when hours' worth of work had suddenly disappeared in front of their eyes.

And of course – the teenagers. A band of four boys who hid under the brim of baseball caps with skateboards tucked under their arms, who found it rather amusing to stalk out the adult section and flip through the sorts of novels with bare chested men on the cover until their snickering could be heard from the floor below.

It warranted a coffee, at least.

The only solace was that it was Sunday. Your favorite day of the week. It meant a few hours at the VA and catching up with the guys. You hadn’t seen Natasha in a while and you were hoping to see how her new job at the security firm had gone. She was exceptionally qualified and you were almost certain you had her interview answers memorized by the time you’d finished practicing together.

But there was something different about this Sunday, something that left a few butterflies in your stomach where an easy contentment usually belonged. You were nervous, but there was an excitement, too.

There’d be a new face in attendance.

A beautiful face.

A face that you imagined required a double take were you to see it for the first time on a busy street.

“You’re smiling again there, darling.”

You looked up to find Mrs. Jefferson keeping a careful eye on you from over the top of her reading glasses. She wore a smile upon her face, one that blended into the laugh lines by her eyes. Her hand trembled with a familiar quiver as she reached up and slid the glasses off her nose. They rested comfortably on a purple beaded chain as they hung around her neck.

“You always have so much going on inside that head of yours,” she quipped, chuckling to herself. She was a slow mover as she turned to the computer to begin typing in her code. “Have you checked out the books for the VA yet?”

“Already done,” you confirmed, your mind still a little in the clouds. Coffee would definitely need to be a requirement before you stepped foot in the VA.

“Get a move on then,” Mrs. Jefferson said, gesturing to the door with a trembling hand. “I know you like to get donuts for the kids.”

You still had a few minutes left on shift, but Mrs. Jefferson was always so understanding. She had a son who was in the military once who saw about four tours. Always had a habit of going back, she’d said, like he was testing his luck. You weren’t sure how he’d died, but you knew he didn’t have the chance to go back for a fifth.

She was a part of a group no one wanted to be in: those who have lost someone to war. Membership cost was steep and there was no going back once it was paid. It was a lonely group, one far too many people occupied. Your own membership card was heavy in your pocket.

You glanced toward the door. The sun was shining bright on the pavement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

She smiled. “Yes, of course, dear. Tell the boys I said hello.”

“Yes, ma’am!” you called as you gathered your things and the shoulder bag stuffed with books and quickly scurried out the door before another disaster could reel you back inside.

The sun was warm on your skin and you took a minute to savor it before shoulders started to bump into you, forcing you off balance. You could see your breath in the autumn air, and still, the sun touched your cheeks and left behind a comfort there. Smile on your face, heavy bag draped over your shoulder, you resided to grab coffee and donuts at a café close to the VA before book club started.

It was one you visited a few times before, right across the street from a painfully busy Starbucks. The quaint coffee shop was often empty inside, save for a few college students with headphones in, typing away at their laptops, and a regular you often saw nursing a black coffee by the front windows, watching the people as they walked by.

It smelled of coffee beans as you stepped inside. Fresh. Aromatic. You took in a deep breath.

“Ah, Y/n!” a voice called from the back in a thick Colombian accent. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Hi, Luciana,” you laughed as the woman who owned the shop rounded the corner behind the counter and ran out to give you a hug. She was a tiny woman, short and shout, but her hugs could render even a giant of a man to a puddle.

“Donuts for your friends down at the VA again?” she asked, releasing you from her embrace, though she still managed to pinch your cheek on the way out.

“Yes, please!”

“And coffee for yourself?”

She knew you too well.

“I could use a bit of a pick-me-up,” you admitted. She knew your order by heart.

“You should see if that Sam wants to have some good coffee for a change at his next event instead of the bean water he serves our veterans now,” Luciana inquired as she pulled on a pair of gloves and began to stack your box with assorted donuts. She had that smile on her face you recognized well. She asked about Sam a lot.

“I’ll be sure to get his thoughts,” you replied, trying to stifled a smile.

“Have him come by,” she offered rather smoothly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen his pretty face and I could use a little pick-me-up myself.”

She winked at you and set the box of donuts on the counter. Then, your coffee; lid pressed on top, cardboard around the edges to protect from heat. You reached for your wallet but she snuck her hand over the counter and grabbed your wrist.

“No, no, not today, my dear. My treat.”

You parted your lips to protest but she shook her again.

“Tell those kids to come visit me every once in a while, okay? I’ve got a discount for ‘em,” she offered, bright smile over painted red lips. She waved you off and you knew there was no arguing with her.

“That’s very kind of you, Luciana. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“So will my business, dear.” There was that wink again.

You laughed, heading for the door. “I’ll see you next week!”

The bell rang on your way out.

The VA wasn’t more than a few blocks from Luciana’s, but the bag piled high with books was starting to weigh on your shoulder. It didn’t help that you had to weave expertly between the pedestrians to balance your coffee and the donut box, too; tourists walking about 10 mph too slow and locals stuck in their path with no qualms of shoving you out of their way if you managed to jump in their trajectory.

As you approached the VA, the crowd began to disperse. There weren’t too many people who frequented this street as there was little more than the VA building itself to occupy the tourists. You were surprised to find a man standing in front of the doors, staring up at the building as if it offended him in some way.

Dark brown hair tucked under a baseball cap, just barely peeking out at the nape of his neck. Right hand tucked deep into his pocket, rigid in his stance as he stared down the double doors. He was talking to himself, you realized, judging by the soft clouds of chilled air by his mouth.

James Barnes.

Bucky.

A smile suddenly took over your face, enough that you had to bite down on the edge of your lip in an effort to suppress it. You’d hoped he would come, but Sam had talked about his friend Bucky long before you met him in the empty library of the VA a few days prior. He didn’t say ‘yes’ to much of anything and he seemed to be the sort of soldier that got left behind by the system when he returned home.

But he was sweet. You could tell that just from the small interaction you’d had. Quiet. A little flustered. Maybe reserved. But he had beautiful eyes; blue, like they could capture even the faintest colors in the sky and the sweep of a current in the Mediterranean. He’d only barely lifted the corner of his lips to a smile that day and it left you wondering how lovely he was when it touched his eyes.

“Bucky!” you called, moving a little quicker now as you approached, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Still focused on his staring match with the building, it seemed. For a moment, it seemed as though he might be turning to leave and your stomach twisted.

You were nearly at his side, a little out of breath when you called his name again and it registered this time. Only, it must have startled him because an arm jutted out in your direction, knocking the coffee from your hands. You were too stunned to do much of anything about it as they coffee flung itself to the pavement, the contents spilling to the ground and over your sneakers. You clutched the box of donuts tight to your chest.

Bucky froze, almost as still as a statue, his eyes focused on the coffee spilled on the sidewalk. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitch and slowly, his eyes drew up to meet yours. He stared at you for a moment, mouth falling agape. His ears were burning red.

Then, he seemed to come back to reality as he blinked a few times, his eyes darting from the shock on your face to the coffee on the sidewalk.

“Y/n! Shit—fuck! I am—so sorry,” he started to ramble, his hand reaching out, though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “I didn’t realize you were-- fuck—”

“It’s alright, Bucky,” you tried to ease him, a laugh in your voice. “Don’t worry about it. Probably didn’t need the caffeine anyway.”

“I should, um,” he looked around desperately, scanning the street for the nearest coffee shop, his hand clenching and releasing at his side in a repetitive squeeze. It was really sort of sweet. “Let me buy you a new one.”

You smiled at him and he softened a bit. “That’s really not necessary.”

He gritted his teeth as you bent down to pick up the empty cup and shook the excess coffee off your shoes. They were old sneakers anyway and you were looking for a halfway decent excuse to get new ones. Then came a shy ex-soldier barreling in from the sky with a strong aversion to your coffee.

“I knew this was a bad idea...”

He was talking to himself, grumbling under his breath, and you realized why he was staring at the building for so long. You took a step closer to him, studying the way his chewed on the inside of his cheek and shoved his right hand into his pocket.

“Is it?” you asked.

Blue eyes flickered to yours, brows furrowed. He didn’t think you’d heard him. “Sorry?”

You just smiled at him, shaking your head. You’d been working at the VA long enough to recognize the man behind the soldier; one who’d been beaten and bruised and left to waste the second he was dropped back on American soil. Constantly beating himself up, constantly wondering if he was doing the wrong thing and struggling to be the version of himself he was before the war.

“So, James Barnes,” you grinned, “you decide if you’re coming in or not? It’s a little chilly out here. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

Bucky stared back at you, unsure. But you could see the tension easing off his shoulders. His right hand was hanging back at his side again as his eyes flickered up to the doors again.

“Come on.” You smiled at him again and you noticed pretty quickly that he softened when you did that. It made your stomach flutter. You took a step forward, hoping he’d follow behind. “There’s shitty coffee inside we can share before book club starts.”

“I don’t even know what you’re reading,” he admitted, that sweet nervousness taking over again.

“You don’t need to,” you shrugged and his brow scrunched up again, confused. You glanced back at the doors. “Well, I’m going inside. I hope I see you there.”

With that, you turned and shouldered your way through the doors, donut box clutched tight to your chest. You waited by the entrance until you heard the soft grumble of a graveled voice outside, and then, footsteps as they approached the door.

You smiled.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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The Bad Batch: A Crosshair Analysis

Hello, Star Wars fandom! I have just completed watching—and loving—The Bad Batch, which you know means I now need to dump all my thoughts about the first season into the tumblr void. Specifically, thoughts on the complicated drama that is Crosshair. I have no doubt that the majority of what I’m about to say will be old news to anyone who watched the show when it came out (I’m slow...), but I’m writing it all out anyway. Largely for my own sanity enjoyment :D

I want to preface all of this by saying that the above is not an exaggeration. I love the show and I love the entire cast. My enjoyment in each of the characters is directly connected to my enjoyment of the season as a whole, which I say because I’m about to get pretty critical towards some of the characters’ choices and, to a lesser extent, the writing choices that surround those. Does this mean I secretly hate The Bad Batch? Quite the opposite. I’m invested, which is presumably just what Filoni wants. I’m just hoping that investment pays off.

But enough of the disclaimers. Let’s start with the matter of the inhibitor chip. I’ve seen fans take some pretty hard stances on both sides: Crosshair is completely innocent because he’s definitely been under the chip’s control this whole time, no matter what he might say. Crosshair is completely guilty because he said the chip was removed a long time ago and he chose to do all this, no moral wiggle room allowed. However, the reality is that we don’t know enough to make a clear call either way. The audience, simply put, does not have all the necessary information. What we have instead is a couple of facts combined with claims that may or may not be reliable. Let’s lay them out:

Crosshair was definitely under the chip’s control at the start of the series.

He was able to resist it to a certain extent, resulting in a pressure to obey orders coupled with a primary loyalty to his squad. See: telling Hunter to follow the Empire’s commands—which includes killing kid Padawans—but not turning his team in as traitors when they did not. It’s an in-between space.

Crosshair’s chip was then amplified to an unknown extent. I’m never going to claim I’m a Star Wars aficionado—I’m a casual fan, friends. Please don’t yell at me over obscure lore lol—but within TBB’s canon, no one else is undergoing that experimentation. The effects of this are entirely unknown, which includes Crosshair’s free will, or lack thereof.

Crosshair then becomes a clear tool of the Empire, hunting down innocents, killing on a whim, the whole, evil shebang.

In “Reunion” he’s caught by the engine and suffers severe burns to his face. One leaves a scar that covers precisely the place where the chip would have been extracted.

Removing the chip leaves its own scar behind. If Crosshair’s was removed, we can’t see that scar due to the burn.

After these events Crosshair seems to mellow a bit. He does horrible things under the Empire’s orders—like shooting the senator—but is still loyal to his squad—killing his non-clone teammates to give TBB a chance, saving AZ and Omega, etc.

Crosshair claims that his chip has already been removed. However, Crosshair is arguably an unreliable source if he’s been lied to or if the chip is still there, encouraging him to manipulate the team.

Crosshair claims it was removed a long time ago, which is incredibly imprecise. As we can see from just some of the events listed above, precisely when the chip came out—if it came out—makes a huge difference.

Hunter realizes this and presses for clarification, but Crosshair dodges giving it. Again, a legitimate belief that it doesn’t matter, or evidence that he can’t say because something else is going on? We don’t know.

Hunter checks Crosshair’s head and finds the burn scar which proves… nothing. As stated above, they wouldn’t be able to see the surgery scar one way or another: its existence or its absence. It’s useless data, as Tech might say. I’ve seen a few fans claim that Hunter was also feeling for the chip with his enhanced senses, but 1. I didn’t catch any evidence of that in the scene and 2. Even if we assume Hunter did that anyway, the chips are notoriously hard to spot. Fives and AZ couldn’t find the chip at first when examining Tup. Ahsoka had to use the force to find it in Rex. TBB themselves couldn’t find it at first in Wrecker. If machinery consistently fails to find the chip on the first couple of tries—it’s meant to be a hidden implant, after all—why would we believe Hunter’s senses could pick it up instantly? Maybe he missed it, or maybe it wasn’t there at all.

Crosshair appears to be struggling with a headache in the finale, just as he was at the beginning of the season and just like Wrecker was for the first half.

The point of listing all this out is to emphasize how ambiguous this whole situation is. I don’t want to use this post to argue one way or another about whether Crosshair’s chip is really out. I have my preferred theory (the chip’s still in, but only partially functional), but at the end of the day none of this is conclusive. The writing takes us in what I hope is deliberate circles. Crosshair says the chip is out? Crosshair is not a reliable source of information until we know if the chip is out. What other evidence is there that the chip is gone? A scar? We can’t see if there’s a scar. Hunter’s abilities? He only checked once for a canonically hard to find implant—if he actually checked at all. And why would the Empire want the chip out? Well, maybe it has to do with that push towards willing soldiers, but if that were the case, why leave Crosshair behind and have the “clones die together”? By that point he was one of the most willing, chip or not. Did they have to take it out because of the engine accident? Pure speculation. We just don’t know and THAT is the point I want to make.

Because it means the rest of the Bad Batch didn’t know either.

The core issue I have here is not whether the chip is in or out, or even how long it may have been in if it is out now. The issue is that TBB spent 99% of the first season believing that Crosshair was under the chip’s influence… and they didn’t try to do anything about that. They abandoned him. They left a man behind. Does this make them all horrible monsters? Of course not! This shit is complicated as hell, but I do think they made a very large mistake and that Crosshair has every right to be furious about it.

“But, Clyde, they couldn’t have gone back. It was too dangerous! Hunter had a duty to his whole team, not just Crosshair.” True enough and I’d buy this argument 100% if Hunter hadn’t spent the entire season throwing his team into dangerous, seemingly impossible situations to save other people. Crosshair became the exception, not a hard rule of something they had to avoid. They went back to Kamino for Omega, a kid they’d only had one lunch with, despite knowing how dangerous the Empire was. They went into the heart of an occupied planet to rescue not just a stranger, but one belonging to the Separatist government. They helped Sid when she asked and there was plenty of compassion for the criminal trying to take her place. Most significantly, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation to go rescue Hunter when he was under the Empire’s control, in precisely the same place. Every explanation I’ve seen fans come up with—Kamino is too fortified, they don’t know where Crosshair is, they can’t risk Omega being captured, etc.—also holds true for Hunter, yet there wasn’t a second of doubt about needing to at least try to help him. And his rescue was arguably far more dangerous given that TBB knew they were walking into a trap. Going after Crosshair would have at least had some element of surprise.

I think the problem with these justifications is most easily seen in “Rescue on Ryloth” and, later, “War-Mantle.” In the former, we do watch Hunter decide that going on a rescue mission is too much of a risk, only for Omega to talk him into considering it.

Hunter: “It’s a big galaxy. We can’t put ourselves on the line every time someone’s in trouble.”

Omega: “Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?”

Hunter: “It’s not worth the risk.”

Omega: “She’s trying to save her family, Hunter. I’d do the same for you.”

The arguments that sway him are ‘Soldiers should help people’ and ‘Soldiers should specifically help their family.’ So… what does that say about their feelings for Crosshair? They’re willing to put themselves on the line for the parents of a girl they met once at a drop site, but not their own brother? That’s the message the writing sends. “But, Clyde, the difference is that they had an advantage here. Hera’s knowledge of her home planet tipped the odds in their favor.” Yeah… and Crosshair is stationed on TBB’s home planet. Even more than them collectively having the same knowledge that Hera does, “Return to Kamino” reveals that Omega always had additional, insider knowledge of the base: she has access to a secret landing pad and the tunnels leading up into the city. That knowledge was given and used the second Hunter’s freedom was on the line, but it never once came up to use for Crosshair’s benefit.

“War-Mantle’s” mission puts this problem in even sharper relief. Another claim I’ve seen a lot is that TBB only took risky rescue missions because they needed to be paid. The guys have got to eat after all. Yet Tech makes it clear that going after Gregor will lose them money. They’re meant to be on a mission for Sid and deviating for that won’t result in a payment. He explicitly says that if they decide to do this, they won’t eat. They do it anyway. No money, no intel, a huge risk “on a clone we don’t even know.” But that’s not what’s important, the show says. All that matters is that a brother is in trouble. This time it’s Echo pushing that message instead of Omega. When Hunter realizes that they’re about to try and infiltrate an entire facility and they don’t even know if this clone is still alive, Echo points out that they took that risk once before: for him. “If there’s a chance that trooper is being held against his will, we have to try and get him out.”

Yes! Exactly right! So why doesn’t that apply to Crosshair?

“Because he tried to kill them, Clyde!” No, that’s the easy, dismissive answer. A chipped Crosshair tried to kill them. AKA, a Crosshair entirely under the Empire’s control. The only difference between his enslavement and Gregor’s is that Gregor’s chains were physical while Crosshair’s were mental. And again, the point of everything at the start of this post is to show that no one knows when or even if that chip was removed. TBB definitely didn’t have any reason to suspect that Crosshair was working under his own power until Crosshair himself said as much. We might have been able to make that case at the start of the season, but “Battle Scars” removes any possible confusion. The entire team watched Rex reach for his blaster when he learned their chips were still in. The entire team watched Wrecker become a totally different person and attack them, just like Crosshair did. The entire team forgave him instantly and had their own chips removed. So why in the world didn’t anyone go, “Wow, Crosshair has a chip too. He was no more responsible for attacking us than Wrecker was. We need to try to get him out, no matter how hard that might be, just like we had to try for all these other people we’ve helped.”

But they didn’t. No one even considered rescuing Crosshair. They only went back for Hunter and, when they realized Crosshair was there too, they didn’t change their plans to try and rescue him as well. He’s treated as a particularly threatening inconvenience, not another team member in need of their help.

The problem I have with how this all went down is that the team treated Crosshair like an enemy despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite Omega outright saying that this isn’t his fault, it’s the chip, the group seems to decide that he’s gone crazy or something and that there’s nothing they can do. “It’s fine,” I thought. “They don’t really get what the chip is like yet. They don’t understand how thoroughly it controls someone.” But then “Battle Scars” arrives and Wrecker is treated with such compassion (which he deserves!) only for the group to continue acting like Crosshair is somehow different. It’s easy to say, “But Crosshair shot Wrecker” and ignore the easy pushback of, “and Wrecker nearly shot Omega.” Up until Crosshair’s own accusations and Omega’s ignored comments, TBB’s understanding of the chip’s influence and the lack of responsibility that accompanies mysteriously disappears when the show’s antagonist becomes the subject of conversation. This is seen most clearly in how Hunter tries to frame things during his talk with Crosshair:

“You tried to kill us. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Can’t you see that they’re using you? It’s that inhibitor chip in your head.”

“You really don’t get who we are, do you?”

Hunter mentions the chip, but he acts as if it’s Crosshair’s responsibility to overcome it: “Can’t you see…” Of course he can’t see, that’s the entire point of the chip, the thing he currently believes Crosshair still has stuck in his head. But Hunter and the others—with Omega as a wonderful exception—never seem to have accepted this like they did for Wrecker. When Crosshair “tried to kill us” it’s seen as a deliberate act that he chose, not something forced on him like with Wrecker. When Hunter talks about their ethics, he subconsciously separates the team from Crosshair: “You really don’t get who we are, do you?”, revealing a pretty ingrained divide between them. Even Wrecker gets in on the action, the one brother who truly understands how much the chip controls someone: “All that time, you didn’t even try to come back.” What part of he couldn’t try is not hitting home here? Again, for the purposes of this conversation it doesn’t matter whether Crosshair was chipped this whole time or not. The point is that TBB believed he was chipped… and yet still expected him to somehow, magically overcome that programming, writing him off when he failed to do that. He’s consistently held responsible for actions that they were told (and, through Wrecker, saw) were completely outside of his control. Even when we factor in his claim that the chip was removed, TBB has ignored all the evidence I listed at the start. No one, not even Omega, challenges this super vague and strange claim, or seeks out proof because they don’t want to believe that their brother could willingly do this. There’s just this... acceptance that of course Crosshair went bad. Why? Because he was an asshole sometimes? Taking it all as written, it doesn’t feel like the batch considered him a true part of the team. Certainly not like Wrecker or Hunter. As shown, the batch will go out of their way, risk anything, forgive anything, for them. They have a level of faith that was never shown to Crosshair.

“Severe and unyielding,” Tech says and he’s absolutely right, but I’d seriously challenge this idea that any of the others would have automatically done better if the situations were reversed. It stood out to me that each batch member has a moment of doubt throughout the series, a brief glimpse into how they think the Empire isn’t that bad, at least when it comes to this particular thing. Basically, a moment that could lead to a very dangerous line of thinking without others to stomp it down. Wrecker announces that he’s happy working for whoever, provided they give him food and let him blow things up. Tech finds the chain codes to be an ingenious strategy and is clearly fascinated with their development. Hunter initially wants Omega to stay on Kamino, despite knowing that this Empire has already, systematically killed an entire group of people: the Jedi. Doesn’t matter. She’s still (supposedly) safer there than she would be running with the likes of them.

There’s absolutely no doubt that those three made the correct choice in defying the Empire, but I believe that their ability to make that choice is largely dependent on them having each other. They survive together, not apart, and it’s their unity that allows them to make the really hard calls, like setting out on their own and opposing such a formidable force. But if Tech’s chip had activated and he’d been left behind, would he have muscled through to escape somehow...or would he have gotten caught up in all the new technology the Empire offered him, succumbing to both his chip and the inevitability that if his squad no longer wanted him, why not stay? Would Wrecker have escaped, or been easily manipulated into a new life of exploding things? Would Hunter have been able to push through without his brothers, or would he have become devoted to a new team to lead? Obviously there’s no way to ever know, but it’s always easier to make the right decisions when you have support in doing so. Crosshair had no support. His team left him and yes, they had to in that specific moment, but the point is that they never came back. As far as we saw throughout the season, they never planned to come back. They all talk about loving the Crosshair who existed when life was easier, but they weren’t willing to fight for the Crosshair that most needed their help. When he says “You weren’t loyal to me,” he’s absolutely right. The same episode, “Return to Kamino,” gives Omega two powerful lines that the group rallies behind:

Omega: “[The danger] doesn’t matter. Saving Hunter is what matters.”

AZ: “You must leave.”

Omega: “Not without Hunter.”

The key word there is “Hunter.” Danger, stakes, risk, probability… none of that matters when Hunter needs help. Crosshair did not receive that same level of devotion.

Which creates a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. The group is upset that Crosshair isn’t rejoining them, but they fail to realize that he has no reason to trust them anymore. He’s not joining the Empire because he’s inherently evil and that’s that, end of discussion. He’s joining it because above all Crosshair wants a place to belong… and TBB has made it clear—unintentionally—that he does not belong with them. The horrible actions that Crosshair took under his own free will (theoretically) came after he realized that doing bad things while under the Empire’s control was, apparently, unforgivable. If it wasn’t, his team would have come back to rescue him. They could have at least tried. But they didn’t, so Crosshair is left with the conclusion that either what he did under the Empire’s control is something the group can’t forgive him for, or they can forgive that (like with Wrecker) and he’s the problem here. He’s the one not worth that effort.

“The Empire will be fazing out clones next,” Hunter says. To which Crosshair responds, “Not the ones that matter.”

He wants to matter to someone and events show he no longer matters to his brothers. So why not stay with the Empire? I mean, we as the audience ABSOLUTELY know why not. Self-doubt and feelings of isolation aren’t excuses for joining the Super Evil Organization. Crosshair, if he is under his own control, is still 100% in the wrong for supporting them, no matter his reasons. So it’s not an excuse, but rather an explanation of that very human, flawed, fallible thinking. He needs to be useful. He needs to be wanted. Crosshair is an absolute dick to the regs and I have no doubt that a lot of that stems from the harassment TBB has experienced from them (with a side of his inflated ego), but I’d bet it’s also due to Crosshair’s intense desire to be valuable to someone. He keeps pointing out the regs’ supposed deficiencies because it highlights his own usefulness. When Crosshair fails to find Hera, the Admiral says that soon he’ll get someone who can, looking straight at Howzer at the door. It makes Crosshair seethe because his entire identity is based on being useful, yet no one seems to need him anymore. TBB seems to no longer want him. The Empire no longer wants clones. Now even regs are considered a better option than him, the “superior” soldier. Everywhere Crosshair turns he’s getting the message that he’s not wanted, but he’ll keep fighting to at least be needed in some capacity, no matter how small. Even if that means overlooking all the horrors the Empire commits.

“All you’ll ever be to [the Empire] is a number,” Hunter says and he’s absolutely right. But to TBB recently, Crosshair hasn’t even been that. He’s been nothing. Nobody worth coming back for. To his mind, at least being a number is something.

I hope that all of this resolves itself into a conclusion that is kind to each side (preferably without a Vader-style death redemption), especially given the still ambiguous state of the chip, but from a writing standpoint I’m admittedly a bit wary. We’re obviously meant to believe that the batch all love each other, but as established throughout this entirely too long post, this season did a terrible job imo of proving that they love Crosshair. Or, at least, proving that they love him as much as the others. If this was really meant to be just a matter of miscommunication, with Crosshair making terrible life choices because he only thinks he was abandoned, then we as the audience would have seen the batch trying and failing to get him out. Or at least establishing a very good reason why they couldn’t take that risk, hopefully with entirely different side-missions so the audience isn’t constantly going, “So you can risk everything for Gregor... but not Crosshair?” I’m VERY glad that Crosshair was allowed to air his grievances to the extent he did, but the end result of that—Hunter continually denying this, Omega walking away from him in their rooms, neither Tech nor Wrecker actually sticking up for him and acknowledging the chip’s influence during at least some of all this—is making things feel rather one-sided. It’s like we’re meant to take Crosshair at his word and accept that he’s this garden-variety antagonist who joins the Empire because yay being on the winning side… despite all these complications that clearly have a huge impact on how we read the situation. It doesn’t help that the show has already embraced an inconsistent manner of portraying chipped-clones. We know every clone has one, we know only a couple clones are aware of the chip’s existence (and can thus try to get it out), we know they enter a “Good soldiers follow orders” mindlessness once activated… yet towards the end we see a lot of side character clones thinking for themselves. Howzer decides that he’s no longer loyal to the Empire, giving a speech where a couple other clones throw down their weapons too. Gregor was arrested because he likewise realized how wrong this all was. But how is that possible? Do the chips completely control the clones, or not? Are these clones somehow exceptions? Are the chips beginning to fail? All of that has a bearing on how we read Crosshair—what were his own decisions, how much he was capable of overcoming the chip, whether that changed at all during certain points—but right now that remains really unclear.

It’s details like that which make me wonder if all these other questions will be answered. Will the story resolve all those ambiguous moments surrounding the chip, or brush them off with the belief that we should have just taken Crosshair at his equally ambiguous word? Will the story acknowledge Crosshair’s points through someone other than Crosshair, allowing it to exist as a legitimate criticism, rather than the presumed excuses of an antagonist? I’m… not sure. On the whole I’m very happy with TBB’s writing—despite what all this might imply lol. Until my brain picks over the season and discovers something else, my only other gripe is not allowing Omega to form a solid bond with Tech and Echo, instead putting all the focus on big brother!Wrecker and dad!Hunter. I think it’s a solid show that does a lot right, but I’m worried that, unless there’s a brilliant answer to all these questions and an intent to unpack both sides of the Hunter vs. Crosshair debate with respect—not just falling back on, “Well, Crosshair is with the Empire so everything he says is automatically bad and wrong” take—we’ve just gotten the setup for a somewhat messy, ethical story. For anyone here who also reads my RWBY metas, I’m pretty sure you’re not at all surprised that I’m invested in going, “Hey, you had one of the heroes suddenly become/join a dictatorship and do a lot of horrific things, but within a pretty complicated context. Can we please work through that carefully and with an acknowledgement of the nuance here, rather than throwing the ‘evil’ character to the proverbial wolves?”

God knows TBB is leagues ahead of RWBY, but I hope things continue on in not just a good direction, but one that tackles the aspects of this situation that many fans—and Crosshair—have already pointed out. As much as I adore the cast—and I really, really do—it was discomforting to watch a found family show where 4/5th of that family so completely wrote off one of the members and crucially have, at least so far, refused to acknowledge that. I want complicated, flawed characters, but that’s only compelling when the storytelling admits to and grapples with those flaws. We have quite firmly established Crosshair’s flaws in Season One. I hope Season Two delves into the rest of the team’s too.

Aaaand with that meta-dump out of my system, I’m off to write TBB fic. Thanks for reading! :D

#The Bad Batch #TBB #Crosshair #Star Wars #SW #mymetas #do I take my life in my hands #by posting SW meta?#probably lol

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smoochkooks · 4 years

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—hymne a l’amour (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, tiny bits of angst

⟶ word count: 5.5k

⟶ summary: it’s valentine’s day and your boyfriend decides to surprise you in more ways than one. and when you’re dating park jimin, cocky, smart and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of absolutely nothing.

⟶ warnings: dom!jimin, sub!reader, big dick!jimin, sir kink, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, dirty talk, use of degrading names, unprotected sex, mentions of jimin having a daddy kink, jimin being disgustingly sweet boyfriend, oc having at least 2 (two) mental breakdowns, cringy valentine’s day presents

this is eldorado valentine’s day special but it can be read as a standalone. enjoy! xx

Spending Valentine's Day in the city of Paris is like walking through the streets of Beijing and smelling the strong essence of soy sauce and chicken every time you take a breath.

Overwhelming.

(Or at least that's what you think is a good comparison, since you've never stood your foot in Beijing before.)

Paris seems to be on another level when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. It's because that's the city of love, someone may say, but no, my friend, it's not just that. French grammar isn't the only stupid thing about said country. Citizens are even weirder, in more ways than one. It's the Eiffel Tower and the smell of garlic that disguises it all when you first visit France.

A week before February 14th, restaurants, cafees and grocery shops are all covered from head to toe in red hearts, chubby cupids, big teddy bears, various kinds of roses and, at the top of that – everywhere you focus your eyes on, you spot those huge inscriptions where words ‘love’ and ‘I love you’ are spelled in hundred different types of swirly fonts.

It's all too kitschy for your liking but tourists and locals don’t actually mind it even a bit. Once a year Paris turns into a set of the most cliché rom-com and no matter how irksome it might feel, you just have to survive this festival of boofonery.

You've always despised Valentine's Day with every fiber of your being (mostly because you hadn’t had anyone you could actually spend this day with) but your judgement took a sharp three-sixty turn when certain blond, charismatic man entered your life. Now, while you’re happily taken, a romantic dinner and a bouquet of red roses don’t sound that bad.

But when you're dating someone like Park Jimin, a smart-ass, cocky and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of abosultely nothing.

It's a little past ten, you’re laying in your king-size bed, a day before the actual Valentine's Day. Jimin informed you he was going to be late for dinner because of some extra paperwork he had to do in the office, so you patiently wait for him. Wrapped like a fancy Christmas gift in a new pair of flimsy, lacy lingerie you recently bought in Victoria’s Secret, all hidden underneath Jimin's baggy t-shirt (the combination of casual and slutty never fails to drive him crazy). The set is cute, in a baby pink colour. The last time you pulled a move like this, Jimin went hard, literally and lyrically.

Let's just say that Park Jimin (and his dick) likes high-quality underwear.

Dating Jimin has taught you a few things, one of them being that his sex drive is insatiable, so you always need to be prepared. That’s why you're now laying here, on your bed, freshly shaved and smelling of coconut, your precious pussy ready to be worshipped by Jimin's mouth.

When you hear the familiar jingle of keys and the door to your apartment swings open, you squeal in excitement, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to scroll through it mindlessly so you don’t come across a girl whose only purpose in life is to get dicked down by her boyfriend.

(Which, right now, is your only purpose.)

“Babe, I’m home!”

You hear Jimin pulling off his shoes and coat, so you shout back, “I’m in the bedroom!”

He seemed to be in a good mood in the morning and if nothing's changed, you're positive about getting some action tonight. A well-deserved orgasm after work it's all you crave. You squeeze your thighs, and wait.

“God, I’m so fucking exhausted.” Jimin announces upon entering the room and as soon as those words leave his mouth, he collapses face down onto the bed. His lifeless corpse smells like sweat mixed with his usual cologne and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

And that’s on getting railed by your boyfriend tonight.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a moment, voice laced with tiredness. He grunts and lifts himself up to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like bitter coffee and it makes you cringe, but you kiss him back nonetheless. He pulls off too fast for your liking and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck instead. He cuddles into your side, mumbling something about you feeling warm.

In your head, you count. When was the last time you two had sex? Right, last Tuesday. Oh boy, what a night it was. Your ass still hurts a little while sitting on a chair, a byproduct of your boyfriend's palm landing smack after smack on your cheeks. Lesson learned: never smile too broadly to the waiter who blatantly flirsts with you. You're sure the whole appartment complex heard that night who makes you feel that good

(As if they don’t already know.)

See? Park Jimin is unpredictable.

“How was work?’’ you decide to ask instead, clearing your thoughts from the inappropriate images of Jimin’s bare body pressed to yours as he fucked you that night. You thread your fingers through his blond locks just the way he likes, massaging his scalp.

He sighs, his words muffled when he speaks. “This new employee can’t do shit. I had to prepare everything before tomorrow's expedition by myself,” he says. “I have to tell Namjoon to fire his ass.”

You falter your movements for a second. Right, the expedition. You completely forgot about it. Jimin's going to be out of town for the whole day, digging in the soil in some French village the name of you cannot pronounce.

It looks like your fancy lingerie has to wait for her big premiere a little longer.

“What time are you planning to be back home?” you ask.

“Dunno. Probably late.” Jimin exhales loudly, his breath tickling your neck. His hand travels to your nude thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. You fight back a moan that threatens to spill from you mouth. You really need to get laid soon. “We set off at 6am.” he adds, tracing circles on your bare skin. Your smile drops.

So the plans for morning sex on Valentine's Day stay where they belong. In your dreams.

“You're so soft. And you smell like coconuts. I could stay like this forever.” Jimin mumbles, circling your waist with his arms and pulling you even closer to him.

You sigh, basking in this situation just for a while, stroking Jimin's hair and listening to his steady breathing until he eventually falls asleep. Still fully clothed, still with his hand on your thigh. Carefully, so you don’t wake him up, you get up from the bed to take off your underwear. You do feel a little disappointed, but it's okay.

When you settle yourself on the bed next to Jimin again, your back facing him, a strong arm pulls you flush to his body. You hear him sighing with relief, and it makes you smile to yourself.

Lights off, everything can wait for tomorrow.

In the morning, just like expected, you wake up alone. There's no sight of Jimin, his side of the bed empty and cold. For your dismay, there’s no bouquet of red roses waiting for you in the kitchen, no box of chocolates or a small, cheesy note with your name written on it. Not even a short “Happy Valentine's Day, baby!” text on your phone. Absolutely nothing.

You tells yourself it’s fine. Maybe Jimin didn’t have enough time, maybe he was too occupied with expedition to prepare something special, maybe the big surprise is yet to come. However, you can’t quite shake off the feeling that something do seem odd and it makes you anxious. Leaving without a single text is not Jimin's style. Not when it's your first Valentine's Day spend together.

You probably shouldn’t worry that much. It's not a big deal, after all you hate those types of annual holidays and Jimin knows it. Yet something about the whole situation makes you uncontrollably uneasy. You have never been like this, vulnerable and sheepish. You hate Park Jimin for turning you into such a softie.

Walking through the streets of Paris makes you feel nauseous. You look at all the happy couples sucking each others’ faces for everyone to see and fight an urge to gag. Someone shouts “Love is in the air!” and you almost throw up. Everytime you see someone holding heart-shaped balloons or flowers, you whip your head in other direction. It's nothing, you keep reminding yourself. A stupid holiday that doesn’t mean anything at all.

But the actual nail to the coffin happens to be the atmosphere in Eldorado headquarters. It drives you absolutely crazy.

It's 12am and still no word from Jimin. You checked: this bastard was online one hour ago, so he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Fine, mister. If this is how you wanna play, try sucking your dick by yourself, beacuse I’m not getting near it anytime soon, you think to yourself, filled with rage.

Yeri wiggles her pretty eyebrows at you and asks about your plans for tonight. You fake a giggle, saying that Jimin will probably surprise you with something when he gets back from his expedition. The words taste bitter on your tongue, especially when the high hopes you had simply melted away this morning. Your friend then starts babbling about the restaurant she's going to with Jungkook after work and you listen to her rant with forced smile on your face the whole time.

Meanwhile, a few meters away from you Hoseok is giggling like a teenager, typing something on his phone, without a doubt (sex)texting his girlfriend. She's out of town and you’re more than sure Hoseok hasn't gone to bathroom ten minutes ago just to take a piss. Even Namjoon is in a pleasant mood today, humming some old ABBA hits under his breath. Yesterday he couldn’t shut up about his date with a girl who’s also his new neighbour. He met her when she came by to give him homemade croissants. Ironically, that sounds a lot like some kdrama lovestory to you, and Namjoon hates kdramas.

During lunch time, you scroll through your Instagram and almost slam your phone on the wall. There's a new photo uploaded on Kim Seokjin's account.

kimseokjin92: Celebrating Valentine's Day on Maldives w @minsuga #couplegoals #boyfriends #valentinesday #loveislove

They are on fucking Maldives. Fucking Maldives! You grit your teeth. It's fine. Completely fine.

But the absolute peek, the moment when you almost break down into tears and curl yourself into a ball of misery, comes in the person of Jeon Jungkook. He enters the office with a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses you have ever seen, a huge grin plastered on his stupid face.

Your heart clenches in your chest. Park Jimin could never.

Jungkook hands Yeri the flowers and she laughs, slapping his chest when he starts declaiming Romeo's monologue from the Shakespeare’s tragedy. He then kisses his girlfriend deeply and lovingly, making her cheeks flush in crimson. Hoseok coos at them, Namjoon following him. You swear you saw Jungkook's tongue in the process of said heavy make out session.

(Jealously is an awful emotion, you've decided a long time ago.)

An hour later, the bouquet stands proudly on Yeri’s desk and you stare at it with melancholy. You briefly avert your gaze to Jimin's desk and the memories flash before your eyes. The same desk he had you bent over, skirt bunched around your waist and cock drilling into your pussy, when you both stayed together at work after hours not so long ago.

You mentally slap yourself. Get your shit together, woman. It's not like he broke up with you. It's just some stupid holiday. It's nothing.

“Something's wrong?’’ Yeri asks you with genuine concern written on her face.

You swallow, forcing yourself to smile. “No, everything's fine. Just a headache.”

She eyes you suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” you say. Even though your friend doesn’t look convinced, she eventually stops bothering you.

It's all good. My boyfriend forgot about our first Valentine's Day together but everything's alright. No worries, you want to say instead.

Later that day, when you exit the elevator and walk straight to your apartment, a strange smell of something burning fills your nostrils. Is that food? A real fire? No, that's definitely some meat that stayed too long in the oven.

The closer you are, the smell becomes stronger, like it’s actually coming from your apartment. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What the fuck.” you mutter to yourself.

When you open the door, your jaw falls slack, eyes wide like saucers.

Never, in your entire life, had you thought you would see Park Jimin, your own dearest boyfriend, popping out from the kitchen with his hair disheveled, sweat coating his forehead, wearing a black suit underneath the most ridiculous apron you have ever seen: pink with a big-ass ‘mr good lookin is cookin' written in the middle.

(Can someone remind you why are you dating him? Oh, thank God he isn’t naked underneath.)

He looks completely lost when he spots you, waving awkwardly in your direction. It's probably the first time he touched something in the kitchen that isn’t coffee machine. He’s so flustered that you almost forget he nearly turned your apartment into ashes.

“Hi, babe.” he says sheepishly.

It takes all the willpower you hold not to spit a lung watching your boyfriend who absolutely hates cooking, trying to look unimpressed by the smell of burnt food. He does a pretty poor job though, an apron not helping in the situation.

“Happy Valentine's Day!’’ he exclaims perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, approaching you and planting a kiss on your cheek. And after that, you burst into hysterical laughter.

(Seriously, you almost lose your own breath three times.)

Jimin looks terrified but most importantly – put out. You’re probably hurting his enormous, almost the size of Russia pride right now. (Not your fault Jimin has the biggest praise kink on the planet.)

“Why are you laughing? Is it because of the chicken? Fine, I can’t cook for shit but I tried, okay? I didn’t have enough time and it was the middle of the night in Korea so I couldn’t just facetime my mum for advice and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up. He falters for a moment but quickly catches up, pulling you closer to him, placing his hands on your waist and deepening the kiss.

But then, when his about to trail kisses down your throat, you hit his arm.

“What was that for?!” Jimin yelps, looking at you with astonishment.

“I thought you fucking forgot about the Valentine’s Day!” you yell, slapping his chest. “Why didn't you tell me about this?!”

“Because the definition of surprise says you can’t reveal it sooner?” he reponds in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble and pull him in for another kiss. You could feel him smiling into it, cheekily biting onto your lower lip. He places a loving peck on your forehead and brushes the strands of your hair behind your ears. There's so much affection in his eyes you could melt into a puddle right here and there.

“I’m sorry. Jungkook told me you looked upset the whole day.” he whispers.

“I wasn't!” you protest.

“He told me you almost cried when he gave Yeri a bouquet of red roses.”

This stupid brat.

You look up at Jimin. “Fine. I was mad. And sad. Everyone was having the time of their lives and here I was, on a verge of mental breakdown because my idiot of a boyfriend supposedly forgot about the Valentine's Day.” you say, crossing your arms over chest with a pout.

Jimin rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the living room, where a bottle of (your absolute favourite) wine is standing on the table, along with candles and, yes, red roses. It's too cheesy and straight from the cringy rom-coms but you don't mind, because it's Jimin and he poured his heart into this and it's all that matters.

When he approaches you again, he isn’t wearing that stupid apron and you blush at how perfect he looks, almost painfully handsome. His hair needs a cut so it’s pushed back from his forehead. God reincarnated in the form of a smart, cocky archeologist who happens to be your boyfriend.

You're, well, in your black jeans and baby blue sweater and you probably stink, but Jimin assures you with his loving touches he doesn’t mind, never will. He always does that, looking at you with those sparkling eyes which say you're the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

And it doesn't matter how many times you scold him throughout the day, how many banters you have over silly things, because at the end of the day, in each others’ embraces, it feels like home for the both of you.

“Since the chicken chickened out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, filling your glasses with red wine. “We can always get drunk and watch some old romantic movies.”

You smirk. “You cried the last time when we watched ‘When Harry met Sally’.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart or you won't get the presents.” he warns.

You raise your eyebrows. You hope one of them comes in the form of his dick. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your lingerie set, so you make a mental note to wear it after the shower. “Can I see those presents now?” you ask, looking at Jimin with pleading eyes. It's exactly three seconds till he softens.

“Fine.” he mutters and heads to the bedroom.

When he comes back, he’s not alone. Literally not alone, because he's caring the most hilarious Valentine’s present you could ever think of. A giant, white teddy bear, almost in the size of him, heart-shaped balloons attached to his right paw.

“This is,” Jimin whips his head to read the name on the bear's chest. “Ted.”

You blink. “You bought me a teddy bear named Ted?”

Jimin opens his mouth to say some witty comment but he stops when he hears you sob. “Baby, sweetheart, what's wrong?” He kneels in front of you, the bear long forgotten on the floor. You burst into tears and Jimin tries to calm you down, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

Once you eventually stop crying and regain your normal breathing, you wipe your tear-strained cheeks and look down at your very much worried boyfriend. “You are an idiot, Park Jimin. A fucking idiot. That teddy bear is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen and I should humiliate you for giving me that but...” You take a deep breath. “But I can’t. Because I fucking love you, dumbass.”

The corners of Jimin lips lift in amusement but you’re clearly not done with your little speech, so he waits until you finish. “You organized the most cliché date ever. You read all the Grey's books. You can’t cook for shit and this stupid apron you wore? God have mercy,” You visibly cringe. “You declaim Greek philosophers when you shower. Fuck, you persuaded me to do teacher-student roleplay and I kept calling you daddy during the whole thing because you asked me to. You are everything I despise but at the same time I love you so much,” you say, tears once again welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now, even though I've realised this a long time ago.”

Jimin’s silent, so unlike him, declaring his emotions with a huge grin this time. He stands up and picks your body into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both to your bedroom. He places you gingerly onto the mattress, hovering over your figure.

(Your fancy lingerie can wait for another occasion.)

“I love you too, ___.” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re making me the happiest man in this world.”

You roll your eyes, however there’s no use for that because your cheeks are already tainted red. “Oh, stop being such a sap.”

He smirks. “You love when I’m like this.”

“That is, in fact, not true.”

You’re lying and he knows it, but he always lets you banter with him like this anyway.

“Then what do you want me to be today?” he asks, his hands travel down to your zipper, then pull down your jeans. “Sweet? Loving?” He helps you take off your sweater and you’re left with nothing on beside your underwear. “Or do you want me to be rough? Push you around and fuck you stupid?” You gulp, your attitude successfully shut down. “Come on, use your words.”

Somehow, you manage to gain your composure. “Want you to take off your clothes first.”

Jimin chuckles, lowly and with a promise of more to come if you’re patient and behaving well, according to his commands. “You’re not the one to give orders here, baby.” he retorts. Then, he’s gripping your knees, pulling your legs apart and putting your pussy on full display for him.

There’s already a dark, wet patch forming on your grey panties and he tsks disapprovingly. “You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want it that much, huh?”

You nod. “Please, touch me.”

“Try again.”

So he’s in that mood today. You’ve explored a fair share of kinks with Jimin so far and what you know for sure is that he always takes the leading role in bed. He likes to dominate, be the one in charge, railing you into the mattress until you’re crying out so loud your neighbours are banging on your walls.

You slip into your role naturally, your usual confident behaviour gone and replaced with timidity. He relishes in seeing you like this, helpless and vulnerable, a stark contrast to how you act on daily basis.

Jimin pins you with his dark stare and you give in. ‘”Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

He rewards you with a feather-like touch of his fingers on your pussy. He finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with practiced strokes until more juices drip down from your hole, wetting your panties embarrassingly fast. Your legs shake with want for more, to feel him sink his digits knuckle-deep into your cunt and finger you like he did that one time in a bathroom on your flight to Japan.

He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered with your state, ignoring your pleading eyes and wanton moans. He hasn’t even taken off your underwear yet and you’re already on the verge of an orgasm.

Jimin knows your body inside and out, probably better than you do, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that he can sense when you’re about to climax. He withdraws his hand from your center seconds before your release. You can’t help but huff with annoyance.

“Something's wrong, babygirl?” he asks, saccharine-sweet and annoyingly innocent.

Your retort dies on your tongue the moment he decides to unbutton his white dress shirt. You’re too distracted with delicious lines of his sculpted chest to complain about your denied pleasure anymore. Your hands itch to touch him but you stay immobile, devouring him with your eyes instead.

Jimin notices you're staring and smirks. “Like what you see?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

He then stands up from the bed and motions for you to come closer. You oblige without an ounce of confusion, crawling until you’re sitting on your heels in front of him. It’s a rather humiliating position but you can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins when he cups your chin and tilts your head up.

“Take off my pants.”

You rush to obey, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands because you know what’s coming next once his pants are pulled down. He’s already hard, the prominent bulge of his cock straining in his briefs.

“Now my underwear.”

You nearly moan out loud when his cock slaps his abdomen, mouth salivating to take him in deep but you don’t dare touch him without a directed instruction. He makes sure your eyes are on him and starts stroking himself, spreading the precum all over his length, hissing when his thumb rubs the sensitive head of his cock.

Jimin groans, low and throaty, and you whimper quietly in response. “What, baby? You want my cock that much?” he asks, his left palm cupping your cheek. You whisper a meek “Please” and he chuckles. “Come on then. Show me what that slutty mouth of yours can do. Open up.”

Your lips part on command and you nearly moan when he guides his cock into your mouth. You’ve sucked Jimin's dick enough times to know what he likes, what brings him to the edge quicker than hitting the back of your throat. You lick the tip of his cock, eyes darting to check his reaction and, just as you expected, his features twist in pleasure.

You relish in a minute or two of the control you have over him before he grows bored with your teasing and decides to fuck your mouth instead. But for now, you make sure to have him suffer a little for that stunt he pulled earlier when he didn’t make you come.

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks for extra stimulation. Your hands reach to fondle his balls and you smirk around his cock when you hear a groan leave Jimin's mouth. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch, moaning at the praise. “My pretty slut.”

The first hit on the back of your throat makes you gag because fuck, is he big. The only thing bigger than Jimin's ego seems to be his dick, apparently. When he threads fis fingers through your hair you know what’s about to come; jaw relaxed, saliva dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you’re ready to be ruined.

He withdraws, giving you exactly five seconds to breathe and then pushes forcefully inside. Your mind is filled with mental images of him giving your pussy the same treatment later. You would whimper at the thought, if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of dick. Instead, you give your best, swallowing every inch of him obediently.

“That’s it,” he rasps, clamping one hand on the back of your neck for better leverage. “You’re doing so good, baby.” When he nudges the back of your throat again, you feel him throb. He pulls away from the warmth of your mouth seconds later, panting heavily. He falls back onto the bed and pats his thighs. “Come here.”

You scoot closer to him and crawl onto his lap. He smiles at you from below, pulling you in for a kiss. The hands he previously gripped your waist with now travel upwards, unhooking your bra. Your hips unconsciously move, pussy gliding along the flexed muscles of his thigh.

Jimin notices your desperate attempt at getting some friction on your most sensitive parts and helps you rock your hips. He moves your panties to the side and you moan, felling the delicious pressure on your bare center. He’s watching with amusement as you’re falling apart on his thigh, thumb reaching to rub your clit. You cry out, climaxing so hard you’re almost seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.

He keeps helping you ride out your high until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. “Did you like it?” he then asks, urging you to look at him. “You were so desperate to come, sweetheart. Fucking yourself on my thigh like a bitch in heat,” You whine instead of responding, earning a harsh smack on your ass. “Use your words.”

Another slap lands on your cheek and you mewl. “Yes, I loved it, sir.”

He chuckles, maneuvering your body so you’re now positioned over his cock. He gives your ass a firm squeeze and you whimper, arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs despite orgasming just minutes ago. “Ride me, baby.” he says.

You hurry to obey, guiding his cock inside you. It's a tight fit but your wetness makes it smoother to push him deeper. “So big,” you mumble, bottoming out. You know damn well Jimin likes to be praised and if the smirk that stretches on his lips is anything to go by, he enjoys what you just said. “That feels so good, sir.” You start moving your hips languidly.

“Yeah?” Jimin quips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost makes the skin bruise. “Then show me what a good girl you are for me. Fuck, look at you. You’re so hot.” His palms cup your breasts, thumbs stroking your nipples.

You keen at the praise and quicken your pace. Your thighs start to burn but you ignore that, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The room is filled with lewd noises, skin slapping on skin. Jimin looks down, staring at his cock coated in your juices as it disappears inside your hole. He curses at the sight.

Your legs start to shake, huffs leaving your lips. “Sir–please,” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

“What do you need, babygirl?” he asks, pinching your nipples. You squeal, your pace losing its previous rhythm.

“I’m so close.” you stammer. “Please–touch me.”

“Where you do you want me to touch you, baby?” He ignores your whimpers, the way your pussy keeps squeezing his cock in a vice grip. “Here?” He touches your tits again and you shake your head violently. “Or here–” His fingers find your clit and you cry out loudly. You feel so full, his cock hits your cervix every time you drop down onto him.

“Yes, yes,” you chant, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. You probably look right now like a professional porn star but you couldn’t care less, not when you’re so close to the climax. “Sir–fuckfuckfuck, please!”

“There you go,” Jimin coos, circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.”

You’re gushing around his dick, arousal leaking out of your hole and coating his thighs with your release. Your upper body gives out and you collapse onto Jimin, your cunt pulsing from the intense pleasure you’ve just experienced.

“Oh god,” you mumble. “I just saw the answer to the whole universe.”

You feel Jimin's chest shaking with laughter and when you look up, you find him grinning at you. “That good?”

“That good.” you confirm, sighing tiredly.

“Are you okay?” You hear him asking. No matter how much he likes to push you around and fuck until you’re seeing stars, he always makes sure if you’re feeling comfortable to continue.

You spare him a nod. “You know I can handle it,” you say, lifting yourself up. “I’m a tough girl, right?” Despite the oversensitivity, you start rocking your hips again. “M-made for you.”

Jimin smirks. “Yeah, made for me,” he confirms and slaps your ass. Your pussy flatters around his cock. “Not like this,” he mutters and turns you onto your back with one, swift motion. “Much better.”

You pout. “You didn’t like it when I was riding your cock, sir?” You’re bluffing, but a girl can her fun too.

He clicks his tongue, guiding his cock through your folds again. “Oh, baby, I was enjoying it very much,” he says, picking up his speed. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. “But now I want it harder.”

He fucks you just like he likes the most; fast and rough, unforgiving. He leans down for a messy kiss that’s all teeth tongue and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees his saliva dripping down your chin.

(He decides right here and there that he might wanna explore his newfound fantasy soon.)

Soon you’re feeling the coil in your stomach tightening for the second time, embarrassingly quickly so. You moan, cunt squeezing around his dick. “Again?” Jimin asks, voice laced with both mirth and disbelief. Tears well in your eyes and you give him a nod. “Such a fucking slut.” he spits, slithering himself into you even faster than before.

Your third and final orgasm is so powerful and sudden, it nearly makes you black out. Jimin curses, fucking you through it. “Kiss me,” you whimper deliriously and he obliges, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “I love you.” you whisper into his lips and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“I love you, I love you–fuck.” he groans and spills himself inside, coating your pussy with his seed.

He collapses next you, chest heaving with every exhale. Your legs feel like jelly and you know you’ll have trouble walking tomorrow. Just when you’re about to tell Jimin to call in sick and spend the whole day in bed instead, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait, I forgot I have another present for us.” he says, rushing to pick something up from underneath the bed.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jimin, I swear to God, if you bought us matching t-shirts–”

He grins like a child, showing you two white pillows, the most basic ones you could ever think of, with ‘his side’ and ‘her side' written on them. It's cringy and ridiculous and you fight an urge to punch him, but you don't.

Because it's Jimin and you will never complain about it.

Because you love him. And that's all that matters.

#jimin smut #btsbookclub #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #bangtanhq #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fluff #bts smut #my writing

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crimsonophelia · 3 years

Note

Could I get a fluffy and maybe flirty Childe imagine set during his story quest? Instead of the Traveler and Paimon accompanying him, the reader (who works at the Northland Bank as one of Childe’s subordinates) gets slapped with the duty of babysitting Teucer and covering for Childe and his façade as a toy seller in Liyue.

"I must say that your brother is quite cute, sir."

"...I guess it must run in the family."

"Hm? Did you say something, comrade?"

"Oh. Um. Nothing, sir."

Of course, being the perceptive man he is, Childe heard all of what they said. What he ends up doing or saying to the reader? Seeing the magic you’ve worked when anon previously gave you the liberty of it, I leave it entirely up to you. :)

featuring: childe x gn!reader

warnings: a teeny bit suggestive at the end

published: april 27 2021

form: imagine

a/n: i’m gonna be real with you, i was stuck on ar35 for the longest time because i was too cowardly to level up my world so i finally did it today and i jumped from 35 to 41 T_T and now my enemies are stupidly strong. but anyways i just started the childe quest today so im just gonna stick to the part when they’re still in liyue and there’s no fighting wwww

“teucer, i swear to celestia-” you muttered under your breath, as the little redhead slipped from your grasp yet again, running ahead to go look at some kite vendors. “come back here, kid! otherwise you’re gonna be in a heck of a lot of trouble!”

earlier in the day, you were out running errands for the bank, under tartaglia’s orders, when you had come across rumors of a ruin guard running amok. figuring you would use your spare time and save some local liyue citizens the trouble of having to deal with the feral robot, you defeated the machine with efficient ease. however, in the vicinity, you discovered a lone child showing great excitement at a deactivated ruin guard, jumping and leaping while calling it “mr. cyclops” with a strange elation.

you figured the boy was snezhnayan, what with his features and clothing reminiscent of the cold climate of your homeland. but why in the world was he out by a ruin hunter all alone? he kept mentioning his brother, a toy seller in liyue, but you could think of absolutely nobody that fit that description.

so, out of the goodness of your own heart, you decided to take the little boy-- teucer, he called himself--back to liyue harbor with you, and see if you could find this older brother of his.

however, once you arrived back in the city, your plans were quickly derailed as the little brat seemed to have the attention span of a fruit fly, and was constantly trying to weasel his way into some other dangerous situation without you knowing.

“god dammit teucer”, you huffed, trying to keep up with the child. who let children have so much energy? your age must finally be catching up to you, you thought. “how about we go back to northland bank? you might like it there” you thought taking him back to your headquarters would stall the boy for enough time for you to find someone who might know the whereabouts of teucer’s brother. there weren’t too many snezhnayans in liyue--whoever his brother is, he can’t be far.

the little boy looked up at you with his big, blue puppy eyes, but you knew his act by now. “no buts, kid. if you’re lucky, we’ll be able to track down you’re brother there.” he sighed, relenting to your orders and following you back to northland bank.

the two of you climbed up the stairwell leading to the entrance of the bank on the second floor, teucer clearly dejected and pouting like a baby. exhausted, you pushed open the doors that you were so familiar with, and ushered the child inside.

much to your surprise, you see tartaglia talking with ekaterina in the lobby. it had been quite a while since you had seen your superior in person, and the surprise certainly was not unwelcome. sometimes you couldn’t stand the man’s smug attitude, yet there was something in his rogueish charisma that you simple couldnt deny attracted you to him.

teucer also seemed to be excited by this sighting of the red-headed harbinger, the little boy’s eyes lighting up with unbridled excitement.

“brother!”

wait. was tartaglia the older brother teucer had been talking about all along?

childe turned around, distracted by teucer’s voice, and upon seeing the little boy, his eyes lit up—first with surprise, then with confusion.

“teucer? what the heck are you doing here in liyue?”

he left the fatui agent with a befuddled look upon her face, and ran towards the child. teucer jumped up into his brother’s broad arms, and they grasped each other in a tight hug, like they had not seen each other for at least an eternity.

ruffling teucer’s hair, tartaglia softened, with an expression unlike anything you had really seen him wear before. he really must care about his family, you thought to yourself.

“so you’re the older brother this little tyke has been talking nonstop about”, you teased tartaglia, elbowing him in his side. “you know, he’s thrown me for a loop this entire day. i didnt think babysitting was part of the job requirement.”

the red-head chuckled abashedly, scratching his head. “sorry about that, [y/n]. the little guy can’t seem to bear being away from his favorite big brother.”

teucer laughed. he truly looked so happy to be with tartaglia again, which made you wonder what the harbinger was like when not on the job. you had known him to be a ruthless war machine, a hedonistic killer who thrived off of the rush battle and bloodshed gave him. childe could take down a dozen men, twice his size, in a matter of minutes, hardly breaking a sweat. yet seeing him interact with teucer, almost a little mini-sized version of himself, his gentleness and care surprised you. perhaps there was more to the man than you had initially thought.

teucer finally detaching himself from tartaglia, looked up at his brother with those same puppy eyes, now full of admiration. “are you here to sell toys to the liyue children, too?”, the child asked. toys? what toys could he possibly be referring to? you and ekaterina, both, looked at childe with confusion.

tartaglia stuttered for a moment. “oh! uhh— yes! yes i am! i was just talking with the nice lady, ms. ekaterina, on how many toys we can sell to all the children in liyue!” he responded, hardly missing a beat. did teucer not know what childe’s actual occupation was?

“wow! my brother really is the coolest person ever!” teucer leaped up and down, hanging onto tartaglia’s pantlegs. looking at this young, untainted innocence, you begun to understand why childe might try and shield the child from the truth.

childe detached the excitable child from his clothing, and beckoned ekaterina over. “ms. ekaterina, would you do me the grand favor of watching teucer for the rest of the day? i’d hate to burden our friend [y/n] after they have already brought him to liyue from celestia-knows-where.” he turns to teucer, telling him “big brother ajax is going to sell many, many toys now! so you need to behave yourself when i’m gone, okay? miss ekaterina will be watching you, and she’s very nice.” he pinches his brother’s cheek, teasing him lightly, and ushering him away with the fatui agent.

it’s now just you and tartaglia in the bank, as the sun was setting and all the other employees had gone home for the day. you heaved a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of baby-sitting duty, after having to deal with teucer’s antics for several hours now.

“i’m really sorry about all of that. i had no idea he would be coming, as a stowaway, no less.” the man looked at you with genuine gratitude. “i don’t want to imagine what might’ve happened to the little brat if you hadn’t been there.”

you chuckled, not quite used to seeing such sincerity coming from the harbinger. most of the time, you had been accustomed to his charismatic facade that he puts on when he becomes childe, the eleventh and one of the most dangerous members of the fatui harbingers.

“don’t worry, it really was no problem. your brother is certainly a handful, but undeniably adorable”, you said, mindlessly gathering your belongings again as you prepared to head out again. “he takes after his older brother quite a bit, i must say.”

“come again?” childe looked behind him, eyebrow cocked.

“oh— nothing. i didnt say anything”, you muttered. shit. you really need to get better at keeping your mouth shut. you refused to be known as the insolent fool with the puppy-love crush on the goddamn eleventh fatui harbinger.

“oh? that didnt really sound like nothing, my dear [y/n].” he smirked. whenever he called you “my dear”, you knew you were in for major teasing. he was definitely having fun with this. he strode towards you innocently, with that usual swagger of his, that tinted everything he did. his walk, his talk, his appearance all oozed confidence, and it was utterly intoxicating.

tartaglia now looked at you with a glint in his eye, the same look he gave enemies before he was about to utterly obliterate them. it was frightening, yet terribly alluring, and you despised how much you fell for it.

suddenly, you felt your back hit the cold, marble wall. you hadn’t even realized that tartaglia had cornered you against a gold pillar, his mere presence forcing you to unconsciously move away from him as he approached you, calculatedly. a lump growing in your throat, you couldn’t bring yourself to even utter a single word in defense, only feeling your cheeks grow hotter and your legs grow weaker.

tartaglia leaned his arm against the pillar, dangerously close to your head, effectively propping himself up with only you between him. you were far too aware of the space—or rather, the lack thereof—separating the two of you, the man’s hot breath audible in the dead, echoing silence of the golden bank.

tartaglia smirked, bringing his face close to yours. “you flatter me greatly, [y/n].” smirking, his breath grazed against your neck, his stare burning into your flesh. the way your name sounded on his lips made your breath hitched in your throat. too hot, you felt way too hot. it was impossible for a hydro user to make you feel such unbearable heat.

“seems as if your clever words aren’t of any use to you now, hmm?” you could feel the mans lips brushing against your jaw, each touch against you leaving a stinging trail. he brought his free hand to caress your own, fingers clasping yours as if you were made of a delicate porcelain, the finest kind liyue had to offer. slowly, as if dragging out each second as long as he could, tartaglia brought your hand to his lips, and planted a long, slow kiss to the back of your palm.

your eyes widened at the sheer eroticism with which he kissed your hand—an act commonly of etiquette somehow being much more lustful, even debauched when tartaglia did it. all you could feel was where his lips met your hand, the phantom burn it left, the slight string of saliva connecting his lips to your hand as he left it, the dark gaze in his eyes as he looked back up at you, clearly aware of how vulnerable you were in his grasp.

“thank you again, my dear. i hope we can continue to work together in the future.”

a/n: jesus christ this got really horny at the end LMFAO anyways i hope you like it! its kinda long but wtv

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #childe x reader #childe imagines #childe headcanons #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia headcanons #tartaglia imagines #childe x y/n #tartaglia x y/n

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ladydorian05 · 4 years

Text

A Christmas with you~

Oh god...where do I begin, okay as of today Dec/24/2020, the movie We can be heroes isn’t out yet, so everything is just from my imagination, interactions, personalities and everything else that may sound slightly canon, it’s most certainly NOT canon. I hate using ‘Y/n’ on reader inserts but this time I had to. Thank you @din-damn-djarin for being my beta for this fic, I really, really appreciate it. Go check out her fics, I adore her Neigbor Marcus Pike series, it’s SO good.

This is a monster of a fic, where did so many words come from?

Hope you guys like it.

Thoughts are in italics

A Christmas with you~

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Summary: You’ve been in love with your best friend for years, what you don’t know is that he’s also in love with you. Could a little push from one cunning young girl help you both get together during the most wonderful time of the year? (sorry, still suck at summaries)

Warnings: Reader’s superhero name is “Striker”, why? Because my brain thought it sounded cool, I jump from POV to POV, one plotting child, best friends to lovers, a pair of pinning idiots and implicit spiciness.

Words: 7K something

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was no secret to any of the members of the Heroics that you had no family to spend the holidays with.

In a way they were all your family, you were all a close-knitted team, but sometimes, it just wasn’t the same.

Then, there was Marcus and his daughter. He had been there from the moment you joined the team he became a very close friend, your best friend. Most of the time you got partnered with him, especially when it came to reconnaissance missions, you worked well together, you trusted each other and always had each other’s back.

Eventually, you began to feel differently towards him. You were no fool, you knew what you felt for him was definitely more than simple fondness, attachment or admiration. Your heart rate increased when he was close, his smile makes you smile, you would do anything for him, anything to keep him and his loved ones from harm’s way.

He’s always been so charming and handsome and a total gentleman. There had been times where you had wanted to take the first step, confess your feelings to him and see where that would take you, but you couldn’t; at first because he had been a married man about to become a father when you met him and then when his wife stopped being a part of the picture, well you just wanted to be there for him as a friend, he had enough on his plate raising Missy on his own, he didn’t need you to dump all of your feelings on him.

He was doing amazing on his own, but you wanted him. No, you wanted both of them, Marcus and Missy, to know that you would be there for them whenever they needed you. Besides, you were just friends, he’ll never see you as anything more.

“That will be all for today, everyone’s dismissed. I wish you all a happy Christmas eve and remember to keep your locators close, we all know how crime rates increase during this season. I'll see you again here until the 26th” Ms. Granada said, taking you out of your thoughts and officially ending the debrief meeting.

Every year, during the holidays, most of the team got a leave from duty, beginning early on Christmas eve, until the 26th; that was if no major crisis happened that required the whole team, otherwise only a handful of volunteers were left on patrol duty during those days.

Seeing as you’ve never celebrated the festivity, you always volunteered to be a part of the patrolling team. Not that your teammates had never invited you to spend Christmas with them and their families, they had done it on multiple occasions, not wanting you to be alone, time and time again you had reassured them that it was alright you didn't mind spending the night patrolling.

In truth, you always declined because you didn’t want to intrude, the celebration was all about family and spending time with loved ones, you knew your friends had good intentions but you just didn’t want to feel like you didn’t belong there, like you were invited to tag along out of pity.

Eventually, the invitations stopped coming your way, and while it hurt a bit that they gave up on you, you were also relieved for not being put on the spot again and again having to decline their generous offers.

But this year, unbeknownst to you, a scheme was beginning to brew inside the head of one young girl, to make you change your plans for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Missy wasn’t blind, she knew there was something between her father and Striker, even before she learned that her father was a superhero.

When she was younger, she had shipped his dad’s alter ego and Striker. They always looked so in-sync on the tv, like the perfect duo, but now that she gets to watch them both in real life? She had no doubts, they liked each other.

And it wasn’t just when they were in costume, Striker had always been around ever since she could remember, all of her birthday parties, her school festivals, even helping her dad every time some mom came up with the idea to have bake sales at school over and over again; what’s wrong with that woman?

She had noticed all the constant glances, the here and there ‘accidental’ brush of hands, even the full-on staring; just like right now, during the debrief, her father’s eyes kept straying from Ms. Granada to Striker and every single time he turned his attention back to the meeting before he could notice how Striker had been doing the same thing. Oh yeah, they were both pining for each other.

The problem was that they were SO stubborn, she’s been trying to bring it up to her dad, but he would immediately change the topic of the conversation with some question about school or any upcoming mission, it was frustrating!

She wanted him to be happy, she wanted both of them to be happy, and being superheroes was dangerous business, she wasn’t about to wait until something happened to either of them, as dramatic as that would be, for things to move forward. Like always, it was up to her to give them a push.

“You know, if you keep staring at her like that she’ll burst into flames.” One good thing that came with the pair of pinning adults was that the whole thing made them so easy to tease, and she loved to tease her father.

“I think you're mistaken, that would be something Lavagirl could probably do, not me sweetheart.” With a chuckle, Marcus puts a hand on her head to ruffle her hair. “Ready to go?” Changing the topic, again. This time she wasn’t about to let it go.

“Not yet. Actually, there’s something you haven’t done.” Missy crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Oh, really?” Marcus smiled as he mimicked his daughter’s stance. “And what is that thing I haven’t done?” he said with amusement.

Missy smirked. “You haven’t asked Y/n if she wants to come home and celebrate with us. “The smile on Marcus' face disappeared, a stunned expression replacing it.

“What!?”

“Yeah, you should invite her, we can all have dinner together and maybe she can stay and open presents with us.”

“Uh…Missy, sweetheart I don’t think that’s a good-“

“Oh, come on, dad! It’ll be great! It’s not as if we’re doing something REALLY special tonight. Please?”

“Sweetheart, she’ll probably say no, you know she never comes to Christmas parties.” His hands moved from his chest to rest on his waist as he spoke.

“Which is why you should invite her over. We’re not throwing a party; it’ll be just the three of us. And even if she says no, you won't lose anything just by asking.”

He wouldn’t know what to do if she rejected him. How cliché of him to fall in love with his best friend.

He had slowly fallen for you, so much so that by the time he realized what was going on, he was already a goner.

He had always known how beautiful you were, your smile, the way it illuminated your whole face; your eyes, your nose, your lips. He noticed how you were always helping people, inside and outside your Heroic persona, he also noticed how you tried to dismiss your own worries, not wanting to ‘burden’ others with them.

If only you would let him do for you the same things you do for him. He would love nothing more than to share whatever problems weighted down on you. He also knew you never accepted invitations to any Christmas celebration, at first, he had thought maybe you were being shy, being the new member of the team and all that, but year after year you always declined every single invitation from your teammates, he had always hated the thought of you spending the holidays on your own, patrolling the city.

He had never tried to invite you himself, back when his wife was around, they had always traveled to her parent’s house so it was useless to ask you to tag along, and then, after she left, it had been difficult to even try to celebrate.

If he asked you to come to Christmas and you said no, if you rejected him…well what hope could he have that maybe, just maybe he could find the courage to confess his feelings. But the probability of them being unrequired scared him so much. Should he risk it all?

Missy didn’t need to be a telepath to know what her dad was thinking, he was thinking too much and that normally resulted in him chickening out, well this time she wouldn’t let him.

“Or do you actually like the idea of her spending Christmas patrolling the city in a cold night most likely on her own?” This time she copied her father’s stance, silently challenging him to a staring contest, she had this in the bag, her dad had never won a staring contest in his life.

“You can be so stubborn when you want to, little lady.” Marcus said after a few seconds, breaking eye contact.

“Who do you think I got it from?” She said with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

“Come here.” Marcus pulled her in a hug. “I love you; you know that?” he said, leaving a kiss on top of her hair.

“I know, I love you too. Now stop stalling and go ask her.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh, you’re also bossy.” He squeezed her a little before letting go and walking towards y/n.

“It’s called leadership!” He shook his head laughing, well, at least he was doing something right, god knows raising Missy almost on his own hadn’t been easy.

~~~~~~~~~~

You had been waiting to see which teammates would be staying with you this year to agree upon a schedule, when you noticed Marcus approaching you, he stood in front of you with a wide smile making his adorable dimple appear.

“Hi there.” He greeted while rubbing his hands together, one of his nervous ticks.

“Hi there yourself, everything okay?” It was weird, you could see how tense he was and he kept shifting from foot to foot.

His eyes widened and his head kept moving as he nodded. “Yeah, yes, everything’s alright.”

“Okay.” Now this was a Marcus you didn’t get to see often. Normally he was so self-assured, he always carried himself with confidence, even in the face of danger. “Are you excited to go home and spend a whole day with Missy?”

“Of course, it’s been some time since we’ve had the chance to spend a whole day together.”

“I’m glad you got the chance, she’s been working so hard, you both have, you deserve some time off.”

And so do you. He thought.

“You know, you’re right, you should also take a break.” He frowned. Marcus could see the bags under your eyes. You had also been working harder, pulling more time than the others. You did this every year during this season and it always pained him, while everyone else went home to their families you didn’t even hang your suit and equipment for a night and a day off, no, you made sure to keep everyone safe.

“I don’t know, not many of us volunteer for patrol as it is, and I don’t have any plans for the night or tomorrow so, why not?” You looked down at your feet. It was the truth, why bother taking a break, only to go to a cold empty apartment? You could find a better use of your time like this.

Marcus, swallowed, steeling what little resolve he had, it was now or never.

“You know, we- Missy and I that is. We were wondering if…maybe, if you don’t have any other plans; and of course you can say no, but it’ll be great if you said yes, and it’s nothing formal-” You watched him with amusement as he kept rambling, “It would be just the three of us and well, pizza and movies and junk food, staying up until midnight and opening some presents. Don’t worry, you don’t have to actually bring anything, it’ll be fine with jus-“

Shit, why was he talking so much, and why wouldn’t his hands stop moving!? Something like this hadn’t happened to him in a freaking long while, since he first invited a girl he liked on a date, like twenty or so years ago!

Leave it to you to have this kind of effect on him, only you could reduce him to a babbling idiot, if this kept going on, he wouldn’t be able to actually ask you the question.

~~~~

Oh my god! What is he doing!? Missy stared at her dad as he kept talking and moving his hands around while you just looked at him with mirth and confusion.

She had to do everything in this family, didn’t she?

“Would you like to join us tonight and maybe even tomorrow?” Missy interrupted her dad before he could keep on talking.

Marcus hadn't been so grateful to his little girl than in that moment. “Umm, yeah, would you like to join us?” Marcus looked at you with a smile and hopeful eyes.

“Oh…OH!” You were speechless, you weren’t expecting an invitation this year, least of all an invitation from him. While it wasn’t weird for him to invite you to special occasions, he’s never once tried to invite you to spend Christmas with him. You always thought this time of year was special for him and that he preferred to spend it alone with Missy. “I-I…”

“Please say yes! It’d be fun, we just sit in front of the tv and watch movies while eating junk food!” Missy jumped in hugging you. She wasn’t scared to use her resources, every single one of them, if that meant that y/n agreed to the invite; she’d even use the puppy eyes if she had to, she had to exploit that one before it stopped working.

“I don’t know, we can’t leave the city defenseless…” Puppy eyes it was.

“Pretty please! I’m sure it’ll be fine, you always stay on duty, they can manage one year without you!”

Oh no, not the puppy eyes! You stared at Missy’s brown eyes, they looked so much like her father’s. You shifted your gaze from Missy to look at Marcus only to find him doing almost the same expression. God damn it! Not him too, he’s too old for that face to work, why is it working!?

What the hell, it’s not like you didn’t want to.

“Okay, I’ll join you guys”

“Yes! You’re the best, see ya later!!!” Missy gave your middle a squeeze before running out of the room, leaving you and Marcus staring after her.

“You mister are way too old to be pulling the puppy-eyed look, you should be ashamed.” You turned to see his smug face.

“I’ll keep using it for as long as it keeps working.”

“What a disgrace.”

“So umm, does six work for you?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to let the others know I won’t be a volunteer this year. See you then.” With a smile you gave Marcus a quick hug before approaching one of the members of the Heroics that, much like you, always volunteered and was the one in charge of making the schedule for patrol rounds.

“Yeah, see you.” Marcus said shaking his head, long after you had left his side. He needed to get a grip of himself, if not, he would have a long night waiting for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Even if Marcus said not to bring anything, you hated arriving at a friend’s house empty handed, even if it was Marcus, especially if it was Marcus; so you made sure to grab a couple of things on the way to your apartment. Some bags of everyone’s favorite chip flavor and enough ingredients to make some cinnamon rolls.

You took a quick shower once the glaze was done and the cinnamon rolls were in the oven. With one towel around your body and another one around your hair; you stood in front of your dresser debating on what to wear.

It’s not like this was a date; as if. So why worry so much? Still, you kept on throwing clothes on your bed, you told yourself enough by the time you were seriously contemplating putting on a dress.

You put away the mess you made, leaving out a nice button up shirt and a pair of comfortable dress pants, the ones that had actual pockets, you finished your look with some comfortable boots, you were probably going to end up taking them off at some point so you also put on some cute Christmas themed fuzzy socks.

Satisfied with your choice, you decided to put on a baggy T-shirt to take the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and to prevent the glaze from dirtying your clothes when you poured it on the buns once they were cool enough.

You were fifteen minutes late by the time you got dressed, packed everything up, and grabbed the presents for Marcus and Missy that you had wrapped up a week ago. You send Marcus a message saying that you were on your way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus went into full panic mode when they got home an hour and a half away from the time he told you to arrive, they lost too much time lining up to pay at the supermarket, he insisted on going once he remembered he was out of your favorite candy, he also got a bag of chocolates and some sodas.

For a moment he contemplated getting some beers, but soon dismissed the idea, he wasn’t that much of a drinker and he didn’t like to drink in front of his daughter. Besides this wasn’t a date, of any kind, just his daughter and best friend; who he had been in love with for a long time now, spending some quality time together.

Shit, he forgot about the pizza!

“Missy, go take a shower and change into something more comfortable but nice and then come give me a hand, we need to set everything up in the living room” He said as he dialed the number from the pizza place the three of you loved.

Missy took the grocery bags to the kitchen before doing what her father asked her to do, but in reverse, that way there was a chance that you would arrive while she was still getting ready leaving the two of you alone for a few minutes.

She opened the chocolate and candy bags dumping the contents into two different small bowls, she listened as her father finished ordering the pizza on her way to the living room where they had a slightly bigger tv than the one in front of the breakfast table, she left the bowls on the coffee table in the middle.

“Missy, I thought I asked you to do something else before setting everything up.”

“I know, but we’ll finish faster this way, you need to take a shower too. Can you get the glasses from the cupboard?”

He sighed but went to the kitchen to get the aforementioned glasses.

“Hey, did you order the potato wedges?” Missy asked, taking one of the soda bottles and putting it inside the fridge.

“Yup.” Marcus answered, passing her the second bottle. “Give me a hand with the plates please.” He bumped her with his hip as he passed her.

They inspected their work for a moment before going to their respective rooms to get ready, Missy decided to take her time choosing her clothes, she even contemplated whether it’d be too much to take a bath instead of a shower.

~~~~~~~~~~

Never before, in his whole life, had he gotten ready for ANYTHING as fast as today. He almost pulled out a suit from his closet before doing a double-take and grabbing a nice shirt, some black denim pants, and his favorite sneakers.

He decided to forgo any kind of hair product and only dabbled a little bit of cologne on his wrist and neck. On his way to the living room, he stopped by Missy’s room to knock on her door.

“Are you ready darling?”

“Not yet!” Was her muffled response.

“Okay, I’ll be in the living room, take your time but remember we’ll have a special guest over.” A special guest? Come on Marcus, she’s been here multiple times before, she’s like part of the family, maybe not in the way he wished her to be but still.

“Okay, dad!” A special guest!? Really!? He was hopeless, did he even notice how obvious he was? Why hadn’t he done something about it yet? Y/n could easily slip through his fingers by the time he decided to actually make a move. She needed to up her game.

Marcus kept staring at the clock as it read five minutes past six, leg bouncing. Maybe his clock was wrong, maybe he didn’t put the right hour, maybe it was forward by a few minutes.

God, he was a mess, he needed to calm down, it was just Y/n, his best friend; she’s hung out with them before, on multiple occasions, except…well she wasn’t JUST Y/n, she never was and never would be.

She was everything, she became everything to him in such a short time that sometimes it scared him. If he had to be truly honest with himself, he needed to admit that he began to fall for her the moment they met, he fought against it for years, he was married with a baby on the way for god’s sake.

He had loved his wife and he would’ve never cheated on her, but he also couldn’t deny the connection he felt with you from day one, he had never felt something even remotely close to it with anyone else.

If things had been different, he would have told you about his feeling’s way sooner, he had been selfish, he knew he couldn’t afford to lose you, he lost his wife, Missy lost her mother, he couldn’t lose you too if you didn’t feel the same, that would’ve destroyed him when Missy needed him more than ever.

So, instead he kept it silent, holding on to the hope that maybe, someday, he’d be able to act upon his feelings for you.

He was startled by his phone chiming in his pocket, the first thing he noticed was the hour, quarter past six; and the second, your message. ‘I’m on my way.’

He sighed, you would be there soon, could he maybe try to hint at something tonight? Well, if he didn’t, maybe he could bring ‘that’ out.

~~~~~

Fifteen more minutes later you were finally ringing Marcus’ house doorbell, not for the first time, you were happy with the proximity of your apartment complex to his house.

“Hey! Why didn’t you use your key?” Marcus' smiling face greeted you. “Oh, I see why.” You were holding a container in one hand, balancing two gift boxes on top and the cloth bag with the chips in the other.

“I kind of couldn’t even if I wanted to.” You laughed.

“I told you, you didn’t have to bring anything but yourself; here, let me help you.” He took the container with the cinnamon rolls from your hands. “Come on in.”

“As if you didn’t know me Marcus, I never come here with empty hands.” You followed Marcus to the kitchen after closing the door behind you.

“This thing is warm, what’s inside?” he had left the bag and the container on the counter, he also put the boxes aside.

“Well, you have two options, you can try to guess or you can open it.” You said with a smile, taking the bags of chips out to fold the bag they were in.

“I know it’s warm, is it something sweet?” so guessing it was, you loved to play this kind of game with him every time you brought baked goods.

“Yes.”

“Can I smell it? Am I allowed to do that?” he asked, eyebrows raised and a big smile on his face.

You faked a thoughtful look before nodding. Marcus lifted the container close to his face and took a deep breath.

“Cinnamon?” His eyes opened wide in delight. “No way, don’t tell me! Are these, you brought cinnamon rolls!? Holy sheesh!”

You laughed at him, you knew he loved cinnamon rolls so you made them as often as you could, you even gave him the recipe but he claimed that they just didn’t taste the same when he made them himself. You thought he was just too impatient to make them and preferred to just eat them.

He opened the container to keep the bread from getting soggy because of the condensation inside it.

“My god! They look delicious, I swear could kiss you right now!” What!?

FUUUUCK!!! YOU IDIOT! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!!!! he froze up, there was a moment of silence between the two of you before it was thankfully interrupted by the doorbell.

“The pizza is here! Just in time.” He said with maybe too much enthusiasm. The delivery guy deserved a big tip, he just unknowingly saved his ass.

Did you hear correctly? Did he say kiss? That’s what he said, right?

No, well yes, he did say it, but he probably didn’t mean it like, well...THAT. It was just an expression, he was overjoyed you brought him food and you were just thinking too much into things. Yeah, that was it, you were thinking too much.

“I heard the pizza arrived! Don’t start without me!” You shook your head, clearing your thoughts as Missy appeared around the corner. “Hi y/n!”

“Hi Missy.” You opened your arms towards her for a hug that she walked right into.

“You got chips, nice. Wait do I smell cinnamon rolls!?” Like father, like daughter.

“Ah-ah-ah! Don’t touch those, little lady. Those are for later.” Marcus said stepping into the kitchen. “Now, come on, I left the pizza on the coffee table.”

“But dad, they’re WARM.” Missy argued, stressing out the last word.

“Don’t you think it also hurts me to leave them there? We can reheat them later in the oven.” Marcus said with his hands on his hips. Missy looked like she wanted to say something more, so you decided to cut in.

“Mis, why don’t you take the gifts I brought and put them under the tree? We’ll be there in a minute.” You said handing her the boxes.

“Okay, but I get to pick the first movie!” Both of you watched as she walked out.

“I swear this girl.” Marcus huffed running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t you dare finish that thought Moreno, you’re just as bad as her when it comes to your precious buns.” You said shaking your head.

You hear him gasp as you walk to the fridge, knowing he probably stashed the drinks there. “You wound me!”

“Uh huh, let’s go before she decides to start eating without us.” You grabbed one of the cold bottles of soda inside the fridge and made your way towards the living room. “Don’t forget to bring the chips.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Together you made your way to the living room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Missy decided to sit on the carpeted floor right in front of the coffee table, that way her dear pining love birds would be forced to share the loveseat.

“What took you so long? I hope the big box is for me, also I already picked a movie.”

“Don’t be impatient, you’ll find out soon.” You said as you ruffled her hair a little, leaving the bottle of soda on the table close to the glasses.

“Oh no. Sweetheart, we forgot to move the couch.”

“It’s okay dad, you two can have the loveseat, besides this way I’ll be closer to the snacks.” Don’t be suspicious Missy, you don’t want to ruin this perfect chance. Phase one, getting them to sit together: complete, phase two is on hold.

“You sure you don’t mind darling?”

“Nope, can I start the movie?”

Oh god, they were going to be really close to one another.

Calm down, Moreno. You’re fine, this is fine. It’s your best friend. He reminded himself for the millionth time that day.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, maybe it was because this was your first Christmas with them and all the domestic stuff was getting to him.

He turned to look at you “After you.” He said gesturing towards the loveseat with his hands.

“Thank you. What are we watching Missy?”

“First Home alone, The Santa Clause, Arthur Christmas; you know, the classics with a touch of new stuff.”

“Let’s begin then.” Everyone sat in their respective places with a plate and a slice of pizza.

As the evening progressed, he found himself using the ‘stretching move’ to put his arm around you, when he noticed you weren’t bothered by it, he willed his body to relax and enjoy the company of his favorite people in the world.

As the movies kept playing on the screen and the snacks disappeared little by little. You felt yourself get more comfortable.

For a moment you let your imagination run wild; for a moment you let yourself believe this was a normal occurrence, family movie nights, cuddling with Marcus on the loveseat, going to sleep beside him afterward, waking up beside him, help him raise Missy…

You needed to stop this, as wonderful as everything sounded inside your head you knew none of that would become a reality.

“Okay, it’s getting late,” You got startled by Marcus nudging you softly with his shoulder before pausing the movie, you hadn’t even realized you leaned into him “don’t think that I’ll forget about your bedtime just because Y/n is here.”

“But dad!”

“No, come on, let’s open some presents and then I want you to go get ready for bed. I can see your head nodding from here, you’re tired, go on choose one.”

Phase two: Leave the love birds alone, has officially begun. Missy thought, wishing for her dad to finally take the opportunity to climb that last step. Phase three of her plan, officially having you as a mom, depended on it.

“Okay,” Missy said pretending to be disappointed “Y/n, which one is mine? The big one?”

“Sorry Mis, It’s actually the small one.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh’? What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you have faith in me?”

“I do, but what cool stuff could possibly be wrapped in such a small box?”

“You’ll see once you open it, sweetheart.” Marcus left the remote control on the table and returned to his previous position on the loveseat, arm around you and all.

Both of you watched as Missy broke the wrapping paper and opened the wooden box taking out what looked like a smart watch from inside it.

“Oh! It’s one of those cool watches!” Missy exclaimed with surprise.

“Yes and no.” you said, leaning in towards her.

“what do you mean?”

“This one’s special, see I got Tech-no to make it especially for you. It does work like any other smart watch, but you’ll be able to use this one even if you don’t have a Wifi connection or aren’t close to any phone tower.”

“What!? How!?”

“It’s linked into one of the Heroics main recon satellites, it has a GPS function that’ll show you the map and your location no matter where you are, it also has the emergency button. It’ll alert your dad, me, or the Heroics mission control station. It has many more functions, I think, but that’s all I remember. Tech-no included a manual, you’ll get it once you turn it on. Oh yeah! Almost forgot, aside from being able to use conventional charging cables, I don’t know how but he also included solar panels.”

“OMG! I can’t believe it!! It’s the best gift ever!! Thank you!!!” Missy jumped from her place on the floor to tackle you in a hug.

“You’re welcome, I thought it could come in handy now that you’re in the saving the world business with us.” You said with a laugh.

“Hey, Missy, you still want the big box? We can exchange.” Marcus said with raised eyebrows.

“No way! This is mine, I’m gonna go charge it. Thankyousomuch, goodnight, bye.” With that Missy took off running towards her room.

“Hey, don’t forget to brush your teeth!” He reminded her.

“I won’t!”

You both heard the door to her room slam close.

“Wow Y/n, you didn’t have to.”

“It’s no big deal Marcus, you know how much I love her, and I worry. She’s too much like you.” You said staring at him.

“Wha-what’s that supposed to mean?” He said feigning offense.

“I mean it in a good way! She’s kind and selfless, headstrong, brave, and so intelligent. What we do is dangerous, and now that she's exposed to it, well, knowing her she won’t stay behind anymore. All we can do is give her the tools to keep herself and her team as safe as possible.”

Could you be any more perfect? He knew you loved his daughter, it’s always been clear to him, but could she love him just as much?

“You know now I have to try and top that gift next year, right? There’s no way anything I got her this one is going to top yours.” He said with the most serious face he could muster.

“That was the point.” You answered with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Mala.” he said, squinting his eyes at you.

“You think I’m bad!?” you gasped, “I’ll show you bad mister.” You stand up from your seat, you walk in your Christmas themed socks; boots long forgotten in favor of comfort; towards the tree to take the gift you brought for him. “No present for you, I’m going to keep it.” You said smugly .

“Now that’s not fair.”

“Oh, I think it is.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“What? What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I’m sorry, oh benevolent woman! Goddess of the amazing Christmas presents! I kneel before you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You laughed at him.

“The things I have to do for a present.”

“You didn’t really kneel.”

“You serious?” he asked flabbergasted.

“No. Now open your gift before I change my mind.”

Marcus eagerly tore the paper apart, revealing a thinner wooden box than the one Missy received. Inside, Marcus found an old throwing knife.

You stared at him, holding your breath as he opened the gift, it wasn’t some cutting edge piece of tech, but you knew how much that knife meant to him.

He was speechless, he instantly recognized it the moment his eyes laid on the engravings of the blade, this had been one of his father’s throwing knives. While not exactly a superhero, his father had served in the army as part of a special secret division. He had preferred knives instead of guns. And he taught Marcus everything he knew about them, that was the reason he had chosen to fight with swords, in memory of his father.

But how, how could you have gotten hold of one of his knives, they had been lost during his last mission.

“I-I, how-” He swallowed hard “How did you find it?”

“Well, I remembered what you told me, about your dad, what he did and a-about your dad’s last mission and well, remember last time I took some days off a few months ago? I did some research and found the town he had gone to. I asked around and I found this old lady, she treated your father’s wounds at some point during his mission and he tried to pay her by giving her one of his knives, she never sold it. I told her about you and well, she insisted on returning the blade to you.” You finished your tale a little bit breathless, he became really quiet when he opened the box.

He couldn’t believe you remembered that, it’s been so long since he told you about his father.

Had it been a mistake to search for the blade? Did you overstep? Maybe you should have told him before going on that trip.

“Marcus, I’m sorr-” One moment you were trying to apologize to him and the next you were being enveloped in a pair of strong arms.

“Thank you.” He said breathless, leaving a kiss on top of your head. “This means so much to me.” You just smiled and hugged him back.

You stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of his arms around you, holding you tight to his chest.

This woman, this wonderful, amazing, beautiful woman… fuck it, he knew what he had to do.

You felt a pang of sadness and longing as Marcus’ arms began to retreat from around you.

“Wait here. I-I need to go get something.” You watched as he left the box with his gift on the table, stood from his seat and disappeared around a corner.

Calm down, calm down, it was just a hug. You told yourself.

Marcus came back to sit beside you a minute or so later holding a small baby blue box with a white ribbon on top in his hands.

“I-I’ve been waiting for the right moment to give you this. It’s nothing like what you gave us but…I hope you like it.” He reached for your hands and left the box in your palms.

Upon a closer look, you noticed the box came from a jewelry store, an expensive one at that. You opened it carefully, not wanting to damage the little box. Inside the box, lying on a silky looking piece of fabric, you saw a beautiful heart shaped golden locket, there was a flowery design with some vines on the surface giving it some texture.

“Marcus!” You gasped. “You didn’t have to; this must’ve been really expensive.”

“Go ahead, open it.” You did as he said not lifting the heart from its silky bed. Inside, you found a small picture of Marcus, Missy and you.

You remembered that one was taken during Missy’s birthday last year, in the picture the three of you were laughing, your faces dirty with cake frosting from the small war that took place moments before his mother had taken the picture without them noticing.

“Marcus! This is beautiful, thank you so much!” You were about to hug him when he raised a hand to stop you.

“There’s more.” You were confused, he was acting a bit strange, you noticed he was tense as you looked from him and back to the necklace. “Turn it around.”

Once more you did what he said, closing the locket you took it in your palm noticing something engraved into it. On the back you found that it was indeed engraved. It read:

‘For the holder of my heart~’

It’s now or never. He held his breath as he watched you read the words. He began to worry when you didn’t show any kind of reaction.

“What?” you whispered, it can’t be, could this mean, did he, what?

“I-I was going to wait to give it to you, I had this elaborate plan, I wanted to ask you out, take you to a nice restaurant, then maybe we’d go to a park or something. I also thought of giving it to you on your birthday, but then we got kidnapped by aliens and I lost the courage, because what if I ruined everything? What if I ruined our friendship just because I fell in love and you didn’t feel the same? Then things would’ve become awkward and we’d stop hanging out and eventually we would’ve become strangers and I never want that to happen, I want you, I want you in my life, in our lives and I can’t imagi-”

“Marcus.” You interrupted him. “You love me?”

“More than anything.”

“How long?”

“Long time now.” You nodded slowly. Your brain still trying to process everything he just said, but mainly repeating ‘he loves me!’ over and over again.

“Can you... help me put it on?” you gesture to the necklace still in your hands.

He nodded, taking it in his hands as you turned around for him. He didn’t understand what was happening, you were still here, you asked him for his help to put his gift on, so that was something good, right?

“Done.” He said stunned as you turned around to face him with the biggest most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.

“You love me?” You asked again. Your voice, now full of emotion, a stark contrast from the flat one you used a moment ago.

“Yes.”

“You really, really love me?” now he was getting confused.

“Yes Y/n, I love you, you and only you.”

“Good. Because I love you too.” He barely had time to react before your lips were on his and just like that, time stopped, right there, in that moment, there was only you, the feeling of your lips on his, the pounding of his heart, the feeling of your hands, your fingers as they carded through his hair.

He couldn’t get enough of you. He pulled you closer to him until you ended up straddling his lap, his hands on your hips, your lips moving in perfect sync with his as if it wasn’t the first time you kissed. His senses overwhelmed by you and how you made him feel.

Suddenly, you leaned back, ending the kiss with a smack; much too soon for his liking; leaving you both a panting mess.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of you saying that, of you feeling the same way.” You said breathless, giving him a small peck when you finished talking.

“Oh, honey-is, is it okay if I call you that?”

“It’s more than ‘okay’ Marcus.” You said laughing.

“I’m glad, because I’ve been dying to call you all kinds of beautiful names. And me too, honey; I’ve imagined countless times telling you how I feel about you. I’m so sorry it took me this long to tell you.” He pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, in a kiss more intense than the first one making you moan. You felt his tongue lick your lips, silently asking for entrance, letting go of your inhibitions you let him explore the insides of your mouth, your own tongue tangling with his.

This time he ended the kiss, making you whine from the loss of contact.

“I want you, but tell me to stop, and I will.” He whispered in your ear, “Tell me if it’s too soon and I’ll stop.” he sucked on your earlobe before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin there.

“Don’t you dare stop Marcus.” you gasped, “Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?” you asked as you ground your hips against his earning a groan in response.

He returned to your lips for one more hungry kiss before outright growling “Hold on tight, honey. Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.” His hands slid from your hips to your ass, supporting you as he stood from the cushions making you squeal in surprise. Your arms went around his neck as you tried not to fall backward.

“Marcus! Warn me next time.” You admonished him “What about Missy? What if she hears us?” You ask as he begins to walk towards the part of the house you knew led to the bedrooms.

“That’s why we’re going to my room, so we don’t have to worry, it’s soundproofed. Now like you said, we’ve waited long enough.” He squeezed your ass before latching his lips on your neck again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He stirred awake, with the feeling of your hand drawing mindless patterns on his naked chest. With a smile, he remembered what happened last night when he finally confessed to you, and what happened after as well.

He let his eyes open, slowly, letting them adjust to the little morning light that managed to seep through the curtains. He turned his head to look at you, your head resting on the hand that wasn’t drawing shapes on his chest.

He smiled at you, lifting one of his hands to hold yours, lifting it from his chest to place a kiss on your knuckles.

“Hey. Merry Christmas.” You greeted him with a smile.

“Merry Christmas indeed. Did you sleep well, honey?” he asked, lowering your hand in his and resting it on his chest right over his heart.

“Better than ever.” You gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before leaning in at the same time to share a sweet, slow kiss.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Who would save the world if we did?” You managed to ask between little pecks to his lips.

“I bet the others can do it just fine.”

“Okay, well, who would keep Missy out of trouble?”

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us can keep her from that.” he stared at you, before saying your name. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Marcus.”

You stayed in bed, in each other’s arms, until one of you remembered that neither of you turned off the tv last night, and he remembered the cinnamon rolls had been left on the counter in the kitchen.

Once dressed, Marcus in his pajamas and you in one of his shirts (that almost made the both of you stay in bed longer) and a pair of pants that he let you borrow to keep you comfortable, you set out to clean the living room.

When that was done, you set to work together inside the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone, reheating the cinnamon rolls and making fresh coffee.

The two of you were soon joined by Missy, whose only reaction to the two of you being now together-together was a very happy, very exasperated ‘Finally!’.

He looked at his little family with a smile on his face as he sat down on the table. He could finally say that this Christmas he finally received what he’s always wished for, what he’s been yearning to have for years.

Your heart.

Tag list: @mindless--ramblings @oloreaa @16boyfriends-and-me If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist, or wants to only be tagged for certain characters, please let me know.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno x fem!reader #marcus moreno x female reader #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #wcbh marcus moreno #my fic #chibi writes

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