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kilannad · 1 year

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As the Stars Burn On Chapter 20

Masterlist. Ao3.

New Dawn

With all eleven of them--even with Lily and Chopper in their smaller forms--the galley was packed to the brim. Outside, rain started splattering against Merry, but even if it was a clear day, Lucy doubted any of them would want to leave the cramped quarters. Robin and Nami were pressed tightly together on one side of the bench, Chopper huddled next to them. Zoro and Luffy were across from them. Usopp sat leaned against the counter near where Sanji was working, and Lucy was in between Laxus and Gajeel on the ground, Lily in her lap.

For a long time, they were all quiet, Sanji passing out hot cocoa and tea, setting platters of warm bread, and sliced meat on the table for them to pick at.

“So,” Usopp said, clearing his throat. “That happened.”

Lucy gave a hysterical little laugh. “That's an understatemeant.”

“Not to push where it isn't wanted,” Robin murmured, warming her hands against her tea. “But...?”

Gajeel tensed behind Lucy, his hands clenching at his side. “Short version? I was part of an enemy guild of Fairy Tail called Phantom Lord. Lucy's shit father hired us to capture her, then Master Jose ordered me--he told me to rough her up so we could get more money from him.”

“Sweet seas,” Nami muttered. “Your old master sounds like an ass.”

“You have no idea,” the three mages all said at once.

“Gramps let me join afterward,” Gajeel offered quietly. “Me 'n Juvia, even though we'd done our best to try and kill his guild. Been with them since.”

“Can't exactly judge for that,” Zoro pointed out. “I think half this crew tried to kill Luffy at least once.”

“Once?” Lucy teased. “Nami tries to strangle him every day.”

“He deserves it,” she declared.

“For the sake of transperancy,” Lily put in, “I should mention I was also an enemy.”

“So was I, at one point,” Laxus added.

“Wait,” Usopp started, “But I thought your granfather was the guildmaster.”

Laxus grimaced, nodding his head. “I...was a member at the time.” Zoro's eyes narrowed, cold fury descending. “It was the lowest point of my life, if that's any explanation.”

“Glad to know you guys are all as fucked as the rest of us,” Sanji said. “But if I might back up...what's this about Lady Lucy's father hiring you?”

“Ah.” It was Lucy's turn to shift uncomfortably. She didn't mind telling them, but after the last time she saw her father, she wasn't particularly fond of ruminating on him for long. “I'm the only daughter and heiress of--what was once--a new money business tycoon. I ran away at 16 but my father needed me back for an arranged marriage.”

“He was trying to marry you off?” Gajeel demanded. She'd forgotten she hadn't told anyone, not even her team, of the real reason her father had wanted her back so bad.

“I didn't know that,” Laxus agreed. “To who?”

Lucy hesitated, knowing that it was likely Laxus and Gajeel had at least heard of her fiance to be. And his reputation. “Duke Sawarr Junelle,” she finally muttered.

Both of them went rigid, even Lily's fur standing on end as he cursed.

“Who is he?” Chopper asked.

“A dead man,” Gajeel promised.

It probably said bad things about Lucy that she found his and Laxus's murderous impulses comforting.

“Setting that aside,” Lucy hurried on, not wanting to linger on Junelle or the horrifying possibility of her actually marrying him. “I think I just figured out why some of us were affected and others weren't.”

“I've been considering that,” Robin agreed. “But I don't know enough aboout everyone's pasts to know if my conclusion is correct.”

“To be honest, I'm in the same boat, and this is mostly a guess but...I think the reason you five weren't affected is because you've already faced your fears.”

Nami was the first to understand what she meant. “Arlong. My worst fear has always been Arlong reneging on our deal but that's already happened.”

“Mine was seeing Edolas run out of magic,” Lily concluded. “But we handled that.”

“Zoro's would be loosing to Mihawk, Chopper being an unwanted monster, and mine was failing at protecting Kaya and my village,” Usopp finished. “It holds up.”

“Then the rest of your fears?” Chopper asked.

“Being indirectly responsible for all of your deaths,” Robin told him.

“My father,” Laxus said.

“Ditto,” Sanji agreed.

“Loneliness,” Lucy said. “And I think Luffy was the same.”

“Phantom shit,” Gajeel finished.

“It doesn't matter,” Luffy interrupted, speaking for the first time. Lucy wondered what he was thinking about all this; for someone who cared so deeply about his crew and fought to be so strong so he could protect them, he must have hated being faced with a problem he couldn't fight his way out of. “Whatever happened in the past, it's done. We handled the bounty hunter.” He grinned, as bright as any sun. “So let's set sail.”

Nami slammed his head down. “Idiot! It's storming and the middle of the night. We're not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

“Oh. Right. Oops.”

Lucy couldn't help dissolving into giggles. Though none of them slept besides slight dozing through the night, no one complained in the morning. They were all too glad to be together and out of their nightmares.

☉

Vice Admiral Jonathan leaned back in his chair, eyeing the open letter on his desk like a viper. Not an impossible comparison, he considered. One never knew what crazy new inventions the Government had access to.

“You could always say no,” Jessica suggested quietly, though she knew it was a death sentence. Being the wife of a Vice Admiral, she knew just as well as him what refusing a summoning could cost.

Outside his office, the loud cacaphony of repairs painted a bright orchestra; while G-8 had lost the Straw Hats, all the soldiers were coming together with a new vigor to ensure it didn't happen again. For them, at least, he had to try and maintain his position. He was in check, but that didn't mean the game was over yet.

“No isn't an option,” Jonathan finally sighed. “I want you to stay here, though.”

“Jonathan-”

“I know, Jess. I'll take a few trusted men, and leave you and Drake here to run the base.” He looked out the window, into the wide, bright sea beyond. “I better pack,” he mused. “Enies Lobby waits for no man.”

☉

Lucy waved as Loke vanished, chewing at her lip. It was the morning after they'd escaped their nightmares, and the crew had set sail early in the morning. It was still cold, and likely would be until they entered the next island's climate. Lucy had taken over the back deck to do some summonings. She wasn't strong enough to have Loke and Shé out at the same time, so she'd settled with starting with Loke, hoping to calm what worry she'd caused.

Turned out, she had a few more things to be worried about.

While all her Spirits had been terrified about her being trapped in a pocket dimention, unable to answer any of her summons due to the nature of the Dream-Dream fruit, they'd had something of a discovery.

They couldn't open their own gates. Not Loke or Virgo, not Horologium or Aquarius, not even Mă. It wasn't that they didn't have the power, Loke had stressed. Lucy was a strong enough mage that her strongest Spirits should have no problem coming through on their own. They'd done it before. They just...couldn't. Like the door was locked and they didn't have the key. According to Loke, Shé, if he knew anything about it, wasn't talking, so Lucy had to conclude it had something to do with the Void Century and/or her ancestor. How, she didn't know, but it went on the pile of things she needed to look into. A pile that got longer by the day.

The deck creaked, pulling her out of her thoughts and to Laxus, who had joined her.

She didn't know how to talk to him. He'd stayed by her side all night, since the crew had piled into the galley for some semblance of sleep, and didn't seem to be ignoring her any more. Yet it felt strange to be around him; she didn't know if he was still upset by the scars, or if she should apologize. For what, stars only knew, but she had the urge all the same.

“Newspaper came,” Laxus told her, proffering the wraped bundle of paper. It didn't look like even Robin had gotten to it yet, which was sort of impressive; she usually woke up first and left it for Lucy to find later.

“Thank you.” She clutched the paper to her chest, shifting from foot to foot. Laxus leaned against the railing, not far but also not close, not the way he used to; he didn't look at her.

The sails snapped in the wind impatiently, Merry rocking with the force of the waves. The ocean was rough, and normally Lucy might be worried, but so long as Nami didn't say anything, she had confidence that they'd be fine. Though if there was ever a time for a typhoon to hit, it'd be now; Lucy would take anything to get out of the growing awkwardness.

Did he want an apology? Did she? She wasn't really mad--sad, maybe, that Laxus had found it so easy to cut her off--and she honestly just wanted to go back to how things used to be. On the main deck, Usopp cursed colourfully, something delicate shattering against the hard planks. Gajeel laughed, getting a Tabasco Star down his throat for the offence; Chopper rushed to get him a glass of milk. All around them, the ship was alive with noise and anticts, yet their bubble went untouched.

Sweet Mavis, she hated it.

“I'm sorry,” they both blurted.

“Why are you-”

“There's nothing to be-”

They both paused, Lucy biting her lip, Laxus wide eyed.

He chuckled, dragging a hand through his hair. “There's nothing for you to be sorry for. I was the one being an ass.”

“I won't say you weren't an ass,” Lucy agreed, smiling at his exasperated look. “But I'm sorry for not...trying to clear the air, I guess. I thought you needed space.”

“I did,” Laxus admitted. “But that was for my own shit. I didn't need to put that on you.” His eyes flicked down to where her sweater covered her arms. “I...I fucking hate that I'm the one that put scars on you.”

She rubbed her arms, contemplating. She'd spent a lot of the months in Alabasta considering her time in Fairy Tail. She'd been a member for almost a full year, but had never really had the time to stop and truly think about what it all meant. But there had been something about the sands of Alabasta that had invited reflection and through the months there she'd come to a few realizations.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled up a sleeve, taking a step closer when Laxus looked away. “You know,” she started, keeping her voice low and contemplative. “I used to hate all of my scars. I know I'm attractive and I like to take pride in it; it was the one part of growing up an heiress that I actually liked. Dressing up, doing my makeup, being pretty; it makes me feel good. The first scar I got was from Galuna Island and I refused to show my stomach for weeks.”

“I'm going to guess this is going somewhere,” Laxus murmured.

“Yeah. I realized something, in Alabasta. Every scar I have reminds me of an adventure we went through, people we saved, battles that I won.” She used the hand with the bared scar to turn his head until he met her eyes. She smiled, making sure he could read her sincerity. “I like my scars. Especially these ones; it means I helped you and we saved Skypiea. What more could I want?”

Laxus turned his head into her palm, breathing deeply as he ran a gentle finger, lightning nowhere to be seen, over her arm. “I'll try to keep that in mind,” he murmured. “Just...sometimes shit is hard.” He slitted his eyes open, watching her closely. “Gaj feels the same, you know.”

There was a weird weight behind those words, one she wasn't quite ready to face head on. Not yet, when she still couldn't put her own desires into words. She decided to respond to the more obvious message. “Yeah, well, he has a guilt complex almost as big as yours.”

“Only almost?”

“Yours is pretty big,” she pointed out. He smirked, eyes sparking with playfullness; her face went red, realizing the inuendo.

Laxus laughed, long and loud, and everything seemed a little better. Even if he was an ass.

☉

Usopp stumbled into the galley, juggling various lumps of clay and porcelain, muttering insults to Gajeel. Sanji looked up from the stove, raising a brow as Usopp settled at the table. Unlike the deck, which was full of the crew, the galley was quiet and peaceful, just the two of them present.

“Dare I ask?” Sanji sighed, pulling out one of their chipped mugs and pouring from a pot he'd been keeping warm on the stove. He slid it over, and Usopp gladly wrapped his hands around it, taking a greedy gulp. Chai, with milk and maple syrup; his favorite.

“You may, good sir,” Usopp began, gesturing grandly at his supplies. One of the prototypes fell over with a sad little clink. “For I have had a realization!”

“Sweet Blues,” Sanji hung his head, but wiped his hands on a dishtowel and leaned against the counter. Exasperately, he said, “What realization?”

“Often, we all pile into the galley, nice and cozy where Merry can protect us from the rain and wind and hail the size of Lily. Usually this involves beverages of some delicious form.” Sanji smiled a little, relaxing at the praise, and Usopp made a mental note to tell him how appreciated he was more often. “So I thought to myself, 'Great Sniper Usopp, what could make these moments even better?' and I answered, 'Well! Individual teacups, of course!'”

Sanji tilted his head, looking more closely at the odds and ends. “You're making a teacup set?”

Usopp dropped the dramatic voice, tilting his hand from side to side. “Well, more like individual cups. It'll be teacups for the girls, since they usually prefer them, a sake cup for Zoro since it's the only thing he'll drink from--even tea can you believe him?--and various types of mugs for the rest of us. Oh, and little ones for Lily and Chopper that will be specially designed to make them easier to hold.”

“That's a really good idea,” Sanji offered honestly; Usopp flushed, though he wasn't really sure why. It was nice though, getting Sanji to talk to him instead of just when they were arguing. They never really spent much time together, but after the nightmare fiasco, Usopp was glad for it.

“Thanks.” He fiddled with a broken piece of porcelain, quietly adding, “My mom did it for us when I was young. Even made one for my dad in case he came back.”

Sanji turned away, pulling out ingredients and pans. Usopp barely made out what he said. “I get that. I used to cook for Mom when she was sick. Tried to make her feel better, y'know?”

For once, words failed Usopp, though he didn't think Sanji minded. They were quiet while they both worked, but it was a comfortable kind of quiet, the sort that comes when two people know a secret and don't have to worry about hiding. A good quiet, Usopp decided.

He took to working in the galley more often.

☉

“You're sure Nico Robin joined their crew?”

“Yeah. Jonathan confirmed.”

Fleet Admiral Sengoku 'The Buddha' sighed, steepling his fingers as he stared down Admiral 'Aokiji'. Kuzan didn't flinch, far too used to being judged. “This is going to be a problem,” Sengoku summarized.

Privately, Kuzan thought this had been a problem for twenty years, but he'd long since learned not to question orders. It wasn't worth the energy.

The whole room shook as, with the oft heard sound of crumbling plaster, Garp burst through the wall. He paused, mid-munch of a rice cracker, when Sengoku didn't yell at him for the property damage.

“What's crawled into your uniform, Senny?”

“Your grandson.”

“Bwahahaha!” Garp dropped down onto the couch, his thick set frame sinking into his usual well worn spot. “What'd he do this time? Break into another base?”

“Worse,” Sengoku told him. “His crew now numbers eleven, one of which is Nico Robin.”

“Eh? You're all twisted up about her? She's been quiet since she turned on Crocodile.”

“That's because she's a Straw Hat!”

Kuzan opted to ease his way to the side of the room, wary of being caught up in one of Sengoku's and Garp's legendary tiffs. He considered just going for the door, but that would require passing through their line of sight. Maybe if he busted the window and made an ice slide down?

“So what? Luffy will get his head on straight eventually and calm down.” Garp shoved a few crackers into his mouth, as if he had to wash down the taste of the lies he told himself.

“Nico Robin. Laxus Dreyar. Gajeel Redfox. Whatever that cat with a Devil Fruit is named. His crew is getting too big, too fast.”

“You don't even know about the Thunder God and Blacksteel. They probably just have weird Devil Fruits.”

Sengoku's fist slammed down, his desk too well crafted to crumble. “Damnit, Garp. Take this seriously. Straw Hat has four persons of interest on his crew and has shown he isn't afraid of the Warlords. We have to do something.”

“He's a green nosed rookie,” Garp argued.

“So was Roger once upon a time.”

For a moment, even Kuzan had to gape. While concern was warranted with Nico Robin, he thought comparing a rookie--even a supernova--to Roger was going a little far.

Something passed between Garp and Sengoku, an unsaid message between what few remained of Roger's Era. It made his hair prickle.

“Intelligence puts their likely port of call as Water 7,” Sengoku announced. He turned to stare down Aokiji. “Since it was your failure to capture the Devil Child that originally led to this, you can be the one to go to Enies and pass your golden den-den to Chief Spandam.”

Kuzan thought that was a terrible idea, but no one ever asked him. And if it got Robin out of the way... wasn't it worth it? Saul would've hated it, but Saul was a dead traitor and Kuzan was Admiral. “We're giving CP9 permission to activate the Buster Call?”

“Tell him that his mission perameters have spread to encompass the capture of Nico Robin, level Platinum.” Sengoku waved a hand, clearly deciding the meeting was over. Kuzan took the escape, ignoring the furious voices that started up in his wake.

Platinum was the highest directive there was, going above even the Fleet Admiral's head. A Platinum level order came from one place, and one place only; the Five Elder Stars. Kuzan didn't know what CP9's current mission was, but he assumed it was nasty; adding Nico Robin into the mix could only end in pain.

The question was who would be bleeding when the dust cleared.

☉

Lucy finished shooing Laxus away, trying to cool off her face. For all that she felt better now that they'd talked, she was still caught up in how to act around him. She had felt attraction before--and Fairy Tail was filled with attractive people--but Lucy had never cared for anybody the way she cared for Laxus. It left her buzzing and anxious, always dancing to the wrong beat.

Stars, maybe she should ask Aquarius for advice.

...

Actually, after considering it for a moment, Lucy decided that was the worst idea she'd ever had.

Not quite ready to summon Shé just yet, Lucy opted to settle against Merry's rails, snapping open the newspaper. She was glad she didn't have anything to drink, or she would've done a spittake at the front page.

In big, bold letters all the way across the top was; Straw Hat Menaces! How Terrible is the New Generation?

She couldn't understand why they were running such an article now; they hadn't done anything since G-8 four days ago, and they'd already written an article about that. In a hurry, she scanned the article, and quickly realized the source.

She didn't know much about 'Big News' Morgan, but she knew enough to guess that he'd been paid by the World Government to write this piece. It reeked of propaganda, though for the life of her she couldn't figure out what had set it off. Surely them breaking out of G-8 hadn't earned them this level of disdain?

The article sketched the outline of the Straw Hats journey, from their inception in the East Blue all the way to their escape from G-8, but did so in the most needlessly antagonistic way Lucy had ever seen. Reading the article gave the impression that they'd picked the fight with all the East Blue's top pirates--which might be true, knowing Luffy—but only because Luffy was power hungry. It even implied they'd been the ones helping Crocodile take over Alabasta. To tie it all together, it even reprinted the bounties for their crew members--Robin included. It mentioned, briefly, that several other new pirates were making names for themselves in equally horrific ways; besides mentioning the Surgeon of Death and 'Captain' Kid, an ex-Rear Admiral named 'Red Flag' X Drake had just turned traitor and been slapped with a 70 million starting bounty in response. This was also, somehow, the Straw Hats fault, though why wasn't clarified.

Lucy had to admit that as infuriating as it was, it was well written and evocative. In short, the government had just ensured that any island the Straw Hats landed on would be immediately suspicious of them.

“Why can't propaganda ever be on my side for once?” Lucy bemoaned.

“'Cause that would make things too easy,” Gajeel responded, joining her on the back deck. He jerked his head towards the paper. “Something 'bout us again?”

She nodded, offering it to him. He shook his head, leaning against the railing not far from where she sat. The wind gave a howling push, chilling her even through her thick layer of clothes. She leaned against Gajeel's legs, hoping to suck up the warmth that all dragon slayers radiated. With a chuckle, he dropped down next to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. She was immediately ten times warmer.

She settled comfortably and slapped the paper. “Government is going for slander, now. We'll have to be careful of how we act around civilians.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “The idiots who believe shit printed in the papers are the same idiots who'd give us shit for being pirates anyway.”

“True,” she allowed. “But if anyone was on the fence...”

“Then we'll deal.”

She smiled, pressing her face into his shoulder to warm her nose. She wished she could have his confidence; she felt like every time she got her feet under her, the world got ripped away.

“You know-”

Lucy never got to finish her thought. The Going Merry gave a shuttering groan, something splintering with a great crack as, in the middle of the Grandline, they started taking on water.

#as the stars burn on #one piece fanfic #laxus dreyar #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail fanfic #gajeel redfox #laxus x lucy x gajeel

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theautisticbarbie · 1 year

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Red Wings

Word Count: 1,534

Welp! This is it! This is the last one shot to set up “A Bird of Praise”, which I will start posting shortly!

Tara gets her first period and the giant can of worms known as her life starts to open up horrifically.

Your warnings are as follows: periods (duh), fear of dying, seizures, implied medical trauma.

Let me know if I missed anything!

8th Grade is often a very chaotic time for young girls. Not only is there a transition from middle aged school to high school in the immediate following year, but it was also usually happening during puberty. 13 year old Tara Newman got the worst of it one fateful fall day in 1981. During ballet class, her body just would not stretch the way that she needed it to. A simple plie was exhausting. On top of that and some killer bloating, Tara was also experiencing somewhat of a headache. It wasn’t too bad, but it was definitely noticeable and very distracting.

It started to become noticeable to Daniel and Eleanor when she went straight to bed as soon as she got home. That was most definitely out of the ordinary for the girl, especially when her and her brother’s 14th birthday was fast approaching.

It was all she talked about for weeks. She was so excited. The two were going to Signore Carlo’s Trattoria, which was basically just a fancy Chuck E Cheese in Hawkins just before you reach Indianapolis. Kids dress nice, eat junk that masquerades as fancy food, watch animatronics perform badly pre-recorded opera and dance ballet poorly with movements that anyone could bet were programmed by people who have likely never interacted with an actual dancer in their lives and play the arcade games and play in the ball pit. And instead of the excited rambling that the two had been accustomed to, Tara was quiet and went straight to bed.

That night, she was awoken by a deafeningly loud scream. The tired girl rubbed her eyes and only caught a glimpse of her brother running out of their room, only the nightlight to illuminate what was happening.

“Mom! Mom! Help! Tara’s dying!” Daniel said, frantically knocking on her bedroom door.

Tara, of course, was instantly set alight with panic upon hearing that, now realising she felt that she was sitting on a wet spot. It dawned on her that the minor bloating she felt when she first went to bed had now become excruciating and was accompanied by some very painful cramps.

She got up and turned on her bedside lamp and realised that wet spot was blood, which she also realised had soiled her nightgown. Her face instantly went pale.

When Eleanor walked in, Tara thought the silver lining of this was that for once in her life, she would get some caring and sympathy from her mother.

She was instead met with rolling eyes and an annoyed sigh.

“Your sister is not dying, Daniel. She’s just having her period.”

“My period…”

Eleanor pulled Tara out of her bed and sent her off to get cleaned up, and changed the bedsheets, all loudly complaining and cursing on some tirade about how she has to do everything. Never mind the fact that she CHOSE to have children and that it was her daughter who was frightened and in pain. SHE was the victim here, apparently.

After cleaning up in the shower and changing into a fresh pair of pyjamas, Tara took a painkiller and climbed into the freshly changed bed.

The week of her birthday celebration was rough to say the least. Persistent headaches, a crawling sensation on the back of her neck that always led to a tic where she violently shook her head and… nosebleeds? It was definitely unpleasant, especially since those three things stuck around even after her cycle was starting to go spotty.

The day of her and Daniel’s shared birthday, she got into her outfit. A cute, frilly pink dress with an updo and a tiara, because of course she had to have one along with a sash indicating that she was the birthday girl.

Daniel wore a suit with his hair neatly combed (at his mother’s behest of course) and a sash indicating that he was the birthday boy. Once they arrived at the restaurant and were seated, the guests began to arrive. Nancy and Barb carpooled together (at Karen’s behest) and the two 13 year olds set their gifts down at the gift table and joined the guests of honour.

“Hi, Nancy! Hi Barb!” Tara called excitedly, hugging them both, with Nancy making a pained grimace as though she would rather not be here.

Jeff and Gareth sat next to Daniel and sneered as four very crude looking animatronic swans came onto the stage and began performing a piss poor imitation of “The Four Cygnets” and while the three riffed on the spectacle, Tara was enthralled with the performance.

After all the guests arrived (mostly Tara’s “friends” who were just there for the food and arcade) and loaded up on pizza and birthday cake, Signore Pavo-Rat-E, the beloved older brother of Signore Carlo, came out in his tux, of which the coat tails comically flew up, and sang a clearly poorly pre-recorded opera version of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” while his animatronic voice box skipped and stuttered.

“Gratzzi, Pavo-Rat-E!” cheered Carlo with mechanical applause. Pavo’s mechanics whirred as he took a bow. “Let’s-a give it up for the guest of honour!”

With that, the sugar rushed adolescents were off to the games and ball pit, the latter Tara particularly enjoyed because of the way her skirt moved amongst the balls.

It was during a gradually heated game of Air Hockey between the twins that Daniel seemed particularly aggravated.

“What’s wrong, Daniel? Are you not having fun?” Tara asked.

“No!” He finally spat out. “I didn’t want to go to this STUPID place, eat shitty pizza and play mediocre games!”

“You said the S-word!” Tara declared.

“Oh grow up, Tara! We’re 14! Do you SEE anyone else over the age of maybe 10 here? I wanted to do something actually fun! I wanted to ride roller coasters and talk to girls who have boobies!”

“Ew, you perv!” Barb muttered to herself not nearly quietly enough for Tara not to catch it. Her face went beet red and she went off. “What is wrong with you? Is that seriously all you think about? You are the singular most sexist, immature, lecherous pervert that I have ever had the misfortune of knowing, let alone being related to! Everything is about butts or boobies with you!”

“Yeah, Tara, that’s what happens when boys hit puberty! They realise the concept of cooties is BS and then they turn into horny teenagers!”

“You’re so gross! All you and your friends ever do is embarrass me! You couldn’t cut it out! Even for me! Even on my birthday!”

“Newsflash! It’s my birthday, too, you self-centred bitch!”

That was it. Tara was officially fed up. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed as a hockey puck flew at Daniel’s face.

Tara did a double take. Did… she throw that? She certainly didn’t remember picking it up.

“Now-a now!” a Carlo mascot said, placing one of his oversized hands on her shoulder. “Let’s-a be nice!”

Tara was frightened, overwhelmed, overstimulated and very upset. She, at this point was having a full-on autistic meltdown, but because she was undiagnosed, she had no support.

“Maybe it’s-a time to apologise to-a your brother, don’t you a-think?”

Tara was not in any mood to be talked down to. But when she turned around with the intention of simply removing the big, plushy paw from her shoulder, she was mortified to see that she had knocked the poor mascot to the ground.

The stress that Tara was experiencing was through the roof. The room was spinning. Her throat was closing. Her heart was pounding. There was a trickle of moisture dripping down her chin.

Boom.

Suddenly all the lights were off and the power was out.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we seem to be experiencing a temporary power outage. We’ll be up and running again as soon as—“

Click.

“Well, it looks like the issue has resolved itself. As always, thank you for choosing Signore Carlo’s.”

It was all too much. Tara had puked on the floor where she was standing.

“Tara! Clean yourself up! That’s disgusting!” Nancy complained, grabbing some napkins and aggressively wiping Tara’s upper lip. Tara glanced at the discarded tissue and noticed crimson staining.

“Here!” Nancy said. “Take this and pinch the bridge of your nose!”

Nancy’s voice grew distant as Tara’s body grew numb. It felt as though something exploded in her chest and before she knew it, she could feel the linoleum floor beneath her before everything faded to black.

When she came to, the walls were bleach white. Everything smelled bleak and clean. She observed her surroundings and noticed she was lying in a bed with bleach white sheets. When she sat up, still feeling weak, she noticed she wasn’t in her birthday outfit anymore. She was in a hospital gown. However, when she looked around it didn’t seem like your typical hospital. Tara ran a hand through her wavy brown hair and rubbed her eyes when the door to her room opened.

In stepped a woman in a lab coat who smiled warmly, but there seemed to be an artifice to her demeanour.

“You must be Tara. I’m Dr. McFarlane. I’m the neurologist who was assigned to your case.”

#stranger things #tara newman #Stranger things prequel #stranger things oc #stranger things fanfic #hawkinsona

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 3 years

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Hey I was wondering if, what would be your take on the TF141 boys taking care of Jade during her periods? That would be so cute and wholesome, seriously! 🥺

AAACK So this is actually a short fic that I made while looking for some prompts, and then I found this period cramp stuff! However, this is only Ghost x Jade fic, not with the other 141 boys :( Now the thing is, it's REALLY self-indulgent and it's 2.5k words long (°◡°).

Have at it!

This is my first ever full on writing fic in this site. Please be gentle. (´ω｀*)

Hearbeat

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley x Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin

Warning : curse words, other than that it's pure unadulterated fluff :)

Word Count : 2.5k (holy shit)

Summary : As a former MI6 agent, Jade has mastered the poker face and is incredibly good at hiding her menstrual cramps. The base is filled with boys and she doesn't want to bother anyone or make them feel awkward or anything when watching her in pain. Jade's in the team as the brain and strategist, and she gets the work done. However, there are some days when the cramps are worse than usual.

The timeline is after Meteor Showers took place. So Ghost knows what he feels towards her.

Inspired by the song Heartbeat by Enrique Iglesias feat. Nicole Scherzinger

yes I need a song inspiration

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Ghost and Jade were both talking about a mission plan. It was nighttime, but still they’re cooped up in the mission briefing room. The former MI6 agent was talking about how they’d approach the favela, when Jade suddenly stopped mid-talking to take a deep breath and let it out, then talking again. Even though Ghost's expression is hidden beneath the mask and shades, he's looking at Jade all over. He straight up asked her, "You alright?" Jade only nodded before continuing her plans, but she sighed over and over, making Ghost ask her again, "You have a stomach ache? I guess the food here is kind of disgusting."

Jade let out a confused expression before saying, "What? No!"

"What else then? Are you having diarrhea or something?" He said with a little joking tone to it.

"I. Am. Having. My. Period." She said straightforwardly. Ghost only stood there like a statue. "Oh…"

Jade sat down on the chair to rest her head on the table where the papers lay. Looking at her miserable state, Ghost muttered with a low voice, "We can continue this tomorrow."

"Huh? Wait. The mission is in a few days." She lifted her head to face him.

"I can't focus on the plans when you look like you're dying. We're going to continue this tomorrow."

"...Fine-- Ow!" Jade suddenly kneeled down while hugging her own belly. The pain felt like a knife just stabbed her.

"Hey hey. You alright?" Ghost kneeled down to her level and touched her shoulder. A tinge of worry was apparent in his voice. "I'm--I'm fine. It will--" She hissed. "It'll pass." He only stayed silent for a few seconds, letting her get her composure.

Without any warning whatsoever, Ghost kneeled in front of her, his broad back facing her as his arms opened. "Get on my back." Jade stayed still in disbelief.

"Fucking get on my back, Midget." He swore. "Ghost, I can walk on my own." "You can go back to your room yourself if you can promise me I won't find you squatting in the middle of the halway." She knew the way to her room was quite far, and it'd be impossible to get there without stopping midway because of the pain. With that thought, she reluctantly climbed his back, her legs on his arms, and her arms circling around his neck.

After making sure she's comfortable, Ghost stood up to his full height, making the red haired woman impressed at his show of strength, finding herself blushing like an idiot. He then stepped out of the room, making his way to Jade's room.

Along the way, other soldiers laid their eyes on them, but nobody dared to talk to them about what the hell was going on. These two are the worst of enemies and were so competitive with each other, now they're piggy back riding?

Those stares made Jade hide her face in embarrassment, but Ghost confidently walked past them like it's nothing. "G--Ghost… Aren't I heavy? I can just walk on my o--"

"No." He cut her off. "You're not heavy at all. You're as light as a feather. You’re a midget, remember that?” Ghost spoke. “If those blokes talk shite I can just tell them to fuck off. Now you just relax."

After he told her off, Jade actually found herself resting her chin on the back of his neck, touching his balaclava. For the first time, she took her mind off of the pain on her belly, and felt the warmth. His warmth. She could feel her heart beating faster at the thought. With her belly pressing on his warm back, it actually helped ease the cramps. She breathed in, and to her surprise, he actually didn't smell bad. She always thought that his balaclava would reek from use, but it smelled good. His back is so broad and unusually comfortable, almost like she can just sleep there.

Too lost in his warmth, Jade didn't realise that they're right in front of her door. "We're here." Ghost's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she instinctively tried to climb down, only to be held still by him. She looked at him in confusion. "Hand me your keys." Knowing that he's stubborn, Jade fished out her keys on her pants, then gave it to Ghost, who unlocked the door and walked in. He stopped in front of the bed, facing away from it and kneeled down, allowing Jade to sit on her own bed without climbing off of his back. Feeling familiar with her own bed, Jade sighed in relief but also disappointed at the loss of warmth she felt when pressed up against him, but she only stayed in silence.

Ghost turned around, still kneeling down on her level. "You okay now?" His voice was gentle, not like his usual rugged and abrasive one. Jade answered, "Yeah." He nodded in affirmation, "I'll tell Soap you're off for today. So you just stay here."

Standing up and ready to head out, Ghost suddenly stopped on his tracks, "You need anything?" That question startled her. "Huh? Uh.. No. Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"...Are you hungry?"

"Wh-what?"

"I can bring you food, if you want." Jade's face started to burn. Why's he so caring all of a sudden? Not that she's complaining… But she just said she wanted nothing. Usually people would just go about their days, but Ghost kept asking her if she needed something. This gesture of his made her heart flutter a bit.

"Umm… You know what, I think I can take the food." She hesitantly said. Ghost nodded, "Wait here." before going out of her room, not forgetting to close her door gently.

'What on earth was that!?' Jade couldn't help cupping her warm cheeks. Ghost, the guy that hated her from the moment she walked in the base, who talked shit about her, just piggy back rode her to her room, and offered to bring her food???

Her thoughts started going crazy as her hands worked on taking off her boots and socks. Freaking hormones. Then she changed her pants to more comfortable ones. The red haired woman climbed her own bed, now the cramp's back again, creeping up on her stomach, all the way across her body. She then laid down on her side, hugging her knees while massaging her own belly.

After what felt like some time, a knock sounded from the door. "Jade? It's me." Ghost's voice could be heard from the other side. "Come in." Her strained voice called, prompting Ghost to open the wooden door, only to see the woman curled up in bed. He put the plates of food on her bedside table, then kneeled down, "Jade. Does it still hurt?" Again, that worried tone of his always caught her off guard.

"I don't know if you know, Ghost, but this cramp will go on for a few days. Today it's the worst." She explained to him while sitting up.

"Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

"Yes, yes. I still want to eat. In fact, I'd love to eat. Anything to forget this pain."

He then took the plate and gave it to her while also taking the other plate to his own lap. It was a very aromatic fried rice. The food was also still releasing heat and vapors, indicating that it was fresh from the frying pan. "This smells amazing. Who made this?" Jade asked out of curiosity.

"...Me." he said.

"...You can cook?"

"I can. When the food's too disgusting I'll just snuck into the kitchen and cook for myself."

Huh. It was unexpected coming out of this man. Jade scooped a spoon then ate it, Ghost's eyes following her every move.

She chewed on the rice, "Wow! It's actually delicious." Jade chimed in joy. The texture was not too rough, not too soft. Not dry nor greasy like it's been drenched in oil.

"Is it too salty? I think I added a little too much."

"No! No, it's the perfect amount. I like salty foods." Jade answered with her mouth full, when she saw another plate of fried rice on his lap. "Are you eating too?"

"Yeah. I'm hungry anyway, so I made extra." The lieutenant muttered, before taking off his mask, exposing his face to her once again. The last time she saw Ghost's face was from the mission in Siberia. His face still startles her to this day.

But during the Siberian mission, Ghost took off his mask because she asked for it, right? Now he just took it off like it's nothing in front of her. Could it be that he's getting comfortable around her?

They ate in silence together. Jade's eating like it's the most delicious meal ever, while Ghost's eyes looked at her. "Oh my Gosh. This is terrifyingly good!" He scoffed at that reaction. "Ghost, if you can't sleep and you're hungry at night, don't forget to invite me to your little secret dinner. I'll be more than happy to accompany you."

He smiled softly, "...Thanks."

Jade finished eating first, and she looked down on Ghost's fried rice. He looked at her eyes, still hungry for more.

"...You want more?" His question startled her, but she said, "N--No." An MI6 she may be, but she can't lie about food. Her face was enough of an answer.

"Just take it." He handed her his plate. There's still about one third left. "W--wait. What about you?"

"I have my snacks." He fished out a bag of crisps out of a plastic bag Jade didn't realise he brought. The snack was quite big, and it looked like it had been opened prior. That bag of crisps seems to be his secret snack.

"Okay, then." She continued eating Ghost's portion while he ate the barbeque flavoured crisps he opened 5 days ago.

The woman finally finished the food, and put the plates together on the table along with the cutlery. Noticing that she's still eyeing his crisps, the black haired man tilted the bag's opening her way, enabling Jade to dove her hand in and take the crisps, eating away with pleasure on their faces.

"Ghost, about Rojas's guy."

"Hm?"

"I don't think we should be too close to each other. One team on one side of the building, one team on the other side, one team on the block. We'll surround him and lock him in one area." She said while chewing on her crisps. "That way we can capture him fast and lead us to Rojas."

"Alright. The militia's eyes are everywhere. We need to lay low too." Ghost responded to her sudden mood for work. They kept on talking about the mission on the floor while their mouths were busy chewing on the barbecue flavoured crisps.

Ghost dove his hand to fish out more crisps, but the bag was empty. He looked at the plastic wrap and right, he could see the bottom of it. They both cleaned that up real fast. When he brought the snack, it was still half full, and Ghost only managed to get half of it in 5 days. Now, with Jade, it only took less than 2 hours.

Holy shit.

“Ghost? Is it empty?” the woman asked. He only responded by turning the plastic upside down, nothing left. “O--Oh my God. I’m sorry, Ghost. I didn’t mean to devour your entire snack stash–” She apologised right away. This was so embarrassing! What is she? A freaking hyena??

“It’s fine. And you didn’t eat my entire snack stash.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have 4 more bags of crisps.” Ghost revealed as he rolled the now plastic trash neatly. The woman was wide eyed at his statement. “You have four more of this giant snack?”

“Yes. The food here’s shitty. I could tolerate a lot of things. Bad food is not one of them.” Ghost declared to her. This is the side that Jade never saw of him. He can genuinely cook good food, and he’s a foodie.

“Huh, you eat junk food in your free time? That’s pretty unhealthy of you. You’ll get a big belly with that kind of eating habit.” Jade playfully punched his stomach. Big mistake. It’s hard and muscular. Ghost only smiled proudly, “I have a fast metabolism.”

“That’s unfair! I have to workout consistently to get light so I can move fast!”

“Yeah well sucks to be you.”

“Shut up.” She hissed back at him.

Just then, Jade realised that her cramps had gone down. Her conversation and time spent with Ghost in front of her made her forget about her cramps all together. Now it’s just a dull pain that lingers. He’s been keeping her mind off of it all this time. One of the best medicines for pain is to think about something else, and it’s what he’s been doing to her. He made sure he’s there and that she’s not alone, even went as far as taking off his mask for her.

Jade felt her cheeks warm and her heart beat faster.

“You okay?” Ghost’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts again. Jade slapped both sides of her hands, which startled Ghost. Get yourself together. Get yourself together. DAMN HORMONES. HEART STOP BEATING FAST.

“Jade, hey.” He snapped his fingers right in front of her face. Ghost never saw her this unfocused before.

“Yes! Yes. I’m alright. I’m alright.” she finally said.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No– I mean yes. If it was a knife stabbing me, now it’s just a baby punch.” Ghost looked relieved for a split second, “You sure you don’t need anything else?”

“No. This time I’m really okay.” She confessed.

He finally stood up, putting on his mask, and took the plates. "I'll take care of the garbage. You rest up. We'll talk about the mission first thing tomorrow."

Jade smiled, "Okay, and… Ghost?"

He turned around, "Hm?"

"...Thanks, for everything." She softly muttered.

A few seconds passed, before Ghost replied, "Anytime." His face was covered, but she could hear a small smile from him.

"Good night, Ghost. Sleep well." Jade voiced again.

"Yeah. G'night." He peeked from the door, taking a last glance of her for the day, before closing the door.

That night, Jade can't stop thinking about him. His broad back, his warmth, strong arms. His cooking abilities, a foodie, his stash of snacks. Today she saw a side that she had never seen before. He's not that bad after all.

She wouldn't complain seeing this side of Ghost everyday.

------

Do you think Ghost can feel Jade's heartbeat on his back? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #charlotte jade le jardin #ghost x oc #call of duty fic #this is so self indulgent my GOD #also yea I'm kinda not in the mood to draw hands lmao

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

Satan’s Waterfall (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

I couldn’t think of a name for this to save my life, but Satan’s waterfall is literally what I call my period so... (Also this is 100% self-insert because my period was from actual HELL yesterday)

I wrote this instead of doing my homework. Enjoy xx

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: SMUT! period sex in the shower, “good girl” is said many times, Daddy kink (a lil), slight size kink (it’s inevitable with him), you and Hotch are newly married (I wrote “husband” organically and kept it)

It’s the second day of your period.

The first day is always the worst. The cramps are so severe that you’re nauseated (sometimes actually to the point of puking your guts out) and dizzy, freezing but somehow sweating, hungry but in too much pain to bring yourself to eat more than some crackers, and in desperate need of chocolate or coffee -- even though both of those things make everything else a thousand times worse.

You’re on birth control -- which was Aaron’s first question when he witnessed your period for the first time, completely on accident because you forgot you invited him over when your period was scheduled to hit. So, needless to say, it was maybe your fourth date night ever with your now-husband, and he had to hold your hair back as you puked. You had meant to reschedule that night, but you honestly weren’t feeling too bad until halfway through the movie the two of you decided to watch.

Regardless, birth control helps regulate your period and put it on a schedule, but so far it hasn’t done much to help the pain. Although, you used to pass out, and you don’t anymore, so maybe birth control has helped in a slight way.

Aaron doesn’t think it has at all. He still worries every single month, threatening to take time off of work (at least on the first day) to be with you, but you always tell him not to. You essentially threaten to become an unsub if he doesn’t take his ass to work, but he doesn’t find the joke as funny as you do.

Sometimes he’ll stay home because he’ll wake up and you’ll be in a shivering mess on the bathroom floor, or wide-awake next to him in bed (did anyone say period-induced insomnia?), or groaning to yourself quietly on the couch, having been there for hours so as not to disturb him.

Which is how yesterday went, actually, so that’s why he’s not home today because you told him if he stays home again to coddle you, you might become a fuming toddler.

Thankfully (but unfortunately for him), Chief Strauss called a meeting, so he had no choice but to go to work.

The second days aren’t even that bad. You’re still basically bed-ridden (or couch-ridden, at least, because the TV is in the living room), but you’re not puking and you’re not dizzy. You occasionally sweat like crazy when a wave of cramps comes, but nothing like yesterday.

You’ve showered, changed into new sweatpants and one of Aaron’s old t-shirts, had breakfast and lunch, and you’ve even done a load of laundry (mainly because you bled through the sheets last night). You’re having a much better day.

But, because it’s still that time of the month, it isn’t a great day because you’re still cramping. And lucky you, a bad wave hits right when Aaron walks in from work.

“I told you to let me stay today,” he says gently, pushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“These are nothin’,” you whine, reaching out for his hand to hold anyway. “They’ll be gone soon.”

“You’re pale. Have you eaten?”

“Mhm, breakfast and lunch,” you nod, letting your eyes slip closed when the cramps ease. You feel your heating pad getting cold. It must’ve turned off. You start fumbling around for the controller, but Aaron beats you to it, turning it back on.

“That’s good,” he says. “What about water?”

“Oh, oops,” you chuckle. “I had one glass this morning.”

“And?”

“Anddd coffee.”

“Y/N…” He sighs. “What have I told you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I need to drink extra water when I’m like this. But here’s my thing: I’m suffering enough already, why make me suffer more by making me drink water?”

“Because it’s good for you,” he mutters, standing to fill a glass. “And you’re drinking more tonight. I don’t care if you’re up peeing all night--”

“I’ll wake you up every damn time I do.”

“Gladly,” he smirks, returning with the glass. “Come on, up. Drink.”

Begrudgingly, you sit up, muttering curses under your breath because now your back is cold which means you’re hurting more. Wordlessly, Aaron lifts the heating pad and holds it to your back while you drink some water.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the empty glass from you and sitting it on the coffee table.

“Don’t say that to me,” you grumble, already laying back down and grabbing a blanket, tucking it under your chin.

“Why not?” He asks, smoothing your hair again, smiling when you close your eyes.

“Because it gives me thoughts.”

“Thoughts?”

You open your eyes a little. “Thoughts.”

Aaron chuckles when you close your eyes again, effectively hiding from him. “Honey pie, you’re going to have to tell me what thoughts you’re talking about.”

“You know what thoughts I’m talking about,” you breathe. “Sexy thoughts.”

“Ahh, sexy thoughts,” he laughs.

“But I can’t have those right now.”

“Why not?”

“Hello?” You open your eyes, giving him a look. “It’s the time of Satan’s waterfall?”

“Satan’s-- Okay, just because you’re on your period, doesn’t mean we can’t have sex. It might make you feel better.”

“Oh, orgasms do, yes. I’ve had two today.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t give me that look. My issue is, I want you inside me when you call me a good girl.”

“I still can be.”

You scrunch your nose. “Too messy. I just washed the sheets.”

“Not in bed,” Aaron squeezes your hand. “We have a shower.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Is my husband into period sex?”

He laughs loudly. “I’ve always thought about it, but you’re always in so much pain, I didn’t want to ask.”

“We’ve done worse things than have sex while I’m bleeding.”

“Yeah, but…” He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles. “I never want to hurt you.”

You can’t help but grab his face and kiss him then, too overcome with love for him to stop yourself. His care, his tenderness. You’ve asked him to throw you around like a literal ragdoll before, and yet he’s still worried about hurting you.

“You know I’ll tell you,” you whisper, stealing another kiss. “You never hurt me. At least not in ways I don’t like.”

He groans into your mouth. “Time for a shower.”

“Already?” You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He lifts you from the couch and guides your legs around his torso, all the while keeping his lips on yours. He digs his fingers into your thighs and you squeal, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You have no idea how he manages to get to the bathroom without knocking into anything, but you’re not questioning it.

He sets you down and you start ripping off your clothes, and he joins you after turning the shower on.

“Someone’s excited,” he chuckles, feeling your fingers on his belt. All you have on are your panties, but he’s still got pants on which is unfair.

“Hey, you suggested it, so I want it.”

“Okay, okay,” he tosses his belt out into the bedroom, laughing because you’re already unbuttoning and unzipping him. “You are eager.”

“I’m horny,” you correct him. “And it’s your fault.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he kisses your forehead. “But I’ll take care of it.”

“You better.”

While he’s busy finishing undressing, you kick your panties away and hop in the shower, adjusting the temperature.

Aaron steps in a moment later, a stupid grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” you reply, relaxing under the hot water. “This feels good.”

His face softens. “Are you hurting again?”

“Not really,” you roll your shoulders. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“I’m not,” he promises, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine,” you tug him closer, tilting your head to accept his kiss.

He starts slow, wanting to gauge your reactions before he does anything too drastic. He rubs your clit gently, waiting until he hears a moan before he continues. When his tongue slips into your mouth, one finger sinks into your core.

It’s different, that he’ll admit. You feel warmer and wetter, but you’re definitely not in any pain. Your moans are too loud for that.

He dips his head to your neck, suckling there, letting you thread your fingers in his hair while he slips a second finger into you. You gasp a little too loud and a little too suddenly, so he stops, but quickly starts again when your fingernails dig into his scalp in protest.

“Are you okay?” He mumbles against the hickey on your neck.

“More,” you whimper.

He scissors his fingers, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you steady. The added pressure of three of his fingers buried inside you nearly makes your knees buckle. Everything about him is so big and it makes you weak when you even as much as think about it.

He moves back to your lips, kissing you deeply, pausing only to ask, “How does that feel, little one?”

“M’gonna cum,” is your only reply, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “As much as you want, sweet girl. This is all about making you feel good. There you go.” He feels the first flutterings of your walls. He spreads his fingers slightly, knowing you love the stretch, when his fingers press right into your g-spot. “Come on, honey. Let go.” He moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles before spreading his fingers once more, shooting you over the edge.

You cling to his shoulders, nearly biting him from the force of it. Everything is so much more sensitive when you’re on your period and you knew that, but it’s different when it’s him. It always is.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, easing you to the ending waves of your orgasm. “How was that?”

“Amazing, do you even need to ask?” You laugh, kissing him. “Can you please get inside me?”

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes for good measure, even though you know he wouldn’t tease you, not right now. He just wanted to hear you say it.

“Of course,” he steals another kiss before finally taking his fingers from you. Wordlessly, he washes the blood away, and you should’ve known he wouldn’t give two shits about this.

And you’re right, he doesn’t. The sight of blood doesn’t phase him anymore, especially not your period because it’s natural. And right now he’s too worried about making you feel good to even bother pretending to be grossed out by it.

He’s already hard, so you can’t help but reach down and stroke him, grinning when he groans loudly.

Before you can blink, though, he has you up in his arms and against the wall, your legs already settling around his hips.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he says again, looking into your eyes. “Okay?”

“Yes, I promise,” you assure him.

Accepting that answer, he drops his hand to guide himself inside of you, moving as slow as possible -- which you appreciate, even if you do want to be fucked. But you’ve never had sex on your period before, not even with previous partners, so you weren’t sure if having a dick inside you would actually feel good.

But damn it does.

You know part of it is because it’s Aaron, your husband, your best friend. His dick is good on a normal day, but when you’re sensitive from your period, it’s even better.

“Oh my fucking God.”

“What?” He stops moving, leaning his head back to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair again. “Nothing. It feels good.”

He smirks, rocking his hips slowly, letting you take more of him. “Feels good?” He asks, and you nod. “Is it wrong of me to enjoy this?” He whispers, going deeper. “You’re so warm.”

“Harder, please.”

He slams his hips forward, nipping at your neck when you whine loudly. “Are you gonna cum again?”

You nod your head lazily, locking your ankles behind his back, arching your back, forcing him deeper. A groan stutters in his throat when he feels his head teasing your cervix.

You like that normally, but his paranoia has him pulling back. “Are you--”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me.”

He doesn’t question you after that, especially not with the lethal look you had in your eyes.

With no more hesitations, Aaron finally gives in. Every thrust is deep, yet you still push your hips up, trying to take even more. He’s never seen you like this, this greedy and almost animalistic in the way you’re chasing your orgasm.

He lets you guide him, staying still when you pull him in as deep as he can go and hold him there. He nearly explodes a few times, having to stay still while your walls pulsate around him.

Soon you’re quite literally thrown into your second orgasm when Aaron’s thumb rubs your clit as he pushes in deep, staying there, letting you squirm until he tells you to let go, and you do.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing your cheek lovingly. “That’s my good girl.”

Once your orgasm has settled down, he carefully lifts you off of him, setting you back on your feet. A puzzled look crosses your face.

“What?”

“You didn’t…”

He smiles. “I told you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

“And you did, but--”

“It’s okay, sweet girl.” He kisses your forehead once before turning to rinse off his dick, but you’re not giving up that easily.

You sneak your hands around his waist, resting your cheek on the middle of his back while you swat his hands out of the way.

“Little girl...what do you think you’re doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you murmur, gently stroking him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum with a muffled cuss word under his breath. You sigh happily against his back, letting go of his dick to hug him instead.

Aaron turns around to gather you in his arms, moving forward slightly so your face isn’t directly under the water. “Is someone tired?”

You shake your head, even though you practically bury yourself in his chest. “Just content.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you giggle. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he kisses your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner smut #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

For All The Uterus Owners

What the MHA boys do to make you feel better during that time of the month when you are in absolute PAIN!

Warning: 18+ content below the cut. Mentions of sexy times. And period things, obviously. Mild cursing. 18 and under DNI

A/N: Yes, I am projecting. No, I don't care a single bit.

Midoriya

. This man knows your cycle better than you do!

. It might seem annoying but Midoriya just uses all the knowledge he's gathered to make it this time as comfortable as it possibly can be.

. During the days leading up to your period, he will stock up on all your favorite snacks, make sure the heating pad is easily accessible and he buys pain meds in bulk!

. Throughout your period, Midoriya will do little things to make your day easier.

. He'll always make sure you have a glass of water because hydration is important.

. He will throw your towel in the dryer while you shower so it's warm when you're done.

. Absent minded massages for your shoulders, feet, legs, chest. Things like that.

. "I just want you to be as comfortable as you can, doll."

. He knows when your worst days are and will do whatever he can to make them less painful. If you're irritable and want him to fuck off, he will. If you want cuddled until you're sick of him, he'll do that too!

. Hero work will come up but he does his best to check in with you in case you need him to bring anything home.

. The one thing he hasn't ever been too comfortable with is sex during this time. He's tried, poor man really has but he just cannot.

. But, he knows how much it can help SO! Whatever toys you want, he'll get them. You want dirty talk or phone sex, he'll be at the top of his game! Anything to help you, during this time, he doesn't give a single crap about his own pleasure.

. He will pounce on you the moment it's over though and I hope you didn't plan on walking anywhere in the days that follow.

Bakugo

. He might seem like he doesn't pay attention to these things but the man knows.

. He doesn't think about picking up pain meds or putting new batteries in the heating pad but without fail, you can find your favorite snack well stocked just before you're due to start.

. It might have taken him some getting used to but Bakugo has come to the decision (begrudgingly) that while you're on your period YOU are the one who gets to be full of sass and attitude.

. He does try his best to temper his anger around you during this time. He has his slip-ups but he's trying to not make you more irritable than you already are.

. That doesn't mean he lets you get away with shit though.

. You're still drinking that water he's brought you.

. You have to eat something other than sweats and salty treats.

. You're also are not allowed to miss that meeting for work.

. If you're cuddling, he will pop off tiny little explosions to heat his palms and rest them over your lower abdomen, your back, or your chest. Whatever is aching.

. If you suggest a little sexy time might help relieve a certain ache he'll be more than happy to aid you. But, HE will only suggest it if you're being particularly sassy, complaining too much.

. "Cramps bothering you? Bet I can make you forget about 'em."

. Bakugo will take it as a personal challenge to make you forget about the pain your damn uterus is causing you. The only one allowed to make you feel sore is him, damn it!

Todoroki

. This poor guy...

. Todoroki obviously knew what periods were, he has a sister but he didn't KNOW about them until he lived in the dorms of UA. (I headcanon that Ochaco had very, very bad cramps one day and missed training and when he asked Midoriya why she didn't go to Recovery Girl to fix it they decided it was time for an educational meeting).

. They're still a mystery to him for the most part. He knows they hurt you, make you double over in pain sometimes and it's not the kind of pain that can be healed through a quirk.

. He knows you like certain foods and that snuggling against his warm side makes you feel better.

. With his father's credit card, he will buy you whatever food you like. Tell you to book a day at the spa or whatever it is that will make you feel better.

. He's shocked you don't usually accept his offer and would rather just stay in, cuddling against him instead. Not that he minds after a long day of hero work.

. Todoroki will regulate his heat until you are comfortable, you practically pulling his leg across you and using him as your personal heating pad.

. "This can't be comfortable for you. Please, let me just get you something that's meant to help you."

. He has a hard time understanding that he is your favorite and that this actually is comfortable.

. You'll have to explain to him there are other things only he could do to help you too...you'll really have to explain it to him too.

. He's willing to give you what you need though as long as it gets rid of some of your pain.

. He is going to suggest doing it in the shower though, hoping to avoid making too much of a mess.

Kaminari

. Yeah, I think Kaminari is too scatterbrained to actually remember when your time of the month is. He picks up on the subtle changes in your mood quickly though when it's coming.

. When he does realize though, he's at the store that very day throwing literally EVERYTHING and ANYTHING in the cart that even has the possibility of making you feel better.

. From food to medication, to stuffed animals, to video games, to board games... it's all going in the cart.

. This is how you ended up with the life-sized teddy bear that now sits in the corner of your room...

. Take-out happens every single night. He'd try and cook if you asked him but you know that's probably safer to just let him be generous and order in.

. Big time promoter of snuggles!

. Big time promoter of period sex!

. "It helps! Or, that's what I've been told... I'm just sayin' we could give it a shot!"

. And it did help. Because of that, it is now one of the first things he suggests doing when you are even just a smidge irritable.

. You can chuck the life-sized bear at him. He won't take it personally.

. It might come off as annoying but, he does everything he can to get you feeling wonderful again. Expending all his efforts on you. Doing everything he can to be a buzzy distraction and get you to smile.

Kirishima

. Not nearly as detailed as Midoriya is but also not as aloof as Bakugo. Kirishima cares about you and your health and he sure as hell isn't afraid to show it.

. He'll take a peak where he knows you store your feminine products a few days before you're due to start and then go out to the store to pick up anything you might be running low on. You seriously haven't had to buy anything for yourself. He learned after like two months of dating.

. While there, he will also make sure you have plenty of snacks as well as actual food for meals because keeping your energy up is just as important as making sure you're comfortable.

. When he isn't off being the sturdy hero he is, he's your comfort hero at home.

. Wrapping you both up in the heated blanket, he has to stick a leg out so he doesn't overheat but he'll be damned if he gives up cuddles just because he's a little warm.

. During this time, Kirishima will do everything he can to make sure you aren't lifting a finger! He's had cramps before, in his legs and arms from working out and his several growth spurts, he can't imagine how you deal with them month after month!

. He'll offer to do just about anything for you normally but that goes double when it's your time of the month.

. Massages are his favorite way to help you though. They usually always turn into something more not that either of you complains.

. He will let you take the lead every single time.

. "Just tell me what I can do to help. Whatever you need, pebble, just tell me."

. That statement is always said multiple times over the course of your period but with different contexts.

. Going to the store, running you a bath, getting medicine from the pantry, dicking you down until you're speechless... you know, whatever you need.

#mha hcs #bnha hcs #katsuki bakugo #bakugo fluff #bakugo smut #izuku midoriya #deku fluff #deku smut #denki kaminari #kaminari fluff #kaminari smut #kirishima hcs #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #kirishima fluff

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mayaree-darling · 4 years

Note

I have a query for you, If say, in the same universe as annoying brat, the reader was afab, would that mean that Sukuna would have to also experience the hell that is period cramps/pains/experience? Because like maybe I just have a morbid imagination but that could be hilarious

bRO I HAVE BEEN CRYING AT YOUR ASK FOR THE PAST FEW HOURS SINCE I GOT IT AND NOW THAT I’M HOME I CAN ANSWER IT PROPERLY HAHA

AAAAAHHHHH OMFG OK OK THIS TURNED INTO A FUCKING HEADCANON POST SORRY NOT SORRY

So in a logical and serious standpoint, I don’t think so. He’s currently a soul, a cursed spirit in actuality, and very much not human. He probably wouldn’t even understand it if you took the time of day to explain, or he just refuses to listen because why the fuck would he need to know that shit.

Maybe he’d be able to feel you were in pain and read your thoughts on how much shit you were going through, but that’s just fodder for him to fuck with you like never before. Feeling more emotional during your time of the month? Sukuna is fucking there to laugh at your tears when he mocks the living shit out of you. He’s also there to bitch on you if you get riled up easily.

“I knew women were weak but you take it to a whole ‘nother level, brat. Or is it just you? A little blood and you’re already paralyzed?” (Shut the fuck up, Sukuna, menstrual cramps are not a fucking joke)

He probably gets bored of teasing you after 2 two months or something and it just annoys him that you’re complaining and groaning all the time. You’re stuck in bed all day and you can’t even provide him decent entertainment while you’re in pain. He’ll try to convince you that switching with him will make the pain go away since, y’know, he basically shifts into a male body and he doesn’t have to worry about something he doesn’t have.

“I’m trying to be nice, brat, and you’re not even considering it?” “Better my blood than other people’s, you fuck. So shush. You’re too loud.” “I hope your pain lasts a day more than usual.” “Fuck you, too, Sukuna.”

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND. IF HE CAN FEEL IT.

So his tolerance to pain is hella high since the guy is used to fighting and blood and wounds are a norm.

But wtf do you even do to a woundless pain? Like how tf do you deal with that shit in any other circumstance?

The first time it happens he thinks you got cursed or some shit, and he rolls his eyes like “how tf can you get cursed twice in a row, you fucking brat, that shit’s just unlucky” but then he watches you go about your day like fucking nothing (at least, do your thing the best you can when you feel like you’re dying) and he’s??? mad??? because??? you share a body with someone else, bitch, so why the hell ain’t you taking care of it??? you’re living for two people right now so fucking act like it???

He fucking feels it, not to the extent maybe that renders him incapable of moving, but it’s uncomfortable as all fuck. He can’t even heal himself/you because??? It’s not a legit wound??? It’s not a missing limb??? So??? What the fuck is it???

“Brat. Oi. Don’t you have something to tell me.” “I don’t know, Sukuna. Can you be more specific? I don’t want to think right now.” “That pain. Whatever the fuck it is. What’s going on. Did you really get yourself cursed again?” “You could call it a curse. It’s just menstrual cramps, Sukuna.” “... What the fuck is that?”

When you eventually explain it to him, he’s fucking horrified. Not because he found the idea disgusting - he actually found it funny that humans suffered in the weirdest ways - but it’s the idea that he had to experience this.

Him, Sukuna the King of Curses, was fucking experiencing second-hand menstrual cramps because his vessel had different organs.

How fucking unlucky can he get, really.

He tries to persuade you into letting him “fix” your body, but of course you’re like fuck that, bro, it may be pretty shitty but it’s still my body

“Brat, switch with me. Right now.” “What? No, why would I-” “If we switch maybe we won’t feel it.” “Sukuna, if you can feel it as a soul, don’t you think you’ll still feel it if we shift? It’s still my body.” “God fucking damn it, woman, why do you have to make sense in the worst of times.”

Funnily enough, he mellows out. Like, sure it doesn’t hurt him as much as it hurts you, but he just becomes impossibly lazy. It’s your body, and since you can’t move and every cell in your body is legit screaming for you to just stop whatever the fuck you’re doing and sleep it off, he sort of just gets weirdly sleepy.

Getting your period is like a double-edged sword now because sure it hurts like a fucking lot but Sukuna is slightly more pleasant and less bloodthirsty.

He feels slightly more respectful to you. Just the tiniest bit, ever since he found out that it was a monthly thing for years now and subjecting yourself to this shit deserved some level of praise. But he won’t tell you that.

He’s still angry every time your period hits because why the fuck did you have to drag him into that kinda shit. He mostly tries to take his anger out on you after your period passes because he may have felt drugged out the whole time but he remembers the injustice of it all.

Anyways, thank you for the idea. It made me happy the whole day.

#a crack headcanon if anything but i had fun thinking and writing about it haha #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x vessel!reader #jjk sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x reader headcanon #annoying brat

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moregaythanyourealized · 3 years

Text

First Impressions

Otto Octavius x reader

Working with others wasn’t your strong suit. People think you’re vulgar and rude. You like to call yourself brutally honest. This job wasn’t an exception. A science company that needed engineers, mechanics, and strong minds like your own. You had only been working here for a few months when gossip about a new super project was being passed around. No one bothered to tell you, of course. You just overheard it on your coffee break. Apparently some great scientist was coming in and taking over the entire lab.

Usually you’d be excited for an advancement in the world of fusion. But this new rich snobby scientist meant that for however long this project took you’d have; No office, Less working hours (meaning less pay), and worst of all....small talk

It was the day the new scientist was supposed to come in, you now knew his name was Otto Octavius. Your desk and your co workers desks were moved out of the lab and into a much smaller space. Cramping you all together like rats. You wore your usual attire and annoyed look as you entered the building. Although today you dawned some stylish eyeliner. Not for him of course, everybody was working extra hard to look presentable and professional. You passed by a co-worker who you didn’t really hate as much,

“Yo, Kathleen, is that guy here yet? Or do you think he’s too busy getting the windows on his lamborghini re-tinted?” You snorted at your own joke waiting for her response,

“Uh, he’s upstairs I think...in the lab.” You thanked her and walked up the steps. You pushed through nerds and geeks trying to reach your desk. A folder of your ideas carefully sealed with colorful clips sat in your drawer.

“L/n!” Turning around your boss was at the end of the hall stomping his feet,

“You were supposed to be in the lab by 7:30!” You glanced at the clock on the wall, 7:46,

“My apologies sir. I didn’t realize everyone would have a stick up their ass this morning. Besides traffic on the way here is always shitty.” You absentmindedly looked through your folder and took one page out pinning it to your cork board, until your boss grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him. His breath was heinous,

“Listen L/n, on a normal day I’d let you get away with being like this. But this is too important for you to fuck up.” glaring at you he released your arm,

“Get your shit together.” He spat. Waiting until he rounded the corner you groaned and tugged at your hair. Today just wasn’t your day. Taking a deep breath you smoothed out your shirt and walked to the lab pushing the door open and continuing inside. The colder air made you relax a bit. Hoping you’d be able to get some work done you sat down on a metal table in the corner. Crossing your legs and looking over blueprints for the next big thing in New York. The above ground bullet train. Sleek design and smooth riding on the rails...you hoped.

Kathleen walked in and shyly rapped your shoulder,

“Did you meet Mr Octavius?”

“He hasn’t come in yet.” You replied glancing her way, admiring how nice she looked even when she wasn’t trying,

“He’s right over there.” She points to a hunched over man in a red sweater. You got off the table and stared,

“That’s him? I thought he was like a janitor or some shit.” The man looked up raising a brow.

Fuck...probably said that too loud.

Waving awkwardly you grabbed Kathleen’s arm and dragged her over to the main table with you,

“Hello, I’m Dr Octavius. I believe we’ll be working together for the next few weeks.” He smiled sweetly and stuck out his hand which Kathleen accepted greatly,

“Actually Dr,” You chimed,

“You’ll be working with people from the east wing. They’re just letting you invade our entire office.” Kathleen stamped down on your foot lightly before turning back to the doctor,

“Y/n was just going to get me some coffee, do you want any Dr?” He nodded and you walked out making sure to slam the door. Stupid jerk, wearing a cute fucking sweater, trying to act all innocent. Trying to play god and mess with whatever sanity I have left. Pouring two cups of coffee you sighed, watching the steam spiral from the cup in a calming manner. Putting milk and sugar into one and nothing into the other.

Re-entering the lab Kathleen was no longer there. A disturbing silence made you want to turn on your radio. Octavius was still leaning over the desk writing things down. You held the drink infront of him,

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” Your eye twitched. That was the final straw. You yanked the coffee back spilling it a bit,

“My name is Y/n L/n, I may not have your money or title but I expect the same respect you’d give any man on this team. Do you understand me?” He stood up quickly. You didn’t realize he was so tall,

“Now wait a moment Y/n, just a few minutes ago you were cursing and accusing me. Respect is about the last thing on my mind when I think of you.” Ah shit, he was kinda right. You weren’t mad at him. You were just mad at the world. Still you had bad energy in your system,

“But I apologize for calling you sweetheart. It was a crude mistake.” You set both coffees down gently and folded your arms looking at your boots. Saying sorry was the right thing to do, even if it sucked,

“I’m sorry for the way I acted Dr, I guess I’m just a little upset with the pay cuts.” He paused,

“They’re cutting your pay?” You nodded and sat down in one of the metal chairs,

“Everyone here who doesn’t work 24/7 alongside you for the next month gets their pay cut in half until you’re out of here.”

“But you didn’t choose to work less, that doesn’t seem right.” You sighed and rested your head on the table,

“Tell me about it.” While enjoying the feeling of cool table on your cheek you noticed one of his papers. You grabbed it and a pencil before erasing some of his math. You could feel him focused on you,

“Staring is rude.” You said not taking your eyes off the equations,

“You seem to be as well.” Chuckling a bit he sat down and tapped your hand drawing your attention to his soft features,

“I think I know what’s bothering you.”

“I already told you what’s bothering me.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue,

“No, not that. When you left for coffee, Kathleen and I had a small talk about your behavior” Jesus, he sounds like a high school principal,

“She told me that you act like this a lot around other people. And it’s my personal hypothesis that you are intimidated by others who you believe to be smarter or better. You’re afraid of losing your job and not being able to prove yourself. I’m assuming that started in your childhood, either with an absent father figure or bullies at school.” You sat in disbelief. No one had ever really laid out your problems and made them seem so simple. Your face heated up and you clenched your hands. Why did this make you feel so stupid? Why did he think he knew more about your feelings than you did?

Standing up you turned away. Once a demanding and harsh voice was now quiet and small failing to hide your distraught,

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

————————————————

The rest of the day was slow. Your desk felt like a prison where time never moved forward. Rethinking what he said. The repeated movie in your brain of him lecturing you, All of it slowly morphed into him not making noise at all. His mouth moved but no sound, it was wonderful. You just imagined him, dark eyes, large stature looming over you, soft hands....

“Y/n?”

“Fuck!” You hit your head against the wall and turned to see Kathleen. She leaned in to make sure you’re okay, her perfume hit your nose and you tried not to seem like you were enjoying the moment too much,

“What do you need Kathy?”

“Dr Octavius asked me to give this to you.” She handed you an envelope and hastily exited the room. The crisp paper unfolded in your hands. Reading the letter was like fiery kisses to your skin. Words pouring out like water from a faucet.

Y/n,

We obviously got off on the wrong foot. I do not think of you as a subordinate and I certainly hope you do not think of me as a threat. We both overstepped personal and professional boundaries today. I apologize sincerely for making you uncomfortable. What is science if not testing the waters though? To show my attitude towards a better future working together I invite you to lunch tomorrow downtown. I will pick you up outside at 12:30

All the best,

Dr Otto Octavius

Pinning the letter up next to your project on the cork board you admired it smiling. Perhaps second impressions will set you both straight.

#doc ock x reader #doc ock #mcu x reader #spiderman #spiderverse #otto octavius #tw swearing

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

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

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

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

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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bookstantrash · 3 years

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A/N: I am so very sorry for not updating for so long. I know I said I’d try to update more frequently while I was on uni break but life happened lmao. Classes are back, but I’ll try not left y’all hanging for so long.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You, Smells like petrichor and paper, The Sound of Music and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, part one, two, three, four and five of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

That being said, I hope y’all enjoy this chapter! We got a little bit of fluff, sprinkles of angst and a lovely plot twist ✨

Bloody Day and Ominous letters

Nesta woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her entire life. She really should not have drunk as much as she had last night but as she saw her friends and Morrigan having fun that little voice inside her head — usually her mother’s or grandmother's saying Do better, Stop being such a disappointment or Your only purpose is to marry well so forget about love — got louder and louder, judging her company and trying to make her feel ashamed.

But she had had enough. Her grandmother and mother had both passed away already. It was time to bury them for good. So Nesta took the wine bottle from Morrigan and drank half of it in one go, her friends cheering around her. And she had so much fun. Nesta would never have guessed that drinking could be so enjoyable, nothing like those uptight parties where the ladies sipped a lonely glass all night long while the gentleman lost count of theirs. The only downside was her killing headache and the fact that she had overslept, a fact she took notice of once she glanced at the wall clock.

She had just sat up on her bed — massaging her temple to ease the tension on her head — when an insistent knocking on her door made her mumble a curse. No doubt it was either Emerie or Gwyn — maybe both of them — waking her up. Those two were quite used to drinking, so it was no surprise to Nesta that they would be up and about very early.

“Would you two stop it?” she said loudly, opening the door wearing only her chemise, probably having ditched her dress during the night while she slept “I have a killer headache and your banging is not helping at all—”

She stopped mid sentence when she came face to face with Georgianam, the young lady’s hand still raised to knock on her door, Cassian right behind her.

“Oh, I apologise Lady Nesta” Georgiana said “We had agreed that we would go on a nice early morning walk today, but when I did not spot Miss Archeron at the breakfast table I got worried.”

“Please do forgive me, Miss Georgiana. I had a bit too much to drink yesterday and ended up oversleeping.” Nesta quickly said, mentally kicking herself for her rudeness “I will be ready for our walk in a minute.”

“Lovely! I will be waiting at the parlor then!”

Nesta closed the door with a sigh. Her morning had not begun the best.

However, it was only while she was brushing her hair that her sleep fogged mind caught up to the fact that Cassian had seen her half asleep wearing nothing but her chemise and with early morning messy bed hair.

She definitely could not be allowed to drink more than two glasses of alcohol if that was how she was going to behave whenever she drank more than deemed proper.

When she arrived at the parlor ten minutes later, she could not help but avoid looking at Cassian.

“Mrs. Potts brought you a little something to eat” Georgiana informed, pouring Nesta tea “And also some headache medicine”

“Please thank her in my instead later, she is too kind to me”

“Oh, it was all my brother’s doing” Georgiana smiled in Cassian's direction, serving herself some cookies “He was the one who asked her to provide not only the medicine but also the food.”

“I appreciate the gesture, my lord.” Nesta hid her blush behind the teacup.

“It was nothing, my lady” was all he answered, refusing to look at her.

That made Nesta’s heart strangely hurt. She could not help but think he had been disgusted by her earlier appearance. Her hair was such a mess and her chemise was all wrinkled from sleep—

Wait. Why did she care so much of what he thought of her? Nesta Archeron was not one to give much attention to others opinion of herself, so why was she getting so worked up when it came to Cassian? Of course, one could not help but notice how he always looked so presentable, with his spotless clothes, hair combed to perfection every single time. She had never seen a gentleman’s hair be so… perfect. She could bet her first edition of her favourite romance that he had awfully handsome bed hair. And that he had a mint breath even when woke up. And that he probably slept shirtless, if the last time she saw him at midnight at his library was any indication of his sleeping attire.

Oh Mother, why was she now thinking about all of that? She waved an imaginary hand to disperse her not so proper thoughts, focusing on the small talk Georgiana was making.

Both Nesta and Cassian kept avoiding each other during their walk, which did not pass by Georgiana without notice, especially given how her brother had made sure to stay two steps behind them, giving the excuse he wanted to give both ladies “privacy to talk comfortably”, something he had never done. Their walk, however, was cut short when Nesta showed signs of being tired and admitted that her headache had not disappeared.

“I assure you it is nothing to fret over” Nesta told a worried Mrs. Potts when they came back “It must be from yesterday’s drinking. There is no need to call a doctor.”

“Nonetheless, I will ask Chef Ramsay to prepare some light food and my special hangover drink” the old headmaid said with a motherly expression.

Thanking Mrs. Potts again, Nesta went to her room to splash some water on her face in hopes of refreshing herself. But a painful jab low on her stomach made her freeze and the blood drain from her face.

~•~

“Just knock on the door, my Lord” Lumière said as he watched Cassian drop his hand once again. The maître d’ had been watching his lord pace in front of the parlor door for what must have been twenty minutes.

“I do not want to bother her. Maybe I should call Mrs. Potts or wait until the other ladies come back” Cassian ran his hand through his hair in distress. Emerie and Balthazar had gone out with Morrigan to visit some possible new business partners — her big circle of connections proving itself to be very useful in helping expand their business — while Azriel and Gwyn had gone to the town, which was helding a small music festival. Georgiana, on the other hand, had received a telegram from a friend who had returned early from their trip abroad, and she had promptly gone to meet them.

“This, dear brother, is your chance to speak to Miss Nesta” she had said before leaving “I do not know what happened to make you both so distant, but you better make amends. I already asked Emerie to design the gown I shall wear at your wedding.”

Cassian had told Georgie to mind her own business and stop being such a busybody, proceeding to stand guard outside the parlor.

“Leave the lord alone” Cogsworth hissed, elbowing Lumiére “Her ladyship has not asked for help so it must mean she is fine and does not wish to be bothered.”

“Nonsense, old friend!! The lady is simply too shy to ask for it and the lord too polite to risk disturbing her” taking a step forward, Lumière knocked on the door.

“What do you think you are doing?!” the major-domo whisper yelled, and Cassian was sure he would have throttled Lumière were it not for the faint voice coming from the other side.

“Please, do come in” Nesta said.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian opened the door, leaving behind Cogsworth and Lumière, who were trying very hard not to start a duel right there.

The first thing he looked for was Nesta.

Nesta, who was rather pale and was clutching a pillow very hard against her stomach.

“Are you alright?” he asked, not knowing whether to sit beside her or just stay standing a few feet away.

“I am” she said, although the deep breath she took had him thinking it was not true “Where are Gwyn and Emerie?”

“Gwyn went to the town festival with Azriel. An Emerie went with Mor and Balthazar to meet prospective business partners.”

“Are you really alright Nesta?” he asked again “You do not seem fine at all if I may say.”

“I assure you I am perfectly fine” Nesta insisted through clenched teeth “Where is Georgiana?”

“At a friend’s house. They returned early from a trip.” Cassian said, a bit annoyed she was asking for his sister when he was right there. It was a stupid jealous feeling, and he was not even more annoyed because he felt glad they got on so well.

“Do you know when any of them will be back?”

“I am afraid I do not know” daring to approach her, Cassian sat beside her on the sofa “But I am here. If there is anything I could do…”

“There is no need to bother yourself. I truly am—”

And that was when Nesta whimpered and clutched her pillow even tighter, doubling over a little bit.

“You are definitely far from fine sweetheart” Cassian said, rubbing her back in hopes of helping her, nevermind proper etiquette.

“It is really nothing. Just—”

“Just what?”

“Lady stuff!!” Nesta finally said, her whole face heating up like a fireplace.

“Oh. Oh! I see. I— I understand” he said, also a little bit flustered “Not that I actually get it but I have also experienced pain and—”

Nesta wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She was used to getting her period, it was a monthly occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, this time it seemed her body had decided to punish her more than usual. Not only had she gotten a killer headache — made worse by her hangover — but she was cramping very badly, and they usually were not that bad. That was why she had gone to that walk with Georgiana, even though she was getting mildly uncomfortable soon after they arrived at the garden.

Not that she did not want to miss any Cassian time.

Him going with them had been a bonus.

A surprise, but not a pleasant one.

Maybe just a bit pleasant if she was being honest. Just a tiny tiny bit.

“I will stop talking now” Cassian mumbled, interrupting not for the first time her errant thoughts.

She wanted to die. To tell Cassian — even indirectly — that she had gotten her period was the most mortifying she had ever experienced.

“I can get Mrs. Potts for you” he tentatively said, restarting the back rubs “She can get you some tea for pain. Or a bag of warm water. You can tell her anything, do not worry.”

Nesta managed to nod her head in agreement, despite her stubborn side that refused to ask for help from the maids or other servants at Pemberley.

Cassian himself went looking for the head maid instead of just ringing for her, assuring her he would be back in less than ten minutes. And he did come back in record time with Mrs. Potts, who gave her tea and pain tonic that she assured Nesta made wonders for stopping cramps. All the while Cassian hovered over Mrs. Potts, unsure of what to do.

“Do you require anything else? Maybe another blanket?” he asked after Mrs. Potts had left. He had made sure to bring back a blanket too and had even tucked her in with extra care “Or more tea? I can ask someone to come and bring fresh hot tea”

Nesta would never have imagined Cassian to be such an overbearing mother hen. He was being extra careful around her and it annoyed her beyond reason.

“Cassian, this happens every month. Has been happening since I was thirteen, alright? Can you please stop?” she snapped.

She regretted her words as soon as she realised how rude she had been and what exactly she had said. However, he was being so overweening. As if she was made of glass or was on her deathbed.

Yet all Cassian did was crack a smile and nudge a chocolate muffin towards her. Nesta had been in such pain and so quiet he had been concerned if Mrs. Potts’ pain tonic would really work. But there she was.

There was the feisty, sharp tongued and quick-witted Nesta he knew.

There was the Nesta he fell in love with.

He barely held his tongue back and risked blutering his feelings right in front of her. Again.

“May I get you a book then? It is a good way to pass the time until your friends are back.”

“Thank you. That would be lovely” Nesta gave him a soft smile, her previous embarrassment having died down a little.

He was gone and back in a record time, and Nesta delusioned herself into thinking he had raced to the library because he did not want to leave her for too long.

“I got the book you were not able to finish last night” Cassian said, handing her Sellyn Drake’s latest romance “And I also took the liberty of getting one of my favourites too. In case you finish this one quickly.”

She thanked him again, curious as to what book was his favourite, what made her even eager to finish her current read.

Turns out Cassian was a fan of epic poems, a fact that — combined with his admission of having read Sellyn Drake’s romances — once again made Nesta view him with new eyes. She had thought he would be more of a war strategy person, all business and serious matters. Yet it seemed that Cassian had a dreamer inside of him.

“How many times have you read this book?” Nesta asked as she turned a yellowed page. The book was old, but she could see it was very loved given its good condition.

“A lot of times. It was my favourite book as a child, and I could not part with it once I moved out of my childhood home” he gave her a smile “It was also my dear companion during long expeditions. I have most of it memorized.”

“I bet you charmed every single lady during your travels with your knowledge, wooing them with beautiful words” she teased, despite the small pang of jealousy in her heart.

You refused his hand and humiliated him, she thought, you have no place to feel jealous. Cassian is a wonderful gentleman, it is expected to have women falling left and right for him, not to say him pursuing them.

“You are actually the first person apart from my family who knows that I read poetry” Cassian admitted “And I also have never met someone that made me want to declare a poem to”

Nesta did not know what to say to that. They were bordering dangerous territory, something that seemed to happen more and more frequently.

And Cassian, seated right beside her, was thinking the same thing. He had allowed himself to get closer to him again, something that yesterday he had vowed to avoid, had tried to do that morning. But to see her in pain, uncomfortable and not talking to him hurt more than those moments in which he could see a life with her. Those moments with Nesta were a double edged sword: he craved and loathed them with the same urgency.

He would kill to have even a single moment with her.

He would die if he had even a single moment with her.

Nesta made him want to be selfish.

Made him want to declare poems to her, maybe even attempt to write her one.

At the moment, he could not help but recall a certain verse of the Epic of Gilgamesh:

What could I offer

the queen of love in return, who lacks nothing at all?

Balm for the body? The food and drink of the gods?

I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.

You are the door through which the cold gets in.

You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch

that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.

You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe

that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall

that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky

water skin soaking the water skin carrier.

To Cassian, Nesta was the goddess of love. And he was the one who could not offer her a single thing for she lacked nothing.

“Well, I will not disturb your reading any longer” clearing his throat to break the new tense silence between them, Cassian gestured to the book in her hand “But do feel free to make comments while you read, I would very much like to hear your opinions about it.”

And she did just that. Every passage she found interesting, each line that caught her eye and interpretation she had about a certain phrase, she shared them all with Cassian. Somewhere during their conversation that awkward tension between them disappeared completely, with Cassian letting his arm rest on the back of the couch, getting closer to Nesta. And Nesta somehow ended up getting closer to him too, almost leaning on his side.

It was all very improper. Cassian staying alone with Nesta, so close to each other and acting as a married couple.

But Cassian would let himself be selfish one last time.

One last time before they had to go their separate ways.

~•~

The day would have ended perfectly were it not for the letter that Gwyn brought once she and Azriel had come back.

While Emerie, Balthazar and Mor had arrived late in the evening — with good news of new partnerships being agreed on — Gwyn and Azriel had come back much later, just when everyone had finished dinner. Nesta had not been too worried, she trusted Azriel to take care of Gwyn and her friend was not bound by the stifling high society etiquette, but she breathed a little easier when they finally arrived.

“Oh Nesta, we passed by the inn we were staying at before and the landlady gave me a letter addressed to you. It seems she had forgotten to send it to us yesterday when our things were brought here.” Gwyn gave her the letter once they had moved to the game room “She apologised deeply for it.”

“I understand, it is a busy season for them.”

“It is a letter from Feyre” Nesta furrowed her brows in confusion as she broke the letter’ seal, which she recognized as being the one representing Feyre’ status as Duchess “She sent one barely a week ago, I wonder what could have happened.”

Nesta had guessed it would be another letter from Feyre asking about how their trip was going, if she had seen beautiful scenarios and bought any souvenir for her youngest sister. Or even a curious inquiry about what she thought of Cassian. Feyre had been quite interested to know if they got along — she had always been a busybody and matchmaker, and since marrying Rhysand had tried time and time again to nonchalantly push her to Cassin. If she ever discovered that Nesta had already been proposed by Cassian — and that she had refused his hand — chaos would befall upon Nesta.

However, as her eyes scanned the lines, Nesta’s assumptions of its contents proved to be far away from reality. She felt her blood run cold, her heart stop beating and fear. So much fear.

“Excuse me” she managed to say, getting up “I need a moment.”

“Nesta, are you alright? What did Feyre say? You are very pale” Gwyn said, her voice full of worry.

“I am fine. Just cramps” she brushed off her friend’s worries. She did not want to make the others notice that something was off with her, she did not want to alarm Gwyn..

Yet as she exited the room she failed to perceive that Cassian had been paying attention to her ever since Gwyn gave her the letter. He was always paying attention to his surroundings, especially when she was around.

He left the room a few moments after her, trying not to raise suspicion to his attitude. He did not know where she had gone — Pemberley was vast and her room was too far away for him to not have caught her faster — but something led him to the small outdoor patio just left from the small gallery he had at Pemberley.

As he got closer and closer there, he heard the sound of someone crying, which made his heart beat faster and a deep fear grow inside him.

He arrived outside to find an unimaginable scene: Nesta crying. Crying as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

She was a mess, her careful braided hair coming undone, as if she had ran her hands through it in desperation.

“Nesta… Nes dear, what happened? Is Feyre alright?” Cassian did not care that she most probably left the room to cry in private. He was worried, he needed to be beside her, he needed to help her somehow.

“I— Feyre she—” she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, let alone talk, making Cassian’s heart break in a thousand pieces.

“Shh it’s okay sweetheart. I am here Nes” he gently cupped her face, making her look at him “Take deep breaths with me.”

He took a deep breath, holding it in for three seconds before letting it go. He kept doing it until Nesta did the same, slowly calming down.

“Can you talk now? Do you want me to fetch you some water?” Cassian asked, tenderly brushing off her remaining tears.

“No, I— I can talk now” Nesta took another breath “Feyre is alright. It is Elain.”

“Elain? Is she sick? Talk to me Nes, help me understand”

Elain was the picture of the perfect lady in high society. With her numerous suitors, lovely and delicate behaviour — not to mention her singular beauty — it was hard to find someone who did not like her. Given that her hobbies — cooking and gardening — did not pose a threat to her health and well being, Cassian could not understand what would have made Nesta react so strongly. Perhaps Elain had fallen ill, something that rarely happened.

“No. She is not sick” Nesta shook her head “Cauldron, I almost wished she was sick.”

“Elain was…. Elain was kidnapped” she added, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Kidnapped? How?”

That made no sense, who would kidnap Elain? And why?

“She was going to visit Feyre. And when she didn't show up Rhysand went to search for her and—” Nesta started to cry, desperation filling her voice “They found her carriage turned over and hidden near the outskirts of the city. No sign of her at all.”

Cassian was speechless. He could only imagine how Feyre must be feeling after she got the news and hoped Rhysand was doing his everything to help find Elain.

“The coachman was killed and her lady in waiting was rushed to the hospital.” she cried even harder “This is all my fault. I should never have left her. We have no male relatives and Feyre is living too far from our childhood home. I was supposed to take care of her.”

“Nesta, it is not your fault. You could never have guessed something like this could happen.” he looked deep in her eyes, the blue in them even brighter because of her tears “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I am afraid there isn’t, '' she whispered “I have to go back home. Try to hire an investigator, talk to Feyre and hope Elain is not disgraced by society rumors. Hope she is alive”

Cassian could only nod in agreement and wait for Nesta to recompose herself before they went back inside. Their friends were as horrified and worried about the situation as he and Nesta, and decided to go back right that moment. The staff noticed something was amiss and made sure to ready the carriage in record time.

“Thank you for welcoming you at your home” Nesta said, her complexion a bit better “I can assure you we all had a wonderful time here.”

“It was my pleasure. Have a safe travel and remember that Pemberey is open to you and your friends whenever you want to visit” Cassian helped Nesta get on her carriage one last time, letting go of her hand begrudgingly.

And as Nesta and her friends got farther and farther from Pemberley, as Nesta got farther and farther away from him and took his heart with her, Cassian felt a calm fury settle inside him.

He had some letters to write to some old friends.

•

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