#she’s so desperate for approval it genuinely makes my heart hurt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seijorhi · 4 years

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No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

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ssplague · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

A rough start we get off too

Series Masterlist

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

⚠️Warnings: SMUT, improper use/depiction of certain kinks, abusive, manipulative, toxic behavior, unreal ideals of sex, use of daddy, ddlg themes, hard Dom, etc.

Let the SMUT commence

The way each pair of lips fit so perfectly together was absolutely enthralling: Passion was raw, ferocity was made so obviously evident from the growl he emitted at each attempt you made at sucking his tounge into your mouth. Only separating to take in a few large gulps of much needed oxygen, before diving back in to repeat the process over again.

“Please….P-Pleaseee…Kat..Suki…I-“ he presses a finger to your lips. That brief period of oxygen deprivation seemed to of induced a delirium of sorts. Assessing your thoughts has become similar to sifting through wet sand; Try as you might, you just can’t seem to comprehend what exactly you’d been attempting to beg him for in the first place. This look of empty headed confusion is also something Bakugou commits to memory, a first glimpse of his dumb little girl. He surveys you with bemused interest, looking as composed as ever.

“Down that bad for me hah? All I did was kiss ya a little and you’re already falling to pieces on me” the finger on your lips slides down to tilt your chin up, while he dips his head down to whisper in your ear. “Cant even imagine what kinda mess you’ll become once I finally split cha open with this big cock, such a stupid little girl”.

You suck in a deep shuddering breath as your legs suddenly give out beneath you, leaving you helplessly sliding down the wall. Bakugou laughs in such a condescending baritone as he effortlessly picks you up and deposits you on his bed. Picking his chair back up, he moves it beside the bed to take a seat in front of you.

“Listen real close to what I’m about to tell ya cause its important, open those fuckin’ ears princess cause if I end up havin’ to constantly keep repeatin’ myself…” he leaves the implicated threat hanging in the air between you two. Swallowing what remains of your now virtually non existent pride: You sit up straight and lean forward slightly, making sure to hold eye contact while he spoke. As the one sided conversation progresses and you inevitably begin to feel the need to either scoff or mouth off, you lightly bite your tounge. When the need to roll your eyes seems irresistible you make sure to blink a few times.

Bakugou and his ego always seem to have a way of destroying any sort of illusion that he is anything other than a self-righteous narcissist. Well, now he’s YOUR self-righteous narcissist…CORRECTION; You cant think like that anymore….from now on he’s….daddy.

The thought accompanies a brief pang in your metaphorical gut, is it regret? Maybe guilt? You aren’t sure.

“-Last ones, your still paying attention right princess?”.

Hearing his question has your eyes immediately snapping back into focus. You take in the handsome (but grumpy) face in front of you, nervously wondering when exactly he’d invaded your personal space.

“Y-Yes daddy, I’m listening to you” you stutter slightly, now noticing he’s actually kneeling on the mattress with you.

“So every day I expect you to do your absolute best” now with each statement he leans further into you, “You’re always going to remember how much daddy cares about you”. He presses a large hand against your chest, forcing your back down against the pillows behind you. “Realize that daddy always knows what’s best for you” both hands now rest on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

“You’ll always know that you can rely on daddy, and will trust him one hundred percent of the time”.

The intensity of his crimson stare has your face burning up, and heart rapidly pounding in your chest. It’s now taking a serious amount of conscious effort to keep your eyes locked with his. “Any questions? Comments?…..concerns?” he puts an emphasis on that last word, wolffish grin firmly in place.

Shaking your head apparently wasn’t a good enough answer because its followed with a stern; “Use your words princess, you either say: Yes daddy or No daddy….understood?”.

“I understand daddy….I’ll follow your rules daddy” you reply, embarrassment evident at having to repeat the unfamiliar word.

“You sure? It’s not like you to have absolutely nothing to say” he’s testing you, you’ll play into it this time.

“Well if you insist…..I do have a question, just one” at this his eyes instantly narrow and you could have sworn you’d seen a few stray sparks emit from his palms.

“Would it be too much to ask daddy if he wouldn’t mind kissing me again?”

🌆

Euphie checks her phone for the eigth time since she’d last texted you over forty-five minutes ago. Why weren’t you responding? Maybe she really had pushed you too far this time….A large hand comes to rest over her much smaller one, at this she finally sets her phone facedown on the table with a sigh.

“She wont stay angry with you forever, her and Bakubro might be having such a good time together that she’s forgotten all about her phone” Kirishima tries his best to reassure with his usual smile. The sudden wide eyed, dead pan stare he gets in return whipes that smile from his now reddening face. He’s realized far too late at what his words seem to of implied.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Really! I promise I didn’t! M’sorry”. Seeing the red head this flustered is so adorable, his companion cant help but giggle.

“I know Eji, dont worry about it”.

Entrusting your care to Bakugou was fine: He cares about you almost as much as she herself does. If she wasn’t certain how genuine the boy’s feelings toward you were, none of this would ever have happened.

Yeah, everything is going to be just fine….You’ll thank her one day.

💥

Bakugou’s crimson gaze is way too intense while roaming over the female laying down on his bed. Having her completely bare, and spread out before him is an accomplishment he shamelessly contragulates himself for. She’s getting self conscious now: Delicate hands come up to cover her chest, and plush thighs press together in an attempt to hide the drooling mess kept between them. It’s all or naught though as her legs are suddenly wrenched apart, and each wrist is now pinned above her head, held in just a single one of his hands.

“Nu-uh princess, no hiding….keep those legs open…wanna see all of you” condescending words only seem to widen his feral grin.

Seeing his cock now freed from its previously strained confinements as its looms above you, standing tall, has your leaky little hole twitching. The smooth inner walls inside repeatedly clenching in anticipation. Bakugou trails a finger from clit to slit as he hums in approval.

“What’s this hah? Such a fuckin’ mess your makin’ down here”

“S-Sorry daddy…I cant help it…Just want you so bad…dont wanna wait any longer…Please dont make me wait more” a soft roll of your hips accompanies your pleading whines. Your continuous begging for his cock has that monster stirring in him again, he has to forcibly push the dark thoughts away before addressing you again.

“If I dont prep you then-“ you interrupt him.

“It’s fine! I can take it, please just take me…” he notices your moment of hesitation before you lock eyes with him while adding “make it hurt”.

You’re just so fucking bold!

Trying to make demands, disguised as requests! Its so cute he cant help but caress your cheek before bestowing upon you the last gentle kiss you’ll get until he’s throughly DESTROYED you for anyone else.

“Dont ever fucking tell me what to do again” he growls before slamming his hips forward.

He’s buried balls deep inside you: Your initial gasp at the sudden intrusion, now morphs into a silent scream that has a you arching up off the mattress.

“Got that you greedy little slut? See what happens?” He taunts through gritted teeth.

Your cunt squeezing and spasming around his cock feels incredible, to the point he has to busy himself with sucking harshly on your neck to keep from releasing desperate whimpers of his own.

“I can take it…please move….m’sorry daddy…please don’ be mad a’me….”

“M’not mad at you baby….s’okay” He manages to reassure you through his clenched jaw. He finally starts to move inside of you, desperately trying so hard to take it easy on you. All precedent falls apart when your legs wrap around his waist, now he’s digging you out.

“Y’okay?” He rasps while continuously ravaging your tight cunt.

“M-mm-more than okay” you stutter.

“Taking my cock so well baby girl….Fucking hell!” His lewd compliment causing your insides to involuntarily clench.

“Deeper! Deeper!” You plead.

Katsuki thought you’d preferred his shallow thrusts, but if you really wanted your guts rearranged he’d be pleased to make it happen. He grabs one of your legs, placing it up on his broad shoulder, while the other remains curled around his hip. Straightening up he smirks down at you, before delivering a harsh slap to your clit. Now beginning to rapidly piston his hips while taunting you: “What did I tell you earlier hah? Answer me dammit!”.

His hot hand comes down on your inner thigh and you cry out: “N-Not supposed t-to tell y-you what to d-do!”. It shouldn’t be possible for you to be squeezing him even tighter, but somehow you do. That can mean only one thing… “Gonna cum aren’t you princess? I can feel ya choking the life outta my cock”.

A pathetic whine accompanies your vigorous head nods and he growls in response: “You.better.fucking.not” a thrust accompanying each word, “Y’dont fuckin’ listen, shouldn’t let ya cum at all with how you keep misbehavin’, better start fuckin’ beggin”.

Horrified at the thought, you fight through the fog permeating your brain and force movement out of your lolling tounge.

“P-please daddy, I’ll b-be good from now on if y-you’ll just let me c-cum! Y-you’re just making me feel so good daddy, no one’s ever made me feel this i-incredible before” your panting breaths making it too difficult to continue speaking. Even if he doesn’t believe it, your words are entirely true, this is the first time you can ever recall feeling like this during sex. A foreign sensation is making its way into your gut, your limbs are moving of their own accord, you cant think straight when you manage to speak next: “Its too much! Too big, Too deep, Too intense! I c-cant take anymore please make it stop!”.

“Stop? Oh fuck no princess, after all this lip you’ve been giving me, you think I’m gonna let you tap out like a little bitch? Think again” his thumb begins to rub harsh circles against your clit. “We’re not stopping until you cream all over my cock like a nasty girl like you is supposed to, then you’re gonna do it again when I blow my load inside this tight fucking cunt and you’ll scream my name while I fucking do it because this pussy is all mine! Got all that you fucking whore?”.

“Yes daddy” you whimper, face screwed up in tight concentration as he finally pushes you over the edge. Your eyes fly open as you blindly search for his hand, gripping it tightly in attempts to anchor yourself in reality as a sudden rush of dopamine floods your brain. White hot pleasure seemingly overwhelming every single nerve in your body, making your legs shiver as you faintly hear yourself calling out his name repeatedly. Katsuki is the only thing you know in this strange foreign place: This comforting warmth suddenly invades your tummy, continuously being pumped inside you while you moan at the newfound sensation.

A pair of strong arms wind themselves around you, pulling you closer, making you feel safe, at ease, loved?

“Come…back…..come back to me” he’s calling for you. Your soul had to of vacated your body; You feel Weightless, you’re floating, “Daddy?”. Suddenly you start sinking, and without warning your body jolts, “Katsuki?!”.

“M’right here princess, daddy’s got you….Disappeared on me for a lil while” his familiar voice is grounding. His fingers card gently through your hair, and for the very first time you’re seeing a “Soft” side to this so easily angered man. Sighing contentedly you snuggle into his chest, letting his caramel scented sweat overwhelm your senses.

“I really like this”

“Hah?! That’s all you have to say?!”

Ah there he goes, moment ruined, illusion shattered.

“I’m sorry. But I’m not entirely coherent just yet…you uh…you kinda did a number on me there” you mutter sheepishly, making an attempt to escape his embrace. Its immediately thwarted, and your pulled right back against his chest. “Ah fuck…knew I shoulda just made you wait and prepped you properly….Sorry about that, guess I just got caught up in everything”. Surely hell has frozen over: Katsuki Bakugou just not only admitted a possible wrong doing, but APOLGIZED for it as well!

“Ive wanted to do this with you for so long: Fuck you, hold you, be with you, and I fucked it up! Just like I always seem to fucking do, I-“

“Daddy” your voice effectively silences his self-depreciating rant. His hand begins to gently run up and down your back as he mumbles a “Yes princess?”.

You lean back slightly, tilting your head up so those cute doe eyes can stare up into his, the smile your wearing makes his chest tighten.

“M’not hurt, sore but not damaged….I wasn’t referring to my body, I meant you did a number on my mind…Besides I asked for it remember? I’ve wanted this for a long time too, so I got impatient…Please dont berate yourself, lets just enjoy this moment as the first of many now…Kay?”.

That’s right, you’re his now; Along with the opportunity to care for and make sure to correct you…he’ll be able to do this with you again. You had given yourself to him after all, so he can have you as many times as he wants, whenever he wants! He’s far too occupied with his lewd thoughts to care about the foreboding darkness thats begun to emerge from its confines within his skull.

You don’t remember falling asleep but Katsuki gently prods you awake: “Baby…wake up, Its dinner time…I made food for us…c’mon princess you need to eat”.

You whine, attempting to burrow further beneath the blankets, “Not hungryyyy...wanna sleep more!”.

“Dont make daddy ask you again, you wont like what happens”.

Not interested in ruining such a wonderful night, you begrudgingly sit up. Noticing he’s seated at his desk, with a large steaming bowl set infront of him. You slide out of bed, standing up and realizing you’re naked, but strangely not embarrassed by it.

“Here” he tosses you a shirt, “Now c’mere, hurry up before it gets cold!”. Pulling his shirt over your head as you pad over to him and take a seat on his lap. Noticing the single spoon and bowl has you looking at him with genuine curiosity. “Since you like actin like a damn baby so much, figured I’d continue treatin’ you like one” his words make you grin sheepishly again, and you hold out your hand expectantly waiting for him to hand you the spoon….he doesn’t.

Taking an impressive spoonful of the steaming food he then proceeds to blow on it before bringing it up to your lips.

“Say ahh, brat”.

“Wha-?”

Taking advantage of the opportunity, he shoves the spoon into your open mouth. Of course it tastes amazing, but he doesn’t plan on keeping this up right? WRONG!

Repeating the pattern of giving you a bite and then taking one himself.

“I can feed myself y’know…” you mutter growing increasingly flustered at the insulting action but more so the fact that its making you feel….excited?

“I dont think you can princess….I always hear Euphie bitchin at ya for skipping breakfast or to hurry up and come eat dinner” pausing to feed himself, then repositioning the now loaded spoon back infront of you before continuing.

“That shit ends today, gonna teach ya how important it is to take care of yourself, and if you wont? Then I guess daddy will have to do it for ya”.

You’re squirming in his lap by the time you accept the last bite,swallowing thickly before making an attempt at vaulting off his lap. Large hands immediately snag you around the middle before your feet even touch the ground.

“No, No, thats not how we do things around here, where the fuck are your manners?” he slips a hand between your clenched thighs to move them apart, and then brings a slap down to the inside of each. You dont even know why he’d done that and the shock is evident on your face. “You like when I baby ya, dont lie to me LITTLE girl”.

“No I-“

“What’s this then?” he quickly interupts while holding up the palm he’d previously slapped you with. Glimmering in the low light is your sticky arousal coating his palm.

“Sorry” your voice is barely audible as you hang your head in shame.

“Mhm sure you are…Here I am being a good care taker to you and what did you do? Sat there thinking all kinds of nasty things while I spoon feed you, you really are a fuckin depraved slut aren’t you princess?”

You bite your lip as your eyes start to water,still refusing to look up and far too embarrassed to respond. A finger beneath your chin forces your head up and his breath hitches when he notices tears getting ready to fall. A malicious smile now turns his lips upward as he cups your cheek, “Look at that…shes about to start crying and all because of what? Cuz you just exposed yourself for being the depraved little slut you are?”.

“NO! No im not I-“.

“You are” his grip tightens painfully on your jaw, pulling your face forward so its now just an inch away from his own, “And I fuckin’ love it”. Then he’s surging forward pressing his lips against yours; Forcing his tongue into your mouth, hand coming around to grip the back of your head. Your lungs are on fire while his hand slips under your shirt to harshly grope at your chest. Clawing his forearms is finally enough to get his attention and he reluctantly pulls away. You’ve just barely began catching your breath when he suddenly stands up, keeping a firm grip on your ass to carry you, before dropping you onto the bed.

“Take that off and-“

*knock knock knock*

The sudden knocking followed abruptly by Kirishima’s muffled shouting, startles both you and Katsuki, and the rattling door knob has you immediately springing into action.

“Hey we brought back desert to share with you guys! So just meet us at my room whenever you feel like it, Euphie’s changing her clothes and then she’ll be there too, we’re gonna watch a movie if you two wanna join us!”.

He must have heard Bakugou’s standard non-committal grunt in response, because you hear his retreating footsteps trail off down the hall.

Grabbing your skirt out from underneath the bed, you stand back up.

Just as you’d gotten to your feet your immediately pushed face first onto the mattress. A sweaty hand takes hold of your hip in a bruising grip, while the other delivers a sharp pinch to your ass cheek. Yelping in response to the sudden harsh yank of your hair that proceeds a whisper of:

“You didn’t really think I would let you off that easy did you? Your fuckin’ cake can wait brat, we’re done when I fuckin say we are, got it?”.

✨

A/N: I hope this chapter was to everyone’s liking, I’m actually kind of nervous to post it but 🤷🏼‍♀️ Chapter 3 has a fair amount of smut in it as well so look forward to that. I’m hoping to get another one shot up for “A man of his word” this week, if you like extreme Yandere Bakugou check that out. I have one penned but it needs to be typed up.

#bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #daddy bakugou #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #bnha smut #katsuki bakugo #Katsuki bakugou #dom bakugou

160 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

jaundiced & surreptitious; Anthony Bridgerton

sham, pride and illicit affairs | fic masterlist

read part one here read part two here read part three here read part four here

summary: you once loved each other, your hand belongs to him but it’s promised to another.

jaundiced: affected by bitterness, resentment, or envy. surreptitious: kept secret, especially because it would not be approved of.

word count: 8.3k (sorry I like writing)

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader

warnings: anthony is an idiot, this is really idiots who are lovers, like genuinely they’re so stupid. poor benedict has to deal with him.

wanna be tagged?

read part one here read part two here read part three here

next part.

Okaaaay so thank you so much for your support! I can’t believe you guys liked it as much as I did! Especial thanks to @steve-harringtonnn and @erodasghosts for helping me out with this chapter!!!

Anthony would often disregard the pain he’d felt before. He would never say it out loud but he had lost faith after his heart had been broken. The sun had never been as warm. Grieving was one of his favorite activities to live by, silently, to himself. The bloody-minded Anthony would die before ever admitting that his feelings had been impaired.

He was obstinate, he was well aware of that. And he was scared, and he wondered where he’d gathered the courage to walk through the crowds to her two nights before, as if it hadn’t pained him. Perchance his pride had led him there, or maybe his broken heart looking to be healed did. The wandering thoughts that would cease every so often.

Anthony loved to mourn, or make sure people think he was mourning. He often tried to be the smartest person in the room, he always failed. But he tried, and he counted himself on it.

He was flawed, he knew that. But he would try his best, so he’d pride himself on. However he could not forgive himself for being flawed enough to be rejected by Y/N.

Her eyes were carved in his mind, and he’d be reminded of her every morning when the sun dared to warm his skin, and with every flower petal that he saw her eyes would find their way back to his most wounded intellect, her eyes were her biggest sin, though he could be blamed for other blunders, he thought her sight was the biggest offense, for her eyes could see through any of his lies and hypnotize him enough to lose his reason, or the lack of it. How inconvenient he found that every beautiful morning belonged to her, and it would only hurt his heart. How inconvenient was it that her entire soul mesmerized him.

It was hard not to see her as a villain, however, maybe that’s why he tried avoiding the music, dancing was but another warning, triggering him of the night he’d seen the dress flying as she vacated the ballroom. And every time he found himself in the middle of a ballroom, he felt agony and despair. Anthony had always feared death, but he realized that he had already died once, when she’d left the ballroom. Being away from her had killed Anthony, and to be dead while still having to survive could be one of the most dreadful and painful things to endure. Anthony was now sure he’d died on that night, and he was sure that whatever death might feel like it wouldn’t be as painful as to be away from her. He thought his pain would be forever, that eternal sorrow.

His hand had felt cold since she’d left. Though, one could argue that his hand had been warm since the night before, as if he’d finally come back to life. The act, as most immoral as it was, had been the closest he’d been to a heavenly discovery of love and life. A very magnificent distraction.

There was light again.

He would deny it, but the darkness was the time he felt the loneliest, hence why he had searched for Sienna’s love, an escape from the life he would’ve loved with y/n. He was so desperate to be covered on something else, to erase y/n from his body that he’d try to find the closest thing to love on someone.

Worst thing had been he did find it, in a very unconventional way.

He would rather be a rake to the world than to ever admit that he had been broken-hearted. A man shall never seem weak to the world, though he was broken. Hushed to the night.

Yet, now he wanted to scream to the world that he was loved by the woman he loved. An iridescent glow coming from his chest, as he rode back home.

He had chosen the prettiest of the flowers, though they were very little to recommend and they’d look pathetic and sad beside the beautiful woman.

Anthony never liked being seen as a fool, yet he should not mind looking like one with her. Why would he be ashamed to say he’d fallen for such a remarkable lady.

Gardenias and peonies. He knew she’d love them. Not roses this time, he found the roses to be very contrasting to the delicate gardenias.

He couldn’t hide his eagerness as he’d arrived at his former household. Though he had not slept, he couldn’t have more energy. He hopped to the drawing room, in expectation to see the possible suitors that would come for Eloise, though she was not eager for them, and was rather trying to avoid any significant encounter.

Anthony couldn’t hide the beam, as he tried the sweets that his mama had displayed.

Eloise was plopped on the couch beside Benedict, as Violet tried to beg her to sit with grace and poise. Eloise had the latest copy of Lady Whistledown as Benedict tried to peek and read.

“Stop reading that nonsense,” Anthony said. “Such a lovely morning, is it not?”

Benedict scrunched his nose at his brother, mostly confused. Anthony stole one of the desserts Benedict had on his plate earning a groan from him.

Lady Violet watched her son, “I would like to address your behavior last night.”

The younger siblings smirked, knowing well that though their brother was an adult, he would often yet be scolded by their mama.

Benedict chuckled, “How come, mama, his behavior was rather impeccable.”

Eloise giggled. Anthony glared at his siblings.

“To suggest a fake proposal,” Lady Violet said with severity. “Most imposing irrationality. You shall not play with such calamities.”

“Do not worry, mama, a real proposal shall come soon enough, I shall be more rational in the future, ” Anthony declared. “Just this morning I sent Lady y/n flowers to thank her for her… most stimulating company,” Anthony coughed. “And as an apology for my behavior.”

His younger siblings looked up with confusion.

“Are you going to propose to Lady Y/N?” Asked Eloise.

Anthony cleared his throat, “I did not… say that.”

Eloise frowned. “Did you not find her disagreeable? Or why else were you bickering-?”

“Please, Eloise, that is Anthony’s way of courting, and I’m sure Y/N found it just as stimulating and flattering,” Benedict hissed.

Eloise cackled, “as if y/n would rejoice in any avow Anthony could make.”

“How come, brother you seem to be captured again in some possible infatuation when only last night you merely only barked towards the Lady?” Benedict inquired. Anthony tried to avoid his brother’s remarks.

Of course, he would not tell them how his night had been accomplished, and how the despair had transformed into a very pleasant evening. He shall keep the secret for it was, though most pleasant, very unsuitable and outrageous for the standards of the society. Though Anthony did bear some guilt for the scandal and the impropriety he thought it was most formidable to try and deny the linkage had been but an ardent reminder of his noble sentiments for the woman.

“As you mentioned, brother,” Anthony remarked snarkly, “Lady y/n and I share a very perplexing demeanor to show our affection towards each other.”

“Perplexing? Stupid, you mean,” Benedict mocked.

“Is there affection?” Lady Violet inquired.

Anthony huffed, “I guess there is no reason for me to harbor and censure my sentiments anymore,” he admitted. “However I shall not give any other explanation to this subject.”

Benedict glared, “Why the sudden change? I thought you did not regard y/n so dearly.”

Anthony paced around the room nervously, he did not want to address his feelings. How stupid would it be to admit he felt alive, and that he was entranced by her.

“She is a good friend,” Anthony alleged. “Why are you enquiring my sentiments? I would’ve believed you’d be wallowed with my announcement.”

His mother grinned, “I am.”

“I am not,” Benedict laughed. “Forgive me, but you can understand my confusion, are you suggesting you are friends now?”

“We have been,” Anthony hissed. “In any case, I’ve always been fond of her.”

“I must signal how your bickering has hindered us from believing there is some kind of attachment,” Eloise pointed out as she watched her eldest brother.

Anthony rolled his eyes, it had been a point in their bickering, to hide to them and themselves really. But really, challenging each other was but their way of admiring their wit. Anthony was stunned, not only with her beauty but with the way she spoke her mind. He was always left wanting more when it came to her, she rarely gave him anything but a headache, and apparently that was something very compelling to earn his heart. Not sure why.

Benedict laughed, “I think I understand now Eloise, we seem to have forgotten how big of a fool our brother is, the elusiveness Anthony has shown towards Lady Y/N has been but a lame attempt to tempt Miss Y/N and delude her enough for her to give some attention to our brother. Has it not?”

“Has it succeeded?” Inquired Eloise.

The night before was only proof it had. And it had not been elusiveness, he was transfixed on the lady’s wit, he couldn’t keep up with her, that was the reason. He was dotted with her surliness, the way she’d wag his words. Anthony loved being a fool for her, such a capable woman she was. However, it shall be noted he loved being fooled by her intellect and the false peevishness, not by her exclusion.

“What has?” Questioned Colin, as he had walked into the drawing room. Lady Violet was rather annoyed the only men in the room were but her own children and not any possible suitor for Eloise.

“Anthony’s bickering,” Eloise looked up, as she reached for a box of sweets to nibble by her own. “Apparently his arrogance and stupidity were but to woo Miss Y/N,” explained Eloise.

Anthony winced,“May we change the subject? I believe it is a matter of more importance—“

Colin laughed, interrupting him. “I believe those attempts have succeeded, were you not here last night? Was Miss Y/N not looking forward to not running away this time? Even after Anthony suggested such a scandalous scheme?”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Are you not to go elsewhere?”

Benedict grinned, “Why? Are you not to share with him your news?”

“News?” Colin frowned with curiosity.

“Apparently our brother might attempt to court Miss Y/N,” Benedict mocked. “I believe.”

Colin faked surprise, “Really? Are we suggesting that Anthony could have any sort of sentiments that aren't self depreciation and remorse?”

Benedict and Eloise laughed, hardly. Their mother only directed a glare towards them.

“How amusing,” Anthony barked. “However, if you must know, there is affection towards her and I must try and delight her,” Anthony cleared his throat, Benedict snickered. “And I hope she gives me the honour of accepting my hand.”

He knew that the bomb he had dropped would be enough to shut his siblings. And it was.

Lady Violet smiled, ignoring her sons and daughter’s remarks. “Are you really planning on proposing?”

Anthony tried to hide his excitement, and embarrassment, for the matter, he’d never been keen on showing any kind of excitement for any infatuation. Besides, he didn’t believe it himself, how he would dare to propose. “I am not sure where my compliments might take me, however I am not here to talk about my attention and regards to Lady Y/N, we are here to try and persuade any respectable man to bestow any attention to our lovely sister.”

“However, you shall make sure your infatuation is reciprocated,” Benedict advised. “Be sure the lady will not leave amidst dancing.”

“I believe it was Anthony the person who gave me the advice that eventually my heartbreak from Miss Thompson would disappear, and that it would be as if I had never loved her at all.”

Anthony glared.

“Yet he is going after the person who broke his heart, did your own precepts fail you?” Colin asked.

It was something that did bother Anthony, and that he did fear, he knew y/n to be the most unexpected and inopportune to make her decisions. She often hesitated and reconsidered her thoughts Y/N was very volatile and her emotions would go from extreme affection to utter rage and while it was something he often appreciated, it was something he feared now. He feared the remainder of his heart would be scattered across the place. Anthony would never say out loud how much he feared ballrooms now. Almost as much as he feared bees, but he wouldn’t ever admit it. He knew he was but a fool to fall for y/n, eerie and untamable. He didn’t regret it, however.

Anthony coughed, “I could’ve never erased my feelings for her.”

Eloise glared at him and then finally turned to her copy of Lady Whistledown. Anthony rolled his eyes, it was no secret he didn’t like reading Lady Whistledown. He would try and not feed her with anything. He was definitely not a vivid reader. He found her rather vapid, if he were honest. He was never a fan of gossip and avoided it, most of the time. However, since Lady Y/N’s arrival, he could not help but read whatever Lady Whistledown could say of her, just to feed his dislike against her. She spoke of y/n in a way that was most repulsive. Derision seemed to be the only language the woman spoke.

He did not like the way the pesky Lady Whistledown spoke of y/n, or her history with him, if he was to be honest. Anthony resented that she’d written about his own pride and his heartbreak when there was barely any information he understood himself about it. It was for them to know.

However, he was rather relieved that Lady Whistledown did not know of the… affairs he’d held with Lady Y/N. Though now guilt was killing him, he did not regret it. He felt alive whenever he was with her, and he didn’t feel alive often.

After the heartbreak, he had decided to lock his heart and never use it again. Though Sienna had managed to almost get it back, his heart had not felt the warmest but until the night before.

And though he had promised to never use his heart again, there he was again, with a foolish smile.

“She is talking about you again,” Eloise pointed out. “And Lady Y/N-”

Anthony chuckled, “Expected,” he commented. “Now, dear sister, there is no soul here and I must say this is not my fault,” he cleared out. “I have not jostled any suitors from you, I know better.”

Benedict scoffed, “She jostles them herself, no need for us to.”

Violet took a deep breath. Anthony smirked as he picked up a cup of tea.

Eloise turned cold as she finished reading. “She is to be married-”

“Who is?” Violet grinned. “You? Most certainly-”

“No, mama,” Eloise commented, and then watched Anthony. “Y/N’s hand is promised to Lord Collins.”

The cup of tea shattered on the floor, though the Bridgertons were not sure if the shattering porcelain had been what they’d heard breaking. Anthony’s face had gone stiff and pale.

“I beg your pardon?” Was all he managed to ask.

“It says it here,” Eloise explained.

Violet snatched the paper from her daughter, “Is she toying with the lack of heart Anthony Bridgerton holds and is she trying to fool everyone just to appeal more to Lord Collins, who according to the ton has her hand promised already?” Read out loud.

“Did you know about this, mama?” Questioned Collin.

“I certainly did not,” Violet assured her son, and turned to the eldest who was going through a very familiar feeling. He did not say a thing, he only clenched his jaw and widened his eyes.

There he was again, transported back to the night when the moon had not made an appearance, and when the poison had flourished from the floor to apprehend him down to his sorrow. He felt as he had been pushed off yet again down a precipice.

Benedict and Colin only watched him, expecting the very worst. Instead, Anthony only took a deep breath. Anthony despised having his heart broken, and instead decided to be angry, for its a manlier sentiment. He stormed off the room anyway, quietly.

“Am I supposed to follow after?” Questioned Benedict, and then proceeded to, seeing as his brother rushed down the stairs and off the household. “Anthony!” He broodingly called.

Anthony pushed his way through, not noticing there were gentlemen going up to see his sister, he was rather too angry to even add more jealousy to his displeasure.

“Anthony,” Benedict called again.

Anthony ignored.

Benedict ran this time to stop his brother, stopping the fuming man as he glared at him. “What?”

“I believe I should stop you before you do anything stupid, which judging by your look, you’re on your way to do so,” Benedict barked not letting Anthony through.

Anthony gave him a warning glare, “Let me through.”

“You’re being an idiot,” Benedict said.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” Anthony said

“And that is why I must stop you,” Benedict said. “If I don’t know you any better you’re on your way to kill Lord Collins.”

Anthony scoffed, he had not thought of that idea but now he found it rather exhorting. “I am on my way to speak to the Lady,” he tried walking through but Benedict stopped him once again.

“Shall I know what’s going on through your head? Last night you both were opposed to even being on the same room and then this morning you come with the idea of proposing, I do not even know what is-”

“I love her,” Anthony snapped. “That is what is going on through my head.”

“How did you even change your mind-” Benedict paused and then watched his brother. “Did you go and see her?” He asked in a faint whisper.

Anthony coughed and looked elsewhere, “I did not, I just realized my childish act was but an antic to evade my actual feelings for her.”

Benedict did not buy it. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t,” Anthony glowered.

“You really don’t?” Benedict bristled. “What amuses me is that you try to justify your childish acts and stupidity with love when we are both aware those are but a matter of your personality.”

“How amusing,” Anthony scowled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Benedict grabbed him by his arm, “I shall think you know better than to go and throw a tantrum to Miss Y/N. I know you’re capable of fucking up, but this goes beyond your usual behavior.”

Anthony opened his mouth to defend himself but knew he couldn’t actually contradict him. “I do not plan on throwing a tantrum, I will only recover the flowers I sent her this morning, I find it improper to try and court an engaged lady.”

“So you will not fight for her, then?” Benedict queried, astonied.

Anthony did not know if he could. “Shall you suggest I do?”

Benedict coughed, “I would think it would be reasonable but… In a civil way, not in an Anthony way.”

“An Anthony way?” He questioned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Since her arrival your stupidity has escalated in immeasurable ways, I certainly am very impressed because I did not believe that to be possible and yet you are here,” Benedict cackled.

Anthony glared.

“Look,” Benedict sighed. “We could give this more thoughts, and see the best way we can proceed with this, however, today we shall get our lovely sister to the park, she needs to be seen,” he reminded him. “You can be stupid later.”

He would, Anthony knew. He was the most illogical human being when it came to Lady Y/N, and he did not know how to proceed. He was lying, he actually had planned on throwing a tantrum to her, for he was not yet to be fooled again and let there standing like a complete idiot.

And a complete idiot you were too, you were the one in need to throw a tantrum, for you did not want to meet Lord Collins and you certainly did not want to be betrothed to him. You were well aware that he was a fair gentleman, and you knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors the ravenous mamas were hunting for, but you did not want anything to do with him.

You thought of it, the possibility to ruin your reputation, it could be a way to untangle yourself from said arrangement. What if you admitted that you were corrupted? How big of a scandal would it be?

No, you would not dare to bring Anthony down. Not now that he was being so soft to you, and that was not Anthony in the slightest. Though it did surprise you he had not yet stormed into the room like the complete idiot he was.

Had he… read it?

You knew Anthony better, he probably did not follow the gossip, and if you were lucky he’d think that Lady Whistledown was but inventing things. She was not but if he used any kind of reasonable sense he would know better. But this was Anthony and he used anything but his mind to think, and he would not be reasonable. He never was before and you doubted he’d be now.

“I cannot marry him,” you said to Lady Danbury, who had been watching you pace around the drawing room for a while now. The flowers Anthony had sent were displayed in the middle of the room.

You were not sure but you could tell Lady Danbury suspected something, she’d always been observant but the woman’s stare was telling, she could easily see past your sweating hands.

“I’m afraid I’m not the one to make that decision,” Lady Danbury commented.

“Shall I write a letter to my father to beg him to not offer my hand?” You asked. “Don’t I have any saying on it? It’s my hand.”

“I would think you’d need to have another proposal,” The woman explained to you. “However, I am not sure if there will be any more.”

“There might be,” you mumbled, and continued to rush through the room, as if moving faster would get your thoughts fast, too. “Can I reject his hand?” You questioned.

“He will grant you security,” Lady Danbury watched you, “He is a respectable man.”

“I am well aware he is.”

But I do not… love him, you thought.

Yes, the man was respectable, and a very handsome one, but rather cliched. Eager, but the man was rather thoughtless. You knew his conversation was boring, only compliments and questions about the weather, he was very boring. Always agreeing, and what fun was it in someone always agreeing with you. And he liked to talk about the moon and made it seem like the most horrendous and tedious thing to ever be seen, he liked to talk about anything, but not any kind of pleasant conversation. Very tiresome if you must admit, full of banalities.

Probably you’d have a very insipid life if you were to marry such a bland and hacky man. One that most ladies would want, however.

Anthony, on the other hand, the brooding and plucky man, always had you on the edge. He was an adventure for you. He was incredibly handsome. Or maybe he wasn’t and it was just your nonsensical sentiments for him blinding you.

“Lord Collins can offer an idyllic calm life.”

“I can recognize that,” You admitted, you made your way to the window, a window where you’d talked to Anthony the day before. You took a deep breath, you could see the back house in the garden, a place that you found most intimate now. That was idyllic for you, the taste of his lips, to feel like it’s a June afternoon when it’s a cold December morning only because his smile warned your heart just enough.

You were sure Lord Collins wouldn’t be able to offer that, and that he would not like to avoid the balls because he loved them, though you despised them. You knew he would not listen to your piano forte, though the melodies you played were very tepid, and telling.

You knew you’d have to walk through his household, bored every morning and share the most ordinary conversations, leading to a miserable life, only because your hand had been promised to a man who you did not love, but who was adequate. Only because your instability had not been able to accept the proposal of whom your heart held dear.

You still stared at the cottage where you could see the shadows of your hands. What if you escaped? Forever. Would he escape with you if you dared to ask him?

“I presume security is the outcome expected from a marriage,” you said. “Love is a bonus, is it not?”

Lady Danbury yanked her head. “I suppose so.”

“Is marriage really only but a security arrangement? Or is it merely to satisfy men's lust and appetite.”

The woman coughed in surprisement, “I would rather not engage on such improper subjects of conversation.”

“Is it not?” You frowned. “I believe marriage to be only that, to bare children, to relieve men from their sins. Build a legacy.”

“I believe marriage is also to prospere,” Lady Danbury added. “When a marriage is founded on love then it shall be the most prosperous, not sinful.”

“Yet here I am, with an offer to a disagreeable partnership,” you barked. “I thought those arrangements to be deemed contemptible.

“Lord Collins is not disagreeable,” Lady Danbury coaxed.

You sighed, “I guess not, he is a fair man, and most kind,” you admitted. You didn’t want to give in to your fate just yet. Seemed old fashioned, very 18th century. You were assumed to tolerate him, and you knew your father would not choose a beast for a husband for you. However, you did not want to dread this, to be offered tolerance and not love was an atrocious destiny. “I presume he can offer me a calm life.”

Lady Danbury watched you, “However, Lord Bridgerton might be able to offer such a life, too.”

You smiled, “He most certainly would not.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Oh?”

“No, not calm, Anthony is anything but calm,” you chuckled. “Maybe that is why the life he could offer me would be most enticing.”

You knew that it would be fun, exciting. And that he would not mind if you woke up early to see the dawn, and he would join you and not expect you to be the most respectable lady, but he’d respect you, if you wanted to be respected that is .

Lady Danbury only caressed the flower petals and walked to you. You needed to perish the thoughts of love, though.

“You’re never one to watch with melancholy,” She pointed out.

“Oh, I certainly am, gloomy as I can be, and am I expected not to?” You wondered. It was the worst chastise one could have possibly thought for you, to marry a boring man. To marry to tolerate.

“I guess not,” she admitted.

You sighed.

“He is yet to propose,” Lady Dabury remarked with mischief. “I know Lord Collins is respectable enough to want to court you properly.”

“He wants to court me?” You questioned.

Lady Danbury smirked. “Yes, though he is aware your hand is promised to him, he is someone who will pursue your love.”

“My heart belongs to another,” you stated. “He will find it rather impossible to pursue my love.”

Lady Danbury chuckled, “How impossible?”

“Only one man has been able to conquer my heart, and his way of doing so was rather eerie and unusual.”

Lady Danbury smiled.

“I must ask, do you believe that if I ensure another proposal I might be able to rid myself of such entanglement?” You questioned. “After all, he’s not yet asked for my hand.”

“Do you think you could ensure it?”

“Probably already have,” you said.

“And who may that be?” Lady Danbury asked, not because she did not know but because she wanted you to say it out loud.

Before you could, a servant announced, “Lord Collins is here.”

Your heart stopped, your bethrote. And suddenly the perfect morning you had had just hours ago had disappeared. You knew you could not stop the rain from falling but this particular sorrow was not the best way to receive the man who had your hand promised. You would not be able to smile and you would not be able to have any kind of courtesy.

He walked in, though, the man was clean and proper. Handsome, with flowers. Red roses, freshly cut you could see. You saw one petal fall down as he approached you. How convenient, you thought, for you could find the petal on the floor more interesting.

It felt cold, and you were unaware why. You’d fancied yourself in love with another man who was not offered your hand.

“Lady y/n, good morning,” he said. “How radiant you are this morning.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, you were never fond of compliments. You also had the urge to run away. You wouldn’t, though it was tempting. He was a respectable gentleman, and respected he should be, no matter the opinions you held of him. You found him very dull.

Lady Danbury nudged you lightly, seeing as you had only remained quiet with your eyes wide open and with a wide strained smile.

“My apologies, I seem to be inattentive this morning,” you answered. “Good Morning, my Lord,” you said. “Thank you for your compliments, and flowers.”

Lady Danbury watched you with dashing hopes.

“I was hoping I could tempt you with a promenade on this fine day,” Lord Collins grinned. “I know how fond you are of walking.”

“How lovely,” you said.

How dreadful, you thought. You were, though, fond of walking. Gave peace to your mind, and it had helped you those months before, to try and suppress the memory of the eldest Bridgerton. It had most certainly failed you.

Before you could even think of escaping, you found yourself promenading with Lord Collins, the sunlight was indeed lovely, and there was barely any sign of the storm from the night before. Lady Danbury was following shortly behind.

Was there any sign of your compromised body? You wondered if they could tell, maybe it was noticeable.

You wondered if Lady Danbury noticed how jaded you were, as you faked to listen to the man talk, and talk, and talk. Whoever told men they were interesting to listen to was clearly deaf or another idiotic man, for who could ever find joy in listening to such banal and brainless individuals. However, he did not cease his talking. He never listened to you, you’d barely said any words.

It gave you time to go away to whatever world you could escape to, and you thought about how much Anthony did listen. He did converse with you, and he did listen, mostly, you knew, because he loved to pride himself on being brooding and pensive and quiet. You could say that it was because he was but a fool and not a single thought roamed his mind, but whatever his reasons were, you loved that he would listen, even if it was only to contend and fuss you.

There was magic in Lord Collins, you had to accept that. The man was so interested in listening to his own thoughts that he did not realize you were not nearly even paying a gram of attention to him. You guessed that if you did end up wedded to this man, the positive outcome was you did not have to try and pretend to be interested, for he would not notice.

Your mind was trying to find a way to reject him, knowing that Lord Collins was honorable enough to accept your rejection. But how would you reject him?

Why had it been so easy to reject Anthony, the man you loved, but it came nowhere as easy to reject Lord Collins, a man who you had no sentiment for, perchance just indifference. And would you even be able to? Your hand was promised, and though you believed Lord Collins to be a fine gentleman, you knew he could show his dark side, every man had one.

Though you’d met him before, he had claimed to love you. Lord Collins had once said it to you.

But you didn’t love him, you couldn’t possibly. How could you? After Anthony, no one would ever touch your soul and heart like he had. Though he was a wrecked mess, he was the man who you decided to hold dear to your heart.

Perhaps you could admit you were corrupted, and maybe Lord Collins would end the disgraceful engagement that was yet to come.

Your glance diverted on the park, the trees and the flowers that had bloomed this season, lovely, or so bad Lord Collins pointed out. The other couples trying to court, and their respective chaperones. Vicious mamas in the haunt, some of them sending you the most unwelcoming glares.

You were walking near the tents, you saw the Featheringtons’, with their bright colored clothing, you wondered how they could be so deficient in their clothing taste. You did not know what had happened to them, a man was standing nearby and you knew barely anything about their story after Lord Featherington passed. Penelope was your favorite of the Featheringtons, you often believed her to not belong in such a pitiful family. You acquainted them from before, knowing that Prudcence and Philippa often showed their slight infatuation with Anthony. You never blamed them but thought of it rather foolishly. Though at some point you did find it annoying, how dare them fancy the same man you did, though you were thankful that Anthony saw them as piteous as you did. You wondered if they had continued to try and impress them with their dubious talents, you had nothing against them, honestly, before you’d learned their infatuation you liked them just fine, however after learning they fancied him, you were not as courteous with your regards.

It was no secret you were a jealous person, but Anthony was, too so it balanced. You always were thankful that Anthony despised dancing, as much as you did. You barely could deny any invitation to dance but at least he did not dance with anyone else.

You kept your way, and then another tent was seen, the Bridgertons. Displaying the family in their splendour, as they were sitting , with Eloise quite unamused. You knew she’d rather be dead than to face any possible forms of courting.

Your breath failed you, as the dress felt rather tense. You did not want to see the Bridgertons and you knew Eloise had most definitely already read Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. She would know, and besides, the man was by your own side.

Lord Collins, still absorbed in his own conversation, pranced beside you. You tried not to see the family, knowing that they’d end up feeling your stare and Anthony would see you.

Did he know?

But your glance could not be stopped, as you then glanced again, and it had been as if it was planned, for his sight was locked with yours. His eyes widened as he watched you. With terror.

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was to drop and shove Lord Collins out of the way and run to the man who’d compromised you, body and soul, but who you loved nonetheless.

But he was glaring at you. Or at Lord Collins, or at both.

You saw him quickly rise to his feet, for he had been plopped on a stool. He didn’t do anything but to stare at you, as if with merely staring he’d be able to get the man away from you. His eyes tried to work as daggers, and they often did, his glance though most adoring to you, was now nothing but frightening.

You knew Anthony well enough to know he was tormenting with jealousy, and if you knew him well enough, you could tell he was idiotic enough to believe that Lord Collin’s sentiments were reciprocated.

Anthony was fuming, though you were not sure if it was jealousy, or if he believed to be fooled again. You wished it was only jealousy.

He was about to walk your way, but you saw Benedict rise to stop him, he failed.

Anthony was making his way to you even when his family had tried to call for him. He ignored them, he was good at doing that.

Lord Collins wasn’t even aware of how you had lost your breath and how you had held some type of staring contest with the oldest Bridgerton, whose hands were in fists as he decided to go on a different route instead, Benedict on his heels. You watched him approach the Featheringtons, you saw eagerness in Lady Featherington as she ushered Philippa to join Anthony.

You scowled, what in the world was the man doing? You believed him to be stupid, but stupid enough to make a Featherington join him in his promenade was rather a most idiotic decision.

Your eyes were glued to him, unbeknownst to Lord Collins, as Philippa was rather ungraceful as she walked along Anthony. Benedict was also joined by the other sister, Prudence, who also seemed to be happy to be joined by a Bridgerton. You could listen to their absurd giggles from afar.

Did Lord Bridgerton think the Featheringtons would bring you jealousy? If anything the animosity was for the thought alone that he would think it would bother you.

But Anthony was walking fast, and poor Philippa could barely keep up with him, you chuckled to yourself, it was amusing to think the poor girl believed she was actually being courted and rather not used as a jealousy device.

“Collins,” Anthony called as he was close enough, Philippa watched you. “Lady Y/N, how delightful to see you both here.”

Benedict threw an apologetic stare at you, before yanking his brother’s arm. Prudence gushed after.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Collins gave him an unfeigned smile, as he was finally restored from his conversation. “Such a fortunate coincidence, ladies, how beautiful you look this morning.”

You wondered how big of a coincidence it was.

“Anthony,” you quickly said but then cleared your throat, “My apologies, Lord Bridgerton, how delightful to encounter you,” you said. “Philippa, Prudence,” you smiled at them as they tried to not glare at you. “Lord Bridgerton,” you saw Benedict struggling to keep a calm facade.

“Forgive me, I shall defer my raptures for another occasion,” Benedict said. “I’m afraid we are promenading with these ladies,,” he tried pulling Anthony back but the man did not move.

“I am sure you can keep promenading just fine, Benedict,” Anthony warned. “It won’t hurt us to engage in some conversation.”

“Who would’ve thought we would concur here?” Lady Danbury said from behind as she approached you. “Lords Bridgerton, ladies.”

“Lady Danbury, may I say you look astonishing,” Anthony said and then directed his glance at you.

Lady Danbury watched him with suspicion. “I’m flattered,” she said. “I’m pleased to see you gentlemen opportuning this lovely day to parade with these ladies.”

Philippa grinned, as she kept watching Lord Bridgerton’s face, as if his face had some kind of magnet she had to be glued to.

You thought of it pathetic, from Anthony of course, as you could see his obvious chagrin. You knew that he was not fond of them, because they were always trying to raise their… talents, if one must call it that way, to find a proper husband. They often failed.

“It is a lovely day,” Anthony agreed. “Seems to be the proper weather after having to engage on such a turbulent night, the storm was unpleasant.”

“Was it, my Lord?” You quickly enquired. “I would have believed you were very fond of the rain, and… turbulent storms.”

Anthony glanced at you, he was disappointed but he knew you did not talk about the rain. “You are mistaken,” he said severely. “I do not like to fret on the rain when I am not well aware if it will cease. I find uncertainty disturbing.”

“I believe the rain to be rather bitter,” Philippa intruded.

You did not even look at her, “I do not,” you said. “I believe we can find beauty in the rain for most dreary that it can be, especially when it offers such a sight.”

Lord Collins grinned, “I agree with Miss Y/N, the rain is rather soothing.”

Anthony scoffed, “Of course it is soothing, when you’re aware the sun will eventually dawn.”

This was not about the rain. But neither the Featheringtons or Lord Collins was aware of that.

“I believe the rain to be essential,” Lady Danbury interrupted. “We shall enjoy the beauty of it when it starts and when it dares to cease,” she spoke starkly. “However, Lord Bridgerton, I must praise you for the flowers you sent this morning, they were lovely, were they not, Miss Y/N?”

Lord Collins blinked in surprise. “Flowers?”

Philippa scowled at you.

“Lovely, indeed, thank you, Lord Bridgerton for the most exquisite flowers,” you said.

Anthony ignored your sight.

“Flowers?” Lord Collins asked again.

“Yes, I sent Miss Y/N some flowers to thank her for her company last night,” Anthony said with arrogance, you blushed immediately knowing exactly for what company he was thanking you for. “She joined my family and I for a lovely dinner. Besides I find the lady to be deserving of the most magnificent flowers.”

Benedict frowned watching between Anthony and you.

Philippa cleared her throat, “I love flowers,” she commented.

“How considerate,” Lord Collins said, you could tell he was not fond of Anthony. He was probably aware of Anthony’s proposal, or attempt to propose, and it was no secret that in your past season, Anthony would not leave your side.

“Yes, her favorite,” Anthony continued, ignoring the lady beside him.

“Roses?” Lord Collins questioned.

“I like roses,” Philippa commented.

“Gardenias,” Anthony snarked with a smirk. “She’s fond of gardenias, are you not, Miss?”

“I find all flowers delightful, however I do have an attachment for gardenias,” you admitted. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton for remembering.”

He wanted to scoff, he cleared his throat instead. “My pleasure,” he said. “ I must admit the true reason for me to approach you,” Anthony slurred his words with poison. “I recently became acquainted with the news, so I am here to congratulate the two of you, I heard about your engagement.”

He knew, then.

Benedict squeezed his eyes shut, he seemed tired of his brother.

You blinked with fake surprise, “Engagement? Oh, we are but promenading, I was not aware walking led to a betrothal. Shall I assume you and lovely Philippa are to be married as well?” You asked with a smug smirk, knowing he’d be bothered.

He was, Anthony glared at you. He knew you were faking ignorance.

Lord Collins huffed, “You flatter me, Bridgerton, thinking I am already to be married to this beautiful lady, however, I know better than to assume the Lady will marry me without a proper proposal.”

“I think I’d be aware if I was to be married,” you hissed.

“Absolutely, you would be aware, how could you not?” Anthony raised his eyebrow.

Benedict watched, “Seems that this is the first time the lady hears of the news.”

“It happens to be the first time,” you lied.

“How convenient,” Anthony said with gritted teeth. “Well, I am not to engage in gossip, however-”

“Lady Whistledown announced it,” Philippa commented

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed. “The ton happened to be loud enough for your engagement to be announced on Lady Whistledown’s society papers.”

“Well, if we were to believe everything she writes then I’d be worried if I were you,” You claimed watching Anthony. “She seems to not be fond of you, my Lord. Are you suggesting we shall believe everything she writes?”

Anthony clenched his jaw.

“The Lady’s right,” Lord Collins said.

Anthony cackled, “Excellent news then,” Anthony said. “I offer my apologies to you, both.”

Lord Collins watched him with disdain.

“Is your hand not promised, then?” Asked Prudence, finally making an appearance behind Benedict.

Everyone turned to her, but Anthony directed the most special glare at her. No one dared to say a thing.

“Fair question,” Anthony intruded.

“And one that is too bold to be enquired,” Lady Danbury stepped in. “I advice you young Lady not to meddle in Miss Y/N’s business, and rather take care of your own matters.”

“The Lady shall decide if she concedes me the honor to take her hand,” Lord Collins answered.

Anthony chuckled, “I shall wish you good fortunes.”

You took a deep breath.

Benedict cleared his throat, “I believe we shall continue our stroll.”

Anthony did not move.

“Excellent idea,” You conceded. “We shall not waste the lovely weather, a promenade is most invigorating.”

“Shall I suggest walking and talking, then?” Offered Anthony. “I think the activities are not exclusive.”

You closed your eyes, you did not want to continue engaging in the conversation.

“How amusing you’re suggesting that, Lord Bridgerton,” You poisoned. “Here I would have assumed you’d rather have some solitary time with ravishing Miss Featherington here,” you derided.

Philippa grinned.

He raised his eyebrows, he was trying to tell if you were jealous. You were not, if anything you were amused of the entanglement he’d dragged himself into with his attempt of bothering you.

“Are you not finding this conversation pleasing?” Anthony questioned you. “I would have believed you to be more fond of conversing.”

You chuckled, “I rather be taciturn and quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he smirked. “Shall we?” He started to walk. You directed a glare at his younger brother who only sighed.

Lord Collins raised his brow, “The Lady is quiet, I do not know why you’d find that hard to believe.”

Anthony laughed somberly, “You seem to be puzzled, Collins,” Anthony remarked. “Miss y/l/n is never quiet, unless she is engaged in other kinds of activities.”

He was being an arse.

“Other activities?” Philippa questioned.

“Lord Bridgerton is speculating,” You cleared up. “I assume he is suggesting I’m quiet when I play the pianoforte, or embroider.”

“Absolutely,” Anthony grinned. “However, I’ve been acquainted with you my whole life and I must remark you’re a woman who finds interest in chatter.”

He was mocking you.

“Not when I find it impertinent,” you sassed.

Lord Collins smiled, “A talented and accomplished woman.”

Anthony raised his brow, watching him. He was hurt, but he then proceeded to watch you as if asking you if you were serious with this.

You tried to look away, you could not believe how big of an arse he was and you could not believe his stupidity. Had he suggested you were aware of the engagement? And would he do anything about it or just keep being an arse? If he rushed his proposal he might be able to free you, however you knew Anthony to be an idiot. And you knew the man to be su full of his pride, that he would possibly try to be the biggest idiot he could before making any reasonable statements. You were in the need to have a word with him.

Lord Collins started talking again, Philippa listened this time. Eagerly. Seemed like the pair was rather absorbed in their own conversation for your own fortune. Behind, Benedict was trying to not die of awkwardness as Prudence and him were not even trying to engage in small talk. Not even about the weather.

Anthony was only peeping at you every now and then, brows furrowed. You slowed your pace, letting Lord Collins be wrapped in his words enough to not notice you’d fallen behind with Anthony.

“I suppose it is unworthy to try and explain I was oblivious to it,” you whispered.

Anthony shrugged, “You must understand why said statement is hard to believe,” he growled.

“It is honest,” you said.

“I’ve always known how fond you are of keeping secrets,” he barked. “Forgive my hesitation, but my doubts are not unwarranted.”

You glared. “Your behavior is.”

He grinned, “Fine, then I shall withdraw, I do not wish to vex your pleasant morning,” he said.

“Anthony,” you bellowed.

“I must excuse myself,” Anthony announced loudly for Lord Collins to turn around, it seemed Lord Collins only listened when it was another man speaking. “I need to disengage from this pleasant promenade.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Lord Collins, always a pleasure, I hope we can meet again soon, perchance at the ball this weekend, however I shall not retire without giving you fair advice over Lady Y/N, be careful, for her hand and heart always seem to belong to someone else,” he hissed. “Excuse me,” he then said softly and smiled at Lady Danbury cynically before storming off, leaving everyone in shock.

Benedict closed his eyes with strain as he was left with the two Featheringtons now at his care.

“I despise my brother,” he declared.

You only clenched your jaw, you agreed, you despised him, too.

next part

ext part (coming soon) feedback is appreciated!

tagging: @writeroutoftime @nadjasdolly @erodasghosts @misswoodhouse @screechingdreamercollectorsblog @traveller-lover-dreamer @pureawesomeness001 @grouchycritic7794 @judig92 @xstarbae @angel-ann-13 @thatgayl @taichoushadow @satoonosam @ichanelvxgue @thirstybunz @obiwanownsmyass @accio-boys @alainabooks143 @pparkeramorr @michael-loves-chickens @peterwandaparker @randomfrenchgirl @brynthebulldozer @peterporkpie @keithseabrook27 @thirstybunz @xceafh @applenter @rchlhearts @hvproductions @witchyartemis @theworldis-ahead @hollandinq @cherrytop02 @cc13723things @fookingmuffins @laurieteddy @swiftspaperings @annathesillyfriend @0dreamseeker0 @oopsiedoopsie23 @insanitysparkles @wifisprincess @cheeryara-blog @mythical-goth @20th-centu-fairy-girl @i-guess-this-is-me @moonlightlavender @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @latekate1807 @kakakatey @nxstalgicnxbxdy @pixiedustsupplyco @untitledandrandomset @pignolithecookie @bands-messed-me-up @marinac15@italyhappiness @oopsiedoopsie23 @summer-and-sunflowers @none-of-your-bullshit @girlmadeofavocados @f2101v @everything-is-books @peachyafshawn @louanndaay @haunteddeputymugpersona @mrscharlieweasley15 @stupididi0t @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @sarcasm-n-insomnia @marss-anonymous @keithseabrook27 @lettherebelovex @itisjustwhatitis @satoonosam @sesamepancakes @hazelgirl355 @londonalozzy @ashwarren32 @keithseabrook27 @apoeticwish @dangerdolns @empireroyals @summer-and-sunflowers @sarcasm-n-insomnia @xlostinobsessionsx @agentstarkid @fckyougeno @jemimah-b99 @beautypalette @sugarcoated-lame

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton ff #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton and you #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton writing #sham and pain

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goodfish-bowl · 3 years

Text

Ectober Day 5: Fairy Circle

Prequel to Lost in the Wood

AO3 link (will be updated)

Summary: Flynn should’ve known better than to go into the woods by himself.

Words: 1596

Content warnings: child abduction, manipulation

Notes: this is the first, and Lost in the Wood is technically the last, but there will be more in between, the order your read them in is irrelevant.

Flynn’s parents were fighting again. It was his birthday, they could at least wait until the next day. Papa was trying to teach him how to shoot a gun, which Mom had known he had brought. That’s what the argument was about this time. Flynn didn’t think he really needed to know how to shoot a shotgun. He knew how to get away from a bear and make a variety of traps, why would he need a gun?

The yelling escalated and Flynn decided an enclosed tent was not the place to be. He took a deep breath, bitter that his parents would fight on his birthday. He loved the woods, it had a quiet that didn’t exist in their cabin back in Spitoon. He loved his home and his parents, he just wished they’d get along more.

Flynn had an idea, then, and took a glance behind him. He wasn’t allowed to go into the woods alone. It was the chief rule, one of the few things his parents did agree on absolutely. Flynn grabbed his bag, shoved it full of the most basic gear, and took off running.

The woods consumed him in seconds. Another thing he loved. He instantly found the place in the woods where the trees were as thick around as the tool shed, and the light became dim, high canopy preventing it from touching the ground more than just enough to see through green lenses.

Flynn slowed down and took a glance behind him, the deer tail barely visible among the remaining brush. He couldn’t hear his parents anymore, and the forest was much too silent. He felt desperately alone. Flynn took a deep breath and calmed down, trying to keep from crying. He would never get his parents to work together to find him if he couldn’t at least wait for them to notice he was gone. (They’d notice right? They would come for him?) He made himself a comfortable spot and pulled out a protein bar to munch on. Now all he had to do is wait.

Flynn waited, and then waited some more. He was really patient, he knew he was, and he knew he had waited a long time by now. The sun was getting ready to set soon. Something sad and lonely settled in a corner of his mind. Where were Mom and Papa? We’re they looking for him? He knew that he hadn’t wondered to far by himself, he should be able to hear them from camp if they were calling for him.

Flynn held as still and quiet as he physically could, but he heard nothing, not even the sounds of the woods he had grown to love. Suddenly uncomfortable at the lack of sound outside of his own person, Flynn decided to go back to camp. He didn't want to be out here at night. He pulled a flashlight from his bag and clicked the button. The light flickered pathetically for a second before going out, leaving him in the coming darkness.

As fast as he safely could, Flynn went back towards camp. The woods didn’t go back to the familiar sight of the campground, but remained old and silent, judging him for his actions. Tears built up behind his eyes, but Papa said boys didn’t cry, so he shouldn’t. But Flynn couldn’t help it, and the tears flowed freely.

“Mom! Papa!” He called out, fear and desperation saturating his voice. He cried out again and again, but the woods gave him nothing in return.

Finally, the brink of darkness fell, and Flynn lost the ability to see.

“Poor thing. Did your parents leave you?”

Flynn froze and whiled around, yelping in fear as his heart sputtered in his chest. He hadn’t even heard someone approach.

And she was standing far too close, only a couple feet away, a strange green lantern illuminating her and the area around her. Flynn whimpered, scared, silently chiding himself for acting like a baby. He wasn’t scared! She just surprised him. Yeah, that’s all. The dark, silent woods, with surprise ladies had nothing on him. He built up his courage to reply.

“My parents didn’t leave me!” He shouted defensively, “I ran away.”

He couldn’t see her features under the black veil she was wearing, which he thought was weird. It was nowhere near Halloween. Even stranger, she started to sniffle and cry, like she was the one lost.

“Oh, oh, so sad. You must be so brave to run away from your parents! Tell me, little one, why did you run?” She asked, her voice quivering from her tears.

Flynn gulped, this lady gave him the creeps. “I wanted them to make them stop fighting on my birthday,” he answered truthfully.

She stood there for a moment, before wailing in anguish. It echoed in the forest much more than it should, “So brave, so selfless, so, so, so sad,” She cried out, “How old did you turn today?” She asked between another sniffle.

“Twelve.”

She was too close all too fast. He didn’t see her move, but now her face was leaned into his, and he could see her stange, bloodshot and crimson eyes underneath her pitch veil.

“Would you like to play a game with me? When we’re done I can take you back to your parents.” She asked, her voice and tone suddenly different.

When he tried to back up, her hand snapped to his wrist, ice cold and pale fingers digging into his wrist. He began to struggle, pulling desperately on her wrist and hand to release him.

“Stop! You’re hurting me.” Flynn wailed, throwing all his wait into him release. She didn’t as much as budge.

After a heavy second, her fingers cracked off of his wrist like old hinges. He cradled his wrist, aware that he would have bruises by tomorrow.

“Will you play?” She asked, her tone so monotone she could’be been a robot.

“No! I want to go back to my parents!” He demanded. She didn’t react.

“I will take you back to your parents after we play, I promise,” she swore, placing a hand onto her chest.

“No! You’re creepy and you hurt me! I don’t want to lpay with you!”

Apparently, she didn’t like that answer. She reeled back, and clutched and tugged at her veil. He could still see her eyes under her veil, and the green light of the lantern seemed to intensify.

“Then you won’t leave this forest.”

The light of the lantern snuffed out, abandoning him in the dark. He cried out, frightened or the pitch blackness and silence that had engulfed him.

“Please! Don’t leave me! I’ll play! I’ll play! Just don’t leave me here!” Flynn wailed.

The lantern light returned, this time several paces behind him. He could see her smile under the veil.

“Thank you so much. I’ve been so lonely,” she thanked him, and beckoned him closer.

Hesitantly, he took a few steps forward, but easily out of reach still.

“So, what are we playing?” Flynn asked, genuinely curious.

“I love to play castle. I’ll be the Lady, and you can be my lovely little knight!” He exclaimed in glee, before pausing, “I don’t know your name yet, little knight. Tell me so I may knight you as your Lady and Queen.”

Realizing the game had already begun, Flynn went down on one knee, “My name is Flynn Walker, my lady. What is yours?‘

She smiled, kind and cruel. “My name is Misery Vex, but you may call me Lady Widow.”

She suddenly held a blade, as long as his forearm, the metal reflecting the green of her lantern. His eyes widened. She hadn’t had that a second ago. She pointed it at him, then carefully touched his shoulders twice with it.

“Flynn Walker, do you swear to serve me and my will as long as you can, with your heart and life? Until your body no longer bleeds and mind no longer thinks? DO you promise to protect me from all threats and dote upon my every word?” She asked.

Still thinking it part of a game, Flynn swore. “I do, my Lady Widow.”

“Then rise, Ser Flynn.”

Flynn rose to his feet and she handed him the blade. It was stange to hold, and it hummed in his grip, slowly getting lighter and smaller until it suited him perfectly. He watched in awe.

“Come now, Ser Flynn, my little knight, lets go to my castle,” she commanded, and he knew it was a command, he could feel it.

He followed, transfixed by the sway of the lantern and the shadows it cast. The trees parted and the moon shone through a single hole in the canopy, revealing a ring in the middle of the bare clearing. It was made of strange mushrooms Flynn had never seen, growing in a perfect circle.

She stepped inside, and beckoned him to d the same. He obeyed, despite a voice in the back of his head that sounded like his mother, warning him to stay, that something was amiss. It was overwhelmed by the urge to do as Lady Widow said. Flynn stepped inside of the ring, right next to his Lady. She beamed at him in approval and unconditional love. She beat down, so much taller than any person he had ever met, and embraced him.

The lantern crackled, and the mushrooms stole its light. The ground fell away into green beneath him and Lady Widow, and they vanished.

#danny phantom #goodfish writes #Flynn walker #misery vex #aunt Alicia mentioned #unnamed exhusband mentioned #ectober 2021 #fairy circle #I only like the fannon version of Flynn #I have a whole story plotted out for him and Misery #Misey is now Lady Widow because spider theme #and she’s sad so its a pun like widower #goodfish draws #ectoberhaunt 2021

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

#my fic #ballet au #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #goooooooooooooooooooood morning all!

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

CIRCUS FREAK D.G.

Request: okay so i was listening to rewrite the stars and got the idea where the reader is a socialite from a very wealthy family, and she fell for dick grayson but her family doesn't approve because he's not a real wayne/rich. so can i request that? thank you once again!!🥺❤️

Warning: swears, having really shitty parents

A/N: That gif just melts my heart every time I see it.

Word Count: 2k

Dick Grayson was an unexpected surprise in your life.

Your parents were the kind of people that expected you to marry a literal prince. They wanted you to continue the family legacy of money, power, and popularity. Generations of marrying important figures to keep the family name from being tainted. Your family took pride in their place in the world.

When they moved to Gotham, there was only one family that was going to be good enough for your parents: The Wayne's. Bruce Wayne was the richest person in the city - maybe even the entirety of the country. When you parents wiggled their way into his life and to his famous gala's, you were to be dragged along as well.

Your parents pointed out dozens of rich men, those who owned big businesses or were part of world affairs. They wanted you to talk to them, date them, and eventually marry one of them. It wasn't those snobby men that you were intrigued by. It was the man across the room with a genuine smile.

At the time you weren't aware that this was Bruce's oldest adopted son. He didn't seem like the rest. Dick wasn't trying to prove his worth by being there, in fact it almost seemed like he didn't want to be there at all. Behind his smile, you could see that he had places he'd rather be - but his kindness to others never faltered.

Out of all the people in that room, he was the only one that you wanted to talk to.

Dick felt your eyes on him. He looked up from the person he was having a conversation with and gazed at you from across the room. A smile lit up his face at the sight of how stunning you looked. He no longer cared about the man he was chatting with - he wanted to go talk to you instead.

That was how you met the love of your life. The second that he asked you to dance, you knew that you never wanted to let him go. You danced your heart away that night, twirling and spinning until your legs were ready to give out on you. Being with Dick... it was like floating in the stars.

You met with him again and again after that night. Every meet up seemed to last shorter than the previous, you never seemed to get enough time with him. There weren't enough hours in the day for you to be with Dick as much as you wanted to. He had cut down on his over time at work, even patrol to be with you.

He was in love.

You weren't like the rest of the snobby rich, young adults that attended these gala's. Unlike so many of these families that just wanted to make money, you wanted to make the world a better place. Dick respected that about you. While you were both trying to change the world in different ways, it seemed to bring you closer together.

Bruce knew who you were. He was aware of your parents and their appearance in Gotham. Thinking like a business man, he assumed that you were only interested in Dick for the money in his name. Upon meeting you, he could clearly see that wasn't the case at all. You were completely head over heels for him.

The issue arose when Dick was meant to meet your parents for the first time. Every man that you had brought home to them wasn't good enough. They drove him away until you were left heartbroken. As the son of Bruce Wayne, you assumed that they would approve of him. Even so, Dick was brave enough to stick around through your parents wrath.

Dick was dressed in his best suit. You were looped around his arm in your best clothes as well. The two of you stood outside the doors of the fanciest restaurant in the city. Your parents were already inside and waiting upon the two of you. Dick leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Stop worrying so much."

"Aren't I supposed to be telling you that?" You chuckled. Dick rolled his eyes and led you through the doors. Truth be told, he wasn't nervous. Throughout all his years, he had impressed every set of parents that he met. Yours couldn't be that different. "Just... don't think of me differently after today, okay?"

"I would never, my love," Dick assured. You switched from having your arm around his to intertwining your hands. The server led you towards the table your parents were sitting in. They looked to be in a good mood. Hopefully they would keep it up when you arrived with Dick.

Dick Grayson should have been nervous. After knowing you this past half a year, he didn't think that anyone related to you could be cruel. You were the kindest person that he had ever met, always worried about everyone around you before yourself. He assumed that it was your parents that raised you like that.

He was wrong, very wrong. Your parents seemed to be angered the second that you two sat down at the table. Dick was on his best behavior. He made sure to give the biggest smile, shook their hands, and referred to them with the utmost respect. It didn't seem to matter, the second they laid eyes on him they weren't impressed.

When you told your mother that you were bringing a Wayne to dinner, they assumed you meant a real Wayne - not an adopted one. Bruce was far too old for you, Damian far too young. Tim was the one that they were expecting, even if he was considerably younger than you as well. Even if he wasn't a real Wayne, he was the one to run WE.

Dick Grayson was nothing but a circus freak.

A boy who was born from poor parents and grew up in the circus. He was the exact opposite of what your parents wanted of you. Even with being adopted by Bruce, it wasn't enough for them. You were tired of pleasing your parents. Dick was the love of your life, you knew it in less than a year of being with him.

"You're lucky Bruce Wayne adopted you. I suppose living in a circus you had no where to go but up," Your mother spoke. She sipped her wine, acting as if what she had said was a compliment. Dick's eyes widened in shock but he remained quiet.

"You're not a real Wayne, though, right? Like Bruce's inheritance isn't going to go to you, it'll go to his youngest, the blood son?" Your father pitched in. "(Y/N) are you sure you want this one? What about the other, the one running Bruce's company - at least he has something going for him."

"That's enough!" You raised your voice. Your parents were not-so-subtle about their dislike towards Dick. They shamed his upbringing, saying that he was lucky to be taken in by Bruce rather than continue his life in the circus. Though you knew their words hurt him, he stayed calm throughout the matter.

You on the other hand, couldn't hear anymore of it. "Who the fuck do you think you are to say those things? Huh? You're nothing but snobbish pricks who only want me to marry for money! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of seeing you on your high fucking horse thinking you're better than everyone!

"I'm ashamed to call you my parents. You don't care about Gotham or your own daughter! You only care about yourselves and money. Have fun being fucking miserable, I'm not putting up with your shit any longer. Never again."

The restaurant had gone silent. All eye were on your table, listening in to the scene that you were causing. Your parents sat there in shock. you had never showed any signs of aggression like that before. Not once in your life had you went against them so fiercely and so publicly. Unfortunately, they blamed this attitude on Dick.

Before they could say anything about your outburst, you grabbed Dick's hand and nearly dragged him out of the restaurant. You were beyond angry. So full of rage, humiliation, even guilt. You so desperately wanted this dinner to go well and it had gone anything but. Dick finally stopped you from racing back towards his car.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as he looked down to you. Without hesitating, he pulled you into a much needed hug. You sobbed into his chest, your heart aching for the words that your parents said to him. He didn't deserve that, any of it. Dick was too polite to stand up against strangers like that - especially when they were your parents.

"I'm sorry," You whispered. Dick kissed the top of your head before wiping away your tears. When you asked him not to judge you for your parents, he never thought you would mean to this extreme. Still, he kept with his promise. You weren't your parents, you were nothing like them.

"Don't be," Dick assured. He had gone through far worse things than some angry parents. He got broken, battered, and bruised every week - a few hurtful words shouldn't have fazed him. But seeing you so upset because you cared this deeply about him? That broke his heart far more than what your parents said about him.

"My parents are horrible people. They've always only cared about keeping the family name as an important figure. I've pretty much would be stuck in an arranged marriage if they got what they wanted," You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering the hurt looks on Dick's face as they spoke poorly about him.

Dick didn't know what to say. To be honest, he was still in shock over the events that had just happened between you and your parents. Firstly with how horrible they were, and secondly, how quick you were to stand up for him. You had only known him for six months and you were willing to throw away your relationship with you parents for him.

Realizing just how committed you were to this relationship sparked something in him. He knew that he loved you, and even if it was a relatively short time together with you, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Dick was completely and utterly in love with you.

"You're not a freak, Dick," you continued as he didn't speak. Without him saying what was on his mind you were left to believe that he was thinking the worst. He no longer wanted to be with, he didn't love you anymore. It broke you to think like that, you would do anything to change it. "You're not a Wayne, you're a Grayson. A Flying Grayson, that's the man that I love."

"I love you," Dick finally spoke his mind. Relief flooded you; that was what you wanted to hear. "You aren't your parents, I see that more than ever now. Just like how I'm not Bruce. We're meant to be our own people, to live and grow and discover who we really are. Right now, I know that I'm meant to grow with you."

"You make me a better person every day, Dick Grayson," You smiled up at him. Dick pulled you closer by your hips and lowered his lips to yours. He didn't care about the random people walking by you or the sound of car horns in the background, you were all that mattered.

It didn't matter if you parents didn't approve of him. He had your heart, and you hoped that he never let it go.

#dickgrayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing oneshot #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam one shot #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #fluff #angst #fanfic #fic

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gloriousmonsters · 3 years

Note

Corny of me perhaps, but given the aro hearts on the character ask game, can you do it for a character you have an aro headcanon for? Or could plausibly see as aro if you don't have any firm headcanons?

No, I think it’s a great idea! And I’ll go with JGY, since writing sainted, untainted has got me thinking about the particular way I write him as aro again.

one aspect about them i love

god what. what to pick. okay I love that despite being profoundly unsympathetic toward people he doesn’t care about and being capable of intense cruelty on a few special occasions, he’s effusively kind and affectionate toward people he cares about? like, him and qin su are known as a fairy tale romance in the jianghu before shit is revealed, and mxtx even uses the ‘guiding her along as if concerned she might trip’ note that she later used with the main pairing in TGCF. going off either a beginning where lxc was in debt to him (book) or had been nice to him once (cql) he gives lxc over a decade of friendship where (as he points out, when finally pissed off/hurt enough to bring it up) he never asked repayment for anything he did for lxc, and tried to not even make him feel awkward about it! There’s of course his indulgent-elder-brother attitude toward Xue Yang in Villainous Friends, reassuring him not to stress about his projects and buying him dumplings. And, obviously dear to my heart, kicking off his relationship with Su Minshan not only by remembering him, but by warmly complimenting him, and continuing to treat him with kindness and respect until the end. (A tiny detail that I’m unreasonably sad doesn’t get adapted in either CQL or the donghua is that WWX observes the Jin cultivators treating SMS with ‘great respect’ as well... if you’re dear to JGY, you feel welcomed at Jinlintai.)

Just. The contrast between the unquestionable horror of some of the things he does, and the way he can still be a freaking sun in the warmth he puts out, in the way people are drawn to and revolve around him, is so juicy to me, and then there’s the emotional aspect of him coming from a profoundly ugly background that was extremely scarce on gentleness, consideration and kindness, and giving those things out with seemingly bottomless generosity to the people he cares for.

(It’s also very painful that the person who most likely gave him those things, as much as she could, is dead by the time he’s gone far enough to possibly return the favor to her. I’d build a temple to her too, man.)

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

mmm this is obviously very subjective bc JGY is a somewhat mysterious character, how you interpret his inner workings depends heavily on what you’re bringing to the table, etc. I personally wish more people leaned toward my interpretation that he’s very secure in himself (for a given value)- he deeply believes in the correctness of his own opinions, very infrequently questions himself or feels regret, and has a remarkably resilient sense of self-worth for a guy who’s had people try to put it down his whole life. I genuinely don’t think JGY, past a certain point in his life, has ever desperately wanted anyone’s approval. (His argument with NMJ and his conversation about his crimes with LXC are both triggered by very specific events--he doesn’t spontaneously seek understanding from them, he feels driven to try and extract it due to the situation.)

But obviously that’s just my onion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

This feels like a good place to touch on the aro thing! If you’ve read my suyao fics you’ve probably noticed that from JGY’s POV, he pretty much exclusively thinks of SMS as his ‘friend’, and tends to use ‘affection’ or ‘fondness’ rather than ‘love’. Obviously there’s no such term in ancient fantasy China, and I don’t know if there’s even a concept lol, but I think that how JGY views it is... that he’s just a grounded person, not sentimental, not prone to exaggeration (yes he is That aro person that thinks all the people talking about love must be just being hyperbolic, they don’t really feel like that). I also tend to write him as having a quality similar to me, where sometimes (more often when he was younger) he’d develop intense crushes on people from some amount of distance, only to have the feelings either vanish or significantly mellow and change the moment he gets closer to that person. Not to say his feelings can’t still be intense, but they’re ~differently flavored~ even when they do ramp up. Other than that there’s not much I can think of to say on the matter, haha.

free bonus headcanon: love language of gifts, 100%. Essentially a sugar daddy to everyone he likes when he becomes Chief Cultivator and has full control over the budget. He’s by no means a spendthrift, but he simply CAN’T imagine one of er-ge’s visits passing without JGY giving him some tastefully selected present. Qin Su cannot relate to any of the ladies she speaks to bemoaning how long it’s been since their husbands gifted them something; she had to (lovingly) put a limit on the number per season just a week ago. 70% of Moling Su’s library and 80% of their rare plants can be sourced back to him if anyone bothered to check.

one character i love seeing them interact with

striving not to put sms for both this and the next question... split between xue yang and nie mingjue. xue yang because it endlessly delights my heart, nie mingue because the scenes between them are almost 100% guaranteed to be high drama in the best possible way.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

SMS ;-; i’m living on like one and a half scenes of canon interaction here

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

has absolutely lent sms his jade token so sms can teleport into the gusu lan forbidden library without triggering any alarms. you think jgy wants to go through all those books? no. part of being a boss is outsourcing work to someone who enjoys it more than you. and yes that means sms is going to be ranting for two hours about musical combat theory and hundred-year-old Lan scandals when he comes back, but it’s not too much of a price to pay.

#replies #character meme #jin guangyao #sms 🤝 me: fascination with the lan yi era #jgy 🤝 anyone who will sit still and listen: patiently absorbing wild theories about the lan yi era #it feels like there are too many words above the cut lol but it's whatever

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delos-mio · 3 years

Text

Out Of The Woods - college!AU - PART 3

A/N: I’m partial to this chapter, but perhaps that’s just me. I’ve not gotten a lot of feedback on this series sooooo idk if I’m just sharing it for me at this point lol but I’m having fun and that’s what matters, right?! Anyways I’m always around for thoughts, feelings, questions!

Only an essay, a few chapters of reading, and a couple shifts at work separated you from your hang out with Nikolai. You found yourself wondering what he was up to, what made him smile that day, what he’d look like on top of you now. That last one tended to linger a minute before you violently shook it from your head. You hardly knew each other anymore, not to mention you had a boyfriend- you couldn’t let yourself start to fantasize about him like that. But he was so sweet and gentle, so sassy and smart. It didn’t hurt that he was still painfully handsome either.

You were sitting at work, more or less twiddling your thumbs, when you felt a buzzing against the white countertop of the receptionist desk you sat behind. When you looked at the screen, an unknown number appeared. You unlocked your phone and opened your texts. Seeing the first line preview made your heart leap into your throat immediately.

N: Hey it’s Nik. Just thought you should have my number too :)

Y: Hey there you glad you didn’t lose that paper

N: I could never! What are you up to?

Y: Just at work, pretty slow today so I’m kinda bored

N: Hopefully I can keep you a little company. Where do you work?

Y: John Richard Salon- it’s that one downtown across from that hot dog place

N: Oh yeah! Seen it a million times. Do you do hair? Is that a secret talent of yours?

Y: God no lol I’d be horrible at it. I don’t have the dexterity for it. I’m just their receptionist

N: “Just” please I’m sure you’re their best employee

You stopped to roll your eyes, but also couldn’t stop the heat from rising on your cheeks.

N: Do you like it?

Y: It’s pretty good for a low responsibility job- it pays the bills too so I’m not complaining

N: That always helps

Your name had been called from off to your side, making your head snap up and you locked eyes with Deja, who was easily your favorite coworker. “And just what has you smiling like an idiot? Hm?” she asked with a smirk and leaned across the counter from you.

“Remember that guy I was telling you about from the party?”

“Oh yeah, the one you fucked in high school?” she teased.

You let out a long sigh. “Well, he just texted me. We’re supposed to hang out on Friday,” you said confidently, raising your chin in her direction to show her there was nothing of consequence going on between you and Nikolai.

“Hang out. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Deja looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you could only respond with a look of your own.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laughed. “Seriously. We haven’t hung out in years and it’s nice to have someone to hang out with who knows me. And wants to hang out with me,” you added under your breath.

“Don’t tell me Matt is back on his bullshit…”

You simply raised your thumb and index finger just slightly apart, squinting at the space between them.

As you were catching her up on the last week, John walked over and flipped over the open sign, locking the glass door in front of him. You took that as your sign to help clean up so you could get out of there as soon as possible. The girls all pitched in, sweeping up the few stray clumps of hair on the old wooden floor and wiped down all the counters for the morning.

While you were on the bus for the short ride back to your apartment, you suddenly remembered the conversation you were having with Nikolai before you closed up shop. You cursed under your breath and pulled out your phone again, quickly thumbing a message back.

Y: Sorry! I got caught up closing

N: No sorry needed, you were at work after all

Y: lol I suppose that’s true. They don’t pay me to sit around and look pretty

N: They should

Y: Oh god lol stop

N: Have I told you that I’m really looking forward to Friday?

Y: No but I’m looking forward to it too

You had since made it home and crawled into bed, happy to finally be off your feet and talking to the boy who disarmed you with a single smile. For the next few hours, the two of you texted back and forth, mostly about classes and work, but you couldn’t stop yourself from occasionally flirting with Nikolai. You really needed to work on actively not doing that, but you allowed yourself one last evening of toying with him. When the clock rolled over to 1am, the lids of your eyes were beginning to grow heavy and a long yawn escaped from your lips.

Y: I think I’m going to fall asleep on you I’m sorry

N: Holy shit I didn’t realize it was so late

N: I should get to bed too. I have a presentation in the morning

Y: Don’t let me keep you up!

N: But darling that’s all I want ;)

N: Sweet dreams- I’ll see you Friday

Y: Goodnight Nik

-----

Friday finally came and you were nervous as you fixed your hair one last time in the wide bathroom mirror. You opted for tight jeans, a pretty low cut tank, and a zip up hoodie. There was no way you were going to just hang out at his house looking like you were ready for the club, but you still wanted to remind Nikolai that you were cute. Genya had already left for the night, so you weren’t able to have a second set of eyes give your outfit the final approval; you could really use the reassurance right about now. As you casually boosted your chest one more time, there was a light knock at the front door. You opened it to Nikolai in a skin-tight tee for your school and a light canvas jacket. His hair was perfectly disheveled and his jeans clung tight to his thick thighs. You caught him giving you a long onceover before giving you a wide smile.

“You look amazing,” he breathed out, pulling you in for a tight embrace. You let your hands wander over his broad back, exploring the pull of his muscles under his jacket.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you smirked as you pulled apart. You locked up behind you and let Nikolai walk you downstairs and out to his car.

“Pizza?” he asked, one hand low on your back, the other gesturing vaguely you assumed in the direction of the car.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you smiled from ear to ear. Immediately, you could see the tension leave Nikolai’s shoulders. As you stepped foot into the parking lot, the sky decided it was the perfect time to open up and unleashed a sheet of rain unlike any you’d had so far this fall. You yelped as it began to pour, throwing your hood over your head. Nikolai acted quickly and threw off his jacket, holding it high above your head to keep you dry as you both splashed quickly to his car. This gesture made your heart swell; you were starting to think Nikolai may be a real lift knight in shining armor. He opened your door and made sure you were out of the rain before joining you and whipping his soaked coat in the backseat. You were both laughing at the situation and he was visibly relieved that you took the whole hiccup in stride. “Let’s get fucking dry ,” you laughed and he needed no further request to set off in the direction of his apartment.

Nikolai actually didn’t live too far from you, you realized when he pulled up across the street from the brown duplex. It was still raining when you parked and you again sprinted to the front porch in a desperate attempt to stay a little dry. When you got close to the door, you realized that it was a lot louder inside than you thought it would be. Nikolai must have noticed too because his jaw immediately set, irritation flashing behind his hazel eyes.

“Fucking Aleks,” he muttered under his breath before pushing the door open. A large party was taking place, unbeknownst to Nikolai. There were people passing in front of them, a lively game of beer pong in process, and more than one person going through their cupboards. Nikolai gestured for you to head inside and he slammed the door shut behind him. “Do you mind waiting here for just one second? I have to talk to Aleks quick,” he asked quietly into your ear, his hand resting on the side of your face. You nodded and he gave you a small smile before setting off for the kitchen. Aleks was laughing against the fridge with a couple other guys, barely registering it when Nikolai was standing in front of him, arms crossed tight over his chest.

“Dude! I thought you said you were going to the baseball house!” Nikolai scolded.

“Nikolai! I’m so glad you’re here, man. No, we decided to have people over here instead. We’re always at the baseball house,” Aleks smiled, giving Nikolai a friendly punch to his shoulder; Nikolai didn’t budge an inch.

“I kinda had plans here tonight, remember?” he said through gritted teeth, giving a small nod back towards where you stood. Aleks’s face dropped as it all came back to him.

“I am so sorry man, I totally forgot.”

“Obviously,” Nikolai scoffed.

“I mean it. It slipped my mind. I’m really sorry dude.” It was hard for Nikolai to stay mad at Aleks for long, if at all. You saw Aleks give Nikolai a long hug, evidently sorting out whatever disagreement they just had. Nikolai made his way back to you, a little less high strung.

“C’mon,” he said and took your hand, leading you around the corner to a short hallway. He led you into a room and quietly shut the door behind you. The first thing that struck you was all of the maps and works in progress strewn across his desk and hanging on the walls. You walked around in awe and marveled at Nikolai’s decor. He had numerous prints of classic paintings and frescoes, almost all of them related to myths or historical events.

“Nikolai, this is amazing! It’s so,” your head was spinning as you looked at all of his art, “it’s incredible.” You turned back to him and he was right behind you, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m so sorry. I thought we’d be able to come and spend some time together without 80 other people.” He looked genuinely upset that he couldn’t follow through with his plan of having dinner and talking all night on the couch.

“Hey, it’s ok. We can still hang out. Why don’t we make an appearance, play a game of beer pong or whatever, and then we can watch a movie in here or something?” you offered. Nikolai’s face lifted a little at that and he lightly squeezed your hand, nodding his head in agreement. “I gotta get out of this hoodie, though. It’s fucking soaking,” you laughed.

You shed the wet garment and hung it carefully on the back of one of the chairs near you. Nikolai had changed out of his wet shirt as well; he must have moved in the blink of an eye because you didn’t even notice him switch clothes. When you looked at him again, his gaze was fixed on you, his expression hard to read. “What is it?” you finally asked with a nervous laugh as punctuation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said with a small smile. You looked down at yourself- your hair was a complete rat's nest, shirt and jeans soaked through, and though you hadn’t looked in a mirror you could feel your makeup was a mess too. And here he was, arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met, lost for words as you stood in front of him. You bit down on your bottom lip and shook your head before taking him by the hand and leading him back into the party.

Nikolai grabbed each of you a drink and you wandered together to the beer pong table where Aleks was taking his last shot with his partner. Aleks grinned when he saw the two of you walk up and declared he was playing you next after he ‘kicked their ass’. He sunk the last shot and whooped loudly, high-fiving with his partner. Nikolai took his place on the opposite end of the table with you and re-racked the cups.

“Sorry I’m about to embarrass you in front of your date, Nik,” Aleks smirked arrogantly. Nikolai only bounced the light ball against the table top, catching it swiftly on the back of his long fingers. He repeated the trick, unbothered by Aleks and his shit talking, also not correcting him that you were not in fact on a date.

“We’ll just see about that,” he laughed as his first shot sank directly into the front cup. You giggled with him and took a shot of your own, somehow making another shot. You’d played a few times before, but you didn’t consider yourself skilled by any means- certainly not as skilled as these boys. Nikolai was so proud of you, he threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side. “Good luck, man.”

Aleks was frustrated as his winning streak began to slip through his fingers. Nikolai was clearly the better player, which was making Aleks crazy, though he had also had about five more drinks than Nikolai. You only made one more shot after your beginner’s luck, but Nikolai didn’t mind at all. He happily carried your team and took care of the remaining cups, always encouraging you when you made a lousy toss. Before long, Nikolai was flicking his wrists high over his head like he was making a free throw and sinking the winning shot. The small crowd around the table cheered and Aleks grumpily crossed his arms. Nikolai gathered you in his arms and lifted you easily off the ground, spinning you with him as you celebrated your very first beer pong victory, all thanks to Nikolai.

“Better luck next time!” you taunted sarcastically and Aleks finally gave you a small smile. The next team in line took your spot and you slid back into the crowd undetected and back to Nikolai’s room. “I didn’t know you were good at every sport,” you teased before taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Is beer pong really a sport?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He walked over to stand in front of you and ran his hand over your finally drying hair. “Movie time?”

“Yes,” you replied simply, possibly a little too quickly. Nikolai smiled at you before walking over to his bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled onto his side of the bed, patting the spot next to him, inviting you in. He had chosen some movie to put on evidently, but you truthfully didn’t notice what. You flicked off the lights and jumped in next to him with a smile. Nikolai laid out on his back and you curled up comfortably on his chest.

“I had a really good time tonight, rain storm and surprise party and all,” he said, his voice low in your ear.

“Me too,” you said with a smile, still distracted by the art on his walls. “What inspired your decor choices?”

Nikolai turned his head to look at the picture of the Minotaur over his desk. “As you know, I’m a history major,” he started. “My concentration is in classical studies, specifically the Hellenistic period.” He rolled his neck to face you again. “That’s actually my favorite myth.”

“You know, for being a creative writing major, my Greek mythology is a little rusty,” you prompted, leveling your most charming smile at Nikolai.

“Would you like me to regale you with the tale?” he asked with a dramatic flourish.

“I’m all ears, Mr. Lantsov,” you laughed, positioning yourself so you could rest your chin on your hands laying on his chest and gaze up at him.

“Alright. So, Minos had just become the ruler of the island of Crete, but was still in competition with his brother for power. He prayed to Poseidon to send him a sign of the god’s favor- a bright white bull. Minos was tasked to sacrifice the bull to honor Poseidon, but he was so enamored with the bull that he decided to keep him, believing Poseidon would accept an alternate sacrifice.” Nikolai absently petted your hair.

“But he didn’t?”

“He did not,” Nikolai laughed. “As punishment, Poseidon made Minos’ wife, Pasipahae, fall in love with the bull.”

“Such a Greek god thing to do.” You smiled up at him.

“Isn’t it?” Nikolai beamed back. “Pasiphae had the master craftsman Daedalus create a hollow, wooden cow for her to climb in so she could mate with the bull. And thus, the Minotaur was created. Pasiphae did her best to nurse and raise the Minotaur as a babe, but he grew too fast and became unruly. Minos consulted the oracle at Delphi on what to do, and as a result commissioned Daedalus to construct a gigantic labyrinth to house the Minotaur under the palace in Knossos.”

“Years go by, and one of Minos’ sons is killed by the Athenians, who I guess were jealous of a string of recent victories by the king. From here, there are a few versions on why Athens begins sending youths as tribute, but the most common is that Minos waged and won a war to avenge the death of his son. As the losers, Minos required the Athenians to send seven youths and seven maidens to be sent every seventh year to cast into the labyrinth to be consumed by the Minotaur.”

“The third sacrifice came around and the hero Theseus,” Nikolai started, contempt clear in his voice, “volunteered to go as a sacrifice to Crete to slay the Minotaur. He told his father, Aegeus, that he would put up a white sail when he came back home if he was successful, but would have the crew put up black sails if he was killed by the Minotaur. Once he was in Crete, Minos' daughter Ariadne fell head over heels for Theseus and helped him navigate the labyrinth. In most versions of the story, she gave him a ball of string so he could retrace his steps and a sword to slay the beast. Story goes that he killed the Minotaur and led the Athenians out of the labyrinth, sailing away with them and Ariadne away from Crete.”

“I’m gathering that you’re not a Theseus fan,” you said, eyes still trained on Nikolai’s face. “Why?”

“A number of reasons.” Nikolai paused, clearly deciding on how much he wanted to nerd out. “One being that on the way back to Athens, Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the island of Naxos. He forgot, however, to put up the white sail like he told his father he would. Aegeus saw the black-sailed ship approach and threw himself into the sea, presuming Theseus was dead. But doing so just secured the throne for Theseus. The other being that he murdered the Minotaur.”

“But didn’t the Minotaur kill a bunch of kids?”

“Or was he fed children after being abandoned by his mother, unaware of any other way to live? I don’t subscribe to the idea that the Minotaur is a monster. There’s also quite a bit of evidence that suggests Ariadne saw him as a brother, having to make the impossible choice of her ‘abomination’ of a brother and a man who had convinced her he was in love with her.” Nikolai spoke with such passion and knowledge that it made your stomach tighten. This was a Nikolai not many got to see, a Nikolai you wanted to hold and kiss and laugh with. Fuck, you were in so far over your head.

He’d never been more attractive to you than in that moment. The light from the TV dancing on his perfect cheekbones, his hazel eyes dark as he spoke. “I don’t know. I have a soft spot for him. I feel like the Minotaur got a raw deal.”

“Well, you’ve made me a believer,” you smiled and the way Nickolai beamed back at you made the heat rise in your chest.

“You should stay here tonight.”

“Nik,” you sighed, rolling off him. “You know I can’t do that.” He had no idea how badly you wanted to just scream out ‘yes’.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, staring straight up at the ceiling. “Really wish you could, though.”

“Someday.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m not the oracle at Delphi,” you said over your shoulder, making him snort. “I can’t tell the future.”

TAGGED: @agentsofsheilds

#Nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #grishaverse #prince nikolai #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov au #shadow and bone au #grishaverse au #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #masterlist #ootw

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Satisfied | Andy Barber x reader (chapter 4)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3)

series summary: you’re the only lawyer in Boston who can get under Andy Barber’s skin, but you didn’t realise that he was trying to get under your clothes. as is the nature of law, it’s only a matter of time before the truth is discovered.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angst, implied smut, non-linear storytelling

a/n: I wrote this series originally with my friend joyce, and after she deactivated some of the chapters were lost. this series is long-since completed, but I’m reposting now so people can still read!

You hated being back at your temporary ‘home’. The small apartment your company had rented was… suboptimal at best. It was a cramped little place that reminded you of your dorm at college. Only it had one difference: you were alone. But it was a place for you to reflect. And that was enough.

After the nightmare of a deposition, you had a lot of work to complete. Not only that, you had another two cases that you had to work on. Usually you would have been done and there would have not been so much stress involved but life happened.

Maybe if you were not so preoccupied by thoughts of Andy you would have been on top of your workload. But Andy posed more than one issue. He was on your mind a lot. He lived in your brain the way he did back in college. He was buried into your brain. And as much as you dedicated your existence to the law, he had more of you than any other person ever did. And that was why you had spent the last three days ignoring him.

Your entire existence burned to speak to him but you held out. You stayed strong and buried yourself in work. Your table was cluttered with pens and numerous reports and documents in a way that reminded you of being a student again. Andy always made fun of how messy you were when you studied. In every other aspect of your life you were so organized and neat yet the second you had any paper near you, it looked like a tip.

The little memory brought a smile to your face. It was dangerous to reminisce in the better days but you did miss him. Many a flurry of different failed relationships helped you realize that it was because you still loved Andy Barber. And your need to make him hate you stemmed from your inability to let him feel indifference towards you.

Ever since you returned to Boston, you spent more time than you were willing to admit dwelling over the past. How different would your life have been if you had gotten valedictorian? Would you have been happy?

You’re startled out of your thoughts when the buzzer rings and when you went to check the camera, Andy was at the front with his hands in his pockets. “Andy?”

“Let me in. You can’t keep avoiding me.” his voice is slightly distorted by the buzzer. Something, however, compelled you to let him in; you pressed the button and watched it flash green. It took a minute or so before Andy was at your door.

“Andy,” you breathed, “what are you doing here?” When you saw him, you realized that it was both a good and bad idea to have avoided him for a few days. You missed him. Just a little more than you wished to admit. But you needed to be away from him.

“Making up for lost time,” he replied before crashing his lips down on yours. It was practically a scene out of a stupid rom-com but it didn’t matter at that moment. He chased you the way you wished he had before. At least a part of you wished for that to happen.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you sighed as you tore away from Andy’s touch the way you’d drop hot coals.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, “you said that back in college--”

“And look where that got us,” you interrupted. The last thing you wanted was for that conversation to come up once again. It hurt too much to think about, let alone to talk about.

“No, we’re not doing this. Can you just let me in?” you had always been unable to resist him when he pleaded with his eyes; you let him enter and he made himself comfortable.

“It’s not as nice a place as yours,” you felt a little uncomfortable having him examine the bits of your life you tried to hide. “The firm I work for rented it for me.” You wished that the place was just a little cleaner before Andy came over unexpectedly. It was by no means a mess but it was nowhere close to the standard you were accustomed to. Or the one that he knew you had.

“Can you stop worrying about how you come across or how you’re perceived by people for just a second?” Andy raised his voice. You did not expect the outburst. Nothing gave you any indication for it.

“Did you forget that you came here, Andy?” he had a way of winding you up and you had never been above it. Your voice was blatantly irritated but Andy paid no mind to your frustrations.

“I...I just wanted to talk,” he sighed, calming down almost instantly. That made you understand that he really did come over for a conversation. It was never your strong suit but you needed something from him.

“About what, Andy?” your voice weak. “Us? There is no ‘us.’”

“About the case,” he looked at you pointedly avoiding the loaded statement you had just made. But you know that it hurt him. It was evident in his eyes. Even when he tried to hide the pain from you, it was impossible. You knew him too well.

“So what was all of that about making up for lost time, Andy?” you were on the verge of screaming not knowing how else to react.

“I-I came over about the case,” he licked his lips as he watched you, “but then I saw you. I saw your fucking face and I--”

“Andy…” you sighed, “we can’t keep doing this.”

“No, you don’t want to keep doing this,” he corrected, “but we still have a case to deal with.”

“We don’t have a case to deal with. I feel as if you have forgotten that we are representing opposing parties, Mr. Barber.”

“Trust me. I haven’t,” he deadpanned, “but seeing as your dearest client is shelling out a lot of money for this to be sorted, I thought that it would be helpful if we helped each other out.”

You raised an eyebrow out of interest, ashamedly intrigued. “And how would we ‘help each other out’?”

“Get your client to accept a plea deal. Considering how much money you’re being paid, he definitely has the means to fight it. But he doesn’t have the brains to. The evidence against him is mounting.” You hated Andy’s judgement. He always disagreed with your path, insisting that becoming a DA was the only moral way to practice law.

“Is that your professional opinion, Mr. Barber?” you cocked your head, “is this direct from your boss or is it stemming from your moral high-ground?”

“Consider it a favour from a friend. Or is it that you want that extra money so you continue to represent an arsonist?” Andy’s tone is biting, his disapproval of your career evident.

“Will you stop saying that? I’m doing it for free!” you blurted out.

Silence elapsed over the two of you. Andy looked at you with an admiration you had not seen in a long time. It was almost unsettling how warm it made you feel. “Why?” His voice was so soft that you almost missed it.

“Just because I didn’t become a DA doesn’t mean that I don’t give a shit, Andy,” you were unsure of why you so desperately craved his approval. Or why you needed him to know that you were not just another money-hungry, morally bankrupt attorney. “But that’s what you thought, wasn’t it? That I only care about money?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he breathed out but the guilt was evident. It was written all across his face. The cruealen eyes you looked into many times were laced with genuine sadness. He was wrong. “I’m sorry. Your client… he’s not paying, but the firm is still paying you, right?”

“No…” you let out a visible breath, “I have two other cases up here and so my company rented this place out and I am taking this one pro bono. If anything, I’m losing money by taking this on.”

“I’m sorry I judged you,” Andy pulled you into a hug you did not resist. He mumbled ‘baby’ into your hair at the end but you managed to catch it. It was soft but it was there. And it made your heart skip just a little. It had been so long since he had called you that.

You missed having his arms around you. It reminded you of safety and cramming for an exam. Land law was never your specialty but Andy got you through it.

Being pressed against his chest made you realize that he hadn’t changed his cologne. It was the same one you got him on your one-year anniversary. How you did not realize sooner was beyond you but there is something touching about it.

“You still wear it,” you’re surprised that you said it aloud. Andy looks at you in confusion. “The cologne I got you.”

He doesn’t look you in the eye but nods. “Yeah… it sorta became part of my everyday life. It reminds me of you.”

You nodded slowly and looked away, glancing out the window. The tone of the room shifted in exactly the wrong direction.

“Listen, I know we were sort of awful for each other,” Andy chuckled dryly, “I know we still are awful to each other. But it’s always been you. It’s always been us. And I don’t see why we can’t give it another—”

“I got an offer... I’m gonna be a partner,” you blurted out, cutting him off before he could say anything else that would make leaving harder.

“Oh my god!” he replied excitedly, after a pause to process your interruption. “Baby, that’s… that’s great.” You knew that he was worried, he had every right to be. All of the offers you once got had caused the same doubts.

“It’s in California.”

His face dropped and he swallowed nothing. The silence was heavy, and cold. Or maybe that was just the Boston air. It had always felt like this… dark and damp and carried on a wind that made you shiver to your bone each time it blew. It was exactly this feeling that should have made you long for sunny California, with its orange trees and beaches and manifest-destiny attitude. It didn’t, but it should have.

It reminded you of college. Of talking to Andy about vacancies available across the country. You had always liked the idea of moving for money but he didn’t. And that was how he stayed in Boston after you graduated whilst you sold your soul to a corporation.

He stood up and walked to the other side of the room, looking out the window. He ran his hands through his hair in that way he did when he was anxious. “You didn’t say you could be a partner,” he recalled. “You said you were going to be a partner.”

“Yep,” you agreed.

“So, you’ve already accepted it? That’s it?”

“I feel like I have to. I mean, you would never ask me to stay, would you?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Because you respect me too much? Or because you know I’d never choose you over my career?”

“Both,” he said, anger tinting his voice. “I would never want you to resent me. If you gave it up for me, you’d resent me. But just know…”

“What?”

“Just know I would’ve given up valedictorian for you,” he said it with such earnestness you did not know what to say or do. It was a declaration; one that you were not able to refute or confirm. Because you did not know.

“Are you fucking serious?” you were not sure how to feel; anger and doubt swelled in the pit of your stomach. He could have said that all those years ago. Tears pricked your eyes as you tried to keep your composure.

“Yes.”

“You think I still care about that?”

“It doesn’t matter if you care now. You cared then. And I would’ve given it up, to save us,” Andy raised his voice.

“But you didn’t, Andy! You fucking didn’t!” tears fell freely down your face as you realized that his words and his actions would forever contradict the other.

“Because I thought you’d never be with a guy who would do something like that! Do you realize that? You hated me because I got it when I didn’t want it, but I wanted to impress you! I wanted to deserve you!”

You were petrified, practically glued to the couch in fear and confusion and devastation. It was almost impossible for you to fathom Andy’s thoughts about you. Maybe he was right. Maybe you would not have wanted him if he gave it up. Because if he did, you would not have earnt it.

“Everything I did then, I was just trying to be the guy you wanted. I became everything you feared you would become if you had a relationship in law school. I completely lost sight of my studies, I would’ve flunked out, I was so obsessed with you-- thank God you were such a know-it-all or I surely wouldn’t have studied again after I met you.”

“Andy, this isn’t true. You were always a great lawyer. You always wanted it,” you tried to reason with him. He was a good lawyer.

“I’m only as much a lawyer as you made me. Everything I did was about building what I thought you wanted, so I could get you…” he paused with a slow breath, “and I’d throw it all away, to make you stay.”

“You won’t leave Boston...” it came to you slowly. You almost wished that it would not be the case. You wanted him. Maybe a little more than you wanted him back in college. It may have been the time and the distance that made you crave his heart.

“I won’t leave Boston,” he confirmed. “It’s the one thing that reminds me of who I was before you. Who I’m trying to be.”

“And you got an offer,” you realized suddenly.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Are you seriously suggesting you’d give it up for me?” you were petrified by the concept. You would have never let him do it, anyway. He had worked too hard and for too long for you to be the reason he gave it all up.

“If you gave up your partnership in Cali, wouldn’t it be fair for me to give up on being Suffolk County DA?”

“Oh shit, Andy, no, that wouldn’t be fair. You need to take it,” you begged him.

“I knew you would say that. You’ve barely changed at all.”

You stood up and approached him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Give me a year,” you pleaded. “Maybe that’s what we need. A year apart to remember who we’re supposed to be. Maybe I’ll love California and partnership and we’ll be able to say ‘hey, we’ll always have O’Leary’s’.”

He smiled a little, in a sad way. You hadn’t quite convinced him yet. He was unsure if you were really going to come back; he had trusted you with a lot before and each time he did, you broke it. Maybe giving you a year was too much of a risk for his sanity.

“Or maybe…” you breathed, half pleading, “maybe I can come back and you’ll be here. And we can try to get along better than we used to.”

“I won’t wait forever,” he nodded slowly, “but I can do a year.”

“Okay,” you smiled, reaching for his hand and weaving your fingers into his. He squeezed your hand but looked away. “Andy…”

He turned to you and you wondered if you looked like you were about to cry, because you certainly felt like you were. The situation was overwhelming, yes, but Andy, in himself, was the most overwhelming thing in your life. He consumed the only available parts of your existence. Everything you had not lost to the law belonged to him.

Maybe in another universe you got to keep him. That you got married and had little Barber children. But right then, none of that mattered. You just needed him to know the truth. Three tiny words on the tip of your tongue to let him know the one thing that had stayed buried in your heart for a decade.

“Don’t say anything,” he requested weakly. “Don’t say something that’s going to make this any harder.”

“But what if it’s the truth?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he denied.

“Look at me,” you demanded, running your hand over his face, stepping closer and pressing your body against his. You looked into his eyes and looked for hate, wishing that he still hated you at all. “I love you.”

“Please don’t say that.” Andy’s voice was strained. You saw the internal battle he was having and it pained you. You knew that he wanted to say it. He loved telling you that when you were young. He’d remind you of his love so much you had it ingrained in your mind.

“But what if I never get another chance to say it?” a small broken sob escaped the confines of your lips. Every fibre of your being wanted to repeat those sacred three words just once more to ensure that he heard you. That he really heard you. You needed him to understand the weight behind your words.

You had never meant them more than you had in that moment. You loved him. It was a confession you had not been able to deal with for years. You loved Andy Barber. And you had done so since the first time he said it to you in your dorm.

“You will,” he nodded, voice full of conviction, and soft eyes. “Come back in a year.”

“And when I do?” your voice was weak. Scared. It was unlike you. You had always gone after what you wanted but this time you had no choice. You had to wait a year. 365 days.

“We’ll have this conversation again. And it won’t be like last time. It won’t be like this time. It’ll be the truth.” Andy grabbed your trembling hands and kissed them.

“Before I go,” you whimpered, feeling a tear start to fall, “lie to me just one last time.”

That was how you ended up in his bed again, his lips all over you, whispering everything you wanted to believe could be true. I love you. We’re gonna make it. This isn’t goodbye. He kissed you like it was the end of something. He fucked you like it was just the beginning.

---

Another day, another argument. As he paced around the dorm, you were trying to remember a time when this wasn’t just a part of the cycle. There was no way it had always been like this, right? If it had, you wouldn’t have made it this long… just a few months and you were already at the end of your rope.

“I can’t keep diminishing myself because you’re afraid of being overshadowed,” he shook his head.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you scowled.

“You’re afraid you won’t be valedictorian,” Andy was tense and he stood away from you, “you’re afraid that it will be me that takes it.”

“Yeah! Of course I am! Because it’s what I’ve been working towards basically my whole life and now you’re trying to take it from me when you don’t even care about it!”

“Of course I care about it!” Andy ran his hand through his hair in frustration. The argument was going around in circles. It always did and you always ended up in the same place.

“Not half as much as I do.” Tears welled in your eyes. It was your dream. Your goal. And it was right in your sight. You were at the finish line and all you had to do was cross it.

“I don’t know why you’re so insecure, honestly. You are so… threatened, by everything, by everybody. Nobody’s nearly as good as you. You run circles around all of us. And you still can’t let go and let your accomplishments speak for themselves. You’re at Harvard! You’re already with the best!”

“Best isn’t good enough. I need to be the best of the best.”

He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “You are never going to be satisfied. I can’t satisfy you, and you can’t satisfy yourself.”

“What do you mean you can’t satisfy me?”

“You’re going to dump me if you get valedictorian.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I’m giving up on us, if I get it.”

You looked away. After everything you still didn’t want him to see you cry. “Think you can do better than a salutatorian?”

He laughed a little; a sad, broken noise. “Yeah, something like that.”

He started to walk away and you were going to let him. Some weaker part of you took over for a moment though, and grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t go,” you requested. He seemed like he was considering it. “We can still be together, if I get it.”

He shook his head and looked at you with watery eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Please, Andy,” you have never pleaded for anything, let alone anyone, but Andy made you want to fight. Whether it was for him or for valedictorian, you were not sure. But it wasn’t enough for him. You needed to actually give something up; before he made that decision for you.

And, so, you watched him leave. One footstep after the other taking a piece of your heart the further he gets. It crushed you. Since you had lost Andy, you had to get valedictorian. There was no fathomable way you were going to be able to deal with the loss of both. “I love you,” you whispered to his fleeting back.

And then it became your turn to grieve. The loss of Andy took a bigger toll on you than you were even able to imagine. That was in spite of the fact that you had spent less time with him over the past few months as he was working a lot more than usual.

You knew that he was saving up for a big purchase. He always did a lot more overtime when he was doing that. Only you had no idea what it would be. All you knew is that it would be a surprise, or so he told you.

next chapter: finale

#andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic

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