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viennacherries · 7 months

Note

Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^

this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.

i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.

NSFW read on ao3 here

~~~

The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.

"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.

Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.

She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"

Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."

She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"

He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."

Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"

"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."

"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"

"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."

He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."

~~~

Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"

He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.

"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"

She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."

When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.

Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.

Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,

She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"

Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."

His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.

"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"

"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."

Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.

When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."

She thinks for a moment.

"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"

He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb. That means 'shit-for-brains'."

Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"

~~~

It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.

"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.

"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.

"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."

You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.

"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."

She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."

"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."

Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.

Tav is blushing.

"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.

Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.

"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."

She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.

"What?"

"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"

Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.

She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.

"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."

His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."

Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.

~~~

" Pulch'zer."

He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.

"Sorry, repeat that?"

His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.

"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."

She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"

He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.

"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."

Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.

"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."

He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."

She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.

"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.

"Yes. Very good."

There's a pause.

"So. What does it mean?"

He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."

She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"

"... it means 'beautiful'."

Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"

Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.

"I wasn't talking about the book."

The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.

"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."

She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."

He stares at her.

She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"

"You love it? What does that mean?"

She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.

"I don't- I didn't mean-"

As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."

He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"

She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."

He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."

Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.

He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."

"Rolan, please."

He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"

" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."

"I said 'please what?'"

Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."

He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.

"Mhm. Ask me nicely."

The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.

"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."

His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."

When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.

As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.

He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."

Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."

He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."

She groans. "Rolan, please ."

He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"

The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."

His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."

She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."

He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.

When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."

She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."

He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.

"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."

His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."

She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.

Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"

He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."

"I'm ready, please, fuck me."

He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.

She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.

He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.

"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."

He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"

The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."

He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.

"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"

She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"

She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."

She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.

"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."

"Hm. We'll see."

~~~

Translations:

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?" ("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")

"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko." ("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")

"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi." ("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")

Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?" ("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")

"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne." ("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")

"Then again... Forzit adv'illi." ("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")

"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz." ("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")

"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne." ("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")

"adv'illi" ("I won't.")

"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam." ("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 tav #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #holy rolan empire #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

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moralesmilesanhour · 1 year

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Hello!!! How are you? I’ve been a follower for the past few days and was wondering if I could request something.

I was hoping to request a fic or like give you a prompt for something for miles42 × femreader

So it goes like this- yk those super corny reads that are like the reader's pinning for miles and like sometimes miles finds them annoying but in a cute way but he don't know that her yk? So he's talking to his homeboys about her, talm about some how she's so "annoying, a nuisance" and guess who's behind the wall listening? The reader herself.

So this goes one of two ways- she either matches up there, confronts him. And she's like "flipping fine, if that's how you feel then lemme get out of ur way- you won't hear a peep from me" and she like just ignores him and he learns how he feels about her, sees how his life is so boring without her and all that- goes to apologize happy ending..

Option number 2: silent treatment. Like just slowly drifting away until he once again comes to the realization that he needs her and all that happy ending yay!

Feel free to do whatever you want with this but I'm thinking of sending the same request to other authors to see what they come up with cause everyone has a style k? And i just love studying them and reading them cause evervtime- no matter how similar the prompt is- they always manage to invoke different feelings with in me.

Anyway- have fun doing this- but remember you don't have to cause this is kinda too much and I'm sorry😓

"I want my pen back."

wc: >1,200 A/N: okay so i got a bit carried away...this is a long one. (yes I am using this as an excuse to try out the gradient thing) thank you anon for this fun request! i also rlly like ur reasoning behind it and i hope i was able to do this prompt some type of justice lol

The gel pen clattered to the ground.

“I got it,” you said, grinning at Miles. You squat to grab it before the boy can act to get it himself, and he sighs as you hand it to him.

“Thanks.”

Miles turned the pen every which way between his fingers.

You had gifted it to him on the first day of school, with that same expectant grin. The little cartoon dogs that surrounded the perimeter had begun to fade with use because – admittedly – it had actually turned out to be a good ass pen.

He’d thought initially that you were just being nice; maybe you were handing shit out to everyone because it was the first day, understandable.

But then, it was highlighters (the erasable ones).

Pink sticky-notes on his locker, telling him to have a nice day with the ‘i’s dotted with hearts.

A new sketchbook for Secret Santa.

Miles’ pencil case had rapidly gotten bulkier, and when you rushed to grab a seat next to him during the one class without assigned seats, it finally clicked.

You were trying to get his attention. And he wasn’t sure what would happen if you got it.

“I like the new braids.”

He was snapped out of his thoughts, and turned to you.

“Huh?”

“The braids,” you laughed. “I like the pattern. Who did ‘em for you?”

A tiny smirk ghosted the boy’s lips.

“My mom. Just like the last time you asked me.”

He ran a hand instinctively over the meandering zig-zag pattern that his cornrows had been sectioned into. Miles looked at you from his periphery; you were still staring.

“Bitch, just ask him out already!”

Your friend smacked the back of your shoulder as the two of you took your sweet time getting back to your lockers.

“Alright, today, I swear,” you said, hand over your heart for emphasis.

A beat of silence passes. “But what if he says no?”

She groaned.

“Then he says no, and you can save your money. But say something, it’s getting embarrassing.”

Your friends’ encouragement landed you here, around the corner of a building where Miles and a gaggle of other boys from your homeroom were bursting into raucous laughter.

“Yo, why you ain’t bag her yet? She wants you bad,” one boy said.

Unsure if the ‘she’ in question was you, you stay where you are and keep listening.

“I dunno, she kinda annoying,”

Miles’ low voice makes your ears perk up.

“One day she gon’ run outta things to say about my hair, she has to!”

…Oh.

The buoyant feeling in your chest sinks as the group erupts into another laughing fit. If you asked him out now, you’d hear about it for the rest of the year.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you turn back the way you came.

Miles knew something was off when you sat down the next morning without a word.

“You good?” he asked.

You glanced at him, then nodded before going back to playing with the beads in your hair. The excruciating silence stretched on for almost the entirety of class before it was broken again.

“Do you…wanna help me with my homework? I’ll really let you, this time.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Morales, you got an ‘A’ in every class.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Your name’s on every bulletin board.”

“Damn,” the boy muttered to himself as his leg bounced under the desk.

Your beads clattered against your back as you rose from your seat. The bell had rung, finally. You didn’t even say ‘bye’.

Miles cracked open his locker. One of your sticky notes from last week had begun to un-stick and fluttered to the ground. There were no new ones. He bent to pick it up, noticing how neat and round your handwriting was on these compared to the way you wrote in class. The letters didn’t run together, like you were in a rush.

Neatly folding the note and sticking it in his pocket, Miles shut his locker to reveal your face. The boy nearly yelped in surprise.

“Where the hell did you come from? Scared the shit outta me,” he said with a grin.

“I want my pen back.”

Miles froze.

“Which pen?”

You tilted your chin up towards the one he was currently gripping in his left hand. He looked down at it like a wad of cash.

“Oh.”

He couldn’t just not give the pen back to you…

…but he didn’t want to give it to you, either.

“What you need it for? Don’t you have, like, a whole store full of these?”

“Miles, I gotta get to class. I’m not playing,” you reached for Miles’ hand, but he raised it high above his head.

Instead of a smirk or mocking sneer, something like worry was etched onto the boy’s features.

“Tell me what’s up witchu first.”

“What are you talking about? I’m about to be late, c’mon.”

“You ain’t said a word to me all day,” he dropped his hand momentarily. “Are you sick? Did I do something? What–hey!”

You had snatched the pen out of the boy’s hand when he wasn’t looking, throwing it into your bag.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You turn to retreat down the hallway, but stop with a huff when Miles calls after you.

“Wait!”

“I’m waiting.”

“Come see me after school?”

You kicked an empty can down the sidewalk in front of Miles’ apartment.

“Make this quick, I gotta go study.”

He looks everywhere else to avoid meeting your eyes, looking for the right words.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Miles awkwardly shuffled his feet. “Are you mad at me?”

“...Yeah, kinda.”

“For what?”

You stop to think for a moment, crossing your arms.

“For…for letting me hand you that pen, knowing you weren’t gonna give it back,” you began.

Miles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s it?”

You shook your head profusely, “N-no, I’m not done. You let me buy you all that stuff, put all that dumb shit in your locker, whole time you don’t even like me–”

“You don’t know that,” Miles interrupted. Your head snapped up to look at him, and you paused.

“I don’t?”

Neither of you say anything for a moment, then Miles remembers the note in his pocket. He takes it out and shows it to you.

“These? Are cute as fuck,”

He searches for more words, ten continues, "A-and I use that sketchbook every day. That pen? It’s like, my favorite,” he laughs. “I got half a mind to steal it back from you.”

Miles watches you expectantly. Your arms are still crossed, but the corners of your lips quirk up in amusement.

“So you like getting free stuff.”

“No-! I…”

The boy’s arms had begun to flail around in frustration. You hold back a giggle, never having seen him squirm like this before. It’s a nice change of pace.

“Alright, listen. I like hearing you talk to me every morning, and…”

He trailed off. He had begun slightly bouncing on his toes.

“...I like you.”

At some point while watching Miles struggle to explain himself, the float-y feeling in your chest had come back. You tilted your head to the side, and smiled.

“Okay. What are you gonna do about it?”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

“Where do you wanna go?”

#earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #moralesanhour #requests

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goldenwilliamson · 10 months

Note

would you maybe be able to write a fic for leah where the reader is a famous singer and goes to an arsenal or england game and then gets to meet the team after and leah is secretly a huge fan trying to play it cool (kind of like becks/posh)???

fan behaviour | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

a/n: love this ask, feel like i miiight have read something similar to this but can't remember who wrote it, so apologies for conceptual similarities if there is any. also i reference reader wearing leah's no. 8 england jersey even though leah has worn many different numbers for england lol.

summary: reader is a famous singer who goes to an england game and goes back to meet the girls after, not knowing leah williamson thinks she is the fittest woman to walk the earth. leah's fellow lionesses taking the piss out of her a bit for her crush. reader finding it endlessly endearing, as you would.

word count: 2.1k

When you had asked your manager if she could organise getting you tickets to see the Lionesses play, you hadn't expected that your love for the women's team would be reciprocated in any way. So you were pleasantly surprised when your manager informed you that the team wanted to meet you after the game, and agreed immediately.

You had briefly met a few of the players already at a GQ event last year, and on that occasion you had found yourself completely infatuated with the captain Leah Williamson. You had watched on in the Euros as she lead the team out with such confidence and from there you had definitely developed a small crush on the footballer. You had even sourced yourself a number 8 Williamson jersey to wear to the final at Wembley.

After the historic final you shared a photo of yourself and your family donned proudly in your England jerseys to your instagram that night with the caption 'claiming the title of the @lionesses biggest fan. the girls brought it home ⚽️🔥❤️'. Little did you know that when Leah saw your post, she had made sure everyone on the team had seen that you were wearing her jersey. She couldn't believe her eyes, or that a musician of your status was posting about the Lionesses. In a simple display of mutual affection, Leah liked the post and left a comment saying 'The feeling is mutual, thanks for the love x'.

It wasn't until later in the year that the two of you had finally met at the GQ Men of the Year event after the Euros. You had seen her across the room and made a shamless beeline for her. Though no introductions were necessary, you both introduced yourselves, and right off the bat Leah mentioned the fact that you had posted a photo of yourself in her jersey. You tried your best to play it cool, but you certainly were blushing, which Leah only found more endearing.

"I've got to back the captain haven't I?" You'd told her.

"I'm not complaining, it looked better on you than it does on me," she responded flirtatiously with practised ease.

"You're making me blush now," you pat your cheeks, feeling the warmth of your face.

"Surely you get people complimenting you in every room you walk into," Leah said matter of factly, only flattering you further.

"Leah Williamson, stop inflating my ego!" You laughed, "You live a far more respectable life than I do, and you manage to look this bloody good while doing it," you motion up and down her body with your hands to her outfit, completely blown away by her ability to look so damn good in and out of kit.

"Well I'll take the compliment, but I'll have you know I have a great respect for you and your music," she says sincerely.

"Thank you, I guess it's my turn to take the compliment too," you tell her, and sadly your conversation is cut short by an announcement that the award ceremony is about to commence and that everyone must move to their seats. The rest of the night your mind was occupied with thoughts of the English captain, especially since she was honoured with multiple speeches of people singing her praises.

And while you couldn't have known it, Leah's mind was filled with you. After that night she had strictly listened to your music on repeat for weeks, much to the annoyance of her teammates who demanded something else be played since it was Leah who had the role of team DJ.

A few months later when you decided to secure tickets to the Arnold Clark Cup game in Milton Keynes, you had secretly hoped you might get another encounter with Leah, and your manager had confirmed this at the start of the night.

When the girls were in the change room before hand, news began to travel that you were in the crowd, but it hadn't reached Leah until she queued up one of your songs in the pre-game playlist and realisation dawned on Ella Toone's face.

"Can you believe Y/N Y/L/N is here? Apparently she's going to come say hello after the game," Ella said.

"Is she really?" Leah said, her voice coming out squeaky, the excitement evident.

"Oh good Lee, maybe you can just ask her out like a normal human instead of listening to her like an obsessive fan," Georgia Stanway said loud enough for every one to hear, making the team laugh.

"Give it a rest," Leah shook her head, but she smiled, knowing Georgia had a point.

Leah knew she had spent way too much time thinking about you for only having met you that one time, but she couldn't help it. She definitely felt there was a little chemistry in your brief conversation at the GQ event. She tried not to let herself believe that but, after all, you were one of the most famous artists in the world, and she was just a footballer. She wasn't even sure that you dated women. Either way, the idea that you were in the crowd made her want to put in a good performance.

From your posh seats, which you felt extremely lucky to be in, you were enthralled in the game, cheering as loud as anyone when the girls scored their 4 goals against South Korea. You'd even come wearing a Williamson Jersey under your coat, and throughout the game your eye was consistently drawn to the blonde defender who charmed you those months ago.

When the game ended one of the many people working behind the scenes for the Lionesses came to find you at your seat to escort you and your manager through the back of the stadium down to where the team was.

You could hear the sound of Murder On The Dancefloor playing loudly as you followed your escort towards the change room where the team was clearly celebrating their win. The girls were mostly too busy dancing and shouting along with the song to notice your entrance, which made you smile. You didn't want to disrupt their celebrations by any means, but the woman who brought you down had cleared her throat to get the girls attention.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I've got someone special here who has kindly come to say hello!" She announces to the room and instantly the heads turn your way.

You flash a smile and wave as the music gets turned down, "Sorry to show up in the middle of such a good song," you apologise.

"Are you kidding me? The music can wait, you're Y/N bloody Y/L/N," Ella said, making you laugh.

"And you're Ella bloody Toone, it's so good to meet you. I'm a huge fan of you all," You said, expressing your love for the entire team, looking around the room. Even though you've brushed shoulders with more celebrities than you can count, staring into a room of footballers you admire felt extremely surreal.

"We're fans of yours, especially Leah," Georgia says, gesturing across the room with her thumb towards Leah who you were only managing to see now.

She stood resting against the wall with her arms crossed, shaking her head, "Thanks for that G."

You decide it's getting a bit awkward with everyone staring at you, as if you're about to give a half time pep talk so you try to diffuse the situation a little.

"Well I'd love to get around and have a chat with all of you, but please put your music on and do your thing, I feel silly standing up here in front of you all," you say, smiling.

"You heard her girls, stop staring, play the music Leah," Millie Bright said instructively and you watched as Leah picked her phone up and pressed play on the music.

Instantly many went back to singing along to the Sophie Ellis-Bextor classic, and you made your way over towards Georgia Stanway giving her a hug hello, and sitting down with her for a chat.

"That penalty was unreal," you told Georgia, referring to the goal she scored in the game. You spoke with her easily, feeling like you were catching up with a friend.

You continued to move your way around the room, chatting with some of the girls individually and with some in smaller groups. While they all had compliments for you and questions to ask, you met them with the exact same energy. The room quickly filled up with more people who work for the team and friends and family which made you feel less like you were a lucky fan who had orchestrated a private meet and greet with the team.

The whole time you were in the room you were looking for Leah out of the corner of your eye, wanting to save her for a bit later so you could get some more time to talk with her. Once you'd basically made your rounds of the room chatting to the players and their family members you finally made your way over to Leah.

"Saving the best for last?" Leah smirks at you as you approach.

"Well I'm not one to pick favourites, but I did wear my Williamson jersey tonight," you say, pushing open your coat to show off the white England jersey tucked loosely into your pants.

"I can't get over you wearing my shirt," Leah said, her pearly white teeth on full display, which you reflected with your own face.

"Is it surreal for you? Since I hear you're such a big fan of mine and all," you say, reference Georgia's little quip from earlier which didn't fly under your radar.

"Oh, she's got banter," Leah says, an eyebrow raised.

"She tries," you shrug your shoulders.

"Well if you must know, yes I'm a fan. I may even have been told off for playing too much of your music around the girls," she admits, "But you've got my name on your back so I'd say the feeling is mutual."

"Oh, it's definitely mutual, if anything I'm underplaying how big of a fan I am," you say, your honesty laced with sarcasm.

Leah smiles, "Well if we're being honest I'm really glad you came today, I was disappointed we didn't get to chat more back at that GQ event," Leah says earnestly.

"So was I! I actually tried to find you later that night but had no luck," you said.

"Oh, you did? I was probably just sitting with Alex Scott chatting her ear off about how fit you are," Leah says, her forwardness catching you off guard just slightly.

"Well just as well I came here today then," you said, dropping your voice slightly and leaning in closer to her ear, "Because I haven't stopped thinking about you since that night."

"Well what do you say we get together for coffee soon and we can gush over each other some more?" Leah offers and you light up at the idea.

"I'd say that's a great idea," you nod, laughing, "Here let me give you my number," you motion towards the phone in her hand and she unlocks it, handing it over to you. You open her contacts and create a new one for you.

"Alright, all done," you hand her phone back to her, feeling your heart beating in your chest.

"Perfect, well, Y/N, it was a pleasure to see you again," Leah says, opening her arms for a hug, which you slip into gladly.

"Yes, always a pleasure. Make sure you text me later, don't leave me hanging," you say in your embrace, knowing that you're close enough to Leah that the other girls might not hear.

"I wouldn't dare," Leah promises.

"Alright, good," you smile as you step away.

Now that your conversation has come to an end Leah turns back to the rest of the girls, most of whom are watching your and Leah's interaction very closely.

"Alright girls, Y/N is heading off now, say your goodbyes," Leah says, using what you think must be her captain voice, sounding very assertive.

"Bye guys, it's been so good to meet you all," you tell everyone as they all say goodbye and thank you for coming. You embrace almost everyone in a hug as you slowly making your way back around to the door where your manager waits for you.

You give one last wave goodbye, and have one last look at Leah who is watching every move of yours with a small smile on her face. She waves at you as you look at her and with that you turn and leave the room.

As you walk through the stadium to the back entrance where a car is waiting for you, your manager asks how you're feeling after meeting all the girls.

You giggle like you're a teenager again as you tell her, "I think I have a date with Leah Williamson."

#leah williamson #woso community #leah williamson x reader #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso x reader #woso #awfc

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obsessivelyloved · 4 months

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This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

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“You dropped this.”

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand.

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt.

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.”

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job.

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more.

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read.

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty.

CASE INFORMATION:

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15).

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20).

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file.

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room.

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.”

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you.

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.”

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.”

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder.

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place?

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help.

You storm out of the breakroom and wander.

“I was hoping I’d see you again.”

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down.

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional.

“You used to dye your hair?”

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.”

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.”

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?”

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously.

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?”

Whatever it may be, you smile at him.

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.”

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm.

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”)

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section.

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair.

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects.

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations.

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health.

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve.

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind.

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down.

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again.

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down.

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming.

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash.

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open.

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze.

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you.

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless.

Useless information floods your brain.

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light.

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face.

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”

#tw yandere #yandere tw #yandere tord #yandere tord x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere x female reader

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da-rulah · 1 year

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Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.

Your glove. It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him.

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.

He must have been dreaming...

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa.

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you.

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should.

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”

But you were gone.

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.

Not anymore.

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters.

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.

His his his.

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...

Until...

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.

Just a fucking dream.

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds? Copia sure hoped so.

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still...

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him.

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all...

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion. “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight. “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...”

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial.

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again.

“Sì, Papa.”

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey....

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.”

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.

On a fucking Thursday.

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.

“W-well, yes...”

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him.

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all...

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke...

He cleared his throat quietly. “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing.

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you. Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins.

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture.

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin.

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you. “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-”

“Cardinal please, I can’t-” “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him. “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-” “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings.

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...”

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you. “Sorella, please...”

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust... Of submission.

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head. “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant.

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.

The seminar room...

… from your dream.

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours.

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?”

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma.

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.

Tempting you.

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before.

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try... “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...

But you could never deny your Cardinal.

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth.

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.”

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him.

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon...

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.

This was so much better.

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read.

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...”

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.

Wet.

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric.

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back.

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.

Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____? What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment.

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest.

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear.

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well.

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches.

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you .

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched.

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...”

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed.

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out.

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream.

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself...

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least...

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment.

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first.

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-”

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics. “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you. “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers...

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be... FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

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tayloralisonswift · 8 days

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What are some of the songs you think are most likely about Karlie?

Ooooooooooh i love this question sm! thank you 🫶

i’m gonna break it down by album ! this is gonna be a long post lol. disclaimer that this is my interpretation of the songs and if it's not yours, that's ok! but this is my post.

also disclaimer i'm gonna use the term 'motif' loosely.

1989 /

welcome to new york (the beginning of the new york motif; you can want who you want)

you are in love ("on the way home" caption; beginning of the best friend in love motif)

new romantics (switch sides like a record changer; uses the same plural first person pronouns as wtny)

now that we don’t talk (totally influenced by a fic i read last night that said the 'do you feel anxious though, on the way home' was about being anxious that people saw them together; can't pretend it's platonic)

reputation /

end game (joe didn't have a big reputation before they met. he just didn't)

don’t blame me (daisyyyyy; is it a sin to love you motif; everyone thinks that they know us but they know nothing motif)

so it goes (cages motif! gold motif! wear her like a necklace!)

king of my heart (boys never did it like you did motif; trying on clothes; love is a secret)

dancing with our hands tied (this could be about dianna, too - it's about a relationship that's over now imo, ripped apart because it's queer)

dress (best friend motif; everyone thinks they know us motif; so much secrecy and pining)

lover /

cruel summer (unsure if karlie is the devil or the angel but she's present in this for sure; love is a secret)

paper rings (i'd marry you with an imaginary ring, i'd choose you in every lifetime including the one where our love is a secret)

cornelia street (new york motif!!!!!!!!)

false god (new york motif!!!!!!!; it's a sin to love you motif; everyone thinks that they know us motif)

it’s nice to have a friend (best friend motif)

daylight (i don't think daylight is DIRECTLY about karlie. i think it's more a coming out song, even if it's a coming out to yourself song.)

folklore /

the 1 (rose flowing with your chosen dinner with the kushners)

cardigan (gold cage motif; you broke me worse than they did)

exile (like he's just your understudy???????)

my tears ricochet (wedding motif; about karlie's betrayal; you broke me worse than they did)

august (other woman motif)

illicit affairs (other woman motif)

peace (love is a secret)

hoax (you broke me worse than they did, new york motif)

evermore /

champagne problems (i personally think this was written from karlie's pov. taylor was putting herself in that perspective to better understand it imo) (all of this is imo)

gold rush (gold motif; hair falling into place; it just is about karlie this is a fact)

happiness (hope you and your baby are happy motif!!!!!!! it happens twice but i'm calling it a motif anyway)

coney island (failedcomingoutlor, apologizing to karlie)

ivy (other woman motif; cheating on a male partner; it's about gay sex)

cowboy like me (another one that could be about dianna too - definitely a girlfriend)

closure (oh she was mad mad)

right where you left me (hope you and your baby are happy!!!!, hair pin drop????????)

it's time to go (the twin lyric hits hard after down bad)

midnights /

maroon (best friends motif; new york motif; lips so scarlet?????)

bigger than the whole sky :(

paris (where the culture's clever???)

glitch (best friends motif)

hits different (boys never did it like you did motif, the karrrrr lyric that exists only in my daydreams) :(

ttpd /

my boy only breaks his favorite toys (best friends motif; boys never did it like you did motif)

down bad (LIKE I LOST MY TWIN?? also everyone thinks that they know us)

loml :(

imgonnagetyouback (closets? bubbly? this one could go either way - karlie or matty - but i prefer the kaylor interpretation)

thank you aimee (explanation here)

i look in people’s windows (secrecy and pining) :(

peter (secrecy and pining, reference to dwoht with 25; closets mention)

#k speaks now

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melancholy-of-nadia · 1 year

Text

love u lately (m) #1 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately chapter title: #1 - lavender haze pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: In the midst of your college journey, life takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself moving into a "pseudo frat" house with your childhood best friends Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin. The college experience you envisioned seems promising, but as Namjoon and Jimin get caught up in flings, their focus shifts away from you, Yoongi, and everyone else in the house. The strong bond you once shared starts to feel strained, leaving you to question your feelings and changing dynamics. Though, the haze of a single night at a party sets off a chain reaction of emotions that leaves you grappling with a question you never thought you'd ask—could you be in love with all three of them? warnings: pwp, swearing, making out, subtle body worship, penetration, cunnilingus, CONSENSUAL!! sex, nipple play, breast play, overstimulation, mutual orgasm, touch of aftercare, frustration bc guys are dumb sometimes note: thank u to @daegudrama (as always) for beta reading and editing my fics. much appreiciated. this is the first fic series i have written in 10 years (i used to be in the anime/pokemon fandoms lol) so i apologized if it isn't that great, but i will keep improving! note 2: this is also for the yoonminjoon stans !! such an underrated subunit! total word count: 8.3k drop date: august 29th, 2023, 1:00pm pst cross posted on AO3 here | Series Masterlist | #2 →

October 4 (Thursday)

The morning sun streams through the blinds, gently coaxing you awake. You catch the aroma of sizzling bacon wafting from the kitchen as you continue to fight the urge to sleep in longer.

With a quick stride, you open your door to find your close friends, Yoongi and Jimin, seated at the dining table, enjoying breakfast. Their subtle waves are met with your ecstatic waving. You glance at Namjoon standing near the stove wearing a tank top and basketball shorts. He tends to the bacon in the pan as it sizzles and pops.

"Joon, could you set aside two pieces for me?" you call out, causing him to jolt as he hadn't noticed your presence in the room due to him being in zen focus trying not to burn everyone’s breakfast.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "You better hurry and brush your teeth, or I might let Jungkook have the rest once he's out of the shower in a few minutes."

Nodding, you hurry to the second bathroom in your home to prepare for the day, aiming to grab some fresh homemade breakfast before your noon class.

This spacious house has been your shared sanctuary with your childhood best friends – Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Park Jimin – since the start of your second year of college in September. Last year, some older guy friends from your hometown who went to the same college as you lived at the house originally. Then over the summer, your best friends moved in with them to take summer courses and on-campus internships. You got added to the mix when you were desperately trying to find housing as the university waitlisted you in favor of the 29,000 new freshmen they admitted to the campus who they prioritized housing for. After looking at expensive off-campus apartments and sketchy leases, the boys couldn’t bear seeing you struggle and potentially homeless, so they let you live with them in their 4 bedroom home. Your housemate Seokjin gave up his single room, with a bit of hesitation, so you could live comfortably. The rest of the boys share rooms with each other.

With eight people living together, the house unofficially earns the nickname "Beta Tau Sigma," or the “pseudo frat”, as some people around campus called it. While not officially recognized as a fraternity due to various complicated reasons, the BTS house still became known for its "poppin’ house parties” hosted by your lovely housemate Jung Hoseok last year.

Your friendship with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin goes back to a little over a decade ago. Namjoon became your next door neighbor as a kid, eventually he introduced you to Yoongi who was a family friend of his, and finally, you all befriended Jimin when he transferred to your middle school. You all remained close during high school. Namjoon and Yoongi, being a year older than you and Jimin, graduated and went to college. Eventually you and Jimin graduated, and the two of you got into the same college a few hours away from your hometown as them and attended together.

However, moving in with a bunch of men was something you prefer that people didn’t know about you. You wanted to avoid any rumors being created, especially considering the guys living with you are popular among the girls at your campus. If there is something that you don’t miss from high school, it is the petty drama and baseless rumors people make to tear others down. For now, people assume you are living in the dorms with your only female friend: Hwasa. You always think that it’s for the best things are this way. You decide not to think too much beyond that, despite the probability that a few people are catching on to the fact that you probably do live with these guys platonically.

After washing up, you enter the kitchen again, taking a seat next to Yoongi who is engrossed in his Twitter feed. He finally acknowledges your presence.

"Took you long enough, huh? Don't you have Stats at 10?" He quips.

You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “Good morning to you too, Yoongs?” You retort playfully. “No stats today. It’s Thursday so I have Finance at noon!"” You exclaim loudly to the room.

Groans resonate through the kitchen. Yoongi's teasing backfires, much to his chagrin. Taehyung descends from upstairs, puzzled by the commotion in the room.

“What’s wrong with her finance class?” He asks innocently.

"There’s nothing wrong with the class, but it's the classmate in that class!" Namjoon sighs, leaning on the counter after placing your bacon and avocado toast plate on the table.

"Lim Jaebeom," Jimin snickers, promptly earning a discreet kick from you under the table. "Ow! Hey! No need to resort to violence! Hey! I’m only speaking facts!” He winces as he holds his knee up and rubs the pain away.

Lim Jaebeom, also known by everyone as JB, is the cute guy you met in your Macroeconomics class last year. He is popular as a member of a real fraternity, Gamma Omega Tau and the professional frat, Kappa Psi Pi (or JYP, as some called it?). Part of both fraternities, he radiates talent as a business major and an underground SoundCloud artist on the side. While your interactions remain class-related, he greets you often outside of class even after the course finished, much to your best friends’ annoyance.

Over spring semester of last year and the initial weeks of the current fall semester, you’ve developed a small crush on Jaebeom. Though when it comes to your love life, it’s been a few years since you’ve had some kind of thing going on. There’s only been two people so far: Wonwoo, captain of the Men’s varsity volleyball team who you slept with once when you boldly asked him if he would take your v-card. You and your best friends were going through an experimental era during your junior year of high school. They teased you a lot about being “innocent” but were left speechless when you told them what you’ve done. They said that was the end of the experimental era. Later on you also found out he’s your housemate Jungkook’s cousin.

The second guy is Yeonjun. You don’t like to talk about him much, but he was in the same year and you guys talked often (much to Namjoon’s dismay). He was your fake date at your housemate Seokjin's brother's wedding the summer after you graduated high school. One thing led to another and you were sneaky links for a while. It didn’t end well though.

"She's got eyes for JB, but is too scared to make a move," Jimin teases, earning him another kick under the table to which he dodges.

"In case you forgot, it took you a month to see Irene Bae wanted you so badly," Taehyung rolls his eyes while a hint of a smile tugs your lips as you struggle to suppress your laughter seeing him call out Jimin.

The Jimin and Irene power couple relationship goes back to spring semester last year. Taehyung needed Jimin to go on a double date with him to the Psi Gamma Epsilon Formal, which is the co-ed fraternity that Taehyung’s girlfriend Jennie is in. While you have many mixed opinions about Taehyung’s tastes when it comes to women, you hate that he influenced some of those tastes on Jimin. Thus, Jennie introduced Jimin to her friend, Irene (the Sigma Mu Epsilon Campus President) and the rest is history.

Though, you weren't aware that they were dating until a month ago when they had already been dating for three months. You are not sure how they managed to hide it from people for a while.

“Ya!! How was I supposed to know that getting asked to eat ramen together on a Friday night meant anything BUT eating ramen.” Jimin sighs as he gets up from his chair. “Maybe you should ask Jaebeom out for some ramen.” He playfully suggests, emphasizing Jaebeom's name, sending your face into a blush.

"I'm not interested in sleeping with him!" you protest, cheeks burning. In Korean slang, sharing ramen implies spending the night together. You’d rather romantically share ramen like the spaghetti eating scene in “Lady & the Tramp” than fuck him and ruin your friendship.

“Isn’t that what he’s known for? Sleeping with girls, taking sex polaroids, and plastering them on his frat bedroom wall? Taehyung butts in, since he too, knows of Jaebeom’s lifestyle like everyone else on this campus does. You, of course, are aware of it too, which is why you haven’t bothered to try your chance with him.

“Exactly why I’m okay being the nice friend saying hi from across campus when he says hi instead of becoming a faceless polaroid in his room of him giving me backshots.” You cross your arms as you roll your eyes at him.

“Please don’t give me mental images of that.” Yoongi finally speaks up, groaning at your words again. You playfully elbow his side at your remark. He covers his face immediately as he feels himself blushing at these thoughts.

“Well, when you decide to get the balls to do something, I shall be here to give you advice. Just let me know.” Jimin says as he grabs his bag from the couch and heads to class with Taehyung, leaving you with Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Wow, can you believe him? He thinks he can talk big now that he’s dating little Miss Sigma Mu Epsilon’s President Irene.” You let out an annoyed sigh as you take a bite out of the avocado toast Namjoon gave you.

At first you were excited for one of your guy best friends to be in a relationship again after years, but that excitement was short-lived as you noticed Jimins’ absence in the house became more evident. He would either be at his dance club, studying in the library, or spending the rest of his freetime with Irene. Maybe doing all of the above with her.

When you and your best friends were in relationships or flings in the past, they promised that they would never leave or ignore the group to prioritize those other people first. And they were always true to their word.

But as of lately, not anymore. While you once were used to having Jimin at home or at the dorm common area with the guys for Friday Night Game Night, this sight was slowly becoming a memory. It’s hard to admit how these subtle changes of seeing Jimin prefer to do other activities saddens you. You eventually decided to bottle up your feelings of sadness, not wanting them to see, and focus on other things filling up your plate.

Namjoon wasn’t paying attention to what you said as he uncontrollably smiles at his phone with a Kakao talk chat with someone pulled up, making your eyes narrow at him.

“O-Oh, sorry. I was texting Jihyo.” he admits blatantly, before widening his eyes at what he just said. “What did you say?” Namoon glances at you briefly.

“Park Jihyo? Your group project partner slash sex–?” Yoongi narrows his gaze at Namjoon, before he quickly launches to cover Yoongi’s mouth.

What? Is this seriously another sudden revelation incoming this early in the morning? You didn’t think you’d spiral into a pool of further questioning the future of your friendship with your guy best friends. Especially when it comes to Namjoon dating the campus’ kindest angel, Jihyo. Compared to Irene, you don’t have anything snarky to say about Jihyo. You admit she is better in hundreds of different ways than you. You wonder if your friends’ recent dating or fling escapades are a sign of a bigger issue in your friendship with them. You wonder if Yoongi’s also hiding someone away from your sight.

"So you’re also seeing someone?" Your pout is playful, but a hint of disappointment peeks through. "Don't tell me you're bailing on Friday Night Game Nights just like Jimin…"

Namjoon's response carries a weight of hesitation as he takes a thoughtful pause, considering his next words carefully. "Well, kind of…" His words hang in the air for a moment, a sense of complexity in his tone. "It's complicated... and no, I won't be skipping Friday Night Game Night every time like Jimin... except for this week."

The curiosity in your expression is mirrored by Yoongi's raised eyebrow. “What’s the excuse that you so kindly will be telling Yoongi and I?” you ask, the intrigue evident in your voice.

“Well actually, I may need to borrow the house so I was wondering if you guys could have Friday Night Game Night somewhere else.”

“Why should we go somewhere--” As you begin to protest, an epiphany interrupts your words, causing them to taper off. A realization dawns, connecting the dots between Yoongi's earlier comments and the direction this conversation is taking. “Wait what!? KIM NAMJOON YOU-!”

“You’re seriously going to sexile everyone in this house?” Yoongi's words burst forth interrupting yours, his laced with a mixture of genuine surprise and a hint of humor. His widened eyes are concealed behind a hand that covers his mouth, almost as if he's trying to stifle his amusement at the sudden request.

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, his expression playful as he confirms, "Potentially! But I'm not sure yet. I might go back to her place, but I wanted to keep my options open so we could..."

Your voice cuts in before Namjoon can elaborate further, a mix of jest and sincerity in your tone, "Okay, okay, okay, I get it! We'll move game night somewhere else then!" The words rush out of you as you shield yourself from whatever details might follow that your ears weren't prepared for. You shoot Yoongi a look, seeking affirmation. "We’ll figure it out..right, Yoongi?"

Yoongi doesn't miss a beat as he follows up with a response laced with dry humor, “Right. I really don’t want to hear my best friend fucking while I’m trying to relax at the end of a stressful week.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you playfully reprimand Yoongi, your palm meeting your face in an exaggerated facepalm, "Yoongi, please spare us from any more visual details." Your laughter mingles with a hint of embarrassment, but you quickly regain your composure. "But thank you for letting us know, Namjoon..."

Namjoon's easy smile returns, and he jests, "Have fun without me, though. I know Jin and Jungkook will keep things lively without me or even Jimin there."

Even without any truly scandalous events transpiring, an air of awkwardness hangs over the conversation. The remainder of your breakfast passes in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Eventually, you rise from the table, making your way back to your room to prepare for class, which looms just an hour away.

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By the time you come out of your room again, only Yoongi and Jungkook are in the living room doing last minute assignments. You assume Namjoon already left for class with Hoseok and also figure Seokjin left even before that. He’s the only person in this house taking 8am classes.

This is the norm. On Thursdays, you walk with Yoongi to class, as his class is in the same building as yours. Sometimes, Jungkook joins you guys when he procrastinates the hour before class to finish assignments.

“Are you ready to go? Jungkook’s done now.” Yoongi gets up from the couch already expecting your response to be yes. Jungkook looks up from his textbook to give you a thumbs up.

“Yep, all ready to go.”

The three of you step out onto campus, engaging in conversation that weaves between the events of the week and the anticipation of the impending game night. As you discuss plans, you consider the limited guests—Namjoon engaged with his "complicated" fuck buddy situation, Jimin on his weekend outings with Irene—leaving only you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin, and Taehyung for the upcoming Friday Night Game Night. At least you thought it was just the 6 of you.

Jungkook interjects, scratching his head apologetically. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention earlier, but Taehyung and I are going out bowling and drinking with the Woogas on Friday..." His voice trails off with a sheepish smile, his plea for forgiveness evident in his gesture. The Woogas were a group of grad students who were close to Taehyung.

Surveying the group left, you pose a question, preempting any plans that would end up getting canceled. "Anybody else have plans?"

Jungkook takes a bit to contemplate, his mutterings finally clarifying the situation. "I remember Jin hyung texting the gc that he has a Kappa Psi Pi chapter till 9:30 tomorrow—pledging's keeping him busy. He might go out with his frat brothers afterward for drinks. Hoseok is out of town tonight for a competitive dance tournament with the uni dance club."

A collective sigh of resignation hangs in the air as you and Yoongi register the inevitability—it's just the two of you for the upcoming Friday night. Your expressions communicate mutual understanding, as if exchanging an unspoken acknowledgment that it won't be just this one time moving forward.

You bid farewell to Jungkook as he heads off to his own class, then turn to Yoongi with a hopeful glint in your eyes, silently urging him to weave his magic and devise a plan to fill the void left by your absent friends.

"Maybe we could hit that popular bar downtown? What's it called...Arena?" Yoongi suggests, a hint of excitement lacing his words.

A shake of your head expresses your skepticism. "On a Friday night? I heard too many weirdos go at that time, Yoongs.”

“Then, why don’t we go house party hopping? We haven’t done that since freshman year.” He smirks, as he adds the nostalgic suggestion.

The words "house party hopping" elicit a mix of memories, both good and not-so-good. It's a ritual familiar to college freshmen to excessively drink and dance at multiple parties in one night, but it gets too difficult to do through the rest of undergrad. You, however, have only done this activity of going to multiple different parties in one night, twice.

The first time, things went smoothly when Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin went to five different house parties on the frat house row. The second time was not so smooth. Contrary to popular belief of Beta Tau Sigma, everyone at the house are light-weights when it comes to drinking, with Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung probably being the strongest drinkers of the bunch. That night of house party hopping ended with Namjoon and Jimin getting drunk and losing their student access cards at one of the five houses you went to. Because they couldn’t get into their dorm, you and Yoongi had to carry them back to your dorm and have them to stay at the dorm’s study lounge for the night. At some point, you all almost got caught by the dorm RA making their nightly rounds to make sure everything is good. Yoongi quickly excused all of you being cramped in the small room as “studying for an accounting midterm”, to which the RA didn’t question anything further after hearing the words “accounting” and left you alone for the rest of the night.

Based on that experience, you are reluctant to even try doing that again. However this time, it is just going to be you and Yoongi, the most mature ones in the overall friend group. Or at least you like to think so.

"Well, considering how the last time went..." Your voice trails off, your narrowed eyes revealing your internal debate. "I'll think about it more and let you know."

Yoongi nods at your response and you both say goodbye as you part ways to class.

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Entering your finance class, You secure a seat near the door and the front board, a vantage point that lets you observe the classroom's dynamics. Today, however, your routine is disrupted when someone unexpectedly occupies the seat next to you.

As you set up your notebook, your gaze lifts, revealing Jaebeom sitting beside you. A faint flutter tugs at your heart, a pulse of anticipation racing through your veins. A steady stream of thoughts races through your mind, echoing, "This is definitely sus." You've consumed enough romance novels and coming-of-age stories to recognize when circumstances take a pointed turn. You've shared casual conversations and greetings with Jaebeom, but sitting next to each other is unprecedented—there's surely more to it.

A subtle "Ahem" draws your attention, and Jaebeom turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey, Y/N… do you mind if I sit here today? I left my glasses behind, and I can't really see from my usual spot."

Your reassurance carries a softness as you reply, "Hi, Jaebeom! Of course, no problem." A smile graces your lips, and he returns it, dispelling the suspicions you had entertained. So you guess there’s no special reason for sitting next to you.

The rest of class goes by smoothly, but you can’t help but to think that Jaebeom has something else to ask you about. The overthinking from your wild imagination is getting to you. As the class concludes, you hurriedly pack your belongings, eager to continue with your day. Yet, before you can make your exit, Jaebeom's voice halts you in your tracks.

"Hey! I've been meaning to ask," his words are loud, receiving attention from your peers, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow? The Gammas are hosting a party, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming."

Bingo. This is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. Not an invite to a party per se, BUT now you suddenly have something to do with Yoongi tomorrow night after being ditched by everyone else.

“I’m down to go! I actually changed plans with a few friends so I don’t have anything to do tomorrow night.”

Jaebeom's response brings an even wider smile to your face. “Then I’ll see you there! You can bring a friend with you if you’d like.” And with that, you and Yoongi are definitely booked for tomorrow night.

With those words, your plans for tomorrow night are sealed. The newfound excitement has you beginning to wonder whether it’s actually alright to go considering Yoongi feels indifferent towards Jaebeom. You decide to call him about the plan on your way to the library for your daily fix of iced tea.

Dialing Yoongi's number, you initiate the conversation. "You and me, Gamma Omega Tau house party," you declare, your voice laced with anticipation.

His response holds a curious tone. "...So, I'll take that as a yes to house party hopping."

Chuckling, you clarify, maintaining your stance. "Well, we could do that if you're set on it," You explain, continuing your lowkey refusal to repeat that experience. “...but I actually got personally invited to the GOT party by Jaebeom.”

Yoongi's groan resonates through the line, conveying his reluctance but also a willingness to compromise. "If there's free booze and a chance to catch up with some other friends, then count me in."

“That’s perfect!” Excitement in your voice is clear to Yoongi as you both finalize plans for tomorrow night. Perhaps it’ll end up being a fun night for the both of you compared to what everyone else was doing instead. The upset feeling from all the sudden changes continues to linger in your chest, but you brush it away with the hopes of getting wasted on Friday.

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Friday comes by like a quick breeze. The day passes in a blur of classes, assignments, and hanging out with Yoongi and the rest of your friends. Evening comes around, and you find yourself getting ready for the Gamma Omega Tau party. You choose a cute yet comfortable outfit consisting of a revealing v-bar black tube top and ripped boyfriend jeans, hoping to strike a balance between looking good and feeling at ease. After a bit of makeup and fixing your hair, you are ready to head out.

You walk over to knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He opens the door revealing his outfit: a black tank top, acid-washed ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket to top it off. It definitely makes him exude his signature nonchalant charm. As he greets you with a nod, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement for the night ahead. You guys look so hot and would definitely make the other guys jealous of your totally awesome alternative Friday night plans if they were here.

The two of you make your way to the party a couple blocks away on frat row, the streets buzzing with energy as students get ready to party for the weekend. The Gamma Omega Tau house is alive with music, laughter, and the glow of colorful lights. You both enter the party, and immediately the atmosphere hits you—a mix of pulsating music, chatter, and the distinct scent of alcohol.

Yoongi heads to the makeshift bar in the kitchen to get drinks, while you decide to explore the party on your own. You bump into a couple of familiar faces from classes, exchanging greetings and catching up briefly. Some of these faces included Hwasa, your only dear female best friend who you haven’t seen much since moving out of your shared dorm freshman year. She is a little busy taking shots with who seems to be your old dorm floor neighbors Soyoon and Jieun. But overall, the night is young, and the anticipation of what it could bring is building up inside you.

A little while later, Yoongi returns with drinks in hand—something colorful and sweet for you, and something stronger for himself. You clink your cups together before taking a sip. The music is loud, and bodies are moving to the rhythm all around you. It was a sight to behold—the carefree spirit of college life on full display.

As the night progresses, you find yourself playing various party games, dancing a little with Hwasa, and meeting new people she introduces you to. Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself from a distance, laughing and chatting with a group of guys from his music class. He occasionally watches you from afar to make sure you don’t get lost or that something even worse doesn’t happen. Frat parties can be dangerous after all. It makes you feel a little happy that he does these little things and shows how much he cares about you. More than you thought before. However, there’s a sudden moment in the lively ambience when you start to feel a pang of loneliness. A sense of being adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Time seems to slip away as you’re lost in the lights, and before you know it, you are on your third drink. The alcohol is starting to take its effect, making you feel warm and a bit more uninhibited. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice. Maybe partying is not what you needed tonight to get your mind off of things.

And these thoughts are only amplified with the next thing you see. In the corner of the crowded kitchen, you catch Namjoon and Jihyo making out, and your heart races. You suddenly excuse yourself from the group you are chatting with and head towards the front door, seeking some space to clear your head.

However you stop yourself from bursting out of the open door. Instead, you lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. The noise and chaos of the party feel overwhelming now rather than numbing your thoughts from earlier. You clutch your cup as you look around, feeling like an outsider in your own surroundings. It’s in this moment of vulnerability that someone bumps into you, spilling their red jungle juice all over your clothes. You look down at your stained jeans emotionless.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the girl exclaims, looking genuinely apologetic as she hands you some napkins. Your vision is blurring and you can’t tell if you know her or not. Her voice sounds familiar though.

Though, you manage a weak nod letting her know it was fine. It is in that unfortunate moment that you see your crush, JB, appearing out of nowhere walking in your direction. In the several hours you’ve been here this is when he decides to show up?! Your heart continues to race faster as he approaches, his eyes locking onto yours. Not right now, you plead to the gods internally that he isn’t coming towards you. But he does.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" JB asks, his concern evident in his voice as he looks you over.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, not wanting him to see you in this state of vulnerability. Your eyes well up, and you fight to hold back tears. This isn't how you want him to see you, at your lowest point, struggling to keep it together.

Just as you are about to break down, a strong hand gently takes hold of your left arm, pulling you away from JB. You are led into the dimly lit hallway, away from the noise of the party. Not many people looming in this area. The door to the bathroom opens as someone leaves, and the person guides you inside before locking the door behind you.

Your visions starts to focus fully again. And you see…

It’s Yoongi.

His presence is a lifeline you forgot that you needed moments before.

"Y-Yoongi!" The exclamation trembles in the air, a mixture of surprise, relief, and the weight of your unraveling emotions.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you finally let your guard down, the tears streaming down your cheeks. Yoongi is momentarily taken aback by the intensity of your reaction, but swiftly recovers. He extends a napkin from his pocket, offering it as a gesture of support. His features, though, oscillate between concern and puzzlement, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The alcohol is making it hard to articulate your feelings, but you manage to explain how seeing Namjoon and Jihyo had triggered a sense of loneliness and panic within you. Jimin dating Irene in what seemed to be a serious relationship also has you spiraling. It all makes you question the stability of your friendships and fear that you are slowly losing the people who once meant the most to you.

Yoongi listens intently, his gaze unwavering as he lets you pour out your feelings. When you are done, he leans against the sink, his expression thoughtful.

"I get it," he says, his voice soft but steady. "Change is hard, and sometimes it feels like everything is slipping away. But you know, life just keeps moving forward, and people change, I guess. But it doesn’t mean Namjoon or Jimin are leaving you behind."

You nod, sniffing as you wipe away your tears. "I know, but... it's just overwhelming seeing everything unfold."

He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze with his warm eyes. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We're here for you, and we're all figuring things out as we go along."

His words strike a chord within you, a sense of comfort washing over you in the midst of your emotional storm. Yoongi's presence feels like an anchor, grounding you when everything feels chaotic.

Then, without warning, he looks at you intensely and asks, “Since we’re having this conversation, I’m questioning whether you like Jimin based on what you just said…"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What? No! Jimin's like a brother to me. A reliable brother who understands me pretty well…” You pause a bit and mumble, “Well at least he used to."

He nods, his gaze unrelenting yet thoughtful, as if he's trying to read between the lines of your response. But then he asks another question that left you momentarily speechless.

"What about Namjoon?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Your feelings for Namjoon have always been a bit more complex, and you aren't sure how to put them into words. Namjoon was your first friend out of the trio of him, Yoongi, and Jimin. He was 7 when he moved in next door from Korea as his dad got a new job working as a Chemical Engineer for an energy company in the US. You got along well with him as kids who both played Pokemon games and he was the only person you could trade with. He’s also the one who gave you his shiny purple Wailmer from his Pokemon Emerald. Eventually as you got older, you both came to enjoy reading books and art history. What does he mean to you?

Before you can muster a response to that, Yoongi suddenly adds another question, his voice gentle yet persistent. “What about me?”

Your gaze flickers to him, and you find yourself locking eyes with him. Then you quickly look away, focusing on the purple lighting in the bathroom.

This questions starts to add new thoughts that you hadn’t really considered due to your worries about Namjoon and Jimin. However now, the intensity of this current moment is almost overwhelming, and you feel a swirling mix of emotions within you. Yoongi's proximity, his unwavering gaze, and the weight of his questions are all converging, pulling you into a realm of introspection and vulnerability.

Yoongi seems to sense your uncertainty, your inner struggle. He steps closer, his presence enveloping you. His gaze remains fixed on yours, his face just inches away from yours. The air between you is charged, heavy with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. "You can tell me," he urges softly, his voice a gentle whisper that brushes against your skin.

As you look into his eyes again, your heart races. The alcohol has lowered your inhibitions, and in this moment, everything feels so intense, so raw. You try to form words, but they fail you. Instead, you let your gaze speak for you, letting your emotions flow through the unspoken connection between you. Suddenly Namjoon and Jimin are blurring away to only afterimages in your current state of mind. All you see in great focus is Yoongi right now.

Without another word, Yoongi closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the rush of emotions that swirls between you.

The kiss is a silent confession, a release of feelings that have been building up for far too long. When Yoongi finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath slightly uneven.

"Y-Yoongi..," you whisper, a mix of surprise and wonder in your voice.

Yoongi chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sometimes, things don't need to be said. They just need to be felt."

As you stand there, locked in each other's gaze, you realize that this unexpected turn of events has brought you closer to Yoongi in ways you didn’t anticipate. It’s a new chapter, a chance to explore something deeper and more meaningful between you.

With a gentle smile, he leans in to kiss you again, and this time, there is no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the promise of a connection that has been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.

And so, in the dimly colored bathroom of the Gamma Omega Tau house, amid the sounds of distant laughter and music, you and Yoongi quickly unite lips once again.

As the intensity between you and Yoongi grows, the bathroom seems to shrink around you, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of shared emotion. His lips press against yours with a newfound urgency, a hunger that mirrors the feelings you have both kept hidden for so long. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and warmth that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a wave of electricity through your body, igniting a fire deep within you. Your own hands instinctively move to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

The kiss deepens, a passionate dance of lips and tongues that leaves no room for doubts or reservations. Yoongi's fingers trail up your back, the sensation making your breath hitch. The world outside that bathroom seems distant, irrelevant, as your focus narrows down to the connection between your bodies and the raw emotion that flows between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips, a sound that seems to fuel the fire burning between you. Yoongi's lips leave yours, trailing a path of heated kisses down your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin. His hands move to your hips, pulling you against him, and you can feel his own desire pressing against your abdomen.

With a mix of urgency and tenderness, he captures your lips once more, pouring every unspoken word and hidden longing into the kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips explore your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each touch, each sensation sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

The soft fabric of your clothes seems like an obstacle now, an unnecessary barrier between your skin and his. Yoongi's fingers deftly work at the buttons of your tube top, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your exposed skin. Your breath hitches as his lips find the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin gently, causing a shiver to course through you.

In a moment of boldness, your hands move to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his bare chest. Your fingers trace the contours of his muscles, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. His lips find yours once again, a hungry, fervent kiss that speaks of the intensity of your emotions.

With a skillful touch, Yoongi lifts you up onto the bathroom counter, the cool surface sending a shock through your body. He stands between your legs, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You can only respond with a breathless nod before his lips crash against yours again. Not fully understanding the words that just left his mouth. The kiss deepens, a mixture of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy with sensation. His hands explore every curve of your body, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

Your own hands aren't idle either, roaming his chest and back, reveling in the sensation of his skin against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with every passing second. And in that bathroom, amid the swirling emotions and the touch of your lips, you feel an unspoken promise taking root—a promise of something more, something real and beautiful.

The outside world fades into insignificance. The party, the noise, the worries about Namjoon and Jimin and everyone else—all of it melts away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of this moment. As you hold onto each other, lost in the depths of your feelings, you know that this is a turning point that will permanently alter your friendship with Yoongi.

As the kisses between you and Yoongi continue, the electricity in the air grows stronger, pulling you both further into the depths of your shared desire. Every touch, every caress is a testament to the unspoken connection that has been building between you for so long. It’s as if the universe has finally aligned, allowing you to explore the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface.

A soft, almost desperate, sound escapes Yoongi's lips as he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and you can see the raw emotions swirling within them.

"We should... we should get out of here," he murmurs, his voice rough with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves course through you. This is a pivotal moment, a decision that could potentially change the course of your relationship. With a shared understanding, you both turn away from the party scene and make your way through the crowd towards the exit.

The cool night air hits you as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the heated intensity of the party. Yoongi's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you walk side by side down the dimly lit streets. The silence between you is charged with anticipation, every step bringing you closer to a new chapter in your story.

When you finally arrive back at the house, the atmosphere is different—quieter, more intimate. Namjoon didn’t come use the house like he said he would yesterday, you briefly recall. Maybe that’s a good thing. The GOT party is still in full swing, he is there with Jihyo, but you and Yoongi are in your own world here with no one to stop what is happening. The journey up the stairs to your shared house feels like a blur, your heart racing in anticipation of what is to come.

Once inside, you both head straight to your bedroom. The air is thick with tension, the unspoken yet silly question hangs in the air: Is this really happening? As you close the door locking it behind you, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your own space.

Yoongi turns to you, his gaze searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you step closer, closing the distance between you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you gently against him. The touch of his body against yours sends a shiver of electricity through you, a reminder of the desire that has been building between you.

His lips find yours again, a kiss that holds all the pent-up longing and emotion that have been simmering beneath the surface. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, is intoxicating. His hands roam your body with a reverence that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With each kiss, each touch, the world around you fades away, leaving only the intensity of the moment. The bed is just a few steps away, an inviting sanctuary where you could explore the depths of your connection in private. Without breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him towards the bed, your heart pounding in anticipation.

As you stand at the edge of the bed, your eyes meet Yoongi's, a silent agreement passing between you. With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, you begin to undress each other, the air heavy with the weight of your shared desire. Yoongi's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing every curve of your body as he reveals the skin beneath your clothes.

Soon, you are both standing before each other, bare and vulnerable, yet completely unburdened by the weight of your emotions. You shyly stare down at Yoongi’s dick, admiring its pink, veiny appearance. It looks very girthy, potentially filling to the core. You're embarrassed to admit you might have imagined Yoongi naked before. When you were a middle schooler curiously imagining bodily differences between you and your male friends. But now seeing his beautiful body before you brings some excitement to your soft skin, some heat rushing through your core and nearly down your thighs, onto the floor. Your mouth suddenly dries and you feel self-conscious that your expression may be as plain and eager as it might be. He clears his throat, but that makes him more embarrassed. You bite your bottom lip, unsure of what to do.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Yoongi's lips find yours once more, a kiss that speaks of promises and possibilities. With a gentle push, he guides you onto the bed, his body following yours as the kiss deepens.

The softness of the sheets beneath you, the heat of Yoongi's body against yours—it is a sensory overload, a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless. You feel the cold sweat of his skin on yours as your bodies press together. His lips are against your jaw and your hands are exploring his body as much as you can with your legs around his hips. He climbs down to your mound and opens his mouth letting his warm, wet tongue lap over your clit. One of Yoongi's hands finds purchase on your hip to help you move with him while the long fingers of his other hand tease your enterance before pushing inside. His hot breath on your clit and his fingers inside you makes you want to beg for more. But the sensation is so intense it has rendered you speechless, the only noise to leave your mouth is a choked, muffled groan that only urges him further.

His tongue on you feels too good and you can only let him explore. You are enjoying the sensation and the way his fingers play your body like an instrument. You let out a loud gasp when you cum, your whole body arching towards him as pleasure washed over you, your thighs tightening around to his back. You feel your insides clench and throb as your orgasm washed over you in waves.

Yoongi smirks at you for a second as he lifts his head, removing his fingers from inside you. He climbs up your body until he reaches your lips. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and you kiss him with fervor. You taste yourself in his mouth and it makes you hungry for more. You feel the pressure in your abdomen again, desperate for more. His body is hard, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. It’s a gentle pressure, a delicious tension that makes you want more.

"Y-Yoongi... I need more.." You whimper against his mouth, your tongue running over his bottom lip before you pull away and look into his eyes. "Please, I need more..."

"I've got you, angel." He whispers reassuringly before he moves away briefly to retrieve the condom he keeps handy in his wallet in case he ever needs it. The new nickname catches you off guard as he usually tends to call you Sunshine unless you’re having a serious conversation, like earlier. However you kind of like this name.

He opens the package with his teeth and rolls the rubber on himself. You whimper when you feel the head of his cock press against you. He slowly pushes inside, but it’s enough to make your head spin. His length fills you perfectly and you can feel yourself pulsate around him. He makes his way slowly inside you, pushing deeper until he is completely inside you. He then rests his forehead against yours. You look into each other's eyes and the intensity of his gaze is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"You're doing so well for me," He speaks softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. His praises pull a moan from your lips you can't supress.

He slowly pulls out then pushes back in watching as his cock disapears inside you. He pulls out again and does the same thing. His thrusts become faster with each time he pushes back inside. As your moans become louder, his thrusts become more eager. He adjusts himself until he finds a position that has his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, your legs lifting over his hips and your hands roaming his body to keep yourself grounded.

Yoongi's leaves small kisses along your neck and down to your breasts as he continues to fuck you. He acts carefully with each action he takes, and makes a point to watch your reaction for the slightest sign of discomfort. He never stops praising you, whispering how good you were for him and how much he loves having you like this, taking all of him. His sultry low voice is making you even more sensitive and it’s a bit overwhelming, but it somehow helps make your depressing thoughts from earlier at the party disappear. With him, you felt safe and cared for.

His hands come to cup your breast and you cry out as your body arches towards him. He keeps one hand cupping your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers and gently pinches it, eliciting a softer whimper from you.

You pull Yoongi against you closing the gap between your bodies, your fingers grip his hair tightly as you cry out, your insides clenching around him. Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm washed over you once again. He fucks you through your orgasm, and when your legs relaxed over his hips, he keeps pushing inside you. The sensation makes you want to cry from overstimulation, but at the same time you beg for more. His cock inside you feels too good, the pleasure is too much. You don't know what to do with your body or if you should be doing something at all. Your hands find their way up his forearms and hold on to them tightly.

"Do it," You whisper intimately. "Cum for me, Yoongi..."

Your words are added motivation for him to do just that. As he moves, his thrusts pushing deeper inside you, a cascade of sensations courses through both your bodies. Your back arches instinctively, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that envelops you. He responds by lowering himself, his forehead meeting yours in an exquisite intimacy that intensifies the connection between you two.

Amidst the whirlwind of ecstasy, a thought flits through your consciousness—a moment of profound gratitude for the intoxicating sound of Yoongi's moans. It's a melody you never envisioned hearing, a symphony of vulnerability and shared pleasure that resonates deep within you. This unexpected harmony adds a new layer to your connection, stoking the flames of desire and amazement that consume every inch of your being. It leaves you feeling content and relaxed.

Yoongi's body shudders against yours, his moans gradually subsiding into contented sighs. With a gentle sigh of satisfaction, he slides his cock out and shifts on the bed, rolling over to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in tandem, the rhythm of your breaths slowly synchronizing as you find yourselves tangled in the aftermath of passion.

You both move again, laying side by side. Both of you catch your breath, the world around you receding into a hazy background as your gazes lock. Eyes that have seen each other's vulnerabilities, laughter, and shared moments now reflect a new layer of intimacy that words could never capture.

The lingering cocoons you both in a silence that speaks volumes. It's Yoongi who takes the initiative to pierce through the quiet, his voice carrying a breathless quality that mirrors the aftermath of your passion.

"How are you feeling now?" His words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and concern, a testament to his attentiveness even in the midst of his own unraveling.

A playful smile tugs at your lips, your voice laced with a hint of mischievousness as you respond to his inquiry. "Never better," you answer, your words bathed in the soft notes of a giggle that dances between you.

His laughter echoes yours, a harmonious symphony of shared joy that envelops the space between you. It's a sound that transcends the physical, a connection that binds you beyond the realm of touch. In his laughter, you sense a quiet affirmation—a declaration that the bond you've nurtured extends beyond the passionate moments, into the realm of comfort, friendship, and a connection that defies categorization.

As the night wears on and the intensity of your connection slowly ebbs away, you find yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, your bodies intertwined in a tender embrace. Yoongi's touch is reassuring, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"I want you to know," Yoongi's voice was soft, his breath tickling your ear, "that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want you to ever doubt that."

His words warm your heart, a balm to the insecurities that have been lingering in the back of your mind. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and valued—emotions that have been elusive for so long.

"I feel the same way," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've always been there for me, Yoongi, and I'm grateful for that."

The quiet moment between you is filled with unspoken understanding. It is a pact, a promise to stand by each other's side no matter what challenges lay ahead. In this moment, the weight of your fears seemed to be lifted, replaced by a sense of comfort and reassurance.

But the hours drift by, and as the night grows deeper and the two of you grow more sober, the lingering consequences of your actions begin to cast a shadow over your thoughts. The warmth of Yoongi's embrace can't dispel the nagging worry that what you’ve done could have far-reaching ramifications.

It was the alcohol that further fueled your doubts, the liquid courage dulling your ability to rationalize. In the haze of your tipsy stupor, you begin to wonder if the intensity of the night is a result of the moment, the shared emotions, or simply the effect of alcohol clouding your judgment.

Despite Yoongi's assurances, the fear of what could come next gnaws at you. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins the friendship that has been the foundation of your relationship? The questions spiral in your mind, a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty that refuses to be silenced.

In an attempt to push those thoughts away, you cuddle closer into Yoongi's chest. It is a fleeting distraction, a way to drown out the voices of doubt that echoed in the back of your mind. The feeling of Yoongi’s warmth becomes a welcome distraction from the complex emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

A/N: HELLO! Did you like the first chapter?! would it be crazy if i told you I had been planning this fic since 2021 but never got the chance to really delve into it until right now?? Well that's exactly what happened. I'd love to hear your feedback on this fic! pls reblog and like if you enjoyed! I am currently working on chapter 2 and bits of chapter 3, so I hope to get it done by early/mid-September, so please look forward to it!

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years

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secret keeper | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x driver!teammate!reader word count: 2.1k words (i really wanted all of these to be short lol sorry) request: don’t think so! prompt: doing secret santa ⎯ “just tell me who got me.” from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: kinda crack!fic, idk. language, really fluffy, seb being great, special appearance by the spanish speaking gang (i had to). reader speaks spanish in this. a/n: here’s day 2! i hope you like it, pls let me know what you think! reminder that my requests are closed.

my masterlist

(you'll know why i chose this gif later lol)

doing secret santa was the most exciting part of the year for her. it was something so silly and it made her so happy, the thought of having someone actually think deep about what they felt she’d really enjoy was a thrilling one.

something she didn’t quite like about secret santa was that first part. the secret. whilst she did like surprises, and there were only a few limited options as to who might give her something, the anticipation was too much for her.

her teammate, mick, had made a bet with himself, to see how long it’d take her to either figure out or start interrogating everyone until they told her who her secret santa was. at first he gave it ten minutes, but he laughed to himself as he watched her.

they were doing the standard start-of-year interviews, the drivers’ goals and predictions, and the secret santa name draw. mick had already finished his, and was waiting for her so they could go and have lunch together. normally they’d wait longer to do the name draw, but last year the organizers had left it till the last minute, and they didn’t want to risk it this time. plus, they’d have a whole season ahead of them to think really well about the gift.

“okay, (y/n), i’ve got this santa hat here-” the interviewer said, showing her the hat.

“ooh, christmas in march, i like it!” she laughed.

“and in here there’s the names of the other drivers available for the gift exchange,” she nodded at the interviewer.

“i like that we’re doing this right at the start of the season,” she chuckled, grabbing the hat by the white fluff, the pom pom hanging down, “but i can assure you, more than one person will wait until the day before to get their gift,” the people around her laughed, mick did, too. “why are you laughing? did you feel called out?” she asked mick, raising an eyebrow. a camera panned to him, shaking his head at her.

“i already know what i’m going to get,”

“ooh, tell me, tell me!” she rushed to him, moving her hair away from her ear. he leaned in, presing his lips close to her ear.

“no.”

she rolled her eyes, slapping the back of his head.

“did you get seb?” she asked walking back to the spot where she was supposed to be, where all the cameras were ready to record her. she hadn’t arrived in time to see his secret santa segment, so she’d have to find out another way.

“i’m not going to tell you!” he laughed, as the interviewer shook her head.

“you’re not supposed to tell each other, or anyone,” she clarified.

“ugh, fine.” she laughed, “sorry,” she apologized, and placed her hand in, “wait, then he should leave! or he’ll know who i get,” she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “what if i get him?”

“someone else already got mick,” the interviewer clarified, and her shoulders slumped a little, it wasn’t a lie that the two of them were the closest friends and teammates, but she wouldn’t let that discourage her.

“dang it, what am i going to do with all those treats i got for angie, then?” she teased, mick laughed. “so sorry, i know this is taking way longer than it should’ve. i promise i’ll focus now.” she nodded, “you can stay, just promise not to tell anyone,” she told mick, who pretended to zip his lips together.

she ran her fingers through all the folded pieces of paper, finally picking one that called to her. she unfolded it, her eyes opening wide as she read.

“hell yes!” she skipped from one foot to the other, jumping in excitement, “i got seb!” she declared happily, showing the paper to everyone. “ha-ha!” she mocked mick, who only rolled his eyes as he laughed. the two of them were the best of friends. they grew up together, and had been teammates since they were in f3, somehow they always found their way back to each other. suddenly her eyes snapped open, “did you get me?” she gasped. mick shook his head. “did he get me?” she asked the rest of the crew behind the cameras, who only laughed at her eagerness, but didn’t answer. “fine, if you could just tell whoever got me that my favorite color is blue, that would be great, thanks!”

months passed and as the end of season approached, her relentlessness to know who her secret santa was came back with as much as before. this time, mick wasn’t her only victim.

it started in mexico city, when she was walking alongside charles and lando, and someone from charles’ team approached him.

“hey, charles, just to remind you that the deadline for the secret santa gift is in brazil.” he said, leaving them after that.

“you haven’t turned in your gift?” she asked, she’d done it the week before, when she was finally done packing the perfect gift for sebastian. her mentor.

“i honestly forgot about it,” he said, lando laughed, drinking from his water bottle. something shifted in her eyes as an idea popped in her head.

“well, i could help you!” she offered, blinking slowly to gain his attention.

“really?” he asked, feeling like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders, “thanks i honestly didn’t know what to get-” he was about to say the name of his secret santa, but lando elbowed him on the ribs.

“you can’t say it!” he scolded him, chuckling at her enraged face.

“lando you ass! he was about to tell me!” she grunted, grabbing charles’ face and directing his eyes to her. “tell me charles, who’s your secret santa?”

“no! i can’t say,” he shook his head, feeling something in the pit of his stomach as her eyes narrowed.

“did you get me? do you know who got me?” she asked, shaking his shoulders dramatically. lando laughed, charles was trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

“no, and no!” he said, she grunted, and moved on to lando.

“do you know, norris?” she asked.

“no. i don’t know. and i didn’t get you.”

“you didn’t?” she asked, at least if he denied it she could tick him off his list.

“i don’t know,” he said, shrugging and smiling sheepishly.

she punched his shoulder and walked away, both drivers hurried after her.

finally, in abu dhabi things got a little bit sweeter. the dinner to honor sebastian was a perfect opportunity for her to really tick people off her list of suspects, up until that point the only person off her list was herself. she hadn’t made that much progress. she had to be smart about it, she couldn’t just straight up ask someone about it, much less if her friends were listening to her.

thankfully, as they were about to leave and were all gathering to take a picture, they all started talking about their agendas for the next day.

“i’m doing the secret santa thing early tomorrow, thankfully,” she heard fernando say, in spanish, he was talking to the other spanish-speakers of the grid. she thanked the stars for her stubbornness, and her parents for listening to her when she said she wanted to learn as many languages as she could. spanish, of course, french, italian, english, and german. this was her shot, and if she were alone, she would’ve grinned like the grinch. she approached them, slowly, and listened to them. “after that i’m completely free.”

“free of what?” she popped in.

“media duties,” he explained, smiling.

“ugh, i’m busy all day. i think they left my secret santa segment for last.”

“well, of course, everyone knows how much you love that thing,” checo said.

“that’s true, i know,” she chuckled. “did you guys struggle to get your gift?”

“not really, mine is an inside joke with max,” checo shrugged, the name slipping from his lips without him noticing.

“aw that’s nice,” she smiled, feeling carlos looking at her.

“i’m not going to tell you who i got.”

“why? did you get me?” she tried, but carlos shook his head.

“i don’t mind, if it will help you sleep better. i didn’t get you,” fernando admitted, she looked at him gratefully.

“see, carlos? that’s what a good friend does!” she pointed at fernando, “thank you.”

mick called her name, she excused herself and walked to him, feeling his arm around her shoulders.

“what are you doing?” he asked accusatorily.

“we can tick checo and fernando off my list,” she gave him a smug smile, clearly content with her work for the night.

“you’re just not letting this go are you?” he asked, amused at her stubbornness, it didn’t surprise him, he knew her like the back of his hand, but it was still nice to see her trying her hardest to figure this out.

“this all can end if you just tell me who got me.” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder as everyone else gathered around, getting ready for the group picture.

“you’ll know tomorrow. don’t worry.” he reassured her. she sighed.

the next day, mick and (y/n) were like two kids, she’d wanted to watch seb open the present she got him, and had convinced mick to help her make it happen in a way that wouldn’t be so obvious. it didn’t take that much to find a way to stay and watch seb.

they just found him as they walked pass, and asked if they could stay. the lady in charge of all of the f1 media just asked them to stay quiet.

“oh, this is very nice,” seb smiled as he took out the first present, “didn’t we have like $30 limit?” he chuckled, (y/n) and mick laughed too. the last gift was a dead giveaway, a picture of her, mick, and seb. when the two young drivers were just kids, barely starting karting against each other. it was from the first time they met sebastian in a “professional” environment. “oh, well, i think i know who this is from,” he grinned, his eyes darting to the two of them, with mick confused and (y/n) with a big smile on her face. he showed the picture to the camera, a different camera panning to the two haas drivers. “judging by their faces i’d say this is from (y/n),” he guessed.

she nodded her head, and walked to him when he opened his arms for her. they hugged each other, she was going to miss him so much. he’d always been there for her. all throughout her career and her personal life. she looked up to him, admired him and everything he worked for, what he stood for.

“thank you, dear, i loved all of my gifts,” she smiled, proud of herself.

“thank you for everything you’ve done for me,”

after an excruciatingly long day, it was her turn to film her secret santa section.

“i really hope you add a special montage of every time i’ve risked my life, and others’, trying to figure out who got me in this gift exchange,” she only half-joked, but it helped ease the mood with everyone around. mick, as usual, was sitting next to her, on the other side of the cameras.

“we’ll make sure of it,” the f1 producer nodded, making a mental note to check all the footage. once the cameras started rolling officially, she got her signature smile on, “(y/n), welcome to the 2022 f1 secret santa. i know this is something you’ve been looking forward all year long,” she nodded her head, “i won’t make you wait much longer so, here you go,” she was handed a small box, and her first instinct was to shake it to see if it made any noise.

“i hear a faint jingling.” she said, unwrapping the blue ribbon around the black box. “it’s blue! thanks santa!” she smiled, remembering the comment she’d made about her favorite color. “oh, whoa-” her eyes widened as she saw the gift. it was a necklace, with the outline of a track hanging in the middle. “it’s spa!” she giggled, recognizing the twists and turns. “oh my god, this is so nice, i-” her eyes widened as she stared at it, a light flush had creeped its way up to her cheeks. “oh, gosh, i-” she was at a loss for words, she was expecting maybe a gift that was partly a joke, or something small. this was too much. “i don’t think i can accept this.”

“do you have any clue as to who it might be?” they asked her, she was still too shocked to think.

“no. well, i mean the only person that pops in my head that might be this thoughtful is either mick or seb, but i guess maybe charles, too? i know he’s sponsored by a jewelry company,”

“you’re so close,” they told her.

“pierre?” she guessed, it didn’t really make sense, he didn’t know that spa was her favorite track, well, to her knowledge.

“not quite,” she sighed.

“i don’t know. i-” she turned her head, seeing mick looking at her, throughout the entire time he could feel his eyes on her, it wasn’t anything different. but she saw a faint blush on his cheeks, his ears. “oh my god. no. are you shitting me?” she asked him, directly, not even looking at the cameras. “it was you? it’s been you this entire time?” she asked. and mick couldn’t hide it anymore, he smiled, nodding. “mick!” she ran to him, he stood up as she approached him and she jumped in his arms. “thank you, i love it,” she said.

“i’m glad you liked it,” he said, suddenly becoming shy under all of the stares.

once she returned to her spot, she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. her fingers were playing with the chain that now hung from her neck.

“how’d you know it was mick?” they asked her.

“well, not many people know that my favorite track is spa. i mean, they probably wouldn’t think it is given my bad luck there,” she said, referring to the fiasco last year and her dnf of that year after having a great race. “and he blushes a lot,” she added, chuckling.

they hurried the rest of the video, as she thanked him once more, this time in front of the cameras.

“i should’ve known,” she said as she shook her head. “i knew there was a reason you weren’t telling me.”

“ah, well, i had to keep the secret,” he chuckled.

“i really love this, mick, thank you. you really didn’t have to get me something so…”

“oh, you’ll just have to wait and see what i’ve got in store for christmas,” he smiled, leaving her stunned there as he kept walking.

“what do you mean? you got my gift already?!” she asked, rushing to him again.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe,” he said as he got into the elevator.

“what is it? can you give me a clue?” she asked.

“hmm… i can just say you’re going to love it,” mick smiled, already looking forward to their christmas trip, one that could possibly change the course of their friendship, possibly changing to something more. being her secret santa wasn’t the only secret mick was keeping.

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meanbossart · 3 months

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Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

#ask compilation #ask

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minnieminshi · 7 months

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Sporteen Masterlist

Welcome to what I call my chronic brainrot and where I start to accept the fact that I might actually like watching sports even tho I spent most of my childhood saying I hate sports lol

This is the first series I’ve done and I’m also a first year uni student so I make no promises on how frequent I can update this but I do wanna try to get them done at least by when my semester ends in like April

Also some of the stories are linked as since some of the guys are on the same team/sport

Choi Seungcheol: Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao. On a personal note, this fic made my realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol

Release: 2/24 Read Here

Word count: 9.9K

Yoon Jeonghan: Maybe Romeo and Juliet Were Onto Something

Summary: When you agreed to help your dad with coaching his soccer team, you expected to help with writing down prs and handing out water bottles in return for free tickets and an excuse to be out of your dorm. What you didn’t expect to happen was falling for the charming co-captain of his soccer team. So do you take your shot with co-captain or do you heed your dad’s one and only rule of absolutely no dating his players?

Warnings: cursing since that’s gonna be pretty much a staple in my writing lol, arguments with a parent

Extra info: uni setting, so originally Jeonghan was gonna be a basketball player but then I remembered I hate basketball due to getting hit in the face and breaking my glasses on my birthday during practice… Plus I saw a tiktok of svt playing sports and Jeonghan was playing soccer and the gears started turning in my head lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Hong (Jisoo) Joshua: It’s a Win-Win! Right?

Summary: Agreeing to fake date your best friend definitely wasn’t on your schedule when you dropped by after Joshua’s swim practice after your student council meeting had ended. But with his oddly passionate fangirls, you suppose this was more for his comfort than anything else. And hey, you could also use this to get your vice president to stop hitting on you as well, so it's a win-win for everyone. Plus it’s not like you’d be met with the realization that you might be in love with your best friend, that’s crazy…

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, and crazy fangirls

Extra info: high school setting, I got a confession… I don’t actually know how to swim lmaoo I just never learned so I apologize for the lack of actual swimming lol and Joshua is definitely inspired by Oikawa from Haikyuu in the sense of his fangirls lol and I guarantee there’s at least 50 fake dating Oikawa fics so here’s my spin on that with Joshua lol. I was also half tempted to make Joshua like one of my friends, who, for some reason decided our senior year to join our school’s swim team that I didn’t even know we had lol while he was on the varsity soccer team but I decided against it for simplicity lmao

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Wen Junhui: Racing Hearts and Skating to Love

Summary: Getting the chance to perform at an end of year celebration? Amazing! Having to perform a paired performance with Wen Junhui? Not amazing! Don’t get it twisted! You don’t hate Junhui, in fact it’s the opposite. You’ve been silently crushing on your fellow skater for months, and now you’re going to have to create and perform a paired program with him. Which of course meant having to spend weeks with him, and getting close to him to actually practice. But you can do this, it’s only for a few weeks, your heart can handle it. Hopefully it can, at least.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol

Extra info: it’s never mentioned but it’s a uni au lol, reader wears contacts and glasses because I do too and I love Wen Junhui so next question lol and literally all my knowledge of ice skating comes from the time I was obsessed with Yuzuru Hanyu like a year or two ago so I apologize for the inaccuracies of the sport lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Kwon Soonyoung: Goal- Wait Watch Out!

Summary: Meet cute except it’s not cute and you probably have a concussion from the rogue soccer ball to the head. All you were trying to do was drop off your roommate's lunch since she forgot in the morning and now you’re being carried by a concerned goalie and your roommate treating you like one of her athletes. At least the goalie carrying you is cute?

Warnings: cursing since I can’t help myself, and of course injuries (a concussion) since that’s the plot lol

Extra info: uni setting, my knowledge is very limited on soccer and all that I do know comes from when my librarian would let me stay in the library while the cup was going on last year instead of making me go do errands for the teachers during my student aide period lol and putting Hoshi as goalie is most definitely brought on by Jeonghan’s monthly meeting pics of him as the goalie lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Jeon Wonwoo: Scheming Love

Summary: When your coach told your team that you guys would play a skirmish against the boys volleyball team for fun, you felt your heart freeze. Now you weren’t scared of the boys team, you believe your team is fully capable of beating them in a game. No, what scares you is the fact that it means you have to play against Jeon Wonwoo, one of the middle blockers on the team. And your longtime crush. Normally you’re confident as a libero, doing your best to make sure your team’s defense’s on top and making sure the ball doesn’t touch the ground, but with Wonwoo on the court at the same time? Maybe you should start apologizing to your team now. Wait, why did they have a team huddle while you were helping the manager bring the water bottles? And why are they smiling at you like they’ve just made the greatest plan in the history of the world?

Warnings: cursing as usual, and threatening to strangle someone (as a joke lol)

Extra info: high school setting, reader wears glasses because I do too and I love Wonwoo lol. One of two fics that are fueled by my Haikyuu brainrot that’s coming back thanks to the movies and the new content that’s been coming out recently. Wonwoo as a middle blocker is brought on by this twitter artist that’s drawn Tsukishima in some Wonwoo stage outfits and that has caused me great pain I eat it up every time and reader being a libero is because that’s my favorite position lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Jihoon: Wait Where Are You Going? Come Back!

Summary: You really didn’t plan to watch your university’s baseball team play today, especially since it was so hot out and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky to provide some shade to hide under. But alas, your best friend insisted on dragging you along, wanting to watch her boyfriend play. Sure that’s fine and dandy, but why drag you along? At least the catcher’s cute, or what you can see of him on account of his mask. Wow, he's really muscular and is he giving Seokmin signs on how to pitch- wait why is your best friend and her boyfriend pushing the two of you after the game is over? And why are they running away? Oh, she’s gonna pay for this once you get through his conversation with the cute catcher.

Warnings: cursing as usual, and betrayal from your best friend and Seokmin lol

Extra info: uni setting, I’m like 85% sure Woozi said he used to play as catcher when he played baseball so that’s why he has this position. I don’t know anything about baseball besides one man named Shohei Ohtani and that getting hit with the ball hurts like hell (and all the injuries Dr. Mike on yt covered lol)

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Seokmin: Breaking News! Falling in Love is Scary!

Summary: Being part of your university’s blog and radio show is great, until you’re being forced out of the studio/office and out in the open to go interview the baseball team after a recent winning streak. Normally this job would get assigned to another team member, but after a recent bout of frat flu ravaging your crew, the interview is left up to you. Whatever, just get the answers to the prewritten questions you have and the sooner you can go back to the studio/office to work on other things. Or that was the plan before the pitcher, Lee Seokmin, took an interest in you and suddenly seemed to pop up everywhere around campus. Or aka, grumpy reporter x sunshine baseball player.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, and you being a hater for no reason lol

Extra info: uni setting, I don’t know much about baseball other than the fact that I would kill to see DK in a baseball uniform

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Kim Mingyu: Red Bandage of Fate

Summary: When you joined the athletic team as a student trainer and got assigned to the university’s soccer team, you wondered if the team’s number 06, Kim Mingyu, the ace of the team and top scorer, was the same Kim Mingyu who basically lived in the training center, constantly in need of treatment for his never ending list of injuries. And please, slow down with the injuries, the center’s almost out of athletic tape and bandages, you’re begging him to please be more careful out on the field.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself, and very obviously injuries (I’ll come back to be more specific with the injuries lol)

Extra info: uni setting, I’m taking an intro to athletic training class this sem so I know some stuff about treating athletes but again it’s intro class so beware if some things aren’t super accurate lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Xu Minghao: Filmed Lovestory

Summary: When you agreed to help film your friend’s practice for an upcoming competition, you didn’t think much of it. You’ve done it thousands of times. Put on your skates, a couple of extra layers so you won’t freeze, use her phone to record her, and follow her out on the ice. It’s simple, really, and a great way to spend Saturdays while also getting some exercise in between your tiring uni life. What you didn’t expect is somehow to agree to film the practices of one of her skating friends. Her very handsome skating friend, you might add. So now your weekends are fully booked for the ice, but watching Minghao skate on the ice, it’s not so bad.

Warnings: cursing as per usual

Extra info: uni setting, as I mentioned with my Jun fic, all of my figure skating knowledge comes from the time I was obsessed with Yuzuru Hanyu like a year or two ago so again I apologize for the inaccuracies of the sport

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Boo Seungkwan: Tangerines, Confessions and a Supply Closet

Summary: When you agreed to be the boys volleyball team’s manager, you didn’t think you’d spend your high school career taking care of the team. Yet, here you are, in your senior year and the only reason some of your players are even here (and why some of them are passing their classes, seriously signing up as a manager became a lot more than just handing out water bottles!). The only reason you’ve been able to stick around as long as you have is because of the team’s setter, Boo Seungkwan, who makes your job of wrangling the team a little easier. Now if only you could get the team off your back about confessing to him before the two of you graduate, that really would be great.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, threats to kill an entire volleyball team (all jokes), and getting locked in a supply closet

Extra info: high school setting, this is the second fic that is 100% fueled by my Haikyuu phase that is slowly coming back due to the movies and the new content that’s been coming out recently. And out of all the sports, this is the one I’m most knowledgeable in since I actually watch matches (shout out to Lim Sungjin and Heo Subong). Also I had such a hard time giving Seungkwan a sport since he does so much I decided on volleyball because the thought of him playing makes me want to bark so there’s that

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Chwe (Vernon) Hansol: Quick, He’s Not Watching!

Summary: When your older brother told you to wait for him in the bleachers, promising to give you a ride after your night class, you didn’t think much of it. If you’re lucky, you’d be able to take a nap in the bleachers waiting for him. What you didn’t expect was to somehow catch the attention of one of the midfielders, Vernon. As you come around more and more often, you find the midfielder always making an effort to say hey to you, and even stealing some of the team’s snacks for you. Now you just wonder if he’ll make a move before your brother notices the two of you getting closer with each other.

Warnings: uni setting, cursing as per usual, and older protective brother that means well but doesn’t go about it the right way

Extra info: I deadass looked up what the positions in soccer are because I have no idea what goes on in the sport even though one of my friend’s played our entire high school career

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Chan: You’re Not Too Bad

Summary: You didn’t think that showing up to your best friend’s, Seokmin’s, baseball practices would make one of the players hate you, but here you are and apparently Lee Chan hates you. Or so you think at least. The rest of the team loves you, especially since you always bring them plenty of food to feed them throughout practice (it pays to be a nutrition major) and always try to help out even though you’re not an official manager. But it’s no biggie, it’s not like Chan hating you bothers you, nope, not at all. But maybe you’d skip out on stopping by Seokmin’s practice for the week… Yeah that sounds like a good idea.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, Chan being a bit of an asshole but it gets resolved don’t worry

Extra info: uni setting, Dino being assigned baseball is all because of the 231105 fansign where he was given a baseball jersey and glove, and I still don’t know how baseball works

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

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harry-on-broadway · 2 years

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Hopelessly Devoted

Word Count: 3.1K || Rating: M (contains sexual content)

A/N: So is everyone else still worked up over last night? 😅 Consider this a way to work through those feelings. (We’re also counting this as my entry in my own fic challenge lol My chosen prompt is bolded below). Happy reading! Would love to hear your thoughts!

***

“Remind me what you were last year,” you asked.

The question felt weird and it was hard to believe that Harry had been a stranger to you at this time last year given his constant presence in your life over the past ten months.

“Was Dorothy one night and a clown the next,” he said, voice gravelly from the combination of sleep and overuse.

“You set the bar pretty high for someone who supposedly hates Halloween,” you said affectionately, snuggling closer to him underneath the blankets.

“I try to be a good sport. You know, for Mitch” he replied, smirking and popping one eye open. “Get over here, you’re so far away.”

“Harry, if I was any closer I’d be on top of you.”

“Exactly! Get over here.” He lunged for you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you giggled into his shoulder. Once his grip was secure, he rolled back onto his side of the bed, pulling you with him. When he stopped moving, he opened his eyes and gazed up at you. “Hi…” he said softly.

“Can you give me another hint as to what you’re going to be this year? Is it another group costume?”

“You are relentless, woman!” Harry exclaimed, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to tell me what your costume is.”

“Nope,” he replied, pressing his lips against yours, hoping the gesture would placate you and halt the inquisition.

“If you won’t tell me, how are we supposed to do a couple’s costume?”

“Oh, are you planning on joining me on stage?”

“No,” you said quickly. “You know I’m not about that.”

“Then just be patient, love,” Harry said, moving his hand up your body to rub the back of your neck. “I think you’re going to be pleased with what you see tonight. Let’s just get breakfast now.” He released you and nudged you towards the edge of the bed. “How do you feel about scrambled eggs?”

Thanks to the weekend and a couple of well-deserved vacation days, you’d landed in Los Angeles on Thursday evening, ready for a weekend of shows and relaxation. You hadn’t done much else other than watch Harry perform, and he’d apologized for doing a poor job at playing host, explaining that he really needed his rest. You didn’t care though, it was a treat just to get to sit next to him.

You’d headed over to the arena with him in the afternoon, occupying yourself with your phone and making conversation with whoever was around as Harry went through soundcheck and warmed before retreating from the backstage area when he was told it was time to get dressed. “Have fun, love,” he said on his way out of the room. “I’ll be looking for you,” he added with a wink.

With about an hour left until showtime, you took your time putting the finishing touches on your own costume. You’d opted for the easy way out, a version of Where’s Waldo, complete with a striped top and cap, and when you’d finished dressing you made your way into the arena and settled into the area cordoned off for friends and family to watch Ben’s set. When he’d finished, you settled for people watching around the arena.

It was fun to see what everyone was dressed as. Many had dressed up like Harry and there were even a few dressed up as Marvel characters. You checked your phone and saw that Harry and the rest of the band were running late, which made you nervous, even though you knew there wasn’t a reason to be. What did he have up his sleeve? Finally you saw Pauli and Elin come out of the tunnel and head to the stage in bright pink bomber jackets.

No. He wouldn’t dare.

You flashed back to a conversation you’d had several months ago. You were in his arms, sweat cooling on your bodies as you both tried to catch your breath.

“What’s your favorite movie?” he’d asked, chest rising and falling.

The question, while strange for the situation, didn’t catch you off guard. You’d grown used to Harry’s rapid fire question squeezed into every moment you all were able to salvage together.

“Grease,” you’d said without hesitation.

“Really?” he asked. Even without looking at him you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, I think I was Sandy for like three Halloweens in a row. I used to ask my mom to let me watch the movie every day after school for a couple of years.”

“A couple of years?” he asked incredulously.

“What can I say? It’s a classic!” you said with a laugh. “I also had a bit of a crush on John Travolta. I was very disappointed when I learned that present day-Travolta didn’t look like 1978 Travolta.”

“Noted,” Harry had said, as he rolled back on top of you.

That was all you could think about as you watched Sarah, Yaffra, Mitch, and Ny-Oh file in. You’d counted their characters one-by-one, until you confirmed your suspicions about who Harry would be dressed as.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath as the lights dimmed and the concert’s intro began to play. You kept your eyes trained on the center of the stage, lit up by the spotlight, until you saw the trapdoor open and watched as Harry slowly emerged from the depths of the stage.

The first thing you saw was the wig, and you were only slightly ashamed that it made you feel the way you did, heat spreading through you, setting your body ablaze. The leather jacket and tight black pants had you breathless and you had to remind yourself to take a breath, lest you pass out in the middle of the Kia Forum. The confidence he oozed on a nightly basis was amplified by the outfit, which only drove you wilder. Based on the screams echoing through the building, you weren’t alone in that feeling.

Your eyes followed him as he pranced around the stage. You were brave enough to admit that your gaze was mostly alternating between his ass and – when he’d shed the leather jacket – his arms. You melted even further when you caught a glimpse of the big screen and saw that he had donned eyeliner as well.

A couple of songs in, he caught your eye and threw you a wink, his lips curling into a smile as he did so. The throngs of people in front of you all screamed, each thinking the gesture was directed at them, but you smiled at the knowledge that it was only for you.

The moment of your undoing was at the end of the show, when he tossed the jacket over his shoulder before leaving the stage, running through the tunnel of fans. When he’d disappeared behind the curtain, you and the rest of his team made your way backstage. Harry and the band were high-fiving and celebrating another show in the books, with someone, likely Pauli, starting to pour drinks for everyone. Harry reached for the cup, but stopped when he saw you enter the room, racing over and scooping you up in his arms.

“Surprised?” he whispered in your ear as he spun you around. “Was it worth the wait?” You nodded into his neck. “Why don’t we have a drink and then I’ll get changed and we can head home.”

“How about we have a drink and head home and you keep this on?” you said, surprising yourself with your boldness.

“You –?” Harry pulled back to get a better look at you. “This is really doing it for you?” he asked, throat bobbing.

“Thought you knew I’d always had a thing for Danny?”

“I mean – I didn’t think it was in that way, but hell, I’ll take it,” he grinned. “Tell you what, why don’t we just skip the drink and get out of here.”

“I’d love that plan,” you said. “Don’t forget the jacket,” you added, kissing him gently.

Harry’s eyes widened and you laughed as he all but scampered across the room, grabbing his jacket and offering quick goodbyes to everyone around him.

“Ready?” he asked you, eyes clearer and more focused than they were moments ago. After an affirming nod from you, he took your hand in his and pulled you towards the exit. There was an electricity in the air during the drive home, marred only by Harry’s occasional muttering of “for fuck’s sake” when you hit a tricky bit of traffic, but you made good time and were pulling into his garage before midnight.

He led you through the maze of hallways, not bothering to turn on a light until you reached the bedroom. Once inside the room, he pulled you close to him and placed a searing kiss against your lips. It was surprisingly tame, but you knew he was just trying to control himself ahead of what was sure to be a memorable evening.

“Give me a sec?” he asked when you parted. “I just want to freshen up.”

You nodded, and sat on the bench at the end of the bed where he tossed the jacket next to you. Harry closed the bathroom door behind him and you were left alone in the quiet, empty room. Stretching, you looked down, suddenly aware that Waldo was not the best outfit for setting the mood. You pulled at the shirt trying to expose more of your cleavage before giving up. Your eyes landed on Harry’s leather jacket next to you and an idea formed.

You shed your striped top, rummaging through the suitcase beside the dresser for some of the sexier undergarments you’d packed for this exact occasion before settling on a pair of lacy underwear. You removed the rest of your clothes, replacing your everyday cotton briefs with the red garment and pulled Harry’s jacket on top of your naked torso so that it just covered your bare breasts.

You heard the click of the bathroom door latch and jumped. “Don’t come in!” you shouted.

“Um, OK…” Harry said suspiciously.

You took a look in the mirror surveying yourself and your new outfit for any imperfections, but were largely pleased with what you saw.

“OK, you can come in now,” you said, adjusting your hair so that it fell just right. You arched your back as you leaned against the wall, praying that the pose you settled on was more sexy than awkward. “Tell me about it, stud,” you said in the sultriest voice you could manage as Harry walked in.

Harry stared at you. “What’s this then?”

“That is my line, right?” you giggled, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious over your attempt at seduction.

“You’re fucking right that’s your line,” Harry said, voice low and deep with desire as he crossed the room in three strides and pressed you against the wall. “Say it, again,” he said against your lips.

“Stud,” you whispered, soft and slow.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your skin. You could feel a hardness below his belt as he pressed his full body weight against you.

“Do you like this?” you asked.

“What do you think?” he replied, wrapping one of his hands around your neck and pulling you forward to meet his lips. He closed the gap between you all with a ferocity you’d never experienced. He nipped at your lips, parting them just enough to slot his tongue in between them and you moaned at the intrusion.

Mouths occupied, his free hand traced its way up your waist before settling on your breast. The tip of his index finger ghosted over your nipple in a slow, teasing circle, causing it to harden underneath of his touch. Your breathing quickened and he increased the pace of his circles to match your breath before stopping.

You made a wounded noise at the loss of the sensation but gasped when his mouth replaced his fingers and you felt a jolt of pleasure throughout your entire body. His mouth was hot and wet against the skin of your breast and you tried to stay in the moment and memorize the feel of him on your body. His other hand landed on your left breast and he repeated the sequence.

Without breaking contact, Harry looked up at you as he continued his attack on your breasts, feeling his cock harden even more as he took in the look of pure ecstasy on your face. He was quite confident in his abilities in the bedroom, but he didn’t think he’d ever caused you to come undone this quickly before.

“Harry,” you panted, interrupting his reverie.

“Yes?”

“I need –” you started.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you need.”

You took a shaky breath. “I need your mouth on my clit.”

Harry bit his lip, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to cum on the spot. You were never shy about what you wanted during sex, but were also rarely this direct, opting for subtle corrections or guidance. When he’d calmed himself, he looked back up at you. “Your wish is my command.”

He kissed down your body, leaving a wet trail down your stomach and ribs, continuing to kiss around your thighs, pulling them apart to better position himself at your center. His hands drifted to your hips and he slowly pulled your panties down until they pooled around your ankles. With nothing between you and him, he brought his hands underneath your ass to pull you close to his face, relishing how the feel of your skin under his palms and the hem of the leather jacket surrounded him in softness.

You placed one of your hands in his hair, ready to push him to you, but he dove in without preamble before you could make a move. He lapped at your wet folds clearly avoiding the one spot you most wanted him.

“Don’t be a tease,” you whined, hating how desperate you sounded.

“You know you like it,” he shot back, and as infuriating as it was, he was absolutely right.

You were relaxing into his touch, growing somewhat content with the feeling and trying to ignore the desire that was pulsing within you. Which is why you were caught off guard when he suddenly locked his lips around your clit, dragging his teeth gently along the sensitive skin.

You yelped with pleasure and felt your knees go weak at the sensation. Harry tightened his arms around you, which served the dual purpose of keeping you upright and bringing his face deeper between your legs, which in turn only intensified the waves of satisfaction that were ricocheting through your body.

“Harry, I’m – oh!”

You knew it was coming, but your orgasm still surprised you, in both its intensity and duration. Harry didn’t falter throughout it, keeping his ministrations steady as he helped you ride it out, only pulling away when he could feel your breathing start to even out.

“Easy there,” he said when you tried to step back on unsteady legs.

You sank down the wall before settling into his lap and kissing him, long, hard, and deep. “Your turn,” you said, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. As you looked into his eyes, you saw that the eyeliner on his waterline had grown smudged from the sweat that dotted his face. “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” he said, hands once again finding your ass. “On top. Want to see you.”

You smiled, and eased up onto your knees. “Well, I think these are in the way,” you said, fingering the button of his pants, and pulling the tight garment down his legs, throwing them and his briefs behind you. His shirt was next and once he was completely naked below you, you started to shrug off the jacket you were still wearing.

“No. Leave it,” he said, pulling it back up your shoulders.

His cock was jutting proud, red, and already leaking against his stomach, but you gave him a few tentative strokes anyways as you slid the condom on him, enjoying the way his face contorted with pleasure alongside your touch. Satisfied, you lifted your hips once again and sank down onto him. You were already wet, so you took him with little resistance, but even with that it was still a tight fit and you swallowed thickly when he was fully inside you. You took a moment to savor the sensation that only Harry – not your hand or some toy – could give you.

After a moment, you moved up and down, testing the waters, while Harry hissed below you. You leaned over top of him, your breasts pressed against his chest, the loose flaps of the jacket hanging open over top of your bodies, and you tentatively rolled your hips, slow at first, but building speed until you found a pace that felt manageable for you and good for Harry based on the sounds he was emitting.

“Do you like this?” you asked him. He nodded. “Tell me,” you said. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“So good. So fucking good, baby,” he rambled beneath you. The ragged sound of his breathing and the incoherence of his thoughts indicated that he was close. You knew what he needed and leaned down once more and kissed him, wet and sloppy, and seconds later you felt him stiffen and spill over inside of you. You continued to kiss him, loving the way he moaned against your lips, and when he was done, you lifted off of him and laid down next to him.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. “I–. You –. Fuck,” he finally said.

“Love you too, Harry,” you replied. You shifted next to him, taking off the leather jacket which was now sticking to you uncomfortably. Completely naked, you shivered as the AC kicked on, drying the sweat on your body.

Sensing your discomfort, Harry pulled you into him, gently rubbing your back. “This was a great treat, love,” he said. “Not sure next year will be able to top this.”

“Next year?” You knew you both were happy in the relationship and had no plans for anything to change, but hearing him talk so casually about the future did something to you. Maybe it was the hormones, but you were suddenly overcome by an intense wave of affection for the man lying next to you.

“Yeah,” Harry said confidently, turning to look at you. “You’re the only one for me and I hope I make that clear to you every day.”

“Hopelessly devoted,” you said, with a light chuckle.

“Hopelessly devoted to you, love.”

***

talk to me!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic

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empressdede · 1 year

Text

Remember the time

This is my first time writing something and publicly publishing it. This is based off the Remember the time by Michael Jackson. Pleaseee show some love lol. I do want to say that the OC is a black character but anyone can read. I was inspired to write this because of @raya-hunter01 & @whatdoeseverybodywant Let me know what you guys think!

Pairing: Kiyah (OC) x Jimmy uso. (Theres not enough Jimmy Uso fics on here. I did it for my man.)

Warnings: cursing, smut, smoking, long read.

Bold italics are thoughts, italics are both dialogue during a smut scene and when anything is referenced. Red bold italics are the song lyrics

Word count: 9,581.

Summary: Jimmy comes back to New York after Money In The Bank and Remembers the time he had with Kiyah.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

An uneasy feeling settled in Jimmy’s stomach ever since he found out that New York was the next arena after Money In The Bank. Being in the city was as the ghost of her was going to trailing over him. It’s been three months since he’s last seen her and he wasn’t healed but it was easier to be away from here. Being here reminded him of everything he used to love to do… with who he loved to do it with.

Do you remember, when we first met girl?

When Covid hit and the whole world was forced to stay quarantined at home, due to being in a really depressive state, Kiyah really isolated herself from everyone. She was in a funk that she desperately wanted to get rid of, and in late 2020 when her favorite cousin Bianca, called her to inform that she was going to be in Tampa, FL for work until further notice, Bianca invited Kiyah to stay with her and Tez. Kiyah packed her bags and caught the first available flight to Florida, leaving her life behind in New York. She attended all the smackdown shows with Bianca, watching how she was really dominating in the women division as a newbie.

Backstage if she wasn’t hanging out with Bianca, she was hanging out with Dawkins and Tez. The wrestlers were actually pretty funny to be around, the girls were nicer than she thought they would be - Well, except for a couple who didn’t really matter - and the guys were funny to be around. She would walk around the halls aimlessly when it became too much to be around and one day, she found herself bumping into Jimmy…. literally.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” Kiyah quickly apologized to the person, her eyes slitting up to fixate her gaze on the man she bumped into. His smile took her breath away, damn who was he?

“You good, it was my fault I wasn’t looking where I was going. You okay?” He asked.

Kiyah nodded her head, not trusting her voice at the moment. She knew she would embarrass herself if she stayed in this man’s presence any longer. Clearing her throat, she tries to excuse herself. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait…. Are you a new hire? I’ve never seen you before?” Jimmy asked before she could walk away.

“No, I’m Bianca’s cousin. Just here to give my support while I can.” Kiyah replied and Jimmy nodded his head understanding.

“That’s lit. Well, I hope you’re feeling welcomed. I know being around a whole bunch of athletes can be intimidating.”

She let out a small huff of laughter. “Please. You guys eat more junk food than anyone I know. Wings and Pizza every other Wednesday… Really?” She asked teasingly which caused Jimmy to laugh.

“Aye, we work hard. Gotta enjoy ourselves somehow.”

“I bet.”

Jimmy flashed another smile to her, who was this girl? “I never caught your name?” He asked.

“I never gave it. Seeing as you bumped into me, I think it’s only right you introduce yourself first.” Kiyah suggested.

“Could’ve sworn we bumped into each other.”

Kiyah shrugged her shoulders playfully, a small smile eased its way into her face. “I never denied that but enlighten me anyways.”

Jimmy chuckled, raising his hand out to her, “My name is Jimmy, and you are?”

Kiyah reached her hand out to clasp their hands together and shook it. “Kiyah. Kiyah Blair.” She introduced.

Do you remember when we fell in love?

“How long is it going to take you to come over here?” Kiyah asked over the FaceTime call as she continued to clean her room, folding the laundry on her bed. Her best friend Jimmy glanced at the screen to watch her for a quick second before turning his attention back to the road.

“It won’t take me too long, I just gotta make a stop somewhere before I come. Make sure you leave that door unlocked for me; you know I don’t like to wait.” Jimmy instructed.

Kiyah smacked her teeth, dropping the shirt she was folding on the bed and turned to face the screen. “Boy, how you gone tell me what to do with my own shit? Imagine trynna run my house.”

“Imagine playing with my face like you not finna leave the door unlocked for me anyways, know who to play with Kiyah.” Jimmy retorted back to her, not even turning to look at the screen.

And maybe she shouldn’t have thought it but as she continued to stare at her who she considered her best friend drive, she focused on the featured on his face and bit her lip because why did he have to be so damn fine?

After realizing a couple seconds of seconds of silence filled the air, Kiyah smacked her teeth again. “Okay Jimmy whatever. Just hurry up, it’s your turn to cook and I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Lemme go make this quick stop and Imma be over there.” He stated before he quickly hung up the phone.

Kiyah let out a small huff and let herself scan the room before her eyes caught the mirror. Should I change? She thought about it but opted against it, he’d already seen her outfit over FaceTime, so there was no point. Deciding to distract herself from overthinking, she picked up the shirt she had dropped and started folding again to clear her bed. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jimmy walked into the house with his hands full of treats, dropping them on the table. Kiyah walked out the kitchen and her eyes immediately met his, locking eyes with him.

“You just gonna stand there or you gone tell me wassup?” He asked, raising his eyebrow at her with a small grin on his face. Kiyah rolled her eyes before walking to him and they took each other into a strong embrace, rocking back and forth.

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” She asked teasingly

“You know I can’t stay mad at you Ma.”

Kiyah’s heart seized at his words, pulling back from the hug, the bags on the table catching her attention making a smile etch its way on her face.

“No way you went to India’s Grill halfway across town, aren’t you on a diet right now? Jey’s gonna have that ass if he finds out you cheating again.”

Jimmy let his head fall as a dramatic groan slipped through his lips. “Jey not gonna know shit if you don’t tell ‘em nothing.”

Jimmy walked passed her to make his way to her living room, walking around as if he paid the bills to her home. He sat down on her couch, placing his feet on her coffee table and one hand behind his head. “You gone snitch on me Ma? After everything we been through?”

Kiyah shook her head as if she was disagreeing but in reality, she was trying to get herself together. Here was Jimmy: in an all black hoodie, no shirt underneath, cuban link peeking through the part that was unzipped, black joggers and all white forces. Fuuucckk, who told him to look this good.

“Now you know I don’t be telling nobody yo damn business” she finally replied as she walked to the door to lock it. Jimmy took that time to roam over the outfit Kiyah seemed to have on.

Itty bitty tight ass spaghetti strap crop top with matching booty shorts to go with it.

“You was expecting someone else to come before me?” He asked, catching her gaze.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know you ain’t wearing that for David lame ass.”

Kiyah rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. Jimmy never liked anyone she called herself entertaining, always calling them lame, but she couldn’t be too mad… she kept that same energy with all his other bitches too.

“Please be so serious right now. I wore this for myself.” Kiyah stated, walking to the couch to take her seat next to him. Jimmy let his feet fall from the coffee table, opting to be in his most comfortable position, man spreading. He cut his eyes at her as he rubbed his beard.

“Hmm, for yourself huh?”

“Yes, for myself.”

Licking his lips, he slowly nodded his head in amusement. He pulls a blunt of his pocket and pats his other side for a lighter. “Can you light me up? I think I forgot my lighter in the car.”

Kiyah reached forward for the ashtray that was right next to him on the couch, grabbing the lighter that was settled there from the last time they smoked together. Jimmy raised his arms, wrapping it tight around her body and moved her so that her legs was over his lap making her straddle him.

From that action alone, she knew he was already high. She watched as he placed the blunt in-between his lips and looked up at her waiting for her to light him up. Kiyah squeezed her legs against his and felt her heart clench at the eye contact. She bit her lip, flickering the lighter and leaning back slightly to avoid the smoke to get in her face when she lit him up.

A small smirk formed on his face when he felt her squeeze him, but he said nothing, taking a hit of his blunt instead. “Whatchu nervous for?” He asked, voice low now, blowing the white cloud of smoke towards her teasingly.

“Jimmy…. please stop playing with me.”

“Who said I was playing?” He asked raising an eyebrow, waiting for her response and when she stayed silent, he just chuckled. “Closed mouths don’t get fed you know?”

Kiyah ignored him, taking the blunt from his mouth and placing it in hers; inhaling the strong substance for the courage that she was going to need for this conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jimmy let his hands start to caress her legs, rubbing them up and down. His brown orbs roaming over her outfit once again, his eyes catching her hardening nipple through her thin ass shirt. “Don’t wear this shit for nobody else, you hear me?”

“Jimmy-” She starts to protest but he cut her off.

“You hear me Kiyah? Don’t wear this shit for nobody else. I’m not playing with you.”

You could cut the tension with a knife, but she didn’t understand how they got here so fast. His hands trailed up, gripping on her ass to push her closer to him making her pussy press against his dick. Kiyah takes a small sharp breath in, one of her hands moving to rest on his shoulders as she locked eyes with him.

A small smirk took over her face now, “who said I was playing?” she replied, placing the blunt back in her mouth to take one last pull. When she leaned back to blow the smoke away from him, his right hand swiftly cupped her jaw, bringing her closer to him parting his lips to inhale the smoke she needed to exhale.

Kiyah’s felt her skin heat up as she shotgun her last hit to him. Her heart felt as if it were to beat out of her chest. Jimmy and her played the game of push and pull. They flirted with each other and got super touchy but that was all that ever happened. They’ve kissed once at a Christmas party, a year ago and they were both drunk off their asses. And even then, nothing compared to the feeling that tonight gave them.

“Jimmy.” Kiyah whispered and Jimmy let his gaze flicker from her lips to her eyes.

“Say it.” Jimmy demanded in a low tone. The octave of his voice dropped so low; Kiyah felt goosebumps form on her skin from just his voice alone. Say it. He said as if he knew what was going through her head.

“Say what?”

“Say it Kiyah…. We both grown. Just say it.”

A million things ran through her mind. Surely, he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying. Because they’re just friends; always have been… right?

“Jimmy… I-“ she started but was stuck. She tried to push herself from him, she needed space. She couldn’t think being so close to him. Not with his hands on her, or his smell overwhelming her. But his hands held her in place.

“Jimmy, we’re friends-“ she was cut off.

“We ain’t no fuckin’ friends and we haven’t been just friends for a while now.”

“Jimmy that’s not funny” she whispered shaking her head. This has to be a joke, and I’m not laughing. “Whatever joke you’re playing at- “

“I like you Kiyah. No jokes, no pranks no tests. Sober or high it’s all the same. I like you.” Jimmy stated wrapping both arms around her body to lock her in an embrace, he shifted to get comfortable and that caused him to grind against her making a small whimper leave her mouth.

“Say it.” He whispered this time, but she refused. Instead, she leaned forward pushing their lips together to lock their lips in a kiss.

Do you remember, back in the fall. We’d be together all day long.

The phone buzzing consistently was the only thing Kiyah could hear from her sleep. She lets out an annoyed groan. who the hell is calling at this time? She raised from the bed to grab her phone, and answered it without looking at the caller I.D.

“What.” She answered.

“Damn Ma, that’s how you greet me after 3 days of phone tag?” Jimmy’s voice was heard through the phone. And even though it caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach, she was tired.

“Baby… I’m tired. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.” Kiyah admitted.

“That’s cause you swear you can’t sleep unless it's on top of me.” He jokingly replies and she lets out a small laugh.

“You’re so warm and cuddly, I feel safe enough with you to go to sleep.” She shyly confesses. “I can’t wait to see you next week.”

“Girl when you see me next week, ain’t finna be no sleeping.”

“Aht Aht, Lemme sleep baby. You know I be sleepy.”

“Well take yo sleepy ass to the door. I had Roman deliver something expensive and I just got the message that it’s outside.”

Kiyah smacked her teeth. “What I tell you about buying me expensive gifts? I just be wanting your love.”

“You my princess, you know I gotta spoil you. Now go open the door and tell Daddy you love him for the gift."

Kiyah slides off the bed to trudge towards the front door. Jimmy has gotten into the habit of buying Kiyah gifts once she starts feeling lonely because he’s unable to be there for work. Last month he had bought her tickets to see her favorite singer, Justin Bieber. She always told him the gifts were unnecessary, but he was stubborn, swore he just wanted to drown her in gifts just to see her smile.

Kiyah slowly opens the door, to be met with Jimmy and his contagious smile which caused her to yell and jump on him. Wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist and she let the tears that she didn’t know were going to fall…fall. Jimmy caught her with one hand around her waist and walked into the house, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I thought you were coming next week.” She asked tearfully, keeping her face in his neck and tightening her grip on him as if she couldn’t believe he was here.

“I know when you need me. Two nights ago you said you had a horrible night so I came running.”

Kiyah pulled her face back from his neck and placed multiple pecks on his lips. “Thank you, Papa.” She whispered and he chuckled, pecking her lips one more time.

“You know I got you.” He replied, setting down his bag on the floor and walked towards the bedroom. “Now let’s get you some sleep. I know before this you was tossing and turning.” He stated knowingly and Kiyah knew she wasn’t going to fall asleep just yet. Not when her heart was racing with him making his presence known.

“Are you hungry? I made some honey glazed chicken and rice earlier; I can get you some.” She offered, but Jimmy laid her on the mattress, kicking his shoes off and slid in right beside her.

“How bout we just relax. You know you tired, stop fighting yo sleep and lay down.” And it wasn’t a suggestion. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it blindly behind him, grabbing kiyah and pull her on top of him and wrapped one arm around her and his other hand grasping her leg to move it up so it was over his waist. “When we wake up later, it’ll be just us and you can feed me all you want.”

Kiyah presses a kiss to his chest where his heart was located. “I love you.” She whispered before settling herself on him, cheek pressed against his chest as she closed her eyes to try to fall asleep.

“I love you too Mama.” He murmured softly, rubbing the hand that was behind her back to help her fall asleep.

___________________________________________

When Kiyah woke up, it was due to the slight heavy movement on top of her. Her body felt rejuvenated from the almost 10 hours of sleep she had seemed to have gotten. Lifting her hand to rub her eyes to wipe the sleep from her eyes before she slowly opened them, looking down to see that Jimmy flipped their positions, his head positioned on top of her breasts and his arm sprawled across her stomach.

She blinked a few more times to make sure she wasn’t tripping, but sure enough the events of last night flooded her mind and it reminded her that she wasn’t just imagining the scene that took place in front of her. Kiyah absentmindedly raised her hand to rub the arm that was laying across her stomach. Even though he was here just for the night, she can smell already smell his scent overpowering her space. Dark. Earthy. Cedar wood. The heat emanating from him brought comfort to her.

I could wake up like this for the rest of my life. She thought to herself. The light coming from the Windows showed that it wasn’t too early in the morning, if she had to guess it was around 10 in the morning. Shutting her eyes, she took in the moment of him being home. There were days when she would try to self-sabotage her blessings and push Jimmy as far away from her as she could, but he always fought for her. Always. For these past three years it’s been Jimmy and Kiyah, never just Jimmy and never Just Kiyah. It made her very appreciative of him being in her life. She’s never been loved the way Jimmy loved her, and it scared her because she loved just as hard as he did… maybe even more so.

While she continued to trail her hand against his skin, Kiyah was slowly falling back asleep in this solace of her bedroom. She felt Jimmy shift from her chest to nestle his face in her neck to get more comfortable and they both drifted back to sleep.

Another hour went by before a loud ringing blared throughout the room, jolting her awake. Jimmy let out a tired groan, tightening his grip around her.

“Jimmy.” She whispered. He shook his head refusing to wake up, just to answer the phone.

He lazily moved his arm from across her to grab his phone from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Put it on silent mode and go back to sleep.”

Kiyah softly chuckled, taking his phone and placing it on silent mode. “I’m up baby. I know you’re jet lagged so I’m going to let you sleep.” Jimmy let out another groan when Kiyah tried to slide out of the bed.

“C’mon baby. Just stay for a little bit.” He begged.

“I gotta pee. I’ll be back.” She comprises and he smack his lips letting her go.

——————————————————————————

The soft tune of Nothing can come between us by Sade was heard throughout the kitchen and Kiyah bumped her head softly to the beat and sang as softly as she could while whisking the the eggs she was preparing.

“In the middle of the madness, when the time is running out and you’re left alone. All I want is you to know that… it’s strong still can’t pull us apart. Nothing can come, nothing can come, nothing can come between us.” Kiyah softly sang, moving her hips to the melody of the music.

The knock on her door was loud, making her head snap up to look towards the door. Jimmy quickly came from around the corner where her room was, heading towards it.

“Don’t move, Imma answer it.” He said unlocking and opening the door revealing Bianca. “Wassup B.” He greeted, stepping to the side to let her in.

Bianca was shocked to see Jimmy at her cousin’s house. She took notice that he had not only made himself comfortable enough to answer the door but that he was wearing the same same clothes he left the airport in. So, this was the business he had to take care of in New York? She thought to herself before flashing him a knowing smile. “Hey Jimmy – I see you’re here early.” She teased as she stepped in and walked pass him.

He just chuckled and shook his head, closing the door back and locking it. “Yeah I Had a couple things to take care of.”

Bianca watched Jimmy walk away, eyes following him until he disappeared into the room. With amusement shining in her eyes, her head snapped towards the kitchen and Kiyah was standing there smiling; looking all innocent when she was clearly guilty.

“Hey Bianca, I totally forgot we had plans today. How you doing?”

Bianca raised her eyebrow at her and a smiled etched its way on her face again. “Well good morning to you. It smells so good in this bitch. Anyways – are you gonna spill the tea or what? Cause it looks like Jimmy ‘he’s just my best friend’ Uso spent the night and now you up making him breakfast when we had plans to go to brunch.” She asked, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

Kiyah snorted and turned back around to pour the eggs in the nonstick skillet. “You’re so damn nosey.”

“I’m even nosier when I’m realizing he went to your room instead of the guest room.” Bianca replied.

Kiyah shrugged her shoulders as a response, scrambling the eggs in front of her. She thought about how these past four months has changed the dynamic between her and Jimmy after his confession in her living room. The transition from friend to lover was easier than she thought it would’ve been.

“Baby.” Jimmy called out, walking out the room with a hoodie and some shoes. “I’m finna be back real quick.” He said as he entered the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Kiyah asked, turning her head to look up at him.

“I’m out of gars so I’m finna hit up the closest gas station. Imma call Jey back since he been blowing my shit up. I know you guys haven’t seen each other in a while so I want y’all to catch up.”

“But I’m making breakfast for you.” Kiyah acknowledges, sliding the skillet off the stove top.

Jimmy chuckles, pressing his chest against her back. He places his hands on her waist as he watches over her what she made. French toast on two sets of plates on one side of the stove and the freshly scrambled eggs being served next to it.

“Make B something to eat and I’ll be back so we can eat okay.” He suggests, turning her around to wrap his arms around her waist fully, hand gripping on her ass as he leans down to softly peck her lips twice.

“Alright. Hurry back, okay?” She asks, keeping her voice low, raising her hands to caress his arms. “I don’t want your food to be cold and nasty when you eat it.”

“I’ll be right back I promise.” Jimmy pecks her lip one last time before pulling himself away from her to walk out the kitchen. “See you later B.” He calls out as exits the house.

The entire time, Bianca had sat in her seat shocked to her core. She watched the interaction closely, taking notes left and right and her tea cup was damn near full at this point. She waited for the door to fully shut before scoffing in disbelief. “Bitch since when do y’all kiss now? Since when the hell did y’all start calling each other baby? What in the world have I missed?” She yelled dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air to emphasize her point.

“Giirrrrllllluuuuhhhhh” Kiyah dragged out, chuckling. “Back in October Jimmy admitted his feelings for me.” She finally confessed, the smile on her face widening as she remembered that night.

“OCTOBER OF LAST YEAR!? BITCH ITS MARCH.” Bianca screamed; eyes so wide it would’ve fell out of her socket if it could’ve.

Kiyah shrugged her shoulder “The titles changed but nothing’s really different, that’s why I never cared to say anything. We’re still the same.”

“Yeah, except now you are getting Jimmy schlong every other night.” Bianca exclaimed.

Kiyah rolled her eyes, “Girl please, I wish. But we have kept it private but not a secret ya know? That’s my man for real and I’m so in love with him, it’s kinda sick.”

“I think it’s cute. A couple years ago you were scared to even put your heart on the line and now look at you.” Bianca really felt her heart swell with joy as she watched her cousin obviously head over heels in love with Jimmy Uso. “I’m happy for you- the both of you, truly.”

Kiyah turned the stove off and walked around the kitchen island to pull her cousin into an embrace. “Thank you B. I really appreciate it.” She stated and she meant it. There are few people who actually knew what went down between her and her ex, what she experienced and what made her so closed off after it; Bianca being one of those few people. It meant a lot to see that she was also able to see the growth when it came to her love life.

“And I love you girl, I really do but once Jimmy get back from smoking, I’m finna feed my man and spend my entire day with him. So about brunch…. Imma have to take a rain check.” She smiled at Bianca’s laugh.

“Alright bitch, I can read the room.”

———————————————————————

After Jimmy had returned from his trip, Kiyah had served breakfast. It brought a different kind of feeling watching him eat her food. In the furthest part of her mind, it made the moment more domestic, made her feel like one day -further down the line of course- that she could do this as his wife.

After breakfast, Jimmy insisted that he clean up the kitchen while she shower. What he really needed was the opportunity to distract her. Jimmy turned the volume up on Alexa, letting the sound of Neat by Q Money take over the silence in the house while he made his way to the coat closet where he had hid what he had returned to the house with.

Opening the coat closet, he pulls out a couple bags filled with what he wanted to do for the rest of day. Jimmy really wanted to treat Kiyah to a night out but he didn’t want to be out today, he just wanted to spend his day as lazily as he could where he found comfort the most. Closing the door, he took the bags and walked to the living room to get started on what he had planned; with Kiyah in the shower he knew he had a cool 45 minutes.

He unpacked everything that came in boxes: the air mattress, the LED tea light candles, the fairy lights, the fake rose petals and got to work with setting up the living room.

After setting up as fast as he could, he walked into her room, his eyes scanning the room looking for a suspiciously quiet Kiyah. “Babe.” He called out, walking towards the bathroom. He catches a glimpse of her doing her face routine, one of his old shirts engulfing her body. “Didn’t you say you never seen where this shirt went?” He asked teasingly as he walks up behind her.

“I have no idea what you talking about, this my shirt.” Kiyah replied, her lips twitched as she tried to fight the smile that wanted to imprint its way on her face.

Jimmy playfully rolled his eyes, “yeah whatever. You gone have to run me most of my shit sooner than later, unless you wanna send me back on the road with nothing to wear.”

Kiyah scoffed, keeping her eyes in the mirror when she looked at him. “Keep playing. If you wanna be outside I can be outside too. “

“You can be outside, Ian worried about shit. I can fight.” Jimmy stated, shrugging his shoulders.

“You say that now, but we all know if I’m in another nigga arms you gone be sick.” Kiyah countered back turning to face him with a small smirk, “You know you love you some me.”

Jimmy watched her with amusement in his eyes, watch her stick her tongue out at him as childishly as she could before turning back to finish applying the clay mask that was in her hands. “Girl please, you damn near passed out when you thought I was entertaining Sasha. I ain’t the only one.” He exposed, laughing when Kiyah’s jaw dropped.

He pulled off his shirt, turning to turn the shower on. “Wanna wash my hair after I’m done with my shower?”

“Can I give you a face mask if I do?” She asked with hopeful eyes when she fully turned around to face him again. Jimmy let out a small chuckle, nodding his head, agreeing with whatever made her heart content at the moment.

Kiyah didn’t want to show how much she missed being around him, but she was finding it difficult to stay away from him. And it wasn’t like he made it easier for her. Like when Jimmy started his shower, she opted to leave the bathroom to finish getting dressed but, Jimmy requested her to stay to keep him company. Sitting on the toilet waiting for her mask to dry while he showered and they both conversed brought back that feeling she was feeling earlier. Domestic.

In her mind she knew it was too early to be thinking these kinds of thoughts but, she’s had feelings for him for two years now, and she couldn’t really remember when she last felt like this. Doesn’t remember the last time anyone ever made her feel so secure.

After washing his hair and keeping his hair wrapped in a towel for it to dry, Kiyah prepared everything she needed to get started on his face. “Just sit still because if you laugh it’s gonna crack.” She warned, and Jimmy smacked his lips.

“This like yo third warning.”

“Because you play too much, I couldn’t even get you to cleanse your face without you playing with the water. Now sit.” She demanded, hands pressing against his shoulders to force him to sit on the toilet so she can apply the mask. He moved freely, letting her push him to sit.

Jimmy let himself relax, closing his eyes and let Kiyah go to work. He didn’t really care for the process of what came with what Kiyah swore was the best skin routine for both him and her. He just wanted to be close to her, the last time they seen each other was almost three weeks ago – almost a month – and he just wanted to be away from the white noise and relish in the quiet refuge that was her home.

Kiyah delicately stroked the brush filled with the clay over his skin as they both fell into a comfortable silence. Nobody else but you by Trey Songz softly playing in the background from the Alexa that was outside and Jimmy couldn’t help but find himself agreeing with the song that seemed to set the mood. He really didn’t want nothing but to be here, with her, didn’t want nobody else but Kiyah.

Jimmy pulled Kiyah closer to him, using his legs to part her legs so that both legs her on each side of his. His hand gripped her waist as he pulled her to take a on his lap. There we go, Jimmy thought once she was seated, fully wrapping his arms around her.

Kiyah continued to apply the mask, the smile she fought to keep off her face grew anyway. It was moments like this where she felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She found someone who was on her just as bad as she was on them. Before she met him, she never thought she would ever meet someone like her, someone who wanted to be around her, touch her, almost all the time. And maybe their time apart played a big role in their affection with each other but Kiyah wouldn’t trade this, wouldn’t trade him, for nothing.

Watching him fully relax under his touch made her heart swell with joy, smiling she leaned down to peck his lips which caused him to open his eyes and softly smile at her. “What you up to?” He playfully asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Nothing, I love you.”

“I love you too mama.” He replied without missing a beat, searching her eyes as she stared at him. He leaned up to steal another kiss from her.”How long all this gone take?”

Kiyah placed down everything in her hands on the sink beside her when she finished covering his face with the mask. “We wait 15 minutes for it to dry and then you’re done.”

Jimmy nodded his head, letting his hands start to rub against her legs. “Jey been complaining about how he never see me anymore.” He randomly stated and Kiyah chuckled.

“I don’t blame him, I bet he miss his twin. You guys hung out every time you were off.” Kiyah responded back, letting her hands rub against his chest. “You know you can go to ATL and spend the time with him down there. You know I don’t mind.”

Jimmy let out a small hum, but going to ATL to spend time with his brother wasn’t the problem. It was him wanting to take her with him so that everyone in his life could finally see who’s been taking all of his time. “Would you come with me?” He asked quietly.

“I would go anywhere with you.” She answered and she meant it. Jimmy could ask her to go anywhere and she would go, he was home to her.

Jimmy didn’t signify an answer to her response. He just let his hands trail up from her waist caressing her skin.

“Jimmy.” Her tone came off as her warning him not to start anything.

“Next weekend, He’s throwing a barbecue and our family will be there.” He said, ignoring her warning. “Will you come with me?” He asked.

Kiyah felt her heartbeat pick up. Will you come meet my family? That’s essentially what he is asking her. Yes, she’s already met his brother and yes, she already met Roman – when she spent her time at the Thunderdome arena and they wanted to get to know each other better it required her being around his family. This invite though… it really sounded like will you come meet my parents?

“You want me to meet your mom?” Kiyah asked in a whisper, leaning her body closer to him for a comfort she’s sure they both needed. “You want me to fix your plate in front of everybody to let ‘em know you my man?” She asked playfully.

It eased the nervousness out him, he chuckled and leaned forward to peck her lips. “I wanna show you off to the whole world. I know we ain’t tell nobody yet but I want to. Tell our families anyways.” He answered back to her, shrugging a little.

“I kissed you in front of Bianca on purpose. Wanna show all of ‘em I only want you to fix my plate.” He replied jokingly. His tone softened though as he spoke, his hands trailing up her shirt, rubbing up and down against her back. “I know you ain’t used to the family introductions and all that, but if we’re doing firsts – I wanna experience all of that with you.” He confessed.

Kiyah didn’t reply, she just watched him. Taking in the moment. Here they were, in each others arms, Jimmy’s hair wrapped up in a towel, Clay mask drying on his face while he confessed that he didn’t want to keep their romance a secret from the people who mattered most in their lives.

Could I be any more in love with him? “I’ll meet your parents papa, you can tell the whole world how we locked in, clocked in for the long run.” Despite telling Jimmy not to move his face as much, she couldn’t help but lean in to lock their lips together. Wrapping her arms around his neck as Jimmy deepen the kiss. Kiyah pulled away before they got too carried away.

“Hold on.” She whispered. She reached over on the counter to grab the rag she had placed on the counter. She dipped it in the bowl that had warm water in it now and moved to clean up what she started.

She cleaned his face as gently as she could, throwing the rag in the sink for now and unwrapping the towel from his head. Kiyah was killing two birds with one stone. She took pride in taking care of Jimmy, and this gave her the chance to do so but she was also trying to speed up the process of getting him in her room.

Jimmy let his hands move from her back to her stomach, trailing slowly towards her breasts before he gripped them; fingers tweaking at her nipples.

Kiyah let out a small moan, letting her head fall back from the pleasure. Jimmy leaned up started placing butterfly kisses upon her neck, locating her sweet spot immediately and closing his mouth to suck on it.

“Fucckk.” Kiyah moaned out, bucking her hips against his. Jimmy’s hands, continued to tweak and pull at her nipples before he let one hand slid down to rub against her covered clit.

“This what you was looking for right?” He asked huskily in her ear. Kiyah felt herself shiver at his tone.

Jimmy pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it through her panties, feeling it get soaked with her essence. His other hand left her breast to wrap around her neck. “Look at me, this what you wanted right?” He repeated.

Kiyah forced herself to lock eyes with Jimmy. “Yes” she breathed out as an answer.

Jimmy pulled her in by her neck to kiss her once again. Locking their lips in a passionate kiss, Kiyah bucked her hips against his hand to cause more friction.

He pushed her panties to the side to push two fingers inside of her, groaning into her mouth at how tight and wet she felt. Kiyah let out a gasp when she felt the sudden intrusion, throwing her head back again. Jimmy’s fingers thrusted in and out of her in a slow place causing her to rock her hips against his hands.

“Look at you.” Jimmy cooed as he picked up the pace of his fingers, curling it to touch her g-spot.

“Fuck Daddy, you finna make me cum.” She cried out, eyes rolled to the back of her head. She kept clenching herself around his fingers but he was relentless… he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her.

“Look at me.” He demanded and Kiyah couldn’t bring herself to it, moans slipping out her mouth uncontrollably as she felt a tightening feeling in her stomach.

Jimmy cupped her jaw, forcing her to lift her head and lock eyes. “I want the last thing you see before you cum is me.” He told her, he wanted to watch her love faces as she reached her climax.

“Jimmy please.” She pleaded.

She watched as his darkened eyes as he felt her clench against his fingers again. “Watch me make you cum.” He whispered, picking up the pace of his fingers. “That’s it baby, cum for daddy.”

Kiyah’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her mouth dropped open as she let out a drawn moan, body shaking as she let herself go cumming all over his fingers. Whimpering as he slowed down to help her ride out her orgasm.

Once she was able to collect herself, he slowly pulled his fingers out of her, flashing her a smile. “You so sexy.”

She just searched his eyes, did this man really have the audacity to smile innocently at her like he didn’t just snatch her up?

He stared at her while he placed both fingers in his mouth, sucking her juices off his fingers. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and leaned down to kiss her, sliding his tongue in her mouth so she could taste herself.

When he felt her try to deepen the kiss, Jimmy pulled back. “Come outside, I got something I wanna show you.”

It took some convincing to get Kiyah to move from the bathroom to go outside. Kiyah just wanted to jump his bones but he really wanted to show her what he originally had planned for the both of them for the day. And even though it took some convincing, his efforts were not in vain because once she say the living room set up she felt her eyes water.

“Jimmy” she breathed out, her breath hitching in her throat as she took everything in. Jimmy smiled at her reaction, he knew it wasn’t much but he was glad it made her happy. She wrapped her hands around his neck to hug him. She was grateful. “Let me show you how thankful I am daddy.” She whispered in his ear.

Do you remember, those special times? They’ll just go on and on in the back of my mind

Jimmy knew ever since he arrived to ATL that this was where he was going to be. Kiyah really showed out for him, and he wanted nothing more than to push her dress up and bury his face in her pussy. She’s been giving for these past couple of days, and last night on the way to ATL he fell asleep on the flight and woke up to his dick in her throat an hour into the flight and assured him that he didn’t have to do anything in return. I just wanna please you. She had stated in a sultry whisper.

She took him out on a date this morning, insisting that she gets to spoil him as much as he spoils her. They went to waffle House for breakfast, and then went to the aquarium right after. She’s been showing the fuck out in Jimmy… He was going to show her his gratitude, no matter where they were at. After he seen her interaction with his family, how his mother fell in love with her almost immediately and how she stayed in the kitchen to help prep the food, even if she didn’t know what was being made… yeah. He knew he was going to be here.

In between her legs with his arms locked around her thighs and his tongue buried inside of her. Kiyah kept her back in a deep arch, eyes rolled to the back of her head with her mouth gaped open but no sound came from her. He had her in a guest bathroom in his brothers house, and she really didn’t want to get caught.

“Fuck, Jimmy.” Kiyah hissed, making him groan against her and wiggle his tongue inside of her, sliding it out of her to swirl it around her pussy to lap up all of her juices. He licked all the way to her clit, sucking on while grazing his tongue against it.

“Daddy” She moaned out, looking down to watch him devour her, moving her hips to grind her pussy against his tongue. Jimmy flattened his tongue against her clit when he felt her moving her hips, letting her do some of the work. His eyes moving to stare at her and winked on their eyes locked.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Daddy you finna make me cum.” And at that warning, he closed his mouth around her clit again and sucked. He let out a moan, the vibrations sending a euphoric sensation throughout her body. Jimmy tightened his grip on her thighs to keep her in place. Kiyah let out a moan, letting her head fall back as her stomach tightened. “I’m cumming.” She announced as she spilled all into his mouth, panting heavily. Her lower body shook as her orgasm washed through her and Jimmy made sure to catch every drop.

He raised to his feet, hand wrapping around her neck as he drew her in to smash their lips together to lock their lips in a slow sloppy kiss.

“Damn Papa.” She whispered against his lips as she tried to catch her breath and he smirked.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He told her, pulling his pants down so that she could free himself. Kiyah watched Jimmy stroke himself, precum leaking from the tip and she felt herself clench around nothing.

“There’s an entire party going on outside.” Kiyah whispered as if trying to get him to stop but Jimmy wasn’t hearing none of that.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m boutta fuck you up for real.” He replied pulling her off the sink counter to face the mirror. “And you gone watch me do it.” He whispered huskily in her ear.

Kiyah barely had time to grip onto the sink counter before Jimmy pushed himself into her, curses left both of their mouths as he pushed until their was nothing to push left. Both of them to moan out at the feeling.

“Eyes on the mirror the whole time ma.” He whispered in her ear, causing Kiyah to shiver.

Jimmy stayed still for a second, being raw inside of Kiyah made him want to ruin her life, and if the circumstances were different he totally would’ve.

He placed both hands on her hips and pulling out and thrusting back inside of her, pushing just as deep as he went the first time, every time he slid back in her. Kiyah’s head flew back as moans poured from her mouth.

Jimmy watching her through the mirror, seeing how wreck she looked before he even really got started and an evil smirk spread across his face. One hand moved to grip on her breast, pulling it out of the dress and his other hand found its way to her neck. “What I tell you princess?”

“I-“ Kiyah gasped out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as he fucked her harder and harder. Her manicured hand moved up to grip onto the wrist of the hand that was wrapped around her neck. It was as if Jimmy was fucking her like he was angry.

“Yesss baby, just like that.” She moaned out.

Watching her love faces always did something to him, he swiftly moved to the left a little to hit her g spot causing Kiyah to let out a loud moan. Jimmy dropped the breast that he was holding and raised his hand to clap it against her mouth. “You know you’re supposed to be quiet, but here you are trynna let the whole world know how much you love this dick.”

His words caused Kiyah to clench around around him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Jimmy chuckled deeply. “C’mon Mama, let Daddy in so I can fuck you up.”

He continued to poke at her spot over and over again, making Kiyah moan loudly into his hands. He forced her head back up to face the mirror so she could watch. Tears ran down her face at the intense feeling of him fucking the shit out of her. “You look so pretty like this.” He cooed.

He sped up and only stopped a few couple strokes to really press himself against her spot. “Open ya mouth for me Mama.” He demanded.

Kiyah immediately let her mouth drop open, he stuck two fingers in her mouth. “Suck it.”

Kiyah closed her mouth back around his fingers, humming in pleasure when she mimicked her actions from earlier. She sucked his fingers, her tongue twirling against them and sucked hard. Jimmy felt his dick twitch inside of her, he would ruin her right here and be content with that.

“Keep yo eyes on the mirror, and if they move, I’m not gone let you cum.” He warned. Kiyah felt her body shiver, keeping her eyes on his through the mirror.

Jimmy pulled his fingers out of her mouth and placed them on her clit, rubbing them quickly as he started picking his thrust back up.

The motive to be discreet flew out the window, Kiyah moaning loudly, gripping the counter until her knuckled turned white. “You finna make me cum again.” She cried out.

Jimmy let go of her neck to grip on her braids to make sure her heads positioned the way he wanted it to be. He could feel her walls clench and unclench around him. “That’s a good girl, look at you take all of it.”

“Please don’t stop, I’m right there baby. Oh my fuck.” She cried as he fucked her harder. “Don’t stop daddy, please don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum.” She begged, watching more tears fall her eyes.

Jimmy let out a grunt, “Daddy gone make that pretty pussy cum every single time.” He affirmed, rubbing her clit in circles. “Gimme that shit baby.” And Kiyah’s upper body stilled as her lower body shook, releasing herself all over him squirting a little.

“Yesssss” She hissed out and Jimmy had to pull out as quickly as he could, nutting on ass.

Wrapping his arms around her, Jimmy let himself drop his weight on her a little.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck. “You keep spoiling me like that Ma and I swear Imma keep you cummin’ like that every single time.” He promised.

And Girl, No matter what was said

“Kiyah I just didn’t wanna be rude to her. You know that with my status.” Jimmy argued

“And Jimmy, all that shit was cool when we were friends. But to do that shit in front of my face? Are you fucking serious? Then the bitch gone have the audacity to laugh at me like she did something.”

“Kiyah.” He started but she cut him off.

"No. You keep giving these bitches a reason to laugh at me like I’m some goofy bitch all cause you wanna be so damn friendly." Kiyah stressed

"Being friendly comes with the job Kiyah! Damn, every time I come in this bitch, you in my ear stressing me the fuck out don’t nobody wanna hear that. Can you at least appreciate that I even come in? I don’t gotta be here Kiyah.” He snapped and she nodded her head at him.

“You know what Jimmy? Since you don’t gotta be here, just stop showing up. Since I stress you out so fucking much, forget I even said anything. I’m sick of this shit, I’m done. You definitely don’t gotta worry about me no more.” Kiyah retorted back.

It was supposed to be a good night for the two, they were both leaving the arena when they bumped into a couple fans who just wanted some pictures. It was fine until it wasn’t. What he thought was being friendly was borderline flirting to these girls, they’d take whatever he’d give them and run a mile with. It was fine until he thought it was okay to let the fan touch for way longer than what was appropriate.

“You’re too damn insecure Kiyah when the fuck you gone wake up and realize that? That’s the reason why these other dudes treated you like trash, and you got so much damn baggage that nobody wants to deal with!” Jimmy snapped but the second he said it, he regretted it.

Kiyah froze, his words ringing in her head. Baggage. She had too much baggage.

“Kiyah I didn’t mean that.” He whispered but she sent a watery smile in his direction.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it, from now on you won’t have to worry about me or my baggage.”

And she turned around and left. Jimmy felt his heart break as she walked but his stubbornness is what kept her from chasing her. Unbeknownst to him, that would be the last time he seen her.

I will never forget what we had, my baby.

All the memories of his time in New York came back to him as he drove to the garden arena. He remembered when told him her feelings drunk off her ass after the Christmas party.

He remembers, her home made cooking every time he visited or any time she visited him. He remembers taking care of her when she caught covid.

She was a crying mess when her test came back positive. She did what she did best and isolate herself away from people. Pushing Jimmy away and booked her own hotel so that she wouldn’t pass it on to Bianca and Tez. And at first Jimmy thought she only isolated from him, but when Tez came and asked if he’d heard from Kiyah, he realized she was isolating herself from everyone.

He remembers asking Bianca if she knew what hotel Kiyah had checked into and he remembers bribing the concierge to tell him what her room number was. He remembers pushing himself through the hotel door when she tried to shut the door in his face.

“Jimmy I’m sick, I have covid.” She stressed, moving away from him as fast as she could.

“Kiyah” He whispered when he took in the scene in front of him. She was hurting and she didn’t want to tell anybody.

“You have to get out!”

“Kiyah, I haven’t heard from you in damn near three weeks. What’s going on?” He asked, concern laced in his voice

“I’m sick; that’s what’s going on. Now if you could please leave, I don’t want you to get sick.”

"No. Kiyah you need to stop pushing people away because you’re scared to show people the ugly side of you.”

He remembers Kiyah crying in his arms that night because she finally felt like someone cared for her.

He remembers the first time he told her ‘I love you’. She cried, and told him she was scared to say it back because every time she did, it was for nothing. And He never rushed her to say it back.

He remembers her confessing her love back to him not even a week later because she really couldn’t hold it in. She’s been feeling him for a long time and she refused to keep her feelings to herself any longer. Jimmy remembers everything, and boy did it hurt to.

Do you remember (I bet you remember)

Jimmy let out a sigh as he sat in the bloodline locker room. Even though they were split, They requested to still share the same locker room. It’s quiet, he’s not telling any jokes and he’s getting tired of the worried look’s being shared between his brothers.

“Uce, I’m fine. It’s just one night. It won’t kill me.” Jimmy huffed out and Jey shrugged.

“I wanna believe you Uce, but you been walking around like a sad puppy ever since we landed. Why don’t you just call her?” Jey suggested and Solo nodded, agreeing with his older brother.

“She told me I wouldn’t hear from her again and she meant that shit.” Jimmy sighed. “I can’t just pop up ya know? I wanna respect her and her space.”

Before Jey could reply, a knock was heard on the door. The silence after the knock is what had them confused. Solo moved to answer the door but Jimmy raised his hand to stop him. They didn’t know who that was. The knocking happened again.

“Who is it?” Jey called out and the voice that answered back made Jimmy’s blood run cold.

“It’s me.” Kiyah’s voice was heard through the door.

Jimmy stood up slowly and walked towards the door and he held his breath as he opened the door. “Kiyah.” He breathed out and she flashed a small smile towards him.

“Hi.”

#jimmy uso #jimmy uso x reader #wwe #black reader #the bloodline #solo sikoa #jey uso

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willalove75 · 1 year

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The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc

WHAT DAY IS IT?! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY?! WOOHOO!!! I hope you all join me as I enter the final year of my 20s! And since one of my love languages is gift-giving, I am giving you all a present today! I debated on releasing this earlier this summer but I wanted to get a few chapters done before I did - and get a little further into Alcina's New Maid before I started putting out chapters. But ANM will still be updated weekly! Fear not! (And I know chapter 16 is late, I didn't get to finish it yesterday so I will finish it either today or tomorrow I promise!) Ideally, I would love to update this fic weekly as well but I just don't know if that is realistic so I am aiming for a bi-weekly or monthly update for this. Might be a little more frequently, might not. So I apologize in advance for irregular updates for this until I can get myself on a reasonable writing schedule! I do have a couple of chapters done already but I want to try and have a few chapters lined up as they're released. Unlike ANM where I literally brain-dump each chapter each week (usually done in a single day) and post it after I read it over a couple of times. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this fic since it's been rotting my brain for MONTHS and I literally have not been able to stop thinking about it and coming up with ideas/expanding on my ideas literally every fucking day for the last like, 4 months? LOL

Summary: It's been a tough few years for you. After a tragedy that left you to raise your three year old, Emma, as a single parent, you're finally starting to get back on your feet. Recently hired as a marketing & social media strategist for Dimitrescu Estate, a new chapter of your life is just beginning.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, flirty

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: I know I have so many other requests I should be doing but once again my mind has been plagued by this story I came up with and I need to get it out of my headddd.

Also, this is a blended oc/reader fic. Using "you" has become so engrained into my writing it's almost impossible to not add it (as opposed to writing she/her), but I will be giving the oc a name and describing her! Ik that's not everyone's cup of tea so I apologize in advance but I hope you enjoy it regardless! It'll be written in a similar fashion as Safety and Dimitrescu Books for those of you who are wondering what that will be like and/or read those (fucking amazing and wonderful) fics!

You take in the beautiful field around you, the crystal blue sky, the tall grass blowing in the breeze. Even though you have no idea where you are, it's warm and you have a fullness in your heart you haven't felt in a long time. In the distance you spot a familiar figure.

"It can't be-" you begin to say.

The figure continues to walk in your direction, but doesn't seem to get any closer. You begin to take a few steps forward, your legs feel like lead, slowing your movements. You try to run but you can't - desperate to get closer to the figure. You try and cry out to them but there's no sound when you scream. Using all of your power to move forward, each step becomes more difficult than the last. The figure walking towards you stops and stands still. With tears in your eyes you try and cry out again, and just like last time, there's no sound. The figure begins to move forward again. This time it finally seems like it's coming closer. Their face covered by shadow. You take step after step, using all of your strength to make your way to the figure. You're almost close enough to make out their face as tears stain your cheeks.

You're jolted awake by your alarm clock. Groaning, you reach over to the nightstand to shut it off. Looking down at your pillow you see teardrops scattered across it. Wiping your eyes you realize you were crying in your sleep again. You look up at the clock. 6am. You put your head back down and turn to the other side, reaching your arm across the empty side of the bed. Gently grabbing the pillow next to you, you take a deep, grounding breath and finally get up.

You exit your room and quietly open the other bedroom door. Inside is your three year old daughter, Emma, fast asleep in her toddler bed. Closing the door you make your way into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Pulling your hair out of it's messy ponytail you begin to undresses. Catching a glance of yourself in the mirror, the darkness hides most of what you see. Unless Emma is with you, every shower you've taken for the last two years has been in the dark. You had grown tired of looking into the mirror and seeing the dark circles under your eyes, noticing that you had lost weight - just looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a shell of your former self. Even though you feel like you've been able to reclaim a lot of yourself in the last year, you always have a feeling of emptiness looming in your chest.

After showering you check the baby monitor, noticing Emma is beginning to stir, you quickly get dressed and walk into the bedroom. You make you way over to the toddler bed and sit on the edge, running your fingers through the little girls wild curls.

"Good morning my love." You quietly say.

The little girl turns her head and looks up at you, a sleepy smile crosses her face.

"Good morning mommy." She says with a yawn.

"Come on baby, lets get you up." You say, reaching down to pick up the girl, who sits up and reaches for you.

Lifting Emma out of the bed, she cuddles into your neck. You hold the back of her head and take a deep breath in, the empty ache in your chest eases some. After entering the kitchen you put the girl in her booster seat at the table and begin making breakfast for the both of you.

After breakfast you clean up the kitchen and get Emma dressed and put her in the playpen in the living room with her toys while you finish getting yourself ready.

You finish packing up the diaper bag and throwing a few of Emma's toys into another bag. After grabbing the rest of your own things you take Emma out of the playpen and head downstairs.

"Good morning Margie." You say.

"Oh Katie! Good morning!"

A small, elderly woman gets up from the kitchen table and walks up to the two of you.

"Good morning Margie!" Emma says.

"And good morning to you too princess." She says, squeezing the baby's chubby cheeks. "You want coffee hon?"

"No thanks, I'll grab something on my way, I don't want to be late."

"Oh right! Today's the first day of that new job, how are you feeling?"

"I'm excited, I'm looking forward to working in my field again."

"That's great but you know that's not what I meant." She says flatly. "How are you feeling?"

Knowing what she means you look down for a moment and then back up at Margie.

"I'm okay, I'm hanging in there." Margie gives you a look. "I mean, barely, but I'm hanging in there. I'm terrified to leave her." You say looking at Emma as your eyes begin to gloss over. "But I know it's what I have to do, and I really do miss working, I need some sort of normalcy back in my life."

Margie brings her hand to your face and wipes away the stray tear that fell.

"You're gonna do great kid. Knock 'em dead." She says with a smile and pats Katie's cheek.

"Thanks Marge."

With Emma and your things in tow you head to the car, putting Emma in her car seat and dropping your bags in the front passenger seat. When you pull out of the driveway you beep and wave at Marge who's waving from the front door and head off.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Emma says.

"Yes baby, what is it?"

"I want Baby Shark!"

You groan a little, it's just barely 8am and you haven't had coffee, Baby Shark may actually make you snap right now.

"Mommy pleaseeeee!" Emma whines.

"Okay fine."

Her whining is so much worse than Baby Shark, so you oblige. The music starts and Emma starts laughing and clapping her hands and sings along. You do your best to drown it out with your thoughts.

"Mommy! Sing Mommy shark!"

Looking at the girl through the rearview mirror you smile.

"Okay, okay." You say. "Mommy shark do do do do do do, Mommy shark do do do do do do Mommy shark!"

Emma squeals with happiness, you can listen to her laugh all day. It's one of the few things that's been able to get you through the last couple of years.

Pulling up to your in-laws house, you grab the diaper bag, Emma's toys and Emma and head to the front door.

"Nana!!!" Emma squeals when your mother-in-law opens the door.

"Good morning my baby!" She says as she picks Emma up and squeezes her. "Good morning Katie." She hugs you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Morning mom." You say and hug her back. "Thank you so much for watching her, really."

"Of course, I'd do anything for my grandbaby!" She says putting Emma down so she can go play. "Come in, sit."

"I can only stay for a minute, I gotta grab coffee on my way."

"Oh nonsense, I'll make you some and send you with one of our travel mugs, don't waste your money."

Her kindness makes you smile. Not only does your mother-in-law make the best coffee you've ever had, her warmth is always something that's comforted you. After you take a seat at the kitchen table you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Who's in my house?!" You hear a voice playfully yell.

Emma's squealing laugh rings through the house as you hear footsteps walk towards the direction she ran off in. Your mother-in-law puts a cup of coffee down in front of you and the smell is to die for.

"Thanks mom." You say with a smile.

"Good morning sunshine!" Looking over you see your father-in-law with Emma in his arms.

"Morning dad." You say as he kisses you on the cheek.

"Oh coffee? Michelle can you make me a cup?" He asks, looking over at his wife.

"Of course."

"So Katie, you excited for your first day at the new job?" He asks.

"I am, a little nervous, but I'm excited to start working again."

"Yeah it's about time." He says playfully.

"Richard." Michelle hisses as she puts his coffee down in front of him.

"I'm only joking!"

Michelle rolls her eyes at him and sits down at the table. "So which vineyard are you working at again?"

"Dimitrescu Estate."

"Oh right, I've been there a few times, it's a nice place. Very pretty, and they have great wine." She says.

"What are you doing there?" Richard asks.

"Marketing and social media, pretty much the same thing I did at the last place."

"That's right."

Looking down at your watch you realize the time.

"Crap I have to go or I'm gonna be late." You say, getting up.

Michelle gets up, grabs your coffee cup and pours it into a travel mug, pops the top onto it and hands it to you.

"There you go sweetheart."

"Thanks mom." You say, hugging her.

"Okay love, mommy has to go, have fun with Nana and Pop!" You place a kiss on Emma's head and the baby's face scrunches, signaling she's about to wail.

"Hey Emma? Wanna go to the park with me?" Richard asks.

Her face lights up at the word "park", meltdown averted.

"YES!" She screams.

"Thank you." You whisper to Richard and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you so much for looking after her." You say as you head towards the door.

"We'll take her any day of the week!" Richard says.

"Love you honey." Michelle says.

"Love you guys too!"

"Good luck!" Richard calls out after her.

Once you're out the door Michelle swats Richard with a dishtowel.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"'About time?' Really Richard?" She scolds him.

"What? I was kidding, she knows I was!"

Michelle rolls her eyes at him and leaves the kitchen.

You jump into your car and plug in the address of the vineyard. You had been there a few years ago when you went to the wineries with your friends; hopping to and from the various establishments in the area, but that was it. Your first interview was over the phone, the second one, a Zoom interview, you couldn't even see your new boss' face because her webcam was broken. All you were able to hear was the woman's voice. It had a silky tone - sultry, even - if you were being honest. Aside from that, you knew nothing about her, you really weren't even sure if the woman you spoke with was the owner or just an employee.

Pulling up to the vineyard you put your car in park. You pull your necklace out of your shirt and hold onto it, your fingers tracing the outline of the heart shape. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, you drop the necklace back down under your shirt. You grab your bags and head inside.

The memories of the time you and your friends were here come flooding back as you walk in. You admire the ornate style of the room - it's just as pretty as it was when you were here last. As you look around you spot a beautiful grand piano tucked away in the corner and you take note of the jazz music softly playing over the speakers.

"Sorry, we don't open until 11." A slightly aggravated voice says.

You look over and see a young girl cleaning the bar, looking at you, visibly annoyed. She can't be older than 20, dark brown, almost black hair. She's wearing a tight black t-shirt with various silver necklaces dangling from her neck.

"Oh, I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

The girls demeanor softens, but not much.

"MOM!!" She yells towards the back. "MOM!!!"

A blond girl runs out from the kitchen area.

"Cassandra shut it, mom's on the phone!"

The dark haired girl, Cassandra, rolls her eyes.

"Can you take her to go see mom?" She asks the blond, nodding towards you.

"Nope, sorry, I have to go, I have class in a little bit."

"Bela pleaseeeee." Cassandra whines.

"No Cass, I'm leaving, bye!" The blond disappears into the kitchen again and Cassandra rolls her eyes.

"Follow me."

She leads you to the back of the winery where the offices are. There aren't many offices, but in each one there's someone diligently working.

Cassandra stops at the door furthest away and throws it open.

"Mom!"

The woman behind the desk snaps her attention up to her daughter with intensity in her eyes. Her phone pressed against her ear. She holds a finger up to Cassandra signaling for her to wait, but never breaks eye contact with her.

The woman is beautiful. Jet black hair with near perfect curls that fall just under her jawline. Gorgeous grey-blue eyes, full lips painted with the perfect shade of crimson red. She's wearing a white button down, the first few buttons undone - just enough to show off her large chest but covered up enough to still be professional. The sleeves are neatly rolled to her elbows, you also take note of her perfectly manicured nails, painted black. She's wearing layered, elegant gold necklaces that accentuate her neckline. She has a few rings and a matching bracelet on to pull the look together.

"Am nevoie de transport până săptămâna viitoare. . . Nu, abia așteaptă. . . Trebuie să plec. . . La revedere."

(I need the shipment by next week. . . No, it can't wait. . . I have to go. . . Goodbye.)

She places the phone into its cradle and her eyes snap back to Cassandra.

"What have I told you about yelling across the building?" Her voice is stern, matching the intensity in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I-"

"Were you dying?"

"What?"

Her question surprised and confused you too.

"Were you dying?"

"No?"

"Was one of your sisters dying or gravely injured?"

"No."

"Was there any emergency whatsoever?"

Cassandra sighs. "No."

"Then there is no reason for you to be screaming across my tasting room. Understood?"

"Yes mom." She says, hanging her head.

"Now what is it that you needed?" The woman's tone softens.

"The new girl is here. The social media whatever?"

The woman groans, putting her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"Cassandra. You act like that in front of our new employee?" She grumbles. "Go, finish your morning tasks." She says, waving the girl off.

Cassandra lets out an exaggerated "UGH" accompanied by a dramatic eye roll and begins to walk away.

"Și dacă nu remediați această atitudine, vă voi trimite înapoi în România." She calls after her.

(And if you don't fix that attitude I will ship you back to Romania.)

"Sorry mom." Cassandra looks at her mom who raised eyebrow at her.

The woman nods her away.

"I apologize for that, she can be quite difficult sometimes." She says as her eyes follow her daughter while she walks away. When Cassandra is out of view her eyes snap to you.

"Oh, it's no worry at all." You say with a soft smile.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, take a seat." She gestures to the chair in front of her desk.

The woman reaches her hand out across her desk as you sit.

"Alcina Dimitrescu, owner and operator of Dimitrescu Estate."

Your hand meets hers for a firm handshake. "Katie Moore, it's great to finally meet you as well."

"Is Katie short for anything?" She asks.

"Uh, yeah, Kathleen." You say.

"Kathleen, what a beautiful name. Do you prefer Katie over Kathleen?"

"Oh it doesn't really matter to me. I'll respond to both."

"Wonderful. Well then Kathleen, welcome. We'll go over the job responsibilities. I'll have you fill out some paperwork and then I'll show you around the facility."

"Sounds good."

Alcina goes over what the job requirements are, what she expects of you, where the person who was in your position had left off, the usual.

"And you will get a company laptop, you can leave it here, take it home, doesn't matter much to me. As long as it's well taken care of." She picks up the phone and presses a few numbers on t he keypad and you hear the intercom go off.

"Cassandra, my office please." She hangs the phone up and looks back at you. "Cassandra has set up your laptop, if there's anything else you need, any programs you use that aren't installed, she can take care of that for you."

Cassandra walks into the office, seemingly in a better mood than earlier.

"What's up mom?"

"Can you please bring me Kathleen's laptop."

"On it." She says and walks away.

"Now for the paperwork. I'll have you fill out these and then I'll take down some of your information." She says as she hands you a W2 and some other new employee paperwork.

She hands you a pen and you begin to fill out the paperwork on her desk as she turns her attention back to her computer.

"Here you go mom." Cassandra says, handing her mom a laptop box.

"Thank you draga. Almost done with your morning tasks?"

"Yup, just gotta put out the spill trays and then I'm done."

"Excellent, thank you draga mea."

Cassandra leaves as you finish filling out the paperwork. You trade her the paperwork for the laptop box and place it on the chair next to you.

"Okay, now I just need some of your information."

She takes down your address, phone number, birthdate, etc.

"And who is your emergency contact? God forbid something were to happen."

"Uh, Jake-" You stop yourself, shaking your head as you feel your heart sink. "Sorry, uh," Alcina looks at you over her reading glasses. "It'll be my mom, I guess, Deborah Wilson."

Alcina takes down your moms information and places her glasses on her desk.

"Excellent, now that that's out of the way, I will show you the facility. You can leave your things here."

Alcina pushes her chair away from her desk and stands up, you're taken back at how tall she is. She's damn near 7 feet tall. Alcina is easily a foot taller than you. With your work heels you're 5'4" on a good day. In her heels, Alcina is easily 6'5"-6'6".

You take notice of Alcina's full outfit - and her body. Her black stilettos, high waisted, wide legged dress pants accentuate her long legs. A thick belt with a black belt buckle that frames her waist, showing off her round hips. Her ensemble is reminiscent of the 1940s-1950s, but with a modern twist. It's obvious she has a great sense of style.

Alcina walks effortlessly through the halls in her stilettos as she shows you around the facility. She tells you what each room is, what its purpose is for and tells you a little bit of history of the place. She explains that there are a few other buildings on the property where the grapes are sent to and where the wine is made and bottled, but that this is the main building. Alcina takes you through the kitchen and into the vineyard a bit to show the different grapes that are put into making the wine.

Next on the tour, she brings you down into the wine cellar. You were expecting a dreary basement, but you're surprised when you see a beautiful wine cellar. It looks like something out of a movie.

Wine racks line the walls from floor to ceiling, housing hundreds - maybe even a thousand - bottles of wine. The stone archway along with the wooden accents and shelves give the room a rustic yet elegant feel. There's a gorgeous wooden table in the center with four chairs. The set looks like it's custom made.

As you look around the room you see Alcina walk over to one of the racks. She moves a wine barrel to the side like it weighed nothing.

"Even if that thing is empty, it still has to weigh a ton." You think to yourself.

Alcina examines the rack and carefully pulls a bottle off of it.

"And this, this is what started it all." She says, handing you the bottle.

As you examine the bottle you note the beautiful gold and red details around it. It looks expensive. The label on the front reads:

"Sanguis Virginis."

"Precisely, Romanian for Maiden's Blood." Alcina says with a smile as she takes the bottle and returns it to its place.

You don't even realize the confused expression on your face until you hear Alcina chuckle at it.

"Obviously, not made with real blood. My ancestors originate from Romania, my great-grandfather it was I believe who first began making Sanguis Virginis, well over a hundred years ago at his vineyard in Romania. Eventually the business was passed down to me, however I decided to take it in a bit of a different direction. Since I was already established here in the US when I acquired the business, I purchased this property and turned it into what it is today. We've expanded our collection and now we make over 25 different wine. And I import other things such as ciders and beers from both Romania and local breweries for our customers to enjoy. No longer do we just make and sell the wine to distributers."

Alcina looks around the wine cellar with pride, you can see the passion for her family's business in her eyes.

"Any questions?"

"No, I think you covered everything. It's beautiful down here."

"Why thank you. The cellar is my personal favorite room on the entire property."

"I can see why, it's stunning."

You take in the rest of your surroundings. The warm wood absorbs the lighting, giving the room a soft yet bright glow. It's a large cellar but somehow it still feels cozy.

"Alright, lets head back upstairs, shall we? We should be opening in a few minutes and I like to do a once-over to make sure everything is in place." Alcina says.

"Sounds good."

Alcina leads you out of the wine cellar and back up to the tasting room. Cassandra and another bartender are behind the bar, drying glasses and putting them away. Alcina swipes her finger across the piano, inspects it, and nods in approval. You notice her glace at the piano again, looking at it with adoration.

"Do you play?" You ask.

"Lifetimes ago." She says with a smile. "But I wasn't very good."

"Mom what are you talking about?" Cassandra says from the bar. "You're one of the best piano players I've ever heard."

"Thank you draga." She says, smiling at her daughter.

After her inspection is complete she walks to the front doors and opens them, pulling the doorstop down with the bottom of her heel. She flips the "closed" sign over to "open" and makes her way to the massive floor to ceiling windows that line the wall across from the bar. She unlocks each window and pushes on the side of the frame to open them, making sure each window is open at the same angle.

"She's so anal retentive when she opens." Cassandra says, half complaining and half just saying it out loud.

"I can hear you." Alcina says from across the room.

Cassandra rolls her eyes and continues to put the glasses away.

Making her way over the the double glass doors leading to the outside patio, Alcina props them open allowing a cool summer breeze through the tasting room.

She gives the room another once-over. When she's satisfied she nods to herself again and looks at Cassandra.

"Everything looks wonderful. If you need me, you know where to find me. Kathleen," She says, turning to you. "lets finish getting you set up."

Alcina leads you back to her office. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and a sudden chill runs up your spine. Quickly taking it out, you see a text from Michelle. Your heart begins to race as you open the message. A sigh of relief is released when you realize it's just some photos of Emma, covered in flour, helping Michelle make cookies.

"Everything alright?" Alcina says.

Focused on opening the text message, you didn't even realize that you stopped following Alcina.

"Oh, yes, sorry." You say as you catch up with her. "Just my mother-in-law, she's watching my daughter today and was giving me an update."

"You have a daughter?" Alcina asks, a little surprised as they walk into her office.

"Yeah, Emma, she's about 3 and a half." You say, sitting back down.

Alcina glances down at your hands, taking notice of an absent wedding ring on your left ring finger. She also notices a ring that looks like it could be a wedding band on your right ring finger.

"How sweet. It's a fun age. Although from my experience with the girls, it's the terrible three's that are the hardest. Two was an easy age."

"I wholeheartedly agree with that. She's wonderful but likes to get herself into all kinds of things. Luckily, besides her insatiable curiosity for things that can hurt her, she's a really good kid."

Alcina laughs, pulling a smile across your face.

"Children are wonderful, until they become teenagers that is. That's when the real fun begins." She says sarcastically.

"Oh, I could only imagine. It makes me cringe as a parent now when I think of all of the things I said and did when I was a teenager."

"Oh, so you were a bad kid?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

A light blush creeps across your cheeks. "I wouldn't say I was a bad kid. At least I wasn't worse than your average teenager."

Alcina gives you a smirk, the corner of her lip curled into a half smile.

"Is she flirting with me?" The thought flashes across your mind but you quickly dismiss it. This is your new boss, Alcina's just being nice, it's your first day here. There's no way she's flirting with you right now.

"So, I will show you to your office and let you get yourself settled." Alcina says.

Grabbing your bag and the laptop box, Alcina leads you to the room closest to her office and flicks the lights on.

It's a modest little office, on the left you see an L shaped desk in the corner against the glass window facing the hallway. On top sits two monitors, a desk chair and a small desk lamp. To the right is a small empty bookshelf. The office isn't anything fancy, but it's yours, and you're surprisingly excited about it.

"Please feel free to decorate it how you see fit." Alcina says, checking her watch. "I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I'll stop by again this afternoon to check and see how things are going. Cassandra should have left you a list of our social media logins." She says, walking over to the desk and picking up a sheet of paper. "Here it is. Take a look at them and when I get back I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you think they're doing and of course, what could be improved." She says, handing you the paper. "You did mention on your resume photography skills, yes?"

"Yes, and some videography and video editing skills as well."

"Excellent. The channels were being run by my eldest, Bela. But since she's has an internship beginning soon she no longer has the time. And since our last marketing director left, things have been in a bit of a disarray. Hopefully it won't be too overwhelming." She says, trying to gauge your reaction.

"I'm always up for a good challenge." You say with a smile.

Alcina gives a nod of approval and spins around on her heel to leave.

"I must be off. I'll be back in a little while to check in, if there's anything you need please seek out Cassandra. If she's doing what she's supposed to, you'll find her behind the bar in the tasting room."

"Sounds good, thank you."

"And Kathleen," Alcina says, turning back towards you. "Welcome to Dimitrescu Estate."

#willalove75 #resident evil alcina #alcina x female reader #re8 alcina #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x oc #alcina dimitrescu x original character #lady dimitrescuxreader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu x original character #re8 fanfiction #re8 #re8 village

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marblemoovt · 2 years

Text

Bake A Wish - John Price/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Fluff with a smidge of angst

Summary:

You bump into a man and his daughter at the grocery store. The kid is really insistent you join them for dinner.

------

She’s been on a tangent about her father, who you assume she’s hiding from, for ten minutes now. From what you’re able to gather, he works in the military.

Unwilling to dampen her excitement, you crouch down and listen to every word. “Is that so, little one?” you say, propping your chin up with your hand.

She nods, brown strands flying everywhere. “Mhmm. And he’s super handsome, too! A lady called him a dill, but Daddy’s not a pickle! She was so silly.” Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth to barricade the gurgle in your throat. A fucking DILL.

Note:

This has been sitting in my wips for over a month but it's finally done!! I apologize if the quality feels sporadic throughout the fic. Writing consistently is just something I can't seem to do and my motivation/inspiration has been in a slump lately. The amount of fluff fics I've written that involve baking is ridiculous, I didn't realize that's the activity I default to lol.

I've never written for John before, so I'm still trying to get a feel for his character.

Anyways, thank you @yeyinde for introducing John Price to me. I was debating on not tagging you but I can't be a coward forever.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

John holds the hand of his six-year-old daughter, Rose. The little munchkin is a ball of energy, and he fears the consequences if he were to let her run wild. “Don’t let go of my hand, ok Rosy?” Rose grins with more mischief than a little child should have. She attempts to run away, and John scoops her in his arms.

“I’m too big to be carried, Daddy!” she squeals, arms flinging around his neck to stabilize herself. The scent of her strawberry shampoo tickles his nose.

“You have to promise me you’re not going to do that again,” he says. Rose holds out her pinky, and he accepts her promise. Her finger looks tiny and frail compared to his. He sets her down and ruffles her hair despite her whinging. “Do you remember what we came here to buy?” he asks.

She claps her hands with glee and exclaims, “Cookies for Santa!!! Because Daddy can’t bake, so we have to buy cookies from the store!” John smiles, but he can’t help but feel the sting of her bluntness. Kids are way too honest.

“What kind of cookies do you want to get?” he asks.

“Not chocolate chip. Everyone uses chocolate chip.” She strokes her chin, imitating the gesture she’s seen her father do whenever he has to think hard about something. “Candy cane cookies!” She ponders over it for another minute before nodding her head. “I bet Santa’s never gotten candy cane cookies before.”

“I don’t think they sell those, rosebud,” he says, and she frowns.

“I guess they’re too special to sell in a store,” she laments, her enthusiasm wilting a little.

John crouches down to Rose’s eye level. “Why don’t we look at all the cookies they have and pick one afterwards?” he suggests.

“Ok,” she sighs, holding her hand out for him to grab. Large, calloused fingers swallow her hand whole, and John wonders how much longer it will stay like this. Her brown locks are a few inches longer than last time, but the beaming smile on her face when she sees him remains constant. He blinks the heat away from his eyes and leads Rose to the snack aisle.

There’s an entire shelf dedicated to cookies, some of them themed for the holidays. But the snowflake shortbread cookies further deflate Rose. She droops when they come across sugar cookies in the shape of Christmas trees. John silently curses the corporate companies for manufacturing every winter holiday cookie except for a candy cane. He squeezes her hand, and his heart aches when he catches Rose biting her lip. Tears are on the verge of spilling, but she will not cry. He actually can’t remember the last time he’s seen her cry. The thought bothers him more than he wants.

John spots a box of rainbow cookies on the top shelf. He releases her hand to grab them, “What about these?” When he turns around, Rose is gone. The box tumbles to the ground. “Rose?” His eyes sweep the shelves. Rows of cookies and other snacks, but no sign of her. “Rosy?!” He begins jogging through the store, checking every aisle before moving on to the next. Icy claws grip his chest, and all of his senses are on high alert. He fidgets with the dog tags around his neck and has to remind himself that he’s not on duty.

Sharp laughter slices through the pounding in his eardrums; a high-pitched fit dissolves into familiar giggles. Rose. He flexes his clenched fists to relieve the stinging in his palms. He pinpoints the sound to the baking section and sprints like a madman. Sliding to a stop, he spots her at the other end of the aisle. His body sags against a shelf, and the air enters his lungs with ease once more.

“My Daddy’s amazing! He can shoot bad guys from reeeeally far away,” Rose brags to a stranger crouched in front of her. That stranger is you.

A faint giggle grabbed your attention. Twinkling lights accompanied by the pounding of tiled flooring. A little girl beelined straight toward you, veering to the side to hide behind a display of chocolate bars. She covered her shoes with her hands to dull the blinking, peering around for someone. She spotted you holding a bag of flour and asked if you bake. Her eyes lit up when you confirmed that you do.

She’s been on a tangent about her father, who you assume she’s hiding from, for ten minutes now. From what you’re able to gather, he works in the military.

Unwilling to dampen her excitement, you crouch down and listen to every word. “Is that so, little one?” you say, propping your chin up with your hand.

She nods, brown strands flying everywhere. “Mhmm. And he’s super handsome, too! A lady called him a dill, but Daddy’s not a pickle! She was so silly.”

Your eyes widen, and you slap a hand over your mouth to barricade the gurgle in your throat. A fucking DILL. You don’t have the heart to correct her. Correction: You’re too busy trying not to collapse on the floor in a fit of laughter. The misunderstanding is best left alone, but your curiosity is piqued. What does this man look like?

“Rose!” A voice booms from the other end of the aisle, and the child hides behind you. You stand up and shield her with your body, eying the stranger with a frown. Brown hair with silver streaks, and his eyes—fuck, you wish the sky would be that blue instead of grey. He approaches you two, and when Rose makes no further movements, you stick your arm out to block him.

“Who are you?” you ask. He must be at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders, and built like he could beat you into a bloody pulp if he wanted.

He mirrors your frown, eyes flickering to the brown hair peeking behind your figure. “I should be asking you that. Who are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?”

You narrow your eyes. “How do I know you’re not some pervert who kidnaps children?”

He chuckles; the low rumble sends the butterflies rampaging against your stomach walls. “Sweetheart, I could say the same about you,” and he crosses his arms—his thick and muscular arms. The way his biceps bulge underneath his sweater…. You bite your lip. The metallic tang in your mouth grounds you. You swipe a tongue across the fresh wound, and the sting helps you regain a few brain cells.

Turning to Rose, you ask, “Is this your dad?” and squeeze her hands. “You can tell me if it isn’t, and we’ll find a nice employee to help you.” You talk slowly, enunciating each word with care. Rose glances at the man behind you before settling on your face.

She cups her hands around her mouth, and you lean in, her warm breath tickling your ear. “Yeah, that’s my dad. What do you think? Super handsome, right?” she whispers. You glance at him and huff. A fucking dill, indeed.

“Rosy, stop bothering the nice stranger,” her father says, gesturing for her to come to him. She skips over and fails to dodge his hand. Rose groans and buries her face into her father’s stomach as he ruffles her hair. You avert your eyes and ignore the heat that prickles the back of your neck. Wringing your hands, you stare at the floor as their laughter echoes in the aisle. You hardly know these people. Plus his wife must be somewhere in the store, ready to pop out at any second.

“The ‘stranger’ has a name,” you speak up, introducing yourself. You keep your eyes trained on the shelf of sprinkles above his right shoulder as if the plastic bottles of sugar will stop you from falling.

He holds out a hand for you to shake. “John, John Price.” Firm warmth envelopes your skin and dissipates far too quickly for your liking. Sparks of electricity fizzle before they get a chance to light your nerves on fire—and you want to burn.

“Heh, P as in Pickle,” you snicker, making the mistake of meeting his gaze. Your arm drops to your side, and your bones turn to lead. The sky must be grey because all the blue was stolen and contained in his eyes. There’s no coldness, no ice, only calm ripples of water. The gentle drag of the ocean as the waves lap against the shore, inviting you into its depths.

John raises a brow. “An odd observation, but yes.” He smooths Rose’s hair to no avail. Baby hairs and cowlicks in all different directions are a continuous reminder that he’s been meaning to learn how to style hair.

Rose beams at him with her toothy grin. “Cause Daddy’s a dill!” she adds.

John’s confused expression quickly morphs into one of horror. “Where did you hear that?!” He narrows his eyes at you.

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me. This is the first time we’ve met.”

Rose tugs on his shirt and says, “That lady who used to babysit me. She also called you a fox, but I told her you’re a man.” Your eyes widen, and your shoulders tremble. John runs a hand through his graying hair, and you rip your gaze away because witnessing that felt illegal. Every time you look at him you notice another thing that attracts you.

John sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about her. I love Rose, but she can be a handful at times,” he says, whispering the second half. His head tilts forward, and now all you can focus on is how his moustache frames his mouth. Plump and pink.

Your lips crook upwards in a slant. “It’s not a problem. She’s an entertaining conversationalist.” You find yourself drawing nearer to his face, wandering from the shore and deeper into the ocean—oblivious to the current that will pull you under.

Rose tugs on your shirt and asks, “Why don’t you join us for dinner?” You pull away with a sharp inhale, processing how John’s eyes flicker to your lips. The little girl gazes at you with a hopeful smile, but you look to her father for confirmation.

“Rose, you can’t invite people you barely know to your home,” he reprimands, and her smile flatlines. It’s probably for the best. At the current pace, it’s like you’re in a sappy romance novel! John shoots you an apologetic smile, but you wave your hand and shake your head in understanding.

Rose pouts and stares at her shoes. She shuffles her feet, and the lights twinkle with each tap. “But then there’ll be someone who can bake cookies,” she says, looking up at him with puppy eyes. John winces.

You notice him wracking his brain for a response and decide to help him. “They sell rolls of sugar cookie dough; next to the puff pastry,” and you jerk a thumb behind you. Sometimes you buy a roll or two when you feel particularly lazy but crave cookies.

John mouths a “Thank you” and holds Rose’s hand. “C’mon, rosebud. Let’s buy some, and you can make your candy cane cookies.”

Rose perks up at the mention of cookies, her shoes now fighting to match the brightness of her eyes. “Wow! They sell everything here!” She drags him to the pre-made dough section. Well, she tries to drag him. Rose is less than half her father’s size. It reminds you of those cartoon characters that try to move a comically large boulder. Blue eyes meet your gaze one last time and wink at you.

Did. Did he just?

You stand there, unblinking, staring at the corner they disappeared behind.

Holy fucking shit. He did.

You don’t register going through the checkout and packing your things in the car. With a blink, you’re in front of the steering wheel, key in hand. Where were you...? Home. You were on your way home. Slotting the key in the ignition, you start the engine and begin the drive home. For once, the clouds have gone, and the world mocks you with its clear skies. You don’t think you can stand to look at the colour blue for a while. It’s a good thing you’re sitting right now.

The drive itself is unremarkable. You go through the same streets, pass the same buildings, pull into the same parking lot, and park in your usual spot next to a truck. You admire the muscular arm resting on said truck window. Funny. Guess that sweater is popular around here. Large hands run through brown hair flecked with grey—John.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You creep out of your car and circle around to the apartment building, abandoning your groceries.

Just a few feet. Just a few feet, and you’ll make it to the door. Conscious of your steps, you slink across the pavement and concrete. You wrap your hand around the handle, and the tension bleeds from your shoulders.

“Are you playing hide and seek, too?” a voice from below asks. You jerk and pull the door instead of pushing. A loud rattle echoes in the vicinity. Who decided it was a good idea to make doors out of glass? A sadist who likes to watch people open doors incorrectly, that’s who. You glance down. Long lashes frame blue eyes that stare into your soul. Your fingers itch to adjust the cowlick in the disarray of her hair. You spot a few leaves clinging to her locks. Was she hiding by that bush beside you?

“Are you hiding from your dad?” you ask Rose, scooting behind the potted plant when she beckons you closer.

Rose shrugs and peeks around you. “Daddy was taking too long. I’m waiting to see when he’ll notice I left.”

Your brows pinch together. “That’s not safe, Rose. You should stick close to him. What if something bad happens to you?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot of uncles, and they taught me how to beat up baddies!” She punches the air a few times. Her face pulls tight in concentration before loosening into a grin. She shrinks behind the bush and brings a finger to her lips.“Now shhh, we have to be quiet.”

Boots thud against the pavement, the strides between each step growing shorter. “Rosy! Where did you run off to this time?” There’s a divet to his tone beneath the loudness, like the warning tremors of an avalanche. “I need to put that girl on a leash.” There’s a smile in his tone, but it stretches taut like a rubber band, ready to snap and whiplash you with his increasing agitation. He runs a hand down his face and sighs, eyes darting across the rows of cars.

You can’t watch this any longer. You move to reveal yourself, but Rose beats you to it. She tiptoes behind her father, giving up halfway and slamming herself into him.

“Boo!” Rose screams, voice muffled by his shirt.

John stares at Rose and shouts half a second later. “Ah!” Half a second too late.

Rose pulls away with a sullen frown. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

John crouches down and pets her hair. “No, no, rosebud. Was so afraid I forgot how to talk,” he insists.

Rose gives him a scrutinizing look. “Liar,” she pouts. John leans in and whispers something into her ear, scratching her smooth cheek with his beard. She giggles and squirms, pushing his face away with both her hands. He deliberately rubs their cheeks together, and it causes her to laugh harder.

Once again, you’re watching the two of them from afar. Heat pricks your skin, and your gaze steers toward the door. You should be able to slip unnoticed if you’re quiet. Standing up, you wince as your joints pop. You might as well hang a giant neon sign to denote your presence.

John’s voice glues your feet to the ground. “Let’s bring everything inside, then you can bake your cookies,” he says. You press your back against the wall and exhale through your nose. No big deal. You just need to wait until they head inside first. Your palms dig into the stony material of the building. As if with enough force, you’ll be able to reorganize your atoms and disappear into the walls to escape dying from embarrassment.

“I have a surprise for you, Daddy!” Rose’s voice draws nearer.

You are a wall. A silent, still, and formidable wall.

“Did you find another pretty stone?” John asks, tone laced with amusement.

You close your eyes, but the ocean will not leave you alone. The waves lap at your feet on the shore, and you shrink away. Stone presses hard into your back.

They won’t find you. They’ll walk past you and go inside. Your erratic heartbeat fragments your thoughts into mismatched puzzle pieces. You can’t think with all this drumming and adrenaline.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not a stone.” Rose runs up to you and tugs you from your hiding spot. “A special guest for dinner!” she presents you like a prized animal. You stumble, and your eyes snap open in fear of hitting the ground. Strong arms rush forward to steady you. You lift your head, and your mouth dries.

Cerulean eyes pull you into their depths, crinkles forming at their edges. John’s accent caresses your ears, and you tamp down the unintelligible noise that threatens to destroy your last shred of dignity. “I didn’t know you lived here too,” and the corners of his lips twitch.

You force your tongue to articulate, the words scraping like sandpaper up your throat. “Neither did I—that you also lived here! Cause I know that I live here because I live here!” A shaky laugh warbles out of you. “I wasn’t following you because that would be creepy—and I’m going to shut up now.” You seal your lips together before you can dig a deeper hole for yourself. His hands are still on you, fingers wrapped around your arms. Your blood sings at the contact.

“Do you think Daddy’s handsome?” Rose blurts out. Flames lick your skin, and your mouth becomes reminiscent of a goldfish.

John’s fingers dig into your arms, and it’s not until you flinch that his hands drop to his sides. “That’s not a polite question, Rose,” he rumbles. It’s low, a warning. But when you’re a kid, you’re not afraid of anything.

Rose places her hands on her hips. “But you were like this in the car on the way home too! And when I asked you what was wrong, you told me I was too young to understand. I’m not stupid, Daddy. I’m six.” She stomps on ‘six.’ And you watch as this little girl brings this burly man to his knees.

John sighs, “Not here, Rose. Please.”

But Rose refuses to yield. “Why not? You both like each other, so why can’t we have dinner together?” she asks.

John rubs the back of his neck, the muscles in his arms flexing. “Would you like to join us tonight?” he asks, eyes flickering between your face and the parking lot behind you.

“I’m afraid Rose will kidnap me if I don’t say yes,” you joke.

Rose grumbles, “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud.” She grabs your hand and tugs you to the entrance. “Daddy can bring the groceries inside. I want to show you my toys!”

You dig your heels into the ground and say, “I need to bring my things inside as well. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Rose’s smile falters, and she reluctantly lets you go.

“Don’t worry, Love. I can take care of that for ya,” John offers

You fidget with the keys in your pocket. “Are you sure?” You’re not worried about him stealing your car. He can’t exactly hide if you two live in the same building. Besides, you want to believe that the kindness in his eyes is genuine.

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he reaffirms.

“Ok,” and you hand him your car keys. His fingertips graze your palm, and you shiver. God, you’re pathetic. Rose tugs on your arm, and you trail after her. She leads you up a few flights of stairs before stopping on the third floor, where you also live. Except she walks to the opposite end of the hallway, away from your apartment. She pulls a key out of her pocket and unlocks the door.

Rose drops your hand and runs inside, returning with a stuffed animal in her arms. “This is Mr. Bear. Daddy got him for me!” Mr. Bear is wearing tactical gear and a bucket hat. Frayed threads stick out of his body along the seams, and small patches of fur have fallen out. She cradles the stuffed animal close to her chest and rests her chin atop his head.

You nearly melt on the spot. “That’s very sweet of him,” you say.

“Sometimes, when I miss him, I just need to squeeze Mr. Bear tight.” She gives you a demonstration.

A familiar warm timbre greets your ears.“I love you, rosebud.”

You grin and say, “Your dad reminds me of a bear.”

“Yeah! He’s big and cuddly. But his face turned red when I told him,” Rose mumbles the last part. She straightens up and tugs on your arm. “Oh! And these are my action figures!”

You walk into what you assume is her bedroom. It’s not as chaotic as you thought it would be. Her bed is in one corner of the room, with a collection of stuffies sitting along one side. There’s a shelf with knickknacks and picture frames. Your eyes land on a photo of John holding a small bundle in his arms. It looks like the picture was taken without him knowing. His eyes are wide, staring at the tiny hand wrapped around his thumb.

There’s something that’s been bothering you, but you don’t think it’s your place to ask. Rose startles you when she starts barking out, “Hold your fire! We can’t alert the enemy of our whereabouts!” You whip around to see her sitting on the ground with a mini soldier in each hand. The large tub behind her is open, the lid propped neatly against its side. You sit next to her and watch the ‘mission’ play out. She hands you a soldier and assigns you the special position of super spy. Now a successful job rests on your shoulders.

Thanks to Captain Rose, your team retrieves the files, returning without a single casualty. Although you had a close encounter with the enemy’s Captain Pickles, which began some sort of enemies-to-lovers arc. You don’t know. She’s six. She reasoned that the power of love triumphs over all. Rose begins cleaning up, setting the toys neatly in the bin before snapping the lid shut.

“Did you learn all that from your dad?” you ask.

Rose shrugs and picks up Mr. Bear. “Daddy never tells me anything about work. It’s classified. Sometimes I watch TV. There’s a show where one of the characters looks just like him, but Nana doesn’t let me watch much 'cause it’s not for kids.” Dear lord. Could you imagine being sandwiched between two Johns??

“Rosy? Want to bake your cookies now?” John shouts from the corridor, snapping you out of your fantasy.

“Yes, please!” Rose replies. She grabs your hand and gives you a toothy grin. “You can be my assistant. Daddy’s hopeless at baking.” She leads you to the kitchen, where some bowls and a tray are on the table. Rose lets go and skips to a seat, plopping herself down. Mr. Bear is seated on the chair next to her.

You sit at her other side and ask, “What kind of cookies are we making?” There are no cookie cutters in sight to give you a clue.

Rose clasps her hands together. Her feet swing beneath the table. “Candy Canes! Santa will be so impressed that he’ll grant my wish for sure,” she answers.

You don’t know what a six-year-old would ask from Santa, but you sincerely hope it’s fulfilled. Perusing the items on the table, you notice a vital ingredient missing. “Do you have food dye?” you ask.

Rose strokes her chin. She hops off her chair and walks up to John. “Daddy, do we have any food dye?”

John’s head peeks out from behind the fridge door. “Sorry, Rosy. I don’t remember,” and there’s a sheepish grin on his face.

Rose hums and grabs a stool, tottering to the drawers. “I forgot. You went away for a while. I think Nana left some the last time we baked.” Your eyes snap to the fridge when you hear a thud. An apple rolls across the floor and stops near your feet. You pick up the fruit, thumb brushing over the bruise blooming underneath its skin. “I found red!” Rose waves a small bottle in her hand and dashes to show you.

You set the apple on the table and praise Rose. Her chest puffs up, and the smile she gives you is dazzling. She hops onto her seat, clutching the bottle to her chest.

John walks up to you two. “Here’s the dough,” and he holds out the cylindrical tube but changes his mind and leaves it on the table. The only seats left are the ones across. He picks the spot in front of you.

“Thanks.” You snap the tube open and remove the packaging. “Alright, Rose. We split the dough in half, and you’ll colour one part red.”

Rose cocks her head to the side. “We don’t paint the cookies?”

You shake your head and say, “There’s an easier way to make them look like candy canes.” You hand Rose a wooden spoon and tell her to mix the dough while you add the dye. Once half the dough is red, you take equal parts from both bowls and roll them into noodles. Putting them together, you twist them to form a cane. You curve one end, and the result is a near-perfect replica of a candy cane. Rose marvels at the sight, face inches from the table’s surface.

There’s a streak of food colouring on her face, and you grab a tissue for her. She’s engrossed in the cookie, picking it up and turning it over. Out of impulse, you wipe the stain on her cheek and her laughter tinkles throughout the room. She complains about being ticklish between her giggles. A low sigh draws your attention. You look over to John, who’s watching you with his head propped up with his hand. “What? Do I have something on my face?” you ask.

There’s a softness to John’s features. He looks at you like you’re holding his heart in your hands, squeezing the pulsating organ with every cookie you form. “Do good looks count?” It’s barely audible, but you hear it. His elbow slips from the table, and he clears his throat. “Just been a while since I’ve seen her so happy.” He folds his arms across the table, a wall of muscle to create a false sense of distance.

You gesture your head at Rose. “Make a cookie with her; have fun together.”

John stares at the table, stroking his chin in a familiar fashion, but remains silent otherwise. You chew on the inside of your cheek and resume forming the cookies. The squeal of wood scraping against wood pricks your ears. John squeezes himself into the space between you and Rose. His shoulders brush against you, and he is radiating heat. “What have you got there, Rosy?” he asks.

Rose looks at him with furrowed brows. “A candy cane, silly. Here, I’ll show you how to make it,” she answers. Rose does a quick demonstration, but John still struggles. Somehow he’s managed to mix the parts to create pink. Rose shakes her head, lips tugging into a frown. “My hands are too small; can you help him?” She turns to you. Long lashes frame her doe eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to say no.

You glance at John to find he’s staring at you. Shifting in your seat, you say, “If you don’t mind…?”

John maintains eye contact. “I’m all yours,” and the smile he gives you is bashful. You fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks, but it’s like trying to douse a flame with gasoline. The heat intensifies, and you grab a tissue to wipe your clammy hands, muttering an excuse about the dye staining your skin.

You focus on the table, resisting the temptation to turn your head and meet the gaze burning into your face. “You take equal parts of each dough and roll them into logs.” You pause to make sure he’s following along. “Once they’re the same size, you can twist them together to form a cane.” John is about to mush his cookie as children tend to do with playdough; always mixing the colours. You grab his hands to stop him. His fingers twitch against your palms, but he doesn’t recoil. “Like this,” and you twist your cookie, rolling it some more to flatten the cane.

“You make it sound so easy,” John huffs.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not too bad once you get the hang of it.”

John shakes his head. “Give me a pistol, and I can field strip and reassemble in a few minutes.” He holds up a warped cookie. “This, this I can’t do.”

You bump your shoulders together. “I’ll have you baking like a pro.”

John grins; it’s boyish and charming—it pulls you in like a flower reaching for a ray of sunlight. “Is that a promise?” he asks, lashes framing an expanse of blue. And once again, you are hopelessly lost at sea.

“Only if you’ll invite me over again,” you quip.

“Is this flirting?” Rose asks. Her head pops up behind John’s shoulder. “If Daddy won’t invite you, I will.”

You smile as John buries his face in his hands. “Thank you, Rose,” you say.

She returns the gesture with a wide grin. “You’re very welcome.”

You continue making the cookies in silence, gaslighting yourself into thinking that the numerous brushes against your hand are accidental. 7/10 times you’re grabbing something, John also happens to be reaching for the same item. The cookie under your palm flattens into a pancake when his body leans ever-so-slightly into yours. Thankfully this is the last cookie, and you place it on the baking tray with the rest.

Rose insists on putting the tray into the oven herself, and John watches her like a hawk, hovering behind her in case he needs to step in.

Once John’s certain the apartment won’t burst into flames, he rolls up his sleeves. You eye the veins along his arms as subtly as you can, wincing like a child caught in the act of misbehaving when John speaks. “Can you please help Rose clean up? I need to get started on dinner,” he asks.

“Yes, Chef,” and you give a mock salute. “Alright, Rose. I’ll wash all the dishes in the sink. Can you wipe the counter?” you ask her.

Rose straightens her back and nods. “Affirmative,” she replies, marching to grab a towel.

You begin collecting the bowls and utensils, plugging the drain afterwards to fill up the sink. A few drops of soap and a mountain of suds form. With a sponge, you begin scrubbing away at bits of dried-up dough and red dye. In the corner of your eye, Rose is reprimanding Mr. Bear on how he needs to pull his weight too and that it doesn’t matter if he’s not heavy because he’s full of stuffing.

“You’ve got an adorable soldier,” you say, turning your head to John, who’s heating a pan on the stove.

John watches Rose with deep affection. Those are the eyes of a man staring at the purpose of his existence. “She’s a trooper, alright,” and the smile on his face is lax.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” you ask, adding more soap to your sponge. The remaining traces of dye are giving you grief.

“Fish and chips; one of Rosy’s favourites,” John answers.

“Daddy makes the best!” Rose pipes up.

John shakes his head, and the base of his neck flushes. “She’s exaggerating,” he says.

You smirk, “I’ll be the judge of that.” The chuckle your words elicit from John fills you with a pleasant buzz.

“I have to warn you. I aim to please,” and the lilt in John’s voice encourages you further.

“Yes, you certainly look the type,” you say, eyes trailing up and down his figure. John’s body trembles under your gaze. “Is it just you and Rose here?” You don’t know if he’s divorced, but you don’t recall seeing a ring on his finger.

“She’s dead,” John says. Concise and well-practiced. The plate in your hand slips and splashes into the sink with a thud, shattering the silence. You look over at John, but his back is to you. Shoulders hunched and head low. “Died during childbirth,” he adds, and the slight wobble churns your stomach. You should have known. Should have guessed from how the pictures on the walls only contain two subjects. Rose only ever talks about her father and grandparents. How could you be so fucking blind?

You crush the sponge in your hands, and bubbles seep out between your fingers. An apology is on the tip of your tongue, straining under the weight of your rapid thoughts. Day one, and you’ve already stepped on a mine. A phantom pain aches in your chest, grieving the loss of a love you never had in the first place. John says nothing. Continues to fry the fish in silence. Pops of oil like the rounds of a machine gun, but not loud enough to drown out the hammering of your heart.

Rose breaks the silent war. “I cleaned the counter. Can I check on the cookies?” she asks.

The apology dies on your tongue, and you tear your eyes away from John’s back, missing how the tension bleeds from his body. “Of course,” you say, placing the last dish on the drying rack. “Do you know how?”

“Nana showed me the buttons because I accidentally turned off the oven before,” Rose replies. She hands you her towel, and you lump it in the sink with yours. Rose walks up to the oven, and John moves to the side. You hang back, grappling with the temptation to steal a glance. You’re not sure what’s worse: John catching you staring or the disappointment of him not staring back. In the end, you decide to focus on Rose. She awes at the cookies and beckons you closer. You shuffle towards her, sticking close to the opposite side.“We should leave extra for the reindeer and elves who want some too!”

You smile and pat her head. “Next time you can buy peppermint extract so they’ll taste like candy canes too!” you suggest. Rose’s eyes widen. She looks at you like you have the biggest brain in the world. Your confidence skyrockets, but a quick peek at John sends you plummeting back to Earth. You can’t read the expression on his face, and it worries you.

“They look so good! Santa will definitely grant my wish!” Rose’s comment piques your interest.

“What’s your wish?” you ask, crouching down to her level.

Rose glances at her father before lowering her voice. “I can’t tell you with Daddy around; it might make him sad.” Your jaw slackens. What could a child wish for that would make their parents unhappy?

Dinner is served, and the seating arrangement remains unchanged. True to John’s words, Rose devours her dinner. She even asks for seconds. “I’m a growing girl,” is all she responds with when she notices your amused expression.

The conversation consists of small talk. You learn they moved into the complex two years after you did. It’s honestly amazing how you didn’t run into them earlier. John doesn’t talk about his job, but he asks you plenty of questions about yours. You’re happy to answer. Glad to have something to talk about that won’t prod old wounds. Before you know it, you’re cracking jokes, and John is struggling to breathe. His laughter is intoxicating, and like an addict, you crave another dose. Rose watches the entire interaction with a broad smile, nibbling on her food as her eyes ping pong across the table.

John leans forward and hangs off your every word. Every ounce of his attention focused solely on you. You pause mid-story, caught up in the softness of his features. Before he can ask you what’s wrong, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull out the device to see it’s a text notification. The time on the screen reads 9:30 pm. It’s getting late, and from the way Rose slumps in her chair, she should be in bed soon.

“I should go. Rose looks like she’s about to pass out,” you say.

“M’not sleepy,” Rose argues, rubbing her eyes.

John rises from his seat. “I’ll clean up. Rosy, why don’t you say goodbye to our guest?”

Rose gets out of her chair with Mr. Bear and holds your hand, leading you to the entrance. John steps forward but stops himself. He turns to collect the dishes, and you walk away, feeling the heat of his gaze lingering on your back.

As you’re slipping on your shoes, you ask Rose, “Now that it’s just us, do you want to tell me your wish?” She glances behind her. The faint sounds of porcelain clattering against metal travel along the corridor.

“You can’t tell Daddy, but I don’t want him to be lonely. He doesn’t cry at night anymore when he thinks I’m sleeping, but he still looks like a raccoon in the morning,” Rose says, pinching an invisible zipper between her fingers and dragging it across her lips. You copy the gesture and even go as far as to mime turning a key and tossing it over your shoulder. You have a sneaking suspicion, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

Unlocking the door, you reach for the doorknob. “Wait,” John shouts, stopping you in your tracks. He jogs up to you and holds out a reusable takeout container and your bag of groceries. “I made too much. Take some leftovers with you.” You peer inside, and there’s a generous portion. How much did he cook?

“I’m tired. I’m getting ready for bed,” Rose suddenly announces.

John chuckles, “I thought you weren’t tired earlier?”

“That was earlier. I’m tired now.” Rose walks off to her room, mumbling to Mr. Bear. The only snippet you catch is something about ‘having a moment.’ You take the container and bag from John, fingertips touching. He doesn’t let go, and you’re left standing there awkwardly.

“Don’t feel bad about what happened earlier,” John says, withdrawing his hands and shoving them into his pockets.

Earli—oh. Your cheeks tingle with warmth. You clear your throat and bring the container close to your chest. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just wanted….” You pause.

“Wanted what?” John asks, and his eyes are wide and pleading. He waits and doesn’t push. Watches as you chew on the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze.

When you finally gather the courage to look at his face, tender eyes observe you. Does he feel the same? A wave of confidence washes over you, and you decide to take the risk. “To know if I have a fighting chance,” you say.

The corners of John’s lips boomerang up and then back down. His eyebrows draw together, and he almost looks… scared. “Love, I work in the military. I’m a single father. I don’t have much to offer,” John rasps, the words constricting his chest like a vine of thorns. His throat bobs, and he closes his eyes, steeling his body. Because bracing for impact is a natural human response in an attempt to lessen the damage of an imminent crash.

You smile softly. “And if I said I didn’t mind? That I’ll wait for you to come back and become Rose’s favourite while you’re gone?” John’s eyes snap open wide. He stares at you like you’re some sort of mythical creature; a being that can’t possibly exist in this world. Here is a man with his own baggage, who carries a burden on his shoulders that you will never comprehend. And you want to learn how to love him anyway. His expression softens, and he gravitates toward you.

“When I saw how you handle Rose, I didn’t think I could like you more than I already do,” John says.

Your ears perk. “You like me?” you ask. You didn’t think the attraction went both ways.

John rubs the back of his neck, and his cheeks flush. “Might have seen you use the elevator a few times… regularly,” he confesses. “I’ve liked you for a while.”

“And you never tried to say hello?” you tease him, placing a hand on your hip. The pain that flashes across his face is brief, but it stops you from continuing. You decide to change the topic. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” Your face engulfs in flames. “On the cheek, I mean!”

The pink dusting John’s face darkens. “Only if I get to kiss you—on the forehead,” he clarifies.

“Deal.” You place a quick peck on John’s cheek, his skin an inferno against your lips. He cups your face and leans in. It’s soft and leaves you tingling from head to toe. A laugh bubbles in your chest. You slap a hand to cover the dopey grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. I'm just really happy.”

John’s thumb caresses your cheeks. His blue eyes are sparkling. “So am I, Darling. Goodnight,” he says, leaning forward to plant another kiss. You close your eyes and make a content hum, basking in his warmth.

John opens the door for you and leans against the doorframe after you step out. The hallway is relatively dark, and the lights from the apartment bathe him in an ethereal glow. A smile graces his features, and the current that threatened to pull you under has settled into gentle ripples. “Night, John,” you reply, waving goodbye.

A smug grin stretches his smile, and he winks at you. “See ya later, Love.”

You skip to your apartment. The door behind you doesn’t click shut until you disappear from sight. You head to the fridge first to store the leftovers. You find a note when you put away your groceries. Fishing out the paper, it reads: ‘Rose’s bedtime is 10 pm.’

The clock on your stovetop tells you it’s 9:50.

Where did you put that expensive bottle of whiskey you bought years ago?

Bonus Scene:

John tucks his daughter into bed, pulling the blanket to her chin. “What else did you wish for, Rosy?” he asks. It’s become a tradition to figure out her Christmas present. He makes sure to ask her right before bed when he’s certain she won’t remember the conversation in the morning.

Rose snuggles into her pillow, hugging the stuffed bear close to her chest. Her voice is muffled and thick with sleepiness, but he hears it crystal clear. “A little sister.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

Happy early Valentine's Day! I can't wait to consume the Valentine-themed content for all the fandoms I'm in. Not related, but I saw a cowboy ghost render on IG and I think I'm going to have to go back to writing something for him ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

Time to drop off the face of the Earth for a month or two again.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #captain john price #cod x reader #cod mwii #single dad price #gender neutral reader #no y/n #And they were apartmentmates!#I will update the tags with something funnier once my brain isn't mush

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skyfallslayer · 7 months

Text

They're Gonna Taste My Venom

-The DD Trio x Symbiote!Teen!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three

🕷️Summary: Due to their expansion in their business, the trio decides to hire a helping hand to help string things along. The girl is… a little quirky, Karen admits, Or Foggy notices she’s a bottomless pit for snacks, Or that Matt can hear her talking to herself quietly sometimes. But it’s nothing they can’t handle– Oh, no! Now she just bit someone’s hand off, she’s speaking in a deeper tone, and she’s apologizing profusely as she hangs from the ceiling. She might be way out of their league after all.

🕷️Pairings: DD Trio x Platonic!Teen Reader; Karedevil; Foggy x Marci; Teen!Reader x Platonic!Venom

🕷️Rating: Teen-Mature

🕷️Word Count: 6,305

🕷️ Date: 2/21/24

🕷️Warnings: Implied Bad Homelife; Mention of Blood; Canon-Typical Violence; Interrogation; Kidnapping; (Underage) Drugging; Heavy Language; Heavy Dialogue; Mention of Cannibalism; Mention of Body Parts Being Torn Off; Mention of Eating Someone/Biting Off A Limb (Via: Symbiote). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

🕷️ A/N: Hello, dear readers! Welcome to my three part series of an idea that I have no idea where it came from. Lol. Seriously, this strange AU just popped into my head and I was like- "Man, maybe I should make that my next fic?". And BAM! Here it is! Hopefully it's good as I imagine it would be. Enjoy!

These past twelve months have been… something else. The snap that lasted for five years messed up everything that the troublesome trio worked for, which was to rebrand their business: Nelson, Murdock & Page. But hey, I guess in a… morbid(?) sickly? depressed? way, it did work out in the end. Business was pretty much booming, especially now that everyone who blipped was trying to get their homes or anything else they own back under their names and care. Now, not to toot their own horns, but they say they’re pretty good at multitasking.

Until…

They weren’t.

As they get busier with each passing day, the trio realizes that they’re stretching themselves so far thin that it’s starting to affect them. So after some intense conversations, they decided to hire a helping hand.

Y/N L/N.

Their new assistant that was just shy of seventeen and on her way to graduating high school. She was nervous, of course, when they first met her, but the nerves soon settled and she turned out to be a very charming person that they all agree they loved to have in the office. She was extremely helpful and willing to learn, always on her toes when they needed something, always organized and had everything ready when they had a case or a client coming in. None of them could ask for a better person in the position. Even though the girl was…

Well…

Kind of quirky.

Like she always prefers it cold, no matter what the temperature is. Karen notices she was barely wearing anything when they first met. It was in the middle of winter, and the girl was just wearing an oversize sweatshirt and a thin beanie. At first a bit of a motherly instinct took over and wondered if the poor girl just didn’t have anything to wear at home, or maybe couldn’t afford anything. Y/N eventually apologized and laughed saying that she just prefers this weather more than the heat. But despite that, Karen did gift her a warmer coat that the teen decided to wear (even if it felt forced).

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that Miss Page.” Y/N said once she was handed over the nice coat.

“Please, I insist. I know you said you like the cold, but I would rather not see you sick.” Karen said, as the girl smiles and nods, promising to wear it until Spring.

Then it was the food. Now, Franklin Percy “Foggy” Nelson loved to eat just like any other person out there. But if there was an eating competition to suddenly spawn inside his office he would surely lose to his assistant. The kid was… a freaking bottomless pit. Just as Karen had suspected Y/N might be on the poor side, Foggy thought the same when he brought take out for lunch and the kid nearly ate everything on the table. She did it in a mannerful way but still (He’s surprised she didn’t inhale the table). So out of worriedness he started bringing her lunch, and the one day he forgot, she brought her own “five course” meal of sandwiches and sides.

“Maybe… she’s just a growing kid.” Karen once said as he shook his head.

“Don’t girls go through puberty early? There’s no way Y/N’s still growing.” He boasted as the blonde tried another excuse that he shot down quickly. “Nope! Matt! Can’t you tell?”

“Foggy, Matt is not about to smell nor hear if the poor girl is going through puberty!”

“Karen, come on–”

“NO!!”

The conversation ended up being wrapped up and placed in the back of the shelf for now, but occasionally it’ll come up when the girl polishes off something huge by herself (And everytime Karen proceeds to hit Foggy over the head with her shoe as Matt tries not to laugh).

Then there was the human lie detector, Matt Murdock and his tales of Miss L/N. When he first met her of course he was a little on edge, I mean he was still learning to not leave his guard up all the time after promising Foggy and Karen he was going to do better and be trustworthy. The girl was nervous during the interview, but managed to win over their hearts about halfway through yet…

Matt couldn’t shake what his senses were picking up.

On her first day of work she seemed cool as a cucumber, nothing to worry about. However her heartbeat was… strange. It was pulsing like any other healthy human being, but there were times where it would randomly accelerate. Like she would just be stapling papers together and it would pick up speed like a racehorse. A few times he feared she was having a heart attack before it went away.

The other thing he notices, and to follow Karen’s observation, the girl does tend to run rather hot. And when she does she would either shed off an extra layer or turn the tiny fan on her desk in the middle of a snow storm.

Hmm, maybe she’s just a natural furnace. He told himself once, recalling that his father was someone who always seemed to stay warm (but even he wasn’t crazy enough to go outside half dressed in -10 degree weather).

Then lastly, he realizes the girl likes to talk to herself quietly. At first he thought maybe she had an earbud in and was talking to someone, or maybe she was mouthing the lyrics of a song but… no. Sometimes it’s even hard for him to pick up what she’s saying ‘cause she’s so quiet, but the couple times he does hear her it sounds like she’s scolding herself.

Matt tilts his head, slightly zoning out on the conversation him and his partners were having as Y/N was in their kitchenette. From the smell of it she was making herself coffee and muttering and even jerking at something or someone that wasn’t even there.

“Shut up, I’m not eating that– No I’m not– You’re not either.” He hears her eye roll and almost sighs. “You’re not going to die, stop being a baby– Don’t call me the baby, you numbnut– Hey, you fucking bastard, I’ll–”

And then he kind of tuned out when he noticed Foggy was asking him a question.

A million different scenarios went through his head of what it could be. One that he’s just sticking with right now is she’s just a very imaginary kid. The other lingering thoughts weren’t so innocent. Someone’s home life could affect certain things. Maybe it’s–

“So what shall we do to celebrate?” Foggy said out of the blue in the present day. The sun was out shining, the weather was cool and just right, everything was blooming peacefully just as Spring should be. The blond looked between the two perplexed adults before gasping. “Don’t tell me you all forgot?”

Karen glanced in Matt’s direction, lost as well. “Uh, remind us again?” She asked, sheepishly.

“Oh, come on guys! It’s our anniversary!” He throws his hands in the air. “This marks the full year of the grand reopening of Nelson, Murdock & Page!”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses in surprise. “Is it April 24th already?”

“Yeah! A full year, baby! We fucking did it! We brought this extinct beast of a place back to life.” Foggy exclaims, making Karen laugh. “We need to celebrate.”

“And how so, Mr. Nelson?” The woman asked, curious to what he had to say.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Maybe a nice dinner and a club.”

“Aren’t we too old for clubbing?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who says that?”

“Says the guy who pulled his hamstring running up the stairs.” Matt quips with a grin, as Karen hides another laugh in her hand.

“Hey!”

“Half-Joking.” Then he perks up. “Y/N is here.”

“Already?” Foggy looks at his watch. “She’s really early.”

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Karen asked, mother henning again. “Matt?”

“I’m not picking up on anything.” The blind lawyer replies, truthfully. “She’s coming. Relax.”

The teenager opens the door, her usual blouse and skirt with her backpack on her shoulder. She looked like she was in thought as she greets them with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Matt and Karen greet in unison as Foggy cracks the ice.

“Hey, Y/N/N. You’re early.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. My building’s power went off and I couldn’t cook anything so I just went to a diner. Guess I overestimated how much time I needed to eat.” She replies, her heart steady. “Is it okay if I start early?”

“That’s fine, there’s probably not much to do though.” Matt says, as she sets her stuff down on her desk.

“Whatever you got I’ll do.”

Foggy’s concern washes away and goes back to his bubbly self. “Are you free tonight, Y/N?”

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Well, today marks our anniversary of getting this place up and running again and we want to celebrate with maybe dinner at least. Our treat.”

“Dinner?” The teenager looks concerned. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to tag along? I’m just your assistant.”

“Nah, don’t use that talk.” He waves her off. “You’ve helped us a lot these past few months. You’re one of us. Right, guys?”

“Of course she is.” Karen said, her red lips curling upwards. “We would be all over the place if you hadn’t helped organize when we got so overwhelmed.”

“And customers are always complimenting you on how wonderful you are with them.” Matt adds, making the teenager blush.

“Yeah, kiddo. You’re great.” Foggy says, throwing his arm around her with pride. “Keep this up for a few more months and… maybe we’ll add your name to the plaque.”

She laughed. “Your business will officially be a mouthful to remember.”

“Hey, it was mouthful before Karen came in, we might as well keep rolling with it.” He shrugs. “So what do you say? Dinner at least?”

“I can do dinner.”

“Fantastic! Where shall we go?”

And that was pretty much the only thing they talked about for the rest of the day.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Foggy asked for the third time tonight as he hitched along for the ride. He was the person you called a… backseat driver (but he has every right to do so at this point).

“Yes, Foggy. I’m just following the directions on my phone.” Karen replies, slightly irritated, but also a little bit worried (like she’ll admit that to him just yet).

“‘Cause this is a really bad neighbourhood.”

“I know, Foggy.”

“Is it really that bad?” Matt asked, after listening to his surroundings. He didn’t really hear that much going on outside the vehicle.

“It’s… extremely sketchy.” Foggy says, with a sigh. “It’s like one of those places they tell you not to go after dark.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah, and we close pretty late. Do we really make Y/N walk through this?”

Matt’s eyebrows raise up, amusement on his face. “Sounds like someone’s going to be her chauffeur soon.”

“Don’t tempt me, Matthew. I’d consider. Or we all pitch in and buy her a car.”

“Sure she knows how to drive?”

“Or better question–” Karen cuts in while making another turn. “Maybe you should talk to her parents first about this concern before we start gifting our assistant with stuff? Maybe she’s not allowed to have a car? Or even to drive?”

“What seventeen year old isn’t allowed to drive?” Foggy asked, confused.

“I mean, I wasn’t allowed to drive at all until I was an adult.”

“What? Why?”

“Foggy I was what you called uh… ‘wild child’, I’m not exactly a saint you know.”

Foggy sighs and flicks his attention to the backseat. “Matt, would you have driven a car if you could?”

“Who says I haven’t?” The blind man replies with a grin that made Foggy not want to question it.

The blond man throws his hands up. “I give up. Naysayers, all of you.”

“What are we ‘naysaying’?” Karen asked, with a chuckle.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Oh my god.” She shakes her head and parks the car along the curb. Just as she was about to snatch her phone off the dash, a report came up. She quickly reads over the headline and frowns. “Hey, did you hear about those people who disappeared a few days ago? Rumors saying they were special forces?”

“The ones that were going door to door down on 36th?” Matt asked, hearing about it on the news and even word about it at night. Even some criminals he ran into that night thought it was strange and found them suspicious.

“Yeah, those. Apparently they just turned up. Parts of them.”

Foggy’s face scrunched up. “Ew.”

“Someone hacked them up?” Matt asked, worried about a possible new killer on the loose.

“The strange thing is, no. From what it says here it looks like their limbs were chewed off.”

Foggy made a gagging noise now. “Ugh. Great. Now we have a cannibal in the Kitchen. That’s just great–” He opens the car door. “More reasons to get Y/N a car.” His friends shake their heads and get out also.

“You know, you’ll make a great father one day.” Matt says, getting the middle finger.

The three of them buzzed themselves into the building, going up to the second floor to the third apartment in. It wasn’t as luxurious as the apartment Foggy shared with his fiancée, but it was definitely on the same level as Matt’s: -Not-in-the-safest-of-places-and-was-the-“cheapest”-on-the-block- They definitely felt wary of wearing their nice and expensive clothes out here.

Karen was the one who knocked and got a response.

“She’s alone.” Matt said afterwards, getting the woman to check her watch.

“I guess her parents work the nightshift?” Foggy said, slightly worried. They didn’t get the chance to talk about it when the door swings open. The teenager opens up a nice, simple purple dress paired with a blue jean jacket and flats.

She smiles. “Hope you found the place okay.” She replies, greeting them and locking their door behind her. “Seriously, you guys didn’t have to drive to get me.”

“Oh, we don’t mind.” Karen says, honestly.

“Are we still planning on dinner?”

“Of course. You hungry?” Matt asked, making her laugh out of embarrassment.

“Heck yeah, I am.” She said, making them giggle.

“Well then, after you, Ladies.” He gestures for them to go first.

“Oh, such a gentleman.” Karen replies, starting the trek off, smiling and pulling their assistant along for the ride.

They started chit chatting about the place they were going to go, Foggy boasting about how good the food was the last time he went (Now frank that was pre-blipped, so fingers crossed it’s still as good as back then). As they started descending down the stairs, Matt’s cane unfortunately got caught into a hole that was forming in the wood and was falling forward. To his surprise, Y/N was the one to react extremely quickly and place her hand on his chest to stop his fall.

“Shit, you okay?” She said, as he regained his balance from her strength.

“Uh, I’m…” And then he trails off when he catches a whiff, the smell of dried blood just beneath her fingertips. The chilling part of this was that it was NOT her blood. He swallows, and forces a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the catch.”

She frowns apologetically. “I’m sorry, I probably should have warned you about the stairs. They’ve been falling apart for a while. If you stay to the left you’ll miss most of them.”

“Noted.” And then they continued again with Matt being careful…

And it was not just about the stairs.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Sure I can eat anything?” Y/N asked, as she scanned the menu over again.

“Of course, our treat.” Karen reassures for the hundredth time.

“I know it’s your treat, and I appreciate it. But–” She flips the menu towards them. “Have you seen the dollar signs for this place?”

“Well, I can’t exactly ‘see’ anything.” Matt replies, feeling his assistant give him ‘the look’. He hoped he sounded sarcastic and not rude (he was trying to push away what he smelled earlier and enjoy the night (And not be a paranoid freak again).

“Mr. Murdock–”

“Matt, kiddo.” Foggy says, lightly tapping her shoulder. “How many times did we tell you you can drop the formalities? It’s been months.”

Y/N blushes. “Sorry, habit.” She replies, only to mumble something under her breath two seconds later that everyone kind of ignored. “I’ll shut up and figure out what to eat.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The group eventually ordered their food and soon slipped into a nice conversation. Between some fun exchanges between the law trio or funny memories from their childhoods, it eventually led to laughter.

“I never realized how big your family was, Foggy.” Y/N said, intrigued by the chaos of the Nelson family.

“And I swear it just keeps growing. It’s a little baseball team at this point.” He replies, smiling.

“Does anyone else have a sibling?”

“I had a brother, but he’s passed.” Karen explains, with a sad smile.

“Only child.” Matt replies, with a head tilt.

“What about you, Y/N? Any siblings?”

She shakes her head. “Just myself. I kind of wish I had a sibling though. It does get lonely at home sometimes.”

“Well… it’s not too late to ask your parents for one.” Foggy jokes, half heartedly; It causes Matt to nearly spit out his drink, Karen scolding him and Y/N chuckling behind her hand. “Don’t kill me! It’s just a joke.”

“Franklin Nelson.” Karen warns like she was his nagging mother, and kicks his shin.

“Ouch, Karen, geez.”

Y/N smiles, amused. “I don’t mind, really.”

“But still, most people I meet here want more than one kid. I’m actually surprised you’re an only child, Y/N.” Matt said, being honest, which suddenly got her heart rate to pick up, but not in the racehorse kind of way he had been hearing. The teenager had stayed quiet for a moment before she shrugged, trying to shake it, or them, off.

“My mom’s not really in the picture anymore, not for a long time actually. I just really have my dad, but he’s always working. So, to be honest, I’m on my own. I don’t think he even realizes I have a job.” She replies, taking the last sip of her drink while avoiding eye contact. She could feel the concerned stares on her making her feel uncomfortable.

“Y/N, that’s not right.” Karen said, worriedly.

“It’s… fine. I’m used to it, you know?”

“Just because you’re fine with it, doesn’t mean it is.” Foggy replies, brows pushed together, distress wrinkles forming. “You know, if something’s up or wrong, you can tell us anything. We’re here for you, you know?”

“Not everything though…” She said, frowning (Her heartbeat picking up again, which was enough for Matt to start questioning what she actually means).

Just before anything else could be said, the waiter came over to drop off their refills and took the empty appetizer plate away. “Your food will be out shortly.” He said, and they thanked him.

“Man, I’m starving. The wait better be worth it.” Foggy said, after a second.

“I know, right? I know it’s been awhile, but I don’t remember it taking this long.” Karen admits, stirring the lemon around in her ice tea.

Y/N starts to take a sip of her new drink and pauses, like halted to an immediate stop. Matt picks the way her whole demeanor changes from nervousness to anger, and mutters, “It’s coke. It’s fine…”

What are you hiding, Y/N? Matt wonders as he takes a sip of his own beverage, worried out of his mind for what could be happening to her. What was happening at home that you didn’t even want to talk about it?

But as soon as that red wine tickled down his throat he immediately knew something was wrong.

He couldn’t even taste it or smell it, but he knew there was something mixed inside that wasn’t supposed to be in there.

He immediately feels all his remaining senses start to go wack and before he could even say a word, Y/N beat him to it.

“Hey! We have to throw up!” She says, shooting up to her wobbly feet. “The drinks were–”

And then she proceeded to crash back into her chair, her face falling onto her dining mat. Karen calls out her name before passing out as well.

“Uh… M-Matt…?” Foggy calls out, struggling to stay awake. “W-what just…”

Matt hears him render unconscious as well and tries to fight it off the best he could, but he knew it was useless when his whole body started to grow numb, and he cussed under his breath from it.

And the last thing he sensed was their waiter standing over their table smiling like the cheshire cat.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When the four of them came to, they all had splitting headaches that made it almost hard to even realize where they were. Tied to individual chairs and under some “interrogation” lighting in some strange, seemingly unknown, building.

“Ugh… where are we?” Karen asked, looking around with a slight squint.

“Warehouse district.” Matt replies, after a split second of analyzing. “I recognized the smell.”

Foggy clears his throat before whispering, “Uh, Matty, might not want to out yourself to our assistant here yet.”

The blind vigilante completely forgot that Y/N didn’t know his secret and held his tongue. Luckily, it seems like she was preoccupied with her worries, making some weird faces only two people present could see. Well… maybe a third now because some random ass man wearing what looks like tactical equipment (minus its helmet) comes in through a door.

Baldy (yeah we’re calling him that) looks disgusted and rather annoyed to even be here, as he stands before each of them before spewing, “Where is it?”

Yeah, no ‘Hi’, ‘Hello’, or ‘Good Afternoon’, just straight to the fucking point that nobody even knows what it’s about.

The adults looked at each other, going into overprotective mode.

“Who are you?” Matt asked, ready to start listening for clues (and silently try to get out of his restraints).

“Not any of your business.”

“Why are we here? Why did you need us?”

Baldy said nothing, instead directing his attention to the bound teenager. “Where is it?”

Y/N blinks, clearly confused. “Where is what?”

“The thing.”

Another blink. “What thing?”

His jaw clenches, irritated. “The thing you stole from us.”

She scoffs. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“For fuck’s sake–”

“What is going on?” Foggy cuts in, bitterly.

“Who are you people?” Karen asked, same expression as his.

“The people who want our stuff back.” Baldy replies, shrilly too. “Our boss has been desperately looking for it ever since it went missing. We know she has it.”

“How do you know she took it?” Karen asked, maternal mode kicking in once more and ready to throw hands if necessary (I mean, did this guy even have any evidence?).

“Her school was required to go on a field trip to our company, and soon after, our… subject disappeared and we know one of those kids took it. Took us a while, but we finally tracked down who it was.” He jabs his finger at the girl. “You.”

“Y/N–” The blonde woman looks her way.

“Subject?” Matt asked, turning the interrogation around. He feels everyones’ gazes on him now as he tries analyzing the situation. “First you say ‘thing’ and now you say ‘subject’. Are you saying Y/N stole a person?”

“Matt–” Foggy warns under his breath, urging him to tread carefully.

“I wouldn’t call it a person.” Baldy said, feeling the blind man’s intense stare.

“Then what is it again?”

“Matt–” Karen tries now.

Baldy holds his tongue. “Listen, Blindly–”

“So what’s this ‘subject’ Y/N supposedly stole?” Matt pressured, feeling the man’s blood spike.

“You need–” He pulls his gun out. “To shut the fuck up.”

“Matt!/Hey!” Karen and Foggy yelled in unison, their racing hearts pouncing in their friend’s ears. But the Murdock stays as calm as he could be, tuning them out to focus on the gun on hand.

“I would hold that spicy tongue of yours, and let ME do the talking.” Baldy continues, getting silence as an answer. “Good. Now–” He redirects the barrel at the teenager. “Talk.”

Y/N’s eyes widened just as the adults started yelling again.

“Hey!” Matt snarled, thinking the gun was going to be trained on him the whole time. He tries giving the most intimidating look he could muster with his blind orbs showing. “Don’t fucking point that at her.”

“Yeah! You really gonna kill a kid?!” Foggy snaps, getting the man’s attention.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” Karen adds, making Baldy’s eye twitch at their comments.

“Listen, motherfuckers.” He snaps, a craze look on his face. “I will do whatever needs to be done. If that includes bathing my hands in red, then so be it.”

She shakes her head, furious. “You’re a sick, twisted, human being, you–”

“I’m sorry…” Y/N blurted out of the blue, suddenly looking really pale and distant. Her boss unknowingly hears her heart start picking up like a rabbit, and her blood pressure starts spiking (not to mention she was starting to run like a furnace).

Badly looks her way again and scoffs. “What? You scared?”

“Not of you, but for you.” She swallows. “You really might not want to point the gun at me, it’s upsetting him.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Upsetting who?”

“You need to leave.” She pleads, her (Y/E/C) eyes starting to change to an odd color.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Seriously, leave, please–”

He starts to sweat and presses the gun into her head more. “What are you fucking talking about?!”

“Leave! He’s–” Then her body stood stiff, and her fingers started to twitch, and then… her voice got super deep. “I’m pissed off.”

The trio widened their eyes at how scary and inhuman she sounded, which was enough for Baldy to start panicking, thinking of the worst.

“Enough with the theatrics!!” He snapped, trying to regain control. “I’m–”

And then nobody expected this next.

If you told anyone you were going to watch the girl get engulfed in black goo, and a monstrous face to form in her place then they wouldn’t just bat an eye and walk away because it sounded like insanity.

It became even more insane when the face suddenly bit the man’s forearm off clean and swallowed it whole, along with the hand pistol.

An ear piercing scream erupted from the back of his throat as blood pooled from his remaining limb. He stumbled backwards as the substance from her body disappeared, Y/N reacting with a look of horror on her own features.

“Oh, my god!!” She screamed. “Oh, my god! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!!”

“What the fuck!!!” He yelled back, baffled just like everyone else in the room.

“I’m so, so, so sorry!! I told him not to do it! He never listens!! I–”

Then a black tentacle comes out of her skin and whips the man into a wall, causing another scream from her and even the trio. The adults could only just watch/listen to it unfold, no clue to what’s happening.

“Oh, my god– Fuck!!” Y/N says, shutting her eyes shut tightly like she was in pain. “I told you not to do that!! Why did you– Ah!!”

Her bosses watch as her body stiffens again, eyes glassing back over to purple before slowly fading to white. Then, the tentacles came back out to smash the chair she was in, bringing her to her knees. The goo was started to cover her form again, prompting her to ask the question,

“Venom… What are you– Saving your life. And theirs too.”

Then the door bursts open again, this time with a crowd of other people dressed just like Baldy, except that had a little more artillery. Suddenly, the trio watches as Y/N jumped and dangled from the ceiling, the red lasers immediately pinpointing on her.

“FIRE!!” Someone shouted, and the bullets started flying.

Then their little assistant disappears again, replaced by the face with big white eyes and a wide mouth full of spike, and a tongue that was licking its lips with delight from the bullets ricocheting off of him. Karen screamed at the sound, and they all buried their faces into their shoulders for protection just as the beast let out its battle cry.

It started crawling faster towards the crowd, hunger in its face before it suddenly stopped halfway. The beast let out a huge sigh, muttering, “Fine.”

It then started grabbing whatever it could get a hold of and fling it towards them like a game of extreme darts. One by one they started to fall, one by one they were getting broken ribs and blacking out, one by one they were–

Then a flash grenade was suddenly underneath it and exploded.

The beast roared in pain from the sound, the goo vibrating and then dissolving at the snap of fingers, causing the teenager to resurface and fall to the floor.

Matt definitely heard her ankle snap from the fall despite his own ears ringing, and called out her name. The girl cries out, and hugs her leg as she squeezes her eyes shut to block the tears from flowing. Just as the noise started to settle, it was about to become a whole lot worse. Just as the last remaining attacker was about to shoot the poor girl dead, with Karen and Foggy shouting their pleas, the vigilante managed to to unloosen the last knot from his wrist, springing to his feet and chucking the chair straight at him.

Matt lets out a breath he was holding before his instincts kicked in again. He quickly unties Foggy from his chair, saying, “Get Karen.”

“Right.”

He sprints over to the girl, getting down to her level. “Y/N?”

She lets out a groan, cracking open her eyes, slight shock upon seeing him. “M-Matt?”

“Hold still, I’ll pick you up.”

“H-How did you get out? Or throw a chair so accurately?”

Well shit.

He really wasn’t thinking about his secret ID at that moment. Just the thought of making sure his assistant wasn’t going to die on his watch.

He bites his lip. “Y/N, I’m–” His gaze snaps towards the door where he could hear footsteps approaching. A lot of them. “Shit. There’s more. We have to–”

“I-I have to get you out.” She croaks, rolling herself to be on all four. “It’s my fault you’re involved in this.”

“Y/N, you broke your ankle, you can’t do anything else.”

“But…” She groans again and then slowly lobs her head in his direction, a smug tugged across her lips. “But I insist, Mr. Murdock.”

And before he could say a word, the beast reappeared and lifted him straight off his feet, along with Karen and Foggy who yelped in surprise. Suddenly they found themselves running at an incredible speed, prayers leaving their mouths just as they broke through a window and free falled down.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Not even sure where they ended up but it was completely unoccupied and covered by the shadows of the night. The beast had set the weathered adults down against the wall before doing the same; the body disappearing back to the teeanger who fell right on her bum. She lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes like she did earlier, trying to hold the pain in.

“Oh, my god, Y/N, your ankle.” Karen manages to say once the shock ran out (And that was for a while).

Y/N smacks her lips, grinding her teeth, replying, “I-It’s fine. It’ll be fine in a minute. I advise not looking.”

“What do you mean?” Foggy asked, eating his words as he witnessed her ankle snapping right back into place causing him to gag and avert his gaze. “Oh, hell…”

“T-Told ya.” She mutters and then sighs.

Silence fell over them, the trio all kind of looking at one another before deciding it was time to address the elephant in the room. Or whatever that thing was.

Foggy clears his throat, shifting his weight around. “So…”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N said, opening her eyes and looking at them with guilt. “I… I never wanted you guys to see that.”

“Well, I can see why.” He mumbles, getting a smack in the shoulder by Karen. “Ow!”

“So what is it?” Matt asked, straight to the point and curious, actually (and concerned too now that he’s realized this girl’s got no control over whatever it is).

Another sigh as Y/N pushes herself to stand. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. I don’t know.” She crosses her arm uncomfortably. “I went on a mandatory field trip for school to this lab, and… some of my classmates begged me to go ‘behind the scenes’ with them. I honestly didn’t know what to expect, except that the only thing back there was this container with a tiny blob in it.”

She frowns. “One thing led to another and it broke, but I had no idea that… this blob got absorbed into me.” She throws one of her hands up. “I honestly thought I was going crazy for several days when I could hear shit in my head, and when my appetite went through the roof. And then…”

“Then… what?” Matt said, sensing her discomfort.

“I got mugged. Well… attempted mugging until… Venom came out.”

“Venom?” Karen asked, eyebrow raised.

“That’s… what he calls himself. The thing you saw.” Y/N starts nervously playing with her hands. “Anyway, the mugger didn’t do much since– you know– uh…”

“Let me guess, he bit the guy’s arm off?” Foggy says, as she shrugs.

“More like… above the neck…” Then she gets the shocked stares again. “Okay, in my defense, I have no control over that. I didn’t even know that Venom attached himself to me. I…” She groans. “I just ran away after that! I didn’t know what to–” She then pauses like she is listening.. “You what? – You finished him off?”

Now it was her turn to have her pupils blown wide. “When? I don’t remember you doing that? – You did it when I was asleep?! – Oh, ho! That is not consensual whatsoever! We talked about this!” She scowls. “No, you quit complaining, you parasite!”

Y/N groans again, this time into her hands. “Ugh! He’s so annoying sometimes!”

“This is the strangest thing I think I’ve ever witnessed.” Foggy said, running a hand through his locks. “And aliens attacked New York.”

“Technically, Venom’s an alien.”

“Oh, my god.” He holds the sides of his head. “It’s ‘Invasion of The Body Snatchers’.”

“Foggy.” Karen tries to get him to calm down.

“So you just decided to live with this… Venom guy?” Matt asked, not really sure how to ‘perfectly’ respond to this situation. I mean for the many years he’s fought in Hell’s Kitchen, he’s never experienced something like this before.

“It’s kind of hard to get rid of him. He’s… persistent, I’ll give you that.” Y/N replies, with a small smile. “If I’m being honest, it was around the time you guys accepted me for an interview. I was more worried about acing that than dealing with a vicious conscience.” Then it fades. “Homelife not exactly… easy, so I guess it was nice to have someone to talk to. In a crazy kind of way.” A sigh. “I had no idea that he was important.”

“Are you going to give him back now that you know?” Karen asked, worried at what might come if she doesn’t.

“That’s the thing, If I give him back, they know who I am, and you saw what happened tonight. They’ll kill me no matter what.”

“Like hell I’m going to let that happen to you.” Matt says, confidently as he places a gentle hand on her shoulder (he could hear her pulse spiking at what she had said). “We’re going to figure this out. Don’t you worry, Y/N.”

She shakes her head. “I-I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Then don’t ask me.”

“You almost got hurt because of me! I’m not letting you put your life on the line for me. I can figure this out on my own.”

“Y/N, I’m a lawyer, you should know by now I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer easily.” His lips tug upwards, trying to make the best reassuring look he could make. “I’m going to help you–”

“We’ll help you.” Karen corrected.

“Yeah. We’ll help you, don’t you worry.” Matt faces his old roommate. “How long’s Marci out of town for?”

“Uh, next week. Six days to be exact.” Foggy says, after quick thinking.

“Good. We don’t have to worry about her safety.” Matt goes quiet, using his senses to figure out where they are before they move. “Alright, let’s go to my place.” He gestures for everyone to follow, his friends were, but not his assistant who was perplexed.

“Wait.” She blurts out, stopping them. “Shouldn’t we try finding somewhere else? It might not be smart to go to your own home.”

“It’s fine. It’s where we need to be for our next step.”

“Next step?” She asks, watching him start walking away again. “Which is…?”

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

(TBC)

Stay tune for the next parts! || Part Two || Part Three

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